Page 65 of King of Immortal Tithe (Darkmourn Universe 2)

Claria rolled her tired eyes, which enraged me further. Every wasted moment that we waited for this human to tell us why she had done it was another that kept me from Arlo.

I had to keep myself from blinking. The darkness usually provided me peace and relief, but now it only gave room for the vision of his body covered in blood and glass. Urgency forced me to my feet. “I am not partaking in this game. If the human wishes to cower behind her silence, then I will be forced to act accordingly.”

Haldor stood abruptly, calling out for me as I paced towards his Claim. “Don’t hurt her… Faenir, please. Allow her to tell us.”

“Sit down, Haldor,” Claria snapped. “Let Faenir be the one to kill her. That is what he wants… it is what he always wants. Death. Destruction. He cannot restrain himself.”

Frila chuckled into her fingers, falling silent as I gave her my full attention. “Stop hiding behind your hands and say something, Frila. Does it please you to know that you will be Queen if Haldor’s mate is killed?”

“Beast,” she hissed through bared teeth. For such a beautiful creature, her eyes were feral. “Grandmother is right. You ruined my Joining. Bringing your mate here… what did you expect was going to happen?”

Unseen winds gathered around Frila and twisted her white locks into a vortex. Her ivory dress fluttered like strong wings, snapping in the stillness.

My vision narrowed as my fury intensified. Every shadow around the room whispered into my consciousness, pleading for me to call upon them and carry out vengeance, echoing the sentiments of the furthest and darkest parts of my mind.

And I would have acted then if the small, strange voice that had buried into my conscience didn’t speak up.Prove them wrong. Calm.I recognised the lullaby tones as Arlo, a siren, cutting through my anger and calming me from the inside out.

“We would not have visited if you had not insisted on sending an invitation,” I replied smoothly, “Except your words have clarified that it was never you who sent it.”

“Why would I ever wish for you to celebrate alongside me?” Frila said, withdrawing her conjured winds as Claria placed a motherly hand on her arm to calm her. “If you believed the invitation was genuine, then you confirm yourself a fool. Your presence is wrong, and I hate it. I hate you. We all do.”

“Enough,” Haldor snapped, turning his fiery stare upon her. “This is not helping.”

“The truth can hurt,” Gildir said, a wolfish grin plastered across his face.

I did not care for her revelation, nor was it required to hear it aloud to know what they thought of me. Their disdain had been clear in the looks they gave me, in the way they had shunned and ignored me.

Claria had attempted to murder me as a baby; that alone made their hate abundantly clear.

Frila may have expected her words to hurt me, to stab into my chest and twist inside my blackened heart. It did not. I wouldn’t let them have that power over me.

I looked around the room, allowing my eyes to settle on each of them. Frila, who wouldn’t meet my eyes, done with acknowledging my existence. Claria, who cared more about putting a gentle hand upon Frila’s to calm her. Gildir, who, as always, cared more about his fingernails than anything else around him. And Haldor, who nodded subtly as I stared at him.

“Which one of you wished for me to bring him?” I asked. “We are all together now. Do not be shy.”

Not a single one of them spoke up.

“After all these years, do you truly believe I care for the crown you so desperately clamber over one another for? I do not want it. I do not care about it.”

Claria spoke up, turning her sharp eyes upon me and covering me in slashes and cuts. If her gaze could kill, it would. “You think it is that simple, boy? This crown.” She gestured to the twisting of gold metal and the deepest red rubies buried within it that sat atop her nest of grey hairs. “Does not care for wants. The people of this world have followed tradition and rely on it. You are the eldest born. You have chosen your mate. They will expect you to take this crown from me.”

“Then I will tell them. Remove myself from the race I never wished to partake in.”

Claria exploded in light. I squinted as her old, hunched figure burst into whites and golds. Power radiated from her. She was a star among us. It lasted only a moment before she fell back to her chair, exhausted.

“Grandmother,” Gildir cried out, leaving his chair and moving to the throne’s side.

Panting with shaking breaths and all without opening her eyes, Claria raised a hand to stifle Gildir’s worry. “I am fine, dear boy. Give me a moment.”

He did so, reluctantly, not before giving me a look of pure disgust.

“Faenir,” Claria finally managed. The display of power was inspiring, but equally showed how weak she had become. Time had finally caught up with her and I couldn’t help but admit that it did not hurt me to think that she would one day perish.

I longed for it.

“Tradition shall not be ignored simply because you so wish for it.”

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “So you mean to kill Arlo? To take the one thing I truly want just to make sure that fucking crown is kept from me?”

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