Page 6 of A Kingdom of Destruction

Not to mention there would be no more runes beyond the ones inked into her skin, and those faded with every hit she took. Her father wanted her pale, chained, dressed in a gown.

The thought soured her stomach.

Gods, she couldn’t imagine herself in the same flowing fabrics and pretty jewels as her sisters. For her father to bring this up now, right before the big event… it distracted her in a way she did not need.

“Under normal circumstances, it would not matter what you want. Only what you are. You were born into certain responsibilities, and as such, it would be more prudent for you to concern yourself with matters of the court rather than matters of war.”

A cold chill trickled down her spine.

Aven had always worked better with the grunts in her father’s army than the stuffy, upturned-nose debutantes and courtiers. Most were useless in a fight, and those who could wield a weapon were either insane or had no interest in women.

Or both.

She could barely remember a time when she was forced to interact with those types of people. The war had crept closer and closer to their doorstep, and she’d pivoted, using her innate gifts for strategy and logic to the best good for her kingdom.

None of her other siblings could wield a magical weapon or a wand the way she could, even her brothers. Oh, they possessedthe brute strength, but not the depth of conviction to be truly destructive.

It made Aven invaluable.

She tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear, but there was no concealing her indignation. “So in this battle, I’m fine to fight, but you would pull me from future battles? To what end?” she asked mildly. “It makes no sense in the grand scheme of this war to take away one of your greatest assets.”

“General Hunter has informed me of several other very talented lieutenants who would benefit from a greater role,” he continued.

Aven recoiled. “Then let me work with them. I’ll train them,” she insisted. But she refused to back down on this.

Grief and frustration mingled together inside of her as she stared at her father. She shook her head, ignoring the small voice of warning in her head, the one telling her to drop this because no good would come from arguing.

“I’m a valuable part of your armies, and you should know better than to pull me from the field and put me in a corset.”

She’d never been able to keep her mouth shut and known when to be quiet. Rather than waiting for his reply, rather than digging herself a great hole, Aven turned and made a less-than-graceful exit from the war room.

Exasperation burned the back of her throat. She refused to be one of those white-faced, heavily made-up courtiers from her memories. Refused to focus on things like balls, banquet planning, fashion. Those were things for peaceful times. Not now.

Her fingers curled into white-knuckled fists at her side.

So focused on getting the hell away from the war room, she barely realized she had company until she ran directly into her twin sisters. The two of them circled her, blocking off her exits with their bodies and full skirts.

“Aven, honestly, you may insist on dressing like a brute, but do you need to act like one as well?” Iona sniffed delicately, and her pale blue eyes narrowed beneath the graceful fall of black hair.

Geleis reached out to steady Aven, swearing slightly under her breath. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Are you all right?”

Aven steeled herself. No escape from them, either.

The two ladies may be identical, both of them dressed in cloud-soft fabric wrapped around their figures to show off their curves, but their personalities were as different as night and day. One sweet and fair and the other a raging harpy on the best of days.

Geleis kept her hands on Aven’s shoulders to steady her when the younger sibling swayed lightly on her feet.

Aven hurried to break the hold, uncomfortable with the closeness and the touch. “I’m fine,” she bit out. “I just came from a meeting with Father.” She let them form their own opinions from her tone.

“To discuss your fashion or your choices in accessories?” Iona asked, staring at the sword. She folded her pale hands in front of her like a delicate protection against Aven’s uncouth nature. “He practically lets you run wild.”

They were older than her by five years, both of them more concerned with their future husbands and making a good romantic match than with anything else. There were different kinds of warfare, Geleis had once told Aven, and different ways to serve the kingdom. Bringing in fresh allies and more connections was their task.

They both took it seriously.

“Come on, sit for a moment. Nothing good is going to come of you storming off like a wildfire about to catch.”

Aven didn’t respond as Geleis directed her to a small side room just down the main hallway. The door swung open silentlyto a parlor with three walls dominated by bookshelves. The low glowing light overhead brightened at their entry, powered by magic, and several soft cushions rested near the expansive mullioned windows.

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