Page 174 of As Above, So Below

“Erus receives no aid from Gersand.”

“Battalia will not be sending support.”

“Nay from Aeros.”

“You have Vis’ armies, Alaryc.” At this, my brows shoot high, an unexpected ally.

“Renna cannot support this proposal.”

I swallow a scathing laugh.

These kings are foolish if they believe Netharis will stop his demons at the borders of Erus. Once Ollora has been decimated, they will spread in every direction, like disease.

As with all wars, Netharis is the only winner. He will take as many souls as he can claim back with him into the hells. His collection will grow. The Layer Lords will fight amongst themselves for the strongest of the souls.

Reaching out through our bond, I feel for any semblance of emotion from Ryc. I’m met with nothing. Silence and darkness.

His mental ward remains firmly in place.

Why?

“The sanctity of the mating bond is one we have honored for centuries, Ryc,” one of the kings says, his voice calm, collected. “But your mate’s lineage has been brought into question.”

“If she is not a winged fae, bring her before Eloric and have her attest to such,” another male says heatedly.

Who is this Eloric?

Rowen mentioned him last night as well.

I stare blankly at the wall across from me as I listen, taking slow, silent breaths in an attempt to steady the beating in my chest.

The kings revere the mating bond, but refuse to stand for the one Ryc and I share? I’m trying to make sense of the conversation, but I’m not sure I’m able to.

Why are they so bent on having a winged fae on the throne?

There are too many voices, too many Sovereign Kings for me to keep them straight. I don’t know who is saying what—

“If Netharis wants her returned to the hells, I say we give him what he wants. We would be fools to stand against the god of death.” Another voice.

Ryc snarls viciously, followed by the sound of glass shattering farther within the room.

“Alaryc!” Rowen shouts. “Reign yourself in. No one has made any attempt to harm Vestaris.”

“Yet,” a voice belonging to a male I don’t know adds.

The floor trembles as crashing fills the room, echoing into the hall. Without eyes in the room, I can only guess as to what is happening—a fight.

Immediately, my heart leaps into my throat.

Surprised shouts and curses rise from the other kings, scuffling feet, blows landing against flesh, and the clatter of things beingknocked to the floor creating a cacophony of sound. Wood cracks and splinters before shattering, more glass smashed—

The door throws itself wide, slamming against the wall and a blur of blue and orange flies into the hall. A fae lands on his back, skidding across the marble, his head hitting the wall opposite of me, stopping him with a resounding crack.

I grimace but stare at him through my lashes.

Even with his fae healing, his face is bloodied and battered, as he pulls himself upright, laughing. His sky blue eyes dancing with sheer amusement.

Laughing.