Page 4 of House of Embers
“Enough,” Fordham said in that icy tone that brooked no argument.
The room quieted, but the tension was thick in the air.
“You come to my war room, not to discuss going to war with the Society but my choice of bride?” Fordham’s eyes roamed the dozen people standing on the other side of the massive desk. “I am your king. This is not a discussion.”
“Your Majesty”—a graying Fae with pale skin and lavish robes gestured to Fordham—“we recognize your authority, but you have been away for some time.”
“That’s an understatement, René,” another Fae male snarled. Hewas much younger, closer to Fordham’s age, with stark-white hair brushed off his forehead and piercing blue eyes. “You were exiled from our halls. You abandoned us to the very Society you wish to overthrow. You fought with them against your own people.” He beat his fist against the table, and it rattled. “You disgraced us.”
Fordham stood very still as he stared down his nose at the male. Kerrigan didn’t know how he had the restraint. She wanted to punch him just for laying out the history as if it was how it had all happened.
“Barron, stand down,” René said.
“I will not,” Barron said. “I said nothing when he came back. I said nothing when his sister claimed the throne after him. At least she was here when the walls fell. At least she fought with us.”
Prescott jumped up in indignation, but Wynter put her hand out to stop him. “I only returned as regent,” she corrected swiftly. “I held it in my brother’s absence, and I made that clear from the start. Fordham Ollivier is the rightful king of the House of Shadows. Whatever you say, Barron, keep my name out of it.”
Kerrigan kept her expression neutral, but internally she was grateful for Wynter. Before, she had been their enemy and nearly killed Fordham. But her mind had been against her, and after treatment, she was much more clearheaded and a good ally.
Especially because Fordham had not just “left” his throne. Kerrigan and Fordham had fallen through a portal into the land of the gods. They had clawed their way out of the horrible world with hopes of bringing home magic that could save their people from the Red Masks. Not that they had any intention of telling Fordham’s subjects the gritty details of those trials.
“You can say what you want,” Barron continued, waving his fist at them. “You can rewrite history however you see fit, but you’re just proving that you’re not fit for the throne. And I’ll happily speak for the whole Laurent family.”
Fordham nodded once. “A rousing show, Barron.”
“I have been here in your absence.”
“Opportunistic of you,” Fordham said dryly.
Barron’s face purpled at the quip. “I was here when you were gallivanting around the empire, sullying your good name with a half-Fae. The Laurents deserve more respect for holding up the kingdom and weathering your absence.”
“Hear, hear!” came voices from the Laurent side.
“And the Blanchards!” another chimed in.
Another round of cries for their family.
“And what of the Olliviers?”
A cheer came from the center of the room—Fae who would kill rather than see another royal house on the throne.
“Are you suggesting that I am not fit for the throne that I inherited? That I did not stand at my father’s side for years learning how to take over?” Fordham set his palms flat on the table. “Or are you saying something else? That an Ollivier is not fit for the throne? Are you suggesting a Blanchard or a Laurent instead?”
Barron certainly seemed to think that, but before he could say otherwise, a female Fae stepped forward. “No one is suggesting that there is a more worthy successor to your father, the great King Samael Ollivier.” She wore glittering jewelry on every part of her body and even threaded into her gown.
“Exactly, Celeste,” another male said. “That wasn’t the implication. We support your right to rule.”
Celeste waved her bejeweled hand. “Only that allying with a Blanchard or a Laurent would…show greater support for our people.”
Kerrigan lifted her chin. She knew exactly what they meant by that—and the dangerous line they were walking.
“Speak plainly,” Fordham said in a voice that said they should absolutely not do that.
She gestured to the female at her side. “My daughter, Aurelie, would be an option.”
Viviana huffed. Aurelie’s cheeks heated and she took a step backward as if she did not want to be a part of this conversation.
“Viviana would be a better choice,” René said.
