Page 178 of As Above, So Below

“He’s going to get worse until you accept the bond,” Eloric laughs, and my face pinches with confusion. “It’s something all fae males experience when their mate is discovered. We become rather… territorial.”

“Our bond is not the discussion we’re having,” Ryc says, his voice a low growl.

Leaving my hand on Ryc’s shoulder, I loose a sigh. “You want the truth of who and what I am, correct?”

Eloric nods.

“Fine.” I purse my lips, preparing to expose everything I am for all these Sovereign Kings to dissect and assess. “My mother is Celesta, my father Netharis. I am half demon, half winged fae. I’veexisted in the hells for the last twelve centuries, serving Netharis as a Death Bringer. I fled the hells two weeks ago with the help of Celesta and a Life Bringer to avoid an arranged marriage to an archdemon, as Netharis has a desire to keep me out of the reach of my mother. I do possess a set of wings. They’ve been glamoured away since coming to the living realm under the direction of the High Priestess to keep my arrival secret.Hiddenfrom all of you.” The disdain is clear in my voice by the last few words.

Eloric nods. “All truth,” he says quietly.

“Now will you support Ryc?” I ask of the table, desperation fueling the question.

“All of this reeks of Nektos,” the white-haired fae, Liran, says with a scowl on his face. “I, for one, don’t appreciate the gods getting us mixed up in their affairs. You’ll have the support of Gersand after all, Alaryc.”

Ryc nods firmly. “Thank you, Liran.”

“If we fight for you, will you take the High Throne?” a russet-skinned male on my left, on the other side of Ryc, asks. His deep violet eyes lock with mine.

Anger begins to build in my chest, and I clench my teeth to keep my snide remark to myself.

“Who is asking?” I instead demand, and his brows raise at my tone.

He chuckles, his violet eyes gleaming as he nods. “Fair enough. Ganus Lightblossom, Sovereign King of Battalia.”

“Why is this so important to you?” I glance across the table, meeting a few intense stares.

“It has been fifteen centuries since our last High Emperor and Empress,” Ryc answers quietly. “Surely, you can wait for another to come along.”

“Our nations deserve to be united,” yet another male I don’t know speaks, his black eyes locking with mine. “Something that will only happen when a winged fae ascends.”

The blatant disregard for who they’re speaking to fuels my growing irritation.

“You requested I make myself known, and yet you speak to me without returning the gesture.” I shoot him a withering glare andhe shifts uncomfortably. “I never would have expectedfaeto have less decorum thandemons.”

Fenryn laughs, unabashed, all faces turning in his direction. His ocean blue eyes watch me with genuine intrigue and amusement.

“Netharis’ daughter indeed.” He continues to laugh, looking around the table. “And you all wantheron the High Throne? It is clear she is no meek creature. She ishalf demon. And you lot want to put her on the most powerful throne in Eldoterra.”

“It’s the only way they’ll be granted access to their second innate,” Ryc says with a scoff. “They don’t care who ascends, as long as they carry winged fae blood.”

“How veryfae,” I snarl the words, my disgust clear.

They’re no better than demons scrambling for status, trying to better their demonic House. Always thirsting for more power.

“Curious coming from a demon,” Rowen muses dryly.

As I swing left, his forest green eyes pierce through me.

“Curiouser still coming from a fae holding a contract with my father,” I quip with a wicked grin.

“Rowen, is this true?” Darin leans forward in his seat, bracing his hands on the table with wide eyes.

“It is.” Fenryn nods. “Along with Ves and Ryc, I witnessed the exchange between Rowen and Netharis last night. Netharis made it very clear Rowen holds a contract.”

Glances are exchanged, and while I don’t know much about fae politics, something tells me Rowen may no longer find himself Sovereign King in the near future.

“I bet you’ve learned the same lessons I have.” My laughter is bitter. “Netharis always wins.”