Page 66 of A Monarch's Fall

I stared him down, waiting for his response.

He exhaled and sighed; in the same dismissive, patronising sort of way he did when I was a child.

“Selene, please, sit down, so we can talk,” he said.

“I’m comfortable standing,” I replied.

He growled low under his breath and slapped his hands on the arms of his chair.

“The situation is far more complex than you seem to appreciate,” he said, frustratedly.

“I am well aware of the complexities of the current situation, Father. What I am struggling to understand is why you believe that removing resources from the search for Percy is beneficial.”

His eye flashed dangerously bright, and the room filled with the scent of his anger.

“Is it that you don’t like being questioned or that you’re keeping something from me that has you so physically upset?” I questioned.

“Selene!” he warned.

“What?” I snapped.

“It’s not personal —” he began.

“What could be more personal than my soul match?” I questioned.

“There are more important issues than your bloodslave!” he replied, his voice raised.

“She is not my bloodslave, she is my soul match,” I growled, unable to control my anger. I took a deep breath to calm myself, suddenly fearful that, despite the enchantments that I knew protected our conversation in his office, someone would hear our exchange. “Have you forgotten how you cared for mother?” I asked and watched his anger deflate.

“Of course not,” he sighed.

“Then why are you not helping me? Why have you instructed Creel to put his efforts elsewhere?”

He pushed himself up from the chair.

“The kingdom is fragile; you are not as aware of the situation as you think you are. You are not queen yet!” he reminded me.

“My second House was attacked, and my soul match was stolen from me. Do you truly think I am unaware of the dire state of affairs Borealis finds herself in?”

“Yes!” he snapped.

“Have you become senile, father?” I asked.

“Watch how you speak to me, daughter or not, I am your King,” he warned.

“You are first my father,” I told him. “Are you somehow the only one in this entire kingdom unaware of Percy’s novel ability?” I questioned, and he pursed his lips. “Borealis may soon be at war, and our enemy has taken from me what I hold most dear and who so happens to wield perhaps the most deadly magic ever known to be tamed by a single witch — and you think it somehow is in the best interest of the kingdom to not focus our energy and resources on securing her safe return?” I was enraged. “Surely, you are not so shortsighted?”

“That’s enough!” he roared.

Silence fell between us, momentarily, as he walked to the drink cabinet in his office and poured two glasses.

“It’s barely the afternoon,” I complained as he walked towards me and held a glass of golden liquor out to me. The smell of the whisky was warm.

“Take it!” he commanded, and I did.

“I am aware of your pet's ability,” he told me. “I am also aware that she currently lacks control and is a half-witch. Her power is surprisingly deadly, and could be very useful to us, but a half-witch has limitations —”

“You don’t know my Percy,” I interrupted. Percy was not ordinary. She was capable of far more than anyone, even I, willingly gave her credit for.