Page 173 of As Above, So Below

With so little time left in the mortal realm, I found no reason to confine myself to my quarters. I wandered the castle aimlessly at first, ignoring the concerned stares of castle staff as I peeked into random rooms, walked through corridors…

But then I felt it.

The pull in my chest.

And I knew it would lead me right to Ryc.

I had no interest in interrupting his meeting, but that didn’t make me any less curious.

What could mortal kings possibly discuss when faced with the ire of the god of death? Surely not all of them believe they can stand against my father.

Rounding the corner into a hall that leads me farther into the east wing on the third floor, the sounds of male voices carry to me. Their words become clearer with each step, and judging by the tones, it’s a tense conversation.

“She is a danger, Alaryc. We have to consider what will happen if she isn’t returned to Netharis.” It’s a male voice I don’t recognize. “If we return her now, this can all be over before it even begins.”

My brows raise.

He’s not wrong.

But if I leave now, Celesta doesn’t have what she needs for her ritual. And at minimum, I need to provide her with that, because the likelihood of being able to kill Netharis myself isslim.

No.

I can’t return any earlier than the eclipse.

But I will return.

“Suggest killing my mate again, Oryn.” Ryc’s tone is pure ice, the groan of a chair moving across the floor shortly following.

I flatten myself against the wall, slowing my breath as I continue to listen.

“Wars have been started for less,” Fenryn’s deep voice muses. “But I’m not surprised you’d jump right to killing Ryc’s mate.”

“Mate or not, she is a demon,” the first male argues, sighing.

“Let’s see if you feel that way should you ever find your mate,” Fenryn laughs dryly. “Gods give her the strength to deal with your shit.”

A few chuckles rise among the Sovereign Kings.

“She’s half demon, half winged fae.” It’s Rowen who speaks. “Her lineage is plain upon her face. She is Celesta’s daughter.”

“And you’ve seen her true form?” another male voice asks.

Silence.

“Alaryc, all it would take for this to change in your favor is to present her to us in her true form.” Yet another voice I don’t recognize.

How many Sovereign Kings are there?

I recall Eve’s words the day I’d arrived. Eight. There are eight Sovereign Kings. Another reminder I should have read that gods damned book on the royal fae families of Eldoterra.

“She does not seek the throne and neither do I.” Ryc’s voice is firm. “There is nothing to prove.”

Footsteps approach the door and I hold my breath. A shadow cuts across the hall, framed by the door. The male rests his arms on his hips.

“The throne can be discussed at a later time,” Fenryn replies. “Right now, we need to determine whether you will support Erus tonight.” There’s a pause. “You have the support of Sol, Ryc.”

“It’s been a few too many centuries since my soldiers have seen real battle,” a dry voice muses. “Erus will receive those who wish to wet their blades from Corvallis.”