Page 5 of A Kingdom of Destruction

He possessed a lethal combination of intelligence, charisma, and ferocity that made him a better ruler than she would ever be. Thank goodness the responsibility would never be hers.

General Hunter hadn’t bothered to follow her down, and her guard escort halted at the door, cut a low bow to his ruler, and disappeared into the bowels of the castle. Leaving the two of them nearly alone for the first time in?—

Her memory faltered.

When was the last time she and her father spent any time together, just the two of them?

His pale eyes widened as they took in the dark lines of fresh runes on her wrist, unhidden by her tunic, along with several along the side of her neck and face. His brows rose, but rather than saying anything about them, King Fergus began with, “I wanted to speak to you about personal matters.”

He snapped his fingers, and his men rushed to do his bidding, their boots thudding heavily against stone on their way out of the room. Several of them did not bother to glance her way, although a few acknowledged her with a quick dip of their chins.

“I’m here at your disposal, Father.” When she shouldactuallybe in the barracks speaking to her men.

They rallied around her, loyal and steadfast, especially considering, as Hunter had stated, her age. Her status. Her gender.

She was a young woman and a royal to boot, yet they followed her when she called.

King Fergus tapped the top of the table twice with his massive knuckles before letting out a great breath. “I’m conflicted, Aven.”

“In regards to?” She shouldn’t press. He’d tell her in time. Whether she wanted to hear it or not.

It wasn’t like the two of them had the greatest connection. No matter what she said or did, it always irritated him. On the few occasions they actually managed to come together without hostility, he often left with his teeth gritted and hers grinding down to fine nubs.

Would today be any different?

“Your status.” His mouth twitched slightly as if he were displeased with her tone. King Fergus crossed his powerful arms over his chest in a gesture of dominance, and Aven ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her scowl.

Despite her title and her talents, she was the lowest in the pecking order, and she stood in front of her leader. Even if he happened to be her father.

“I have conflicted notions as to what your role and life should be like and what your current burden has become because of your… skills,” he clarified. “The gods know you’ve been forcedinto a certain position due to our current climate. Is it fair to you? Should I have put a stop to it?”

“Put a stop to what?” Her hand went to her wand again in a telling gesture before she forced her fingers to relax.

“You carrying weapons. You killing our enemies. You leading battalions. Take your pick.”

Much to her surprise, annoyance flickered through her.

Rather than sit, she remained on the opposite side of the table closest to the door, forcing both of them to raise their voices in order to be overheard. “I don’t understand. Why would you have conflicted notions? I’m happy where I am, with what I do.”

It never bothered her to wield a weapon and join her men in the meat of the fight.

“It isn’t befitting of a woman of your status. Whether you are in line for the crown or not, Aven, you should not be forced out into war to bear a weapon like a grunt.” King Fergus’s expression darkened, and he relaxed his arms into a more comfortable posture.

The stance was anything but casual. Even the look on his face spoke to the power he was used to shouldering.

He called her in there to talk about her status? Not strategy?

A colossal waste of time, and she struggled to bite back a groan.

“You’re not thinking of keeping me back from the battlefield, are you?” she asked, mustering her sense of calm. “It would be a mistake, when the plan depends on me heading my cadre?—”

“No,” he interrupted with a dismissive wave. “In this case, you’re right. It would be a foolish mistake to pull you from the field. I’m thinking of future fights. How many more will you take part in? How many will you barely scrape by while the healers work to fix your injuries? Aven, it’s not your place. You shouldn’t be covered in runes and waving a wand.”

She’d made peace with her lot in life, and not only that, she’d come to relish it. “Iwantit to be my place.”

There was freedom in the war even with the stench of blood coloring the air. Freedom in swinging a sword and cutting down her enemies, in discharging a gun into a rampaging line of fae warriors.

That sort of sensation could not be found in a dusty throne room with a crown on her head.

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