Page 22 of Three Scorched Kingdoms

My parents used to bring Leo and me to meetings when we were kids. We were never allowed to talk or ask questions. We were just supposed to watch and listen and learn and keep our mouths shut. Since we were both never good at the latter, we were promptly removed and barred until we got older.

By the time we were teens, Leo had already veered away from any interest in the political side of princedom. I attended the meetings alone and then vented to my brother afterward.

Neither one of us wants to deal with these pompous men but according to my mother, they are the only thing standing in the way of full-scale counter-attacks against the enemy—and my ascension to the throne.

Ferdinand escorts us to the council meeting room, bows before opening the door, and calls out, “The princes have arrived.”

I enter the room first, Leo right behind me. Ferdinand shuts the door behind us but not before Bingo slips through.Ferdinand looks scandalized, but Leo holds up a hand to halt him from retrieving the hellhound.

“It’s okay. The beast is with us,” Leo tells him and shuts the door with a click.

The council members have already claimed their seats, but they stand as I walk around the massive table to where my father once sat at its head. The king’s chair is much more ornamental than the others with its high back carved with the image of a soaring dragon breathing fire.

Rather than sit in the empty seat, I stand behind it, my message just as clear. “Thank you for seeing me,” I say, forcing the polite greeting.

On my right, Bran Beaumont, a bear shifter, meets my gaze. He’s always had a rugged appearance and a muscular build. Today, he looks fiercer and more imposing than I remember. “Your Highness, we want to officially welcome you home.” He frowns and then adds, “And we would like to know where exactly you’ve been.”

On his other side, Thorne Davenport nods. The aging fae’s dark hair remains unkempt, and the jagged scar running down his rounded cheek is not from the war but from an accident decades ago that he never speaks of. Rumor has it he tried to steal another man’s wife, but it’s never been confirmed.

“Is that right?” I ask.

Several of the men murmur in sharp agreement.

“As a matter of fact,” Thorne says, “I believe this council deserves to know why you left in the first place, abandoning your kingdom when it needed you most.”

More murmurs.

My temper rises swift and indignant. “It appears I am not going to receive a warm welcome from my own advisors.”

“Welcome you?” echoes Porthew, a gray-haired man at the far end who served as one of my father’s personal advisers beforeheading up the council after his death. “We are at war because of your desertion!”

“Watch how you speak to your king,” I warn.

“You aren’t our king yet,” Thorne says darkly.

The fact that he dares utter such disrespect speaks volumes about the power they think they wield.

Leo clears his throat, and I glance at him. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, clearly warning me to keep my cool. It takes all my self-control to do so.

“I did not leave of my own free will,” I say, my words clipped.

“Are you saying you were kidnapped?” Porthew asks, his tone somewhere between mocking and mystified.

“No,” I say on a sigh that does little to curb my impatience. “Magic, foreign to this land and more powerful than anything I’d encountered before, drew me to another world where I met my true mate.”

Their expressions don’t ease at the mention of my mate, though. If anything, they look more closed off. In this moment, I’m glad I didn’t bring Paige to this meeting. It would only hurt her.

“Ah. So, you admit that you took a mate from another world?” Bran presses.

My eyes narrow as my patience slips. “That is what I just said. And why should it matter where she’s from if the goddess has chosen her for me?” I don’t give them a chance to respond before adding, “I would have thought you’d be relieved to see my duty fulfilled. I can ascend the throne. Strengthen our kingdom. End this wretched war.”

“Not so fast,” Porthew says. “We’ve discussed all possible scenarios.”

“There is only one scenario?—”

“And we’ve voted,” Porthew finishes smoothly.

I glance at Leo beside me, but my brother is staring straight ahead. He’s stiffened, and Bingo looks ready to charge. I follow my brother’s gaze to see a robed figure lingering near the far wall. A maid? Since when are servants allowed inside during official meetings?

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