Page 14 of Kingdom of Briars and Roses (Cursed Fae Courts #1)

Chapter Fourteen

Rydian

M y boots were heavy against the stone floor of the throne room. Or maybe it was the fact that I would rather have been anywhere but this gods-damned castle. The dim light from the iron chandeliers above did nothing to combat the coldness of this place. Only the heat in my own veins chased away the perpetual chill. The fact that I had to come when summoned and not a moment later set my blood boiling. It was nothing more than a tug of the leash. One I endured for the sake of those I would die to protect. And Duron knew it. He never let me forget what he’d done for me, even as he squeezed every inch of use from the oath I’d sworn to him.

Across the cavernous space, he sat on his gilded throne, surrounded by advisors who looked down their aristocratic noses at me. I ignored them, my attention fixed on the way Duron’s tunic strained against his ample physique. Between his lack of physical strength and his waning magic, I would kill him easily in a fight. It was little comfort, though, knowing his loyal advisors would never let me get that close.

As if he’d read my violent thoughts, Koraz loosed a quick zap that struck the floor just ahead of me. I stopped short, snarling at him where he stood tucked beside the king’s shoulder. “Come out from your hiding place, and do that again.”

Duron raised his hand.

“Koraz, he’s no threat,” Duron crooned.

It took everything in me not to prove him wrong, but I forced myself not to reach for my sword.

“He disrespects you with his existence,” Koraz spat.

“Yes, well, no one is perfect,” Duron said dismissively.

Koraz continued to glare at me, as did the other advisors. Sorcerers, the lot of them. None had any true wisdom or diplomacy skills. But that wasn’t why Duron kept them close. The old bastard wasn’t interested in diplomacy anyway. He needed protectors—powerful ones. His own magic was failing him, though he went to great lengths to ensure no one outside his inner circle knew it.

“Will you not bow to your king?” Koraz demanded.

After a hesitation that bordered on treason, I bowed low, the movement precise, measured. Even as I promised to kill every single one of them someday. “Your Majesty,” I forced myself to mutter.

“What news?” Duron’s voice cut through the tension, already moving on from this ridiculous display.

Rising, I met his gaze, my tone steady. “Princess Aurelia of the Summer Court is alive.”

The advisors went silent.

The King of Autumn leaned forward, his interest unmistakable. “Alive?” His voice was a mixture of disbelief and calculation.

I’d known I couldn’t keep this from him. Not if I wanted to keep Amanti’s part of it quiet. Not to mention keeping his belief in my loyalty intact. If he thought for one moment this vow wasn’t forcing my obedience, he’d find a much worse way to bring me to heel. So, I’d made a choice and could only hope it would prove to be the right one.

“And where has she been hiding?” he asked.

“Inside Sevanwinds borders,” I said.

“Impossible,” Koraz sniped. “No one has managed to breach those borders in years.”

“I watched her walk right through the wards,” I said, daring him to challenge my claim.

“He lies,” Koraz declared. “He wants to trap you so he can take your throne.”

“The oath prevents him from deceiving me,” Duron said wearily. For once, I didn’t blame him. This was an old and tired argument. One I was more than happy to end with the tip of my sword.

Koraz huffed and lapsed into silence.

“I believe the wards may have been cast by one of the Aine,” I said.

“Yes, I’ve heard your theories.” Duron waved me off, clearly uninterested in the origin of the magic that had hidden her for so long. Once, he’d ordered me to identify and nullify it. But when years had passed without result, he’d given up and turned his focus to other methods of gathering power.

His eyes gleamed as he asked, “Do you believe she’s the Chosen One now?”

I hesitated, not because I doubted my answer but because I knew what it would ignite in the old man. Once I opened this door, I could never close it again.

Duron’s eyes flashed with impatience. “Answer me, boy. The oath demands it.”

“Yes,” I said. “She survived Heliconia’s attack seven years ago. That in itself should’ve been impossible. But more than that, while I observed her in the Broadlands recently, she killed an Obsidian without the use of magic. ”

“That proves nothing,” Lemuel, another of the advisors, muttered.

“She’s become a capable warrior,” I said, my temper and patience both straining. “And I sense power in her. Enough to make her a formidable foe if honed correctly.”

Duron’s lips curled into something resembling a smile. “And a dangerous weapon.” He stood, his thick body wrapped in a velvet cloak. He descended the steps slowly, approaching me with a faraway look in his eyes. “Find her. Bring her to me. If she is the Chosen One, she will be of great use to us.”

“The wards are impenetrable,” I reminded him.

“You will find a way,” he bellowed, his temper snapping.

I didn’t bother trying to explain that an Aine’s ward was unbreakable by anything less than the Fates themselves. Not even Heliconia had breached it these last seven years. Something told me reminding him of that would not end well.

I tried a different tactic. “She won’t come willingly,” I said, keeping my tone flat. “She made it clear she didn’t want to be found.”

His laughter was a jagged thing. “Why should that matter? Free will doesn’t factor into destiny. Didn’t you tell me that once?”

I didn’t answer, but he waved a dismissive hand, clearly uninterested in a response anyway.

“Go,” he said simply. “Use whatever resources you must. But don’t return without her.”

I bowed again, leaving the throne room as the weight of his command settled heavily on my shoulders.

Heading straight for the rear doors that would take me to the stables, I thought only of getting out of here. Getting home. Or the closest thing I had to a home anyway. Across the city, a quiet townhouse waited for me, bought and paid for using the name of a laborer who had died ten years prior. Slade and Daegel were there along with a ward line of my own that kept Duron’s spies out, and that was what mattered.

I’d nearly made it outside when a familiar voice called out behind me. “Rydian, wait.”

I stifled a groan as Callan rounded the corner. Behind him, the hallway was dark and empty. No torchlight shone in that direction, and he was completely alone, which was unusual for him. Even inside the castle, the prick usually had an escort.

He hurried up to me, his golden eyes full of arrogance and that perpetual amusement that suggested he saw life as a joke.

“I have somewhere to be,” I said.

“Is it true?” he asked. “Is Aurelia alive?”

My jaw tightened as I thought of the Obsidian’s last words. That Aurelia and Callan were destined for one another. “Yes.”

“Heliconia failed then,” he mused, almost to himself.

There was something in his tone, a flicker of emotion I couldn’t place. It was undoubtedly self-serving and made me suddenly oddly protective of the spoiled warrior princess.

“You’re going to get her?” he asked.

I didn’t bother to mask my irritation. “If you eavesdropped on the entire conversation, why bother asking me?”

“I’m going with you,” he said.

“No.” I strode for the door.

Callan hurried to catch up. “She won’t come willingly.”

I bit back a snarl at the way he tossed my words back at me.

“I can make her want to come,” he said.

I winced at the innuendo of that statement. But Callan merely blinked, his expression hopeful as he waited for me to respond.

“She’ll want to see me,” he added confidently.

“She broke your engagement then hid for seven years,” I said. “Why would you want to see her ? ”

His confidence melted away until desperation burned in his golden gaze. “Heliconia sent a message to Father.”

I frowned. “What kind of message?”

“She proposed marriage,” he huffed disgustedly.

I stopped walking and stared at him. “To whom?”

“To me, asshat. Who do you think?” Callan managed to look both offended and revolted.

“Why would she do that?”

“Father says it’s because she knows the courts don’t recognize her as a true queen, no matter how much blood she spills. He thinks she’s attempting to marry a crown for the recognition it would bring.”

My brows rose because it made sense. “She’d kill you before the end of the first night.”

“No shit.” He shuddered. “She’s insane.”

“Don’t tell me the old man is considering it.”

“He thinks he could eliminate her first and take Concordia for himself.”

Of course he did. He was too cocky to realize Heliconia was ten times more powerful than all his sorcerers combined. He’d be dead before he realized what had happened.

Callan, at least, understood—and had the fear in his eyes to prove it.

“The princess is your way out,” I said.

“We were engaged once. If she’ll honor that agreement, she’ll come willingly. Marry me willingly. And save our kingdom in the process.”

I shook my head at his selfishness. He would sacrifice the princess if it meant saving himself. “If you do this, Heliconia will come for us. Come for her.”

“She’ll come anyway,” he said, and I didn’t see a point in disagreeing.

Still, the protectiveness I felt for the Summer Court heir wasn’t something I could extinguish at this point. “If you bring her here, the old man will use her,” I warned.

“I’ll protect her.” The confidence was back. So was the na?veté. But I had my orders, and there was no point pretending I’d do anything else. The lifeblood oath demanded its fulfillment. Duron had given me an order, and I had no choice but to follow it.

“She might refuse you. Or fight us,” I said.

Callan’s smirk returned. “I like my chances.”

The urge to cut the smirk off his face rose in me, sharp and hot. I’d never been jealous of Callan in my life. When we were kids, I’d pitied him. Especially knowing he bore the brunt of Duron’s attention—and cruelty. But in this moment, I might’ve killed him just to take his place in the stupid prophecy. Let the princess be destined for me. Not him. Anyone but him.

The thought disgusted me. I wanted nothing to do with his crown. Besides, the part of me that remembered the boy he was—before Duron shaped him into this—hoped he’d be better than the old man someday.

The citizens of Grey Oak deserved that much.

“Fine,” I said at last. “We leave at dawn.”