Page 6 of A Story of Sinners

A flash of silver fire sparked at my back. I wasn’t a fool, regardless of what he chose to believe. I too had heard the rumors that my existence had been the result of infidelity, but my mother would never. She and my father were mates, through and through. There was no infidelity when it came to them. The idea was lunacy.

“It is funny, isn’t it? How you look nothing like him. How your powers are completely different.” Caspian tiptoed backwards as he spoke, slowly inching toward the ornate silver throne, likely going for the stash of weapons concealed in the backrest.

The stash I’d left there. Weapons forged from my own power; weapons spelled to never turn against me, but Caspian didn’t know that.

It didn’t matter. He could fight, but he would never win.

“Go ahead, brother. Arm yourself.”

Caspian sucked in a breath and bolted to the weapons. The top of his head disappeared behind the throne, soon replaced with the dragging sling of metal on metal. When he reappeared, it was my sword in his hand—a sword forged by my own magic, molded with silver fire and engraved with my name in fae script. My brother’s power of persuasion wouldn’t mesh well with the core of it.

I laughed at his choice in weapon. With a shake of my head, I approached. “Thank you for retrieving that for me. I’ve missed it.”

Caspian swung for my neck, and the elongated blade whispered past my ear, redirecting itself away from my head. The hilt burned against my brother’s hand, the skin reddening as he gripped it tightly. He refused to drop the weapon, and in return, it dropped him to his knees. The sword fell to the floor, and a load groan tore from his throat.

I bent down and grabbed it. The sword greeted me, a happy little hum vibrating from the hilt, through my wrist, down my arm, and into my chest. My name glowed along the hilt, and the power I’d placed in it thrummed.

I looked down at my brother to find his eyes were filled with fury.

“Funny how your powers are nothing like his. Funny how he treated you as a soldier instead of a son,” Caspian mocked.

I saw red.

“Blue hair, blue eyes, mental magic, and delicate facial features—all the traits he passed down to me, thattheypassed down to me, and what do you have? Mother’s silver eyes, her lightning and fire, but nothing else. Where did you get the silver hair from, brother? Why are you so broad whilst every other fae possesses a lean build? Where do those dark silver shadows you wield originate from? Mother didn’t wield silver shadows.Faedon’t wield shadows.”

I straightened my sword, pressing the tip against his chest as I whispered, “Shut up, before I silence you.”

“When I was just a child, mother disappeared for a year, only to return with a new addition to the family,” he scoffed. “You. Just admit it. Mother was a whore who betrayed father and had you. You’re nothing but a bastard.”

My blade slid through skin and bone, melting through the layers until it reached his heart. Caspian’s face filled with pain, and a gurgle tore from his chest. Blood spilled from his mouth as he opened it to speak, no words coming out.

Bending down low, I met his watery gaze and grabbed ahold of his shoulder, twisting the blade. “Don’t you dare soil our mother’s name.”

Caspian went silent, his gaze glazing over. When I pulled the blade from his chest, he fell to the floor, his lifeless eyes glued to the heavens as blood slowly trickled from his chest.

Silence stretched across the room, shock suffocating the air. My eyes remained locked on my brother’s lifeless form, and I dragged a hand through my hair. I’d planned on making him suffer for what he’d done, but I never intended to outright murder him.

A throat cleared, breaking my trance, and I closed my eyes. When I opened them, I met the source of the noise—Kieran. He was warning me to make my move before anyone else had the chance to claim the crown.

I bent over the prone form of the former king and plucked the crown from his head. My footsteps echoed through the throne room as I climbed the dais and seated myself on the throne. Then, I placed the crown atop my head, coronating myself.

The gasps of the courtiers and guards being released from their fearful chokeholds by Kieran created an echoing chorus of finality. They remained glued to their knees, their gazes whipping about the room in confusion, landing on me and then my brother.

The witches entered upon collapsing the barrier, and I waited patiently as everyone in the palace made the slow progression into the room. Fin and Evander walked towards me, Lyra and Kieran joining the procession.

My cohorts took their places at the back of my throne. Lyra. Kieran. Fin. Evander. Three lords and ladies from the five courts, an heir of another. The only lord missing was the Lord of Autumn—my brother’s collaborator. He would soon be dead.

Once the hall was filled with high fae and royal courtiers, I finally spoke. “Does anyone dare to challenge me?”

The room went dead silent, a moment of consideration on whether the challenge would be worth it. The thudding of knees hitting the marble floor confirmed their answers.

I raised my chin. “I am your new king. I was always meant to be your king, and I will not let you down.”

The resulting chant was deafening.Long live the king.

I should have smiled, would have smiled upon hearing the phrase that I’d painstakingly labored for—long live the king—but my brother’s cold form on the floor soiled the moment.

Regardless of how much I’d despised the male, I had never intended to kill him. Alas, he crossed a line, one he wouldn’t return from.

---