Page 98 of Daughter Of The Ninth Line
Beside him, looking angrily at the table beneath his hands, must have been one of Avalon’s older brothers. I’d never paid much attention to him before, but now, I appraised him critically. Though there was nothing of Avalon in her father, there was definitely a small familial resemblance with the brother. I’d forgotten his name, and it was irritating me. Bart? Brett?
No, Bach. As if he could feel my eyes on him, he looked up, his irises the same dark blue as Avalon’s. His lips thinned, and he gave me a cool expression. I gave him my own haughty one in return. I couldn’t let on that I knew his sister. If my father got even a whiff of an idea that anyone mattered to me, he’d make their life hell.
Finally, the Conclave concluded. We all stood quickly—the urge to be away from this place and the other Barons was almost universal. I watched the Ninth Line as they left, and it looked like the younger Halhed was trying to convince his father to offer aid, but I knew from my spies there was no aid to offer. They had no discernable crops, and Baron Halhed had drunk most of his Barony’s coffers dry.
At least Bach Halhed was trying to do the right thing. It took everything inside me not to steal the air from Roman Halhed’s lungs and let him suffocate to death, but now wasn’t the time.Not in front of the rest of the Conclave. Not with a power that was so easily traced back to my Line.
But he was living on borrowed time.
My eyes slid to Hayle again, and I saw he was also glaring at the Halheds, his eyes flashing with a rage I knew viscerally.
Following my father down the hall, I could tell from the posture of his spine that he was angry. Livid, even. He didn’t like it when the Conclave moved against him, even if it was to save the lives of other citizens of Ebrus. In his mind, he’d made a declaration, and what Viktor Taeme had done was tantamount to treason.
Our palace was connected to the Hall of Ebrus by a long marble walkway. In between the two buildings was a courtyard, complete with large fountains and topiaries so high, it felt like they spiraled into the sky. Manicured gardens perched in neat square beds and were maintained almost to death. Not even a stray leaf dared to grow out of place.
As soon as we were through the doors of the palace, my father swiped a hand and launched a vase across the room. Selling that vase would have fed a village in the West for a month. My father really was a psychopath.
“Those fuckingleeches,” he seethed. “Always wanting more. They shouldn’t even have their own Baronies. If I wanted some fucking wasteland in the middle of nowhere, I’d take it from them and burn it to the ground.”
I pushed down the disgust I felt about sharing DNA with this man. “At least the Conclave ended in a win-win. They get their aid from someone else’s pocket, and we don’t have to lift a single finger.”
My father whirled on me, and immediately, I knew I’d said the wrong thing. I felt his air snake around my throat, lifting me high, until only the tips of my toes touched the ground. Enoughto strangle me, but not kill me. It was his favorite position to punish me in.
“Win-win?” he growled. “What part of that fucking fiasco felt like winning to you?”
I was prepared for the airlash—one of hundreds I’d received in my life—but still, I flinched. I hated that I flinched.
“They went againstme,their ruler. Their First Line. They forget their place, but I can bide my time. A couple of misplaced ships full of food going down will end this dissension once and for all.” His air power gripped my throat tighter, and my vision started to go splotchy around the edges. “You forget your place too. But reminding you will be much easier and far more enjoyable.”
The lashes began in earnest, one after another with no reprieve in between, and I screwed my eyes shut. I couldn’t be sure when they ended, because consciousness escaped me first.
chapter sixty
Hayle
I chewedthe inside of my cheek raw while standing in the corner of the banquet room, watching the Barons drink and eat, like we hadn’t just had an entire meeting about people starving. I could see the guilt on the faces of the Barons of the Eleventh and Twelfth Lines, like they wanted to box it all up and take it back to their people.
I’d overheard the Baron of the Eighth Line, Zier Tarrin, telling them to eat. That their Lines needed them to be strong, and denying themselves out of guilt wouldn’t help their people.
Zier Tarrin was the youngest Baron at the table, and his Barony was both the most magical and the most wealthy in West Ebrus. He’d been quick to pledge aid at the Conclave, but I had a feeling he’d been doing it long before the Eleventh and Twelfth Lines had come here to beg.
Avalon’s father was drunk, spilling ale down his chest and eating food messily. He was talking too loudly to some of the guards, most of whom were humoring him as they did their job. I wanted to punch that fucker until he threw up all the ale he’d imbibed. I wanted to beat him for every moment of sadness that he’d given Avalon.
Her brother was nowhere to be seen, and I was glad for that too. Seeing one of her brothers made me feel conflicted, because while Avalon seemed to love them and didn’t blame them for what had happened to her, none of them had stood between her and their father.
If my father was treating one of my siblings the way Roman Halhed had treated his youngest daughter, he would either be exiled or six feet in the fucking ground. As far as I was concerned, the Halhed brothers were spineless, and I had no time for people who wouldn’t stand up for their family.
Growling low, I left the banquet room. Maybe I’d try looking in the library here at the Hall of Ebrus for answers to Vox’s hypothesis. They’d have better records of whether or not someone had the power to influence behavior. No one since the more powerful members of the Second Line had been able to do that, and they were long gone.
The First Line had been nothing if not thorough in their eradication. They’d used the Lines of heraldry like hit lists. They’d murdered every man, woman, and child with even a hint of Second Line blood running through their veins in the space of forty-eight hours.
I met my father’s eyes as I left, and he lifted his chin, recognizing that I was skipping out on the niceties of the banquet. It wasn’t like I was the only one. Along with Bach Halhed, Vox wasn’t here either. Maybe they were having a party somewhere and hadn’t invited me. Or maybe Vox was torturing him for being a spineless fuck for so long. Either way, I might have been a little jealous.
My footsteps echoed on the marble floors as I moved from one area of the Hall of Ebrus to another. It was the grandest building in the country, but I hated it. It was cold and loud, and filled with assholes. How did the First Line live, surrounded byall this white stone? It was like somewhere a person would go to die.
I was nearly at the large doors to the library when my nose twitched. There was a scent in the air that shouldn’t be there.
Blood.
