Page 37 of The Nymph Prince

“No.”

“Tie him to a post and throw daggers at him?”

“Definitely not.”

Malik snarled. “Fine.”

As absurd as he was behaving, it helped lighten my mood.

I might’ve doubted my father’s true feelings toward me, but I’d never doubted Malik’s. He placed me first in all aspects of my life and had watched over me like he was sworn to do. Though, he went far beyond that of a personal guard. Some of the life lessons he’d taught me hadn’t come from a place of duty, but rather from him wanting me to be a better man.

Reaching the door to the dining chamber, I paused before knocking. It was rare for Father to invite me for morning meal, so whatever it was he needed to tell me must’ve been of the upmost importance.

“Are you going to stand outside that door all morning?” his voice called from the other side.

I turned the handle and went inside.

Not much was in the room, other than the rectangular table Father sat at and the floor to ceiling windows that gave a view of the palace gardens. Platters of food had been placed before him, an assortment of fruits and morning treats, and to his left was a place setting for me.

“Sit.” He motioned to the vacant seat.

I did as he’d instructed, waiting to speak until he’d given me the impression he wanted me to. Sometimes he could be temperamental that way, becoming angry when I spoke out of turn.

He might’ve been my father, but he was also a god. And he’d been a god for a lot longer.

“Eat.”

My nerves were on edge. Eating was the last thing I felt like doing. I grabbed a handful of berries and dropped them on my plate before taking one of the pastries from the platter. The tartness of the berries was nicely balanced by the sweetness of the pastry, and as I ate, I found I was hungrier than I’d thought.

Father ate very little. He mostly picked at his food and watched me. His eyes often changed shade, going from a sky blue to a steel-blue, much like the waters of the sea he governed; calm one moment and stormy the next. Ever changing like the tide. His pale hair held several small braids that were joined in the back by a golden clasp.

“Why do you reject our customs, Lorcan?”

“I don’t reject them,” I answered before taking a drink of water. “I regularly partake in quite a few of them.”

“Fucking is not what I’m referring to,” he snapped, and the power of his voice reverberated throughout the room. “You cut your hair too short to braid, and you hardly ever dress as a royal.”

“Dressing as a prince is uncomfortable. Too itchy.”

Father closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You must leave these childish whims behind you, Lorcan, and become the authoritative male you’re meant to be: crowned prince of Avalontis, son of Triton. The way the people see you matters, and if you’re prancing around the kingdom dressed as a commoner, they will see you as such.”

“I didn’t know I pranced,” I said. “It’s more like a masculine frolic if anything.”

“This is not the time for sarcastic quips!”

My mouth snapped shut.

I pushed him too far much too often with my sarcasm and playful banter. It was in those moments when the notion of him being overjoyed at having me as a son seemed ridiculous. Or perhaps he’d been that proud father once, but I’d disappointed him by not being the kind of prince he’d wanted me to be.

I wasn’t sure which would be worse: him never loving me or him having loved me once but not anymore.

“A war is coming,” he said, moving his blue-gray eyes to me. They’d darkened so fast. “As I stated at the feast… a storm unlike any other is on the horizon.”

“The humans?”

“Who else?” he snarled. “The human king is moving his forces closer to Avalontis. He doesn’t know our exact location, but I feel as if we have a traitor in our midst who’s been feeding him information. A snake in high grass, coiled and ready to strike.”

That explained his short temper that morning.