Page 49

T he moment the tent was sealed off from the outside world, I corrected my posture, rolling back my shoulders and doing my best to no longer look so small and scared.

“Finally. I thought they’d never leave,” I said nonchalantly.

Father’s expression shifted slightly, while Dimi was still frozen in place. As though he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

I unclasped the cloak I wore and flung it over the back of a high-backed chair, specifically made for those with wings.

Then, I walked over to the side of the tent where a basin of water sat.

My heart pounded as I turned my back to my father, but I knew with my newfound connection to the earth, and the extra power of my sun stone adorned gloves in my pocket, I’d be able to feel him coming if he moved from his chair at the head of the war table.

I wanted to appear comfortable. As though Father didn’t terrify the life out of me.

I wanted to look like the queen I truly was.

Using water wielding, I coated my hands in a layer of water, then ran them over my face, hair, and wings—slowly. Stroke by stroke, I removed the layers of dirt and grime I had put there in order to make it this far.

Once I had cleaned the dirt from myself, I wielded the water into a small bucket next to the basin, so as not to contaminate the clean water.

“Much better,” I said calmly as I turned back to the two males, who hadn’t moved a muscle. Though I couldn’t help but notice the way Father’s hands roughly gripped the arms of his chair, knuckles turning white.

He always hated being reminded of my abilities. He had forever wanted me to be powerless like Dimitri; he hated that I was his true heir and not his son. Reminding him of that, as well as my control over my wielding, would force him to break his composure, even if it was only slightly.

“And here I had thought I’d finally rid myself of you for good,” Father said with only a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Seems as though I was mistaken.”

I let his words roll off of me like the water I had just wielded, not taking anything he said to heart.

“I fear you can’t get rid of me that easily, Father,” I responded with a smirk that I knew Byn would be proud of.

I settled myself into the chair I had placed my cloak on, making myself at home and appearing as comfortable as I could, even crossing an ankle over my knee.

Father opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand to cut him off. The same way he had done to me and Dimi so many times before.

“This is how this is going to go. You’re going to call back your soldiers, surrender to the South, and then we can come to an agreement between our two nations that will put an end to this war.

Surely, we can be of more help to each other if we were to cease slaughtering one another,” I said, making a show of examining my nails.

Father barked out a harsh laugh. “ Never . Besides, why would I take your word for what the South will or won’t do?”

“Because I am their queen, after all.” I flicked my eyes up to meet his and smiled sweetly, shifting my arm to show off the tattoo inked there—the Thorntier family crest.

He looked stunned, as though he couldn’t quite believe the marriage he arranged actually went through. And that I’d won them all over.

Then, his expression shifted into a sly smile.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, you’ve actually surprised me.

I didn’t imagine you’d actually win their respect.

And in such a short amount of time, too,” Father said.

“But that changes nothing. I will never surrender to the likes of you , or your new people. If my army is to fall today, we would rather fight to the death.”

Got him , I thought to myself.

“It’s funny that you suggest fighting to the death,” I said, lowering my hands onto the arms of my chair. “Because I’m still Northern born. And as such, I have certain rights. So, I’m evoking the right to challenge you, Father, to a veltik khan.”

A veltik khan was an ancient Northern ritual where the two parties were forced to fight to the death.

Rejecting the challenge of a veltik khan was a huge disgrace, and was seen as admitting weakness and known defeat.

While breaking the rules of a veltik khan was looked down upon and branded as untrustworthy, that was nothing compared to simply rejecting the challenge.

Additionally, only one weapon per party was allowed.

Only the two party's bodies, one weapon each, and any zirilium they could wield.

Rejecting the veltik khan was something I knew for a fact the king before me would never do.

Both Father and Dimitri were stunned into a lapse of silence, but I didn’t break it. I allowed them to mull over what I’d just proposed—let my father ponder over his limited options.

For the first time since I sat down, I cast a glance at Dimitri. I didn’t want to show any indifference towards him in front of our father, in case he tried to use him against me somehow. But looking upon my brother now, I could read him like an open book. Like always.

Just by his eyes alone, I could tell he was begging me not to do this. He wholeheartedly believed I’d lose, that he was about to watch me die, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it.

My heart ached for him, and I wished so badly that I could let him know it’d be alright.

That I wouldn’t be losing today.

“Fine,” Father said at last, rising to his feet to tower a good foot over me, making me feel like a child again, even with the table between us. “But you won’t be fighting me ,” he said with an evil grin.

Father unclasped his widely known, black onyx crested sword, Tarrious, from around his waist and shoved it towards Dimitri.

“You’ll be fighting him, instead, right here and now. I choose Prince Dimitri to represent me,” our father said.

At those two sentences alone, my stomach plummeted.

I knew this was somewhat of a possibility, but I truly thought my father’s pride would overtake him and he’d want to put me down himself.

I miscalculated.

And now I had to pay the price.

My eyes flickered to meet Dimitri’s, and I saw the pure panic written in them.

I saw the exact moment he came to the conclusion that only one of us would make it out of this tent alive.

His eyes were full of sorrow, and I felt as though he was already grieving me.

If I were in his shoes, I’d be doing the same thing.

As far as Dimi knew, he’d taught me every maneuver and trick I knew.

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t know I had a few new tricks up my sleeve.

I tried to silently reassure Dimi, casting him a weighted yet emotional glance. I let him see every emotion written on my face for just a split second, before letting my neutral mask fall back into place.

Getting to my feet, I felt Rayven stirring, as though in warning. It took all my effort not to call upon him for an ounce of comfort or courage.

Father led Dimi to the back of the large tent, murmuring to him fervently. He pulled a pair of fighting leathers out of a wooden chest, handing them to Dimi, who quickly donned them over his more casual clothes.

Leaving Dimi to prepare, Father swiftly shoved the war table to the side, closer to the water basin, to make a larger area for the veltik khan.

Standing closer to the center of the tent now, I unsheathed my own sword from across my back—the one Dimi had given me for my fourteenth birthday, that I had named Elaera.

It was among my things back at Cairnyl, and I brought it out specifically for the possibility of this battle.

Though I never expected to be using it against the person who gifted it to me in the first place.

After placing all other weapons on the war table, I made sure to specifically shift my mother’s dagger to the bottom of the pile to hide it.

I weighed my sword in my palm, looking down at the shimmering silvery blade, crested at the top with an array of bright blue sapphires.

Originally, Dimi had said they matched my eyes.

If only he knew.

Cracking my knuckles, I watched as Father said a few final words to Dimitri, then they both turned to face me. Father backed up a few paces, while Dimi stepped forward.

“It didn’t have to be this way,” he said to me quietly.

I smiled at him sadly. “Yes, twin. It did.”

And with that, I swung my sword in a high arc, aiming straight for his fighting shoulder.

Dimi quickly lifted Tarrious, blocking the blow, but the unexpected swing cost him a few feet as he yielded a couple steps backwards, obviously startled.

Our eyes met, and I could see the warrior instincts in him rising to the surface.

Good , I thought. Let’s put on a show.

One thing about Dimi was that he had tells. The slight shift in his foot before he swung, the intake of breath before lunging forward. I had spent years studying people, but because he taught me to fight, I studied him more than anybody else.

Every move he made, I easily blocked, until we were both in a dance of swings, arcs, blows, and lunges, trying to knock the other person off balance. The only sounds filling the air was the sound our swords made when they met, and our heavy breathing.

Finally, I saw Dimi’s patience beginning to thin ever so slightly. He threw himself into his next blow, aiming for a non-fatal spot in my lower side.

Taking the opportunity while I could, I side stepped swiftly and lowered my sword towards his shins so his legs hit the flat part of Elaera, causing no damage but still making him falter.

He stumbled forward, and I kicked his back between his wings just hard enough to cause him to land on his knees.

I placed the tip of my sword at the top of his spine, where his head could easily be severed from the rest of him.

I pressed slightly, not breaking skin, but enough where he could feel the threat.