Page 188 of Heart of the High King
“Did you rape my mother?” Kendrick demanded of Charlton.
“Of course not, boy. Molly and I had a relationship for a long time. She’s probably the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
“But you killed her.”
“Now don’t go listening to Rafferty. The boy is just pissed his brother picked out awful clothes for him.”
“It showed what little compassion you have for another person that you were both amused by my color blindness. And we’re not here to have a long, drawn-out conversation. I asked the Order of the Fallen Knights for this opportunity so I could tell you that when they execute you, I will not be there to light your pyre. I will not mourn you. There isn’t a single part of my future you have any part of, and I will not allow my thoughts to circle back to the years before I met Sander. You took me from my mate, and that is why you will die. Had you simply held me against my will, the sentence would be the same, but that wasn’t enough for you. You decided my life should end because of your inability to deal with my sexuality, which, by the way, doesn’t have shit to do with you. I was nearly robbed of everything because of your intolerance, and for that I will never forgive you. Good luck on the other side of the veil, and fuck you both for being heartless monsters and for my scars. Sorcery D’Vaire healed the ones on the surface, but I would’ve worn them with pride because they were proof that I fucking survived. And while no one can erase the ones you left behind on the inside, they won’t stop me from having a fulfilling life with my mate and my family.”
When Rafe’s attention went to Aleksander, he got a smile. “You ready to go?”
“Yep.”
Once they were out in the hall and the door shut so Rafe could no longer hear Charlton wheedling to get Kendrick to speak to him, he kissed Aleksander. “Thanks for doing that with me.”
“You were incredible. Ready to meet my father?” Aleksander asked.
“I didn’t introduce you to mine,” Rafe teased. “But yeah. Let’s go.”
∞∞∞
Aleksander hadn’t planned on seeing his father again, but when Boian had contacted Somerly, his youngest brother had accepted an invitation to meet with him but only if the former Ethelin king was willing to allow him to bring his siblings. Stripped of his title and with the Consilium Veneficus announcing that Court Ethelin no longer existed, Boian had capitulated. His former dragons were now under King Varius, the final man chosen by Fate who continued to ignore his emperors.
Taking a moment to steady himself—because he desperately wanted to go throttle Charlton and Sullivan—Aleksander inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. Rafe had been stoic, poised, and his grace only made Aleksander love him more. The lone thought, which soothed, was that the fallen knights would take care of the two men who hurt Rafe in short order. His other “siblings,” who were actually his nephews, had accepted responsibility for assisting in Rafe’s abduction and, in light of their other criminal infractions, would spend a few years in prison. They’d be released into Court Draconis and watched closely upon their release.
“Are we ready for this fucker?” Dra’Kaedan asked, rubbing his hands together. “Please say I get to tell him what I think of him.”
“Settle down, dear,” Saura chided her eldest son.
“I would quite enjoy it if you set his ass on fire,” Worth told the Grand Warlock.
“Me too, but I’d probably get arrested.”
“Brogan can bake you a cake with a nail file in it,” Noirin said sweetly.
“What a waste of cake,” Dra’Kaedan remarked with a shake of his head.
“You ready?” Somerly asked Aleksander.
“Whenever you are.”
Somerly turned to the other High King. “Rafe?”
“I did my thing, I’m just here for support and stuff.”
“Let’s do this,” Lex said, and he stepped forward to push the door in. “Hey, Boian.”
The disgraced dragon stood, his chin raised and superiority bleeding from every pore despite his rumpled jumpsuit. “Good afternoon.”
“You want introductions, or do you not give a shit? It’s not like you’re going to use our titles,” Dra’Kaedan remarked.
“I remember you, Grand Warlock.”
“Hey, Aleksander, wonders never cease. He talked to a sorcerer,” Worth drawled. “Hi, Daddy.”
“Worthington, you always did have atrocious manners,” Boian admonished.
“That’s ‘Your Grace’ to you, old man. Aleksander here gave me a fancy title.”
