Page 65 of A Kingdom of Destruction

“Considering the charges brought against you, you should be cowering in front of me. How on earth could such a paltry worm like you bring down one of my men without a weapon? Oh, never mind. You stole my guard’s knife before you put it through him.” The Fae King chuckled. “We found his corpse early this morning.”

Aven needed a plan, and more time to figure out the right thing to say. She glanced at Roran again, and he shook his head, like this wasn’t the time. Or that she was being a fool.

“What? Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” King Donal leaned forward and snapped his fingers. The sound went off like a bullet inside of her, and she forced herself to meet his glittering stare a second time.

Despite his smile, the King’s fury was palpable, growing stronger with the death of one of his own.

“I defended myself,” Aven said slowly. She could sense the attention of everyone else in the room behind her. It made speaking difficult. “Your guard saw me drawing runes for calm and focus and took any perceived insult out on me. What else would you want me to do?”

The way she saw it, the death was not on her hands, not this time. Especially considering Roran had been the one to actually do the deed.

“Do you think it would have been better to let your man kill me?” she pressed. Her voice sounded a little too loud and a little too sharp. Despite her better judgment, she pressed on. “I did nothing wrong.”

The Fae King laughed before he said, “My sons are too good for a match with you. I gave you a generous choice, one or even both of the men beside me. But you are not worth the offspring you might bring to us or the peace between our realms. There is no reason to keep you alive. The way I see it, you’ve managed to take yourself from an ignorable presence to an outright burden.”

His words sank beneath her skin, and she glanced between Cillian and Roran. To what end, she had no idea. She clamped her teeth together and ground them down.

“I should burn you to death where you stand. Give me one reason to spare your life,PrincessAven.” The King shifted, adjusting one leg over the other. The massive black wood of the throne absorbed every bit of light in the room. It sapped the life right out of her until half a thought had her wondering if it might have been better to die last night.

Roran had been right.

She had no idea what she was up against, or what she’d face today. She opened her mouth to speak, but King Donal interrupted, and her heart shot straight into her throat.

“No, I think not. I’d rather not listen to your blathering.” The King peered over her head to someone at the far end of the room and crooked a finger for them to come forward. “Gather the wood for a pyre. I believe it’s time for a show. One to match the spectacle our mortal has made.”

“Father, please,” Cillian cut in. He took a massive step forward to place his body physically between her and the throne, braving his father’s wrath. “Consider this before you make any rash decision. She is the last of the Elridge bloodline, the last royal left alive besides the monarch himself, and the years are catching up to him rapidly. If you kill her, then you have no more bargaining power with Grimrose should they rise up against you more than they already have.”

“Then we will obliterate them like the blight they truly are.” His dark eyes flashed in disdain.

The spikes on the crown on top of his head seemed to sharpen the longer she watched.

Her fate seesawed between the two of them, one of them struggling for mercy, and the other ready for murder. Through it all, Roran remained silent, the pivot point at the center.

Sweat beaded along the back of her neck and her hairline as the world tilted on its axis.

It was too much, all the changes in her life. Losing her family. Losing her home. Losing the war. She’d done her best to keep up, truly, but she’d reached a point where the pressure consumed her.

“See reason. You’re allowing your anger to cloud your judgment. Think about your long-term plans.” Cillian maintained his even, rational tone, his attention on Aven rather than his father. Showing the Fae King his back as though he didn’t care what might happen to him. As though utterly sure of his success in the matter. As though he really cared about her. “Allow me to take her away for the day. Get her out of your sight.”

Roran remained ramrod straight with his hands looped behind his back and his expression bored. Had he been the one to point them in the direction of the body? Or had one of the soldiers found it on their own?

No, she didn’t think he’d cast the blame. He’d wanted to protect her, had warned her what might happen, and the worry Aven had seen?—

Caution warred with terror, and she halfway wondered if her silence made things worse for her or better.

“Please, Father,” Cillian continued. His tone took on a mellifluous quality, like the hypnotizing song of the sirens of Waterdice—so irresistible and dangerous that no one couldresist its pull. “Perhaps she will be less of a bane to you if she’s out of your sight. Allow me to take the diplomatic route.”

“Are you telling me I’m incapable of diplomacy, Cillian?” King Donal’s voice dropped dangerously low, and Aven seethed.

They wanted to get her out of here like she was some kind of wild pony in need of breaking.

She glanced over at Roran, who nodded in a barely visibledon’t-do-anything-stupid-againgesture.

“I’m telling you it would be my pleasure to carry on your mission of peace between our two kingdoms, if you would allow me to do so.”

Cillian’s expression gave new meaning to the termpolitical. This was a song and dance he’d performed countless times. Aven wondered if it had anything to do with her at all, even when a few more pounds of weight settled in her abdomen.

His was a fitting answer that straddled both sides of the lines. Her own fear and anger brought mottled color to her cheeks, her chest. Aven didn’t need a mirror to know the way her body reacted to this situation.

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