Page 158 of Rise of the Siren Queen
“If any of you doubt my word,” I said, gesturing to Sienna, Kieran, and Ronan, “speak to those who were there. Draven Dolon, Thalor’s son, and Lady Ithra were behind the deaths of Queen Kaia and King Nero. Draven nearly killed Lady Elora.” I paused, letting their names rot in the water. “Thalor plotted such from the moment he slithered into this council.”
Stillness. Then flame—General Kai’s aura blazed like a tempest. His rage ignited, fire consuming the water in a violent vortex.
“My daughter,” he said, his voice trembling with barely restrained rage. His piercing gaze shifted to Ronan, then to me. “What happened to my daughter? What injuries? Please tell me she’s alive.” His tone was no longer that of a formidable general, but of a desperate father, pleading foranswers.
Before I could answer, a voice, soft but defiant, echoed behind us.
“I’m fine, Dad.”
All eyes turned as Elora swam into the room like a storm wrapped in silence. Pale and bruised, but unbroken. Her eyes held a kind of fire that pain couldn’t extinguish.
“Thanks to Her Highness’s healing,” she added, turning to me with a smile too bright to be painless, “I’m alive.”
She turned to me, bowing deeply with a dazzling smile that masked the pain she still carried.
“You should rest,” Ronan muttered, concern slipping out before he snapped his expression back into something hard. “You’re not recovered enough for this meeting.”
Elora rolled her eyes. “What I should do,” she said pointedly, “is show my side of the events.”
She looked at me. “With your permission, Your Highness, I’d like to share what happened. From the mission until the regent queen’s demise.”
My chest tightened, but I nodded. “You may.”
She took her place in the chamber’s center. I moved behind her, laying my hands on her temples, steadying myself for what we were about to relive. My fingers trembled. So did hers.
“This might hurt,” I warned, my voice quieter now, laced with both caution and concern. “Are you sure you want to share your memories?”
“I’m sure,” she whispered. “I’m still doing it.” Her bravery shone through, but I couldn’t ignore the flicker of fear in her eyes.
I inhaled deeply, anchored myself, and then connected. The link formed in an instant, sharp and overwhelming, and I projected her memories to the council through the mind connection with the pod.
The memories hit like a tidal wave. Her mission. Her capture. The torture. I felt it through her—every scream, every fracture of hope.
The pain.
The despair. The resistance.
The council gasped. Ronan flinched. I held steady, though my heart clenched with every moment. Then, the dining hall. Grandmother’s agony. Her captors’ laughter, low and cruel. The moment of her death, a crown falling, a light dying. It clawed at me. And I gave them more. My own memories surged into the projection—Elora’s broken body in my arms, the desperate pour of magic, and the silent failure. Cradling my grandmother’s lifeless form. Her blood mingled with the currents. The helpless rage that followed. The brutal deaths of Thalor, Ithra, and Draven. My hands did not shake then.
I let them see it all. No filters. No mercy.
Hopelessness. Rage. Loss. I laid it bare.
When I finally pulled away, Elora’s breath hitched, pain soft on her lips. The silence in the chamber was deafening. My pulse thundered, but I stood tall, letting the silence serve its purpose. This council needed to see the cost of treason, and the lengths I would go to protect Aetheria from ever falling again.
No one spoke. No one dared.
I straightened my posture, letting the lingering emotions of my memories settle into a resolute calm.
Then I spoke.
“Now, for the second announcement.” My words cut through the tension like a blade, drawing every gaze to me. “Two weeks from now, I will have my coronation as the rightful heir to the throne.”
I paused deliberately, allowing my declaration to press on them. The council’s expressions ranged from stunned silence to cautious intrigue, but none dared to interrupt me. Slowly, I turned and gestured to Adrian, who stood tall and unwavering beside my throne.
“And my mate,” I continued, my voice unwavering, “will be your king, ruling beside me.”
A ripple of murmurs swept through the room, hushed yet unmistakable. The council members exchanged glances, their reactions a mixture of shock, curiosity, and, sometimes, veiled displeasure.
