Page 20 of Princess of Death

Her fingers trailed through my hair as she walked away and turned into the hallway.

The cards were still on the table, so I scooped them into a pile in front of me then started to organize them.

I sensed a shadow in the room, the presence of someone who had entered without notice. My eyes flicked up above me to see my father standing there, appearing out of nowhere. I gave a slight jump at his entry. “You scared me.” I returned my focus to the cards, and I was halfway done with returning them to the deck when I realized he hadn’t moved. I flicked my eyes up again.

No longer in his uniform because of the late hour, he was in the clothes he wore in the privacy of the castle. Trousers and a short-sleeved black cotton shirt. He still had the bearing of a king—especially when his eyes looked like that.

Intense.

I stilled when I sensed the tension in the air, when he didn’t smile at me like he usually did, when my mind told me that something was terribly wrong.

He lowered himself into the chair my brother had vacated. He was rigid, his back not touching the cushion, his arms at his sides initially but then moving to the table before him. He stared at his hands as they came together, his eyes lingering before he looked at me.

I couldn’t determine his mood—if he was angry at me and here to admonish a wrongdoing, or if he was here to deliver bad news. “What is it?”

His eyes flicked away for a moment, his face guilty for making me worry. “Khazmuda and I just had a long conversation.” Confidence returned to his body, and he looked at me once again. “You don’t want the crown—and think I won’t want you either because of that fact.”

Zehemoth.

He continued to stare at me, his eyes hard like he was angry.

My breathing escalated, feeling the sting of betrayal and the discomfort of my father’s wrath.

He stared at me for a long time, so focused he didn’t need to blink, looking at me like an enemy across the table rather than his own flesh and blood. “Is that true?”

This was exactly why I never would have mentioned it to him. Because he would get wounded and angry like this. “Yes…”

A flash of hesitation moved across his face, as if he didn’t expect me to admit it. As if Khazmuda had misinterpreted Zehemoth’s message. As if this was all some kind of misunderstanding. Aftera beat, his eyes narrowed in pain, his anger dropped. “I don’t understand,Zunieth.”

It was easier to tolerate his anger instead of his pain. Now I felt horrible. “Ever since I can remember, it’s been fishing and sailing and fighting and history and dragon-riding. You always said you were training me to take the crown, but not once did you ask if I even wanted it.”

His shoulders moved to the back of the chair, and he stared.

“We sailed through storms when I was a child. Had me fight you with sword and shield when I was younger than Hawk is now. Recruited me to this intense, all-consuming regime without ever asking if I even wanted it.”

He remained silent, hanging on every word, his expression stiff and hard like he was forcing his emotions back.

“But I kept up with it because…” My eyes flicked away. “Because if I told you the truth, we would never spend time together. You would put all your focus on Hawk and mold him into the man you want him to be. I would be forgotten.”

His only reaction was a deep breath, a painful one.

“You’ve never once asked me what I want…what I care about…because you don’t care.”

He sank farther into the chair, an elbow moving to the armrest as his fingers rested against his lips. His eyes shifted elsewhere, and he seemed to shut me out momentarily.

“I live for your approval and your love and your pride, so I never would have said anything. Nothing is worth the loss of that. But it looks like Zehemoth has made that decision without my consent.”

My father continued to stare elsewhere, focusing on the wall behind me as he listened to me speak, his fingers still eclipsing his lips.

I had nothing more to say, so I stayed quiet.

Minutes of silence passed, heavy like rain clouds, a storm swirling around us both.

He finally dropped his hand and shifted his gaze to the table. “You’re right. I’ve never asked what you wanted, Lily. I just assumed that you would want to be the first queen to take the throne, an option that has been denied to so many women before you.” Disapproval and disappointment were heavy in his voice. He couldn’t mask it. “I thought having a father who wanted more for you than marriage and children would make you proud.”

“That’s not what I said?—”

“I thought having a father who raised his daughter as a son is what you would want.”

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