Lifting her head, she levels me with an unapologetic gaze, saying nothing. She doesn’t deny my accusation, nor show a hint of concern that her only daughter will suffer the same fate as her. In this moment, I finally see her for who she truly is. Something I've ignored for too long.
The Battle of Brecca didn't just break her. It destroyed her; slowly eating away at her until she was nothing but a cold shell of a female. One who would forsake the daughter she claims to love, all in her insatiable quest to gain more power. There is nothing redeemable about her. Nothing even remotely immortal about her. She might as well be one of the Gods Cursed she fears so much.
Pursing her lips, she blows out an audible breath through her nostrils. “Which is why I have no intention of marrying my daughter to him.”
Confused, I stare blankly at her as she passes by me toward the trolley and pours herself another drink.
“Luthais sent me a missive a few weeks ago,” she says. “He’s in need of a queen to produce an heir and requested Aurora's hand. Today, we were discussing his proposal.”
I frown, confused even more. Luthais has often made his distaste for marriage quite clear. For a power-hungry male like him who sees females as nothing more than pretty toys to be broken and discarded, I can see how unappealing it would be to share his power with one. Which is why it's shocking to hear this. Even more so that he specifically requested Aurora’s hand when he has females within his own kingdom who would be more than willing to be his Queen, despite his depraved inclinations. If it was a matter of needing an heir, he has bastards aplenty. It's not common, but it's also not unheard of for a King to legitimize them. Either way, he doesn't need a princess from another kingdom to do any of that.
“Why would he ask this of us? Our kingdoms’ dislike for one another is no secret.”
Tapping the side of her glass with her forefinger, Adelphia strolls toward the table, tracing the finger on her opposing hand along a river of sapphires. “His reasoning was to ally our kingdoms through marriage. To strengthen our bonds. But we’re already allied, aren't we? That’s the sole purpose of the Kings Council.” She shakes her head, staring out the arched window. “He's lying. He wants something from me. Something that makes him believe if he has Aurora, he can force my compliance. That’s why I went along with this ruse of a negotiation, to try to find out what that snake is up to.” Adelphia’s palms flare glittering teal as water pours from her fingertips onto the table, streaming down jeweled rivers and crashing against jagged stone, then suddenly freezing, coating the table in frost. “But your tantrum destroyed all that, didn’t it?”
She can blame me for this as much as she likes, but I wouldn't have destroyed anything if she had simply included me in her machinations. This may not be something I needed to know as Captain of the Guard, but there's no denying that as a member of the Royal Council, I should have been made aware. In addition to the other many issues she’s been hiding from me lately.
“Do you have any idea what his agenda is?” I ask, choosing to ignore my irritation. At least for the moment.
“No, I don't. But I believe it may be connected to the disappearances within his kingdom.”
At the mention of Raetia’s disappearances and Luthais’ absurd accusation that the males who died today were only misplaced, I recall the whole purpose of me coming here. Raetia isn’t the only danger we’re facing. Not even the most pressing one.
Seeing as I've already pissed her off more than enough today, I walk towards her in a slow, calm manner, placing both hands on the back of the highback chair beside her. “Mother, we need to discuss the Cursed attack.”
The temperature in the room plummets. Ice spreads from the table to the floor and races up the walls, stiffening curtains and frosting the windows.
“There’s nothing to discuss. It was a tragic Soulless attack,” she says, emphasizing the word ‘Soulless’.
“It wasn't,” I reply, my lungs constricting with the cold, my breaths pluming in front of me. “The surviving guard –”
“Was mistaken,” she replies harshly. Raising the drink to her lips, the glass vibrates within her trembling hands.
I groan, rubbing two fingers above my brow. “Mother, you have to address this. More of our people will die if we continue to do nothing. The Gods Curs–”
Adelphia suddenly slaps her palm to the table, the glass shattering beneath her hand and puncturing her skin. “Don’t! Don’t even speak it.” Eyes widened in terror, she swipes her hands through the air, splattering blood across my chest. “The Gods Cursed have not returned!”
“Mother,” I breathe, reaching for her. But when she flinches away, I pull back, fisting my hands at my side. Attempting to ignore the barb that she still fears me when I've never so much as laid a finger on her, when she herself can't say the same, I inhale a frustrated breath. “I understand how terrified you must feel –”
“You understand nothing,” she interrupts. Slowly raising her bloody hand, Adelphia rotates her wrist back and forth as she stares at the large chunk of glass piercing the center of her palm. “You didn't see that creature come onto our lands and slaughter hundreds. Killing humans, fae, immortals. Anyone who possessed a soul. But I did.” Eyes glazed over, she doesn’t even flinch as she grips the shard of glass between her fingers and plucks it out, watching the flow of blood quicken and stream down her arm to rain droplets onto the frozen floor. “I watched it feed off babies, Darius. Babies. That abomination drank them dry and stole their very souls, damning them for all eternity.” Gaze clearing, she swallows thickly. “Don’t tell me you understand terror. You don't understand the meaning of the word.”
“You’re right.” I sigh, loosening my fists. “I've never experienced anything of the sort. But that doesn’t mean I'm wrong.” Taking a wary step closer, I speak in an as soothing a tone as I can manage. “Let me send a small scouting party up the Mandala Mountains to investigate further. I'll send my best guards. They’ll be silent, stealthy. Brecca will be none the wiser.” Her pale, green eyes dart to mine, and the vulnerability within hoarsens my voice. “If we don’t, I fear history will repeat itself." Holding her gaze, I plead with her to see reason. “Trust me.”
“Trust you?” she scoffs, twisting to face me. “Like how you're already forming a scouting party behind my back?” She laughs at the shocked look on my face. “You think I don't know about that?”
“You've been spying on me?” I spew through gritted teeth.
“I spy on all my children,” she says without remorse. “There's nothing you have done that I'm not aware of.” Raising a blonde brow, she gives me a knowing look. “Like how you're shacking up with that foreign human.”
“You told me to seduce her,” I say, feeling no need to mention that Lena and I aren’t actually fucking. Not yet, at least.
“But I did not give you permission to form a relationship with her, did I?” she retorts, her features hardening once again. “You expect me to trust your judgment when you deceive me at every turn?”
A laugh bursts from my chest, though it doesn’t contain an ounce of humor. “That's a convenient excuse, but that's not why you don't trust me. You never have.”
“How could I?” she sneers, eyeing me from head to toe. “You who came from him.”
It always comes back to this, doesn't it? Anything I do, everything I say, she sees me as nothing more than the Savage King's child. It hurts, but it's understandable. Which is why I've never attempted to gain her affection, knowing how fruitless that would be. Yet, although I've accepted a life without a mother’s love, a love that she bestows so generously upon my siblings, I still haven't managed to accept her hate. I can often ignore it or pretend I don't see the fear and derision. But no matter how hard I try, that need to be if not loved, but accepted, is still there.
That small voice in the back of my mind whispers to me that if I’m loyal enough, if I train harder, be smarter, be better, maybe one day she'll manage to see not how much I look like him, but finally see how much of herself is within me, too. But she refuses to. She’s unwilling to see me as anything more than her rapist’s son, preferring to blame and torture me for all the pain he caused because he’s not here for her to exact vengeance on.
I've never questioned her on this. I didn't think knowing why she refused to see the real me would make any difference. But in this moment, with my emotions heightened as they are, seeing her arctic green eyes filled with so much scorn, something in me snaps.
Tossing the chair aside, it slams into the trolley, splitting wood and shattering glass as I step forward, towering over her. “If you can't trust me, if you hate me so much, why am I still here?” I snarl. Ignoring her flinch, I swipe my hand through the air. “Send me away. Banish me. Or better yet,” I lower my head towards hers and she retreats, arching back over the table with frightened, wide eyes, her curled fingers whitening over the edge of stone, “why not just kill me and be done with it?”
Eyes rounded and limbs trembling, she watches me for a long moment. Until her fear dissolves and her features contort into a blistering rage. “I tried.”
Shocked, I stumble back. “What?”
She slowly straightens, hate-filled eyes boring into mine. “I tried to kill you.”
A sharp pain pierces my chest and twists painfully, tearing at my heart. My boots thunk against the wood floor as I walk backwards, rounding the table in retreat. Retreating from her hate, from her words, from the truth of my own mother wishing me dead.
Yet she follows, stalking every step with that cruel sneer. “The moment I realized that traitor's seed had taken root, I knew I couldn’t bear to birth his child. So every morning and every night I drank the tea, praying the gods would expel you from my womb. But as my belly continued to grow, I realized I had to take more drastic measures to ensure your death.” She stops, her lips spreading into a smile devoid of any warmth. “I planned to drown you at birth.”
Each hateful word slashes at me as if a whip, shredding my skin and gouging at my very soul. I've never felt her hate as strongly as I do now. So visceral and debilitating. A poison that weeps from her pores, dousing me in darkness.
Clawing for a scrap of hope that she doesn't despise me so much that she would murder me before I even took my first breath, I say, “But you didn't.”
