Chapter 12

" I 've never seen a human city before," Naril comments, his upper lip curled as the smell of the slums greets us. "It seems I haven't been missing out on anything."

We've been travelling for hours and have just reached the outer reaches of the city. Leaning against the wall of the carriage, I view the looming shadow of the city from the window. Built from the black stone of the cliffs, even on the brightest of days, the city still looks dull and lifeless, but there's a darkness that hovers over the Arhaven that has nothing to do with the stone it's built from.

A heavy silence fell over the carriage during the last hour or so of the journey. Light conversation had kept us entertained until we started reaching the outer towns and we saw the slaves working in the fields and lining the roads. Thankfully, there weren't many. Arhaven can't spare many slaves for the small towns of Stormdale, Stonecrest, and Ravensgate, but as we approached the sprawling farmlands, that all changed. As far as the eye could see were fields with slaves completing their backbreaking labour, and never far away were the slave masters with their whips, ready to be used at a moment's notice.

As we passed the farms, my chest felt like it was in a vice, and I had to look the other way as memories threatened to overwhelm me. While my time working as a slave in the castle had been hard, it had been worse in the farms. Slaves never survived there for long. It was a miracle from the Mother that I was transferred to the castle. My discomfort hadn't gone unnoticed by the others, and I knew they wanted to ask if I was okay, but at a cough from Eldrin, they settled back into their seats, keeping a careful watch on me ever since.

Now we've passed the farms and we're beginning to ascend into the city, but we have to pass through the slums first. The population in Arhaven has grown so much that many have to live outside the safety of the city walls, as they can't afford the exorbitant rents. I've never visited the slums. Before I escaped, I'd never even left the castle grounds other than when I was first brought here, so I'd only ever overheard tales of them from the servants in the castle. Horror stories of young girls being stolen in the night and of conditions that make the slave quarters sound practically safe and luxurious.

The clipped hoofbeats of an approaching horse brings me back to the present, and glancing out the window, I see Grayson approaching. My stomach tightens at his serious expression, and I know he's feeling the effects of being back in Arhaven, our bond becoming more strained with every mile we travelled. Opening the window as his horse moves up alongside the carriage, I try to keep my nerves under control. I'm not too proud to admit I'm fearful to be returning to the city that made me a slave. I know the others can sense it, from the deep rumbles that surround me, their fae and mate instincts driving them to protect me.

"We're about to enter the city," Grayson informs us as he looks around the carriage, his eyes narrowing slightly as they linger on Eldrin, and I know he must have felt some of the earlier turmoil from our bond. However, that's a conversation that will have to wait until later, as we have far more dangerous matters to attend to. "We will be creating a shield that protects the whole procession so you're all safe." Although he's still speaking to everyone, his eyes are locked on me. A small weight lifts from my chest, and I can breathe easier. Magic would be protecting us as we entered the city. Only the foolish would dare to attack a magician, but hunger makes people do desperate things, and I don't trust the king not to attempt an ambush before we even reach the castle.

"Even so," the mage continues, a note of warning in his voice, "don't leave the carriage until we get to the castle. Remember what we said before, appearances are everything. I will escort you from the carriage when the time is right." He waits for me to nod my agreement before his serious expression softens. "Are you okay?"

I want to laugh and tell him no, that I'm not okay, that the closer we get, the more it feels like I'm reopening a wound in my chest. Instead, I take a deep breath and stare at the dark, looming castle in the distance. "I hate being back here."

"I know," he replies. He wishes he could take me away, wants to bear this burden for me. He'll do the next best thing and protect me from any threat. "I'll see you soon," he promises, and rides off to the front of the procession.

Closing the window, I lean back into my seat and pull my knees up against my chest, not caring that it's unladylike. I need this time to be allowed to just be me. I've got from here until we arrive at the castle before people will start to judge me or watch my every move for a way to take me down. The guys can feel my desire for time, and mercifully, they give it to me.

I allow my mind to go numb as we enter the slums. I know if I fully allow myself to take in the horror of what I see, I won't make it through this meeting with the king. The slums are mostly empty, no one wanting to get in the way of a parade of magicians' carriages, but I'm sure I catch glimpses of thin, bedraggled children between the shacks that are squeezed together. A noise catches my attention from inside the carriage, and as I look away from the window, I'm surprised by the clenched fists and looks of anger on everyone's faces. That strange, pained noise sounds again, and I realise it's coming from Vaeril. His features are tight, and as I reach for our bond, I find much of the discomfort in my chest is not my own, but his as he remembers his time as a captive here.

"Vaeril," I murmur, but he doesn't respond, too far in his own memories to hear me. The others shift in their seats, their distress obvious at seeing their friend distraught. Reaching for our bond, I stroke it gently, but it has no effect. His fear starts to leak into me, and I know I'll be useless if I let it overcome me. Taking a deep breath, I try to steady my breathing, and whispering an apology, I yank the bond between Vaeril and me.

His eyes automatically fly to mine, his breathing ragged. It's okay, you're safe , I push the thoughts towards him, knowing he won't hear the words but will feel the intent behind them. Looking around the carriage, he grimaces as he takes in the others, who are trying to make it look like they weren't watching him, but his eyes quickly return to mine. I feel his dread and fear, and I can see now that he's been trying to hide them from me, not wanting to worry me. He knew how anxious I was about returning to Arhaven, so he buried his own fears to support me.

I stand and cross the small space of the moving carriage before climbing into his lap, ignoring his noise of surprise. He soon gets over his shock and wraps his arms around me, a low hum of pleasure rumbling through his chest as he rests his chin on the top of my head. Strands of his silver hair fall over me like a waterfall, blocking out much of my view and surrounding me with his scent. Reaching out, I twist some of his hair around my fingers as I feel him start to relax against me.

"You can be scared," I tell him, keeping my voice a soft whisper. "You can fall apart and feel lost. You never have to hide that from me." A sense of guilt reaches me, but he knows I'm not saying any of this to make him feel guilty. "I know you want to protect me, and I love that, but I'm not a fragile doll. I can handle your emotions and your dark days. Let me help you the way you help me." Lifting my head, I look up so our eyes meet, my hand stroking his chest in a slow, comforting motion.

"When we face the king, you can't let him see what effect he has on us." I'm not just talking to Vaeril now, but myself as well, preparing us for what's to come. He nods, and I can feel him reaching for his anger, moulding it into an impenetrable barrier. I don't blame him for automatically using his fury, that's exactly how I've coped in the past, but I feel him blocking me out in the process.

"Wait." He frowns as I grasp for our bond again, knowing I can't put what I'm feeling into words. Pressing my forehead against his, I push all my feelings and emotions towards our connection. I want him to take his anger to fuel his resolve, but to use our love as a shield, as it is far stronger than anything the king could come at us with. A small smile appears on Vaeril's face, and happiness blooms in my chest.

"I love you," he whispers, pressing a long, gentle kiss against my lips, which I return with a breathy moan.

I allow myself those few moments of happiness as we taste each other, just the two of us, and pretend we are just two people in love. Ignoring the others in the carriage with us, our other responsibilities and the rapidly upcoming ball with the king, we steal those precious minutes.

Unfortunately, that's all we get. Pulling away from his lips, I smile at the heat in his eyes, wishing we had time to take things further. I look at the others in the carriage, who have been trying not to watch us, all except Tor, who's viewing me with a smile and raised eyebrow.

"We are so much stronger together," I announce, waiting for Naril and Eldrin to look over. "All of us." Placing my hand over my breastbone, I rub at it gently where my bonds sit, hoping Grayson is able to feel the sentiment. If we're going to make it out of this, we have to work together.

The elves nod, everyone oddly silent now, their attention drawn to something out the windows. The fact that Naril's quiet makes me uneasy, and even Tor seems grim faced now, his attention outside. Shifting my position on Vaeril's lap, I lean to see out the window and notice we're at the city walls.

The city is built on a hill, and the entire area is surrounded by towering black stone fortifications. It's intimidating and makes me feel nauseous just to look at it, remembering how it felt to break the spell that was on the wall when Vaeril and I escaped. It felt like it was going to kill me, and I can't stop my shudder as we pass through the gates. Part of me expects to feel something, some residual magic or pain, but we cross without any issues. Vaeril rubs my back, and I release the breath I hadn't realised I was holding.

Now that we're inside the city, I feel a strange sense of curiosity overtake me. This is the place where I've lived for a huge part of my life, but the only time I've ever seen any of it was as I escaped. Staying seated on Vaeril's lap, I take it all in.

It's fairly obvious that the lower, poorer classes live at the bottom of the city, all of the buildings inadequately maintained and tightly cramped together. We pass several brothels. The young ladies waiting outside in their skimpy clothing have dull eyes, and I notice slave marks on some of their wrists. One of the only ways out of slavery is to bear a child for a lord's barren wife. Once the babe is born, the slave is sold to serve in the king's brothels. Looking at the dull, lifeless eyes, the bruises on their pale skin, and the watchful gaze of the minder by the door, I would say they've only gone from one form of slavery to another.

The only buildings that seem to be well maintained are the churches on every other street corner. The huge structures are domineering and oppressive, making me shudder as we pass. As the main road winds its way up, we reach the marketplace with a large, communal well. A line of young women wait by the well, many of whom are balancing a baby on one hip and a bucket on the other, before trudging back down the hill with the full pail.

In the castle, they have full plumbing with magically heated water at a moment's notice. I shouldn't be so surprised that the king kept that luxury to himself, yet I find myself disgusted at how some of his citizens are forced to live. It's barely better than my life as a slave, and that was a punishment. What have these people done to deserve this life, other than be born in the wrong part of the city? My ever-present anger rises, and I wonder if there is any way I could ever ally myself with such a corrupt human as the king.

Tor makes a noise of discontent, and when I look up, I see he's shaking his head as he stares out the window. Feeling my gaze on him, he glances at me, and I notice a fire burning in his eyes. He feels the same way as me, he always has. Tor might not have experienced slavery or captivity here like Vaeril and I did, but one thing I've learned about him is that he's a dreamer. Whether that's fighting for a fairer life for his sister in the tribes or helping strangers in an unfamiliar city.

The emotion in his eyes is too much for me, bringing up memories I'm not prepared to relive right now, and I have to look away, unable to deal with the strength of those feelings. Instead, I look out the window as Vaeril holds me closer, humming low in his throat to calm me.

The marketplace is still busy, even though it's late afternoon, but all activity stops as we travel through. Everyone stares at our carriages while worried whispers follow us. As we travel higher, the quality of the road improves, and the buildings and houses are much nicer and spaced farther apart.

When we reach the upper city, there's a second set of gates that are guarded, and after a short delay, we're let through. I watch in shocked disgust as we pass the pristine buildings. It's like its own town within the city with a separate market, churches, and I even see a park with gardeners pruning the roses. There are no brothels here, or if there are, they are well hidden, and there are no signs of pain or suffering to be seen. I can feel my mates' anger through our connection, so I know it's not just me who finds this appalling. Their people are starving and living in squalor, but they've built a wall and fenced them off so they don't have to look at them. So they can live their perfect lives without having to feel any guilt.

We're almost at the castle now. Taking a deep breath, I focus on keeping all of my bubbling feelings under control as we round a corner and come to yet another set of gates. This one is lined with guards carrying swords, and in the two watch towers next to the gateway stand several archers, their arrows nocked and aimed at the carriages. I don't think they're going to shoot at us, just making a show of force, following us with their arrows as we make our way past them. The elves seem tense, but we all know the magic surrounding us will stop an arrow. It's the unknown that's scarier right now.

We're silent as we continue down the long driveway towards the castle. The tall, dark evergreen trees that line the lane only add to the gloomy effect of the black stone. The castle doors open, and several people step out, but from this angle, I can't see who.

Being back here, compiled with the unknown and the stress of everything, suddenly feels overwhelming, and no matter how hard I try, memories of my time here start to push their way into my mind. The pain as my skin sizzled under the iron as I received my marks. The various beatings and whippings for not completing jobs fast or well enough. Being cornered by a group of guards looking for someone to play with, only to be rescued by an older slave stumbling upon us, enabling me to escape. The night my mother was murdered in front of me and then the king committed genocide by systematically killing all of the remaining slaves.

My mates all reach out to me, all offering their strengths—Grayson with his love and concern, Tor with his vigour and support, Vaeril with his wisdom and passion. Physically, I can feel them all surrounding me too. Eldrin is nearby, don't ask me how I know, but I can sense him.

"Clarissa," Eldrin calls, close but not touching. He knows better than to touch me during a flashback. "Remember what I taught you. Ground yourself, you are safe," he reminds me, going over his lessons from before. But he doesn't need to. The images of my mother being slaughtered and the slaves being butchered settled something within me. An icy calm washes over me as I open my eyes and see them surrounding me. Meeting each of their gazes, I let them see I'm fully in control of myself, allowing a small smile to grace my lips.

"I'm okay," I promise, using my hurt and pain as armour. People like the king think my experiences make me weak, but they don't, and I'm finally beginning to realise they make me strong. "I won't let him get the better of me." It's a vow, not only to them, but to myself. There will be obstacles in that castle that will test me beyond whatever the king has planned, and I know I can't allow my own fears to get the better of me. Not when I have other people depending on me. "I got out of here once, and we will all get out of here again." I meet their gazes, then turn in Vaeril's lap, looking up at him, pressing my lips gently against his. I mean what I say, I fully intend on us all leaving this place alive. That includes my missing magician. Wilson. Pain pulses through me as I think of my happy-go-lucky friend and how he's missing. It wouldn't surprise me if he decided to stay behind to protect Aileen and Jayne. That is exactly something he would do, but I can't help but worry that the king has done something to him to hurt me.

Feeling my anxiety, Tor leans forward and cups my cheek, and I lean into his comforting touch. "We will be with you the entire time," he reassures me, but he frowns and slides his hand down, pressing it against my breastbone where our bonds sit. "Even if we get separated, you will never be alone." His words echo something the Great Mother said, and I nod as the carriage comes to a halt.

Everyone moves back to their seats, all except me. When I try to move, Vaeril growls softly, so I shrug and stay where I am. They won't be able to see into the carriage, and even if they can, they know I ‘consort' with elves. We may as well give the castle gossips something to talk about.

One of the mages appears by the carriage door, his eyes briefly meeting mine before flicking away, his movements rigid and professional as he reaches for the handle. Once the door is open, he bows deeply to me, holding the pose for a couple of seconds before rising and pulling down the carriage steps. The genuflection makes me uncomfortable, but it had already been explained to me that it was necessary, that appearances needed to be kept up. So I keep my mouth shut as the mage finishes his job and incline my head slightly in thanks when he rises.

"Announcing Clarissa, the Great Mother's chosen," the mage proclaims, his voice carrying across the courtyard, even though it isn't raised. My skin tingles as I stand in the carriage, and I realise why. Magic. Brushing down my dress, I take a deep breath. It's a relatively simple but exquisitely well-made dress, but what makes it stand out is the colour. The dark blue fabric with the delicate golden chain around my waist shows the magicians' claim over me. My dark grey cloak from the tribes sits over the top, my golden hawk pin proudly displayed in the center where it fastens together. I'm not wearing anything belonging to the elves, except I'll have one on each arm as I enter the castle. Overall, my appearance makes a statement, exactly like Grayson said I should. He assured me I'll be given time to change before this farce of a ball this evening.

Grayson appears by the carriage door and holds out his hand to me. I take his hand, and channelling my inner elf, I school my expression into a serene mask.

The sun is bright and warms my skin, the weather so at odds with the cold feeling of the courtyard. Even the grass on either side of the gravel driveway looks dull and lifeless. With Grayson on my right, he acts as a barrier, blocking my view of the king and whoever is waiting with him, giving me more time to prepare myself as we step away from the carriage.

"The chosen's mates, High Mage Grayson," the mage announces again, and we come to a stop just a few feet away. Releasing my hand, Grayson kisses it gently and steps to the side, allowing room for my other mates.

Clearing his throat, the mage continues, "Lord Vaeril of the high elves, and Torsten, Ambassador of the Mountain Tribes." Vaeril takes the spot Grayson just vacated, dipping his head to me with the supernatural grace that only the fae possess as he offers me his arm. Tor appears at my other side, dipping his head in respect before kissing my hand in a gesture similar to Grayson's, and then he moves aside, his hand on his axe which is strapped to his side. We decided it would be best if, as a show of strength, Tor followed just behind me, allowing him to spot any threats. This leaves my other arm open for my other elf.

"Announcing the chosen's companions, Lords Elnaril and Eldrin of the high elves." I have to fight my wince as Eldrin is announced as my ‘companion' rather than one of my mates, and I know the comment will have stung. The urge to turn to him is hard to resist, but I keep my position, and soon enough, Eldrin and Naril appear before me. Both perform short bows before taking up their positions—Naril the mirror of Tor behind me, and Eldrin taking my left arm in his. I may be dreading this whole event, but I am looking forward to seeing the king's face when I walk in with an elf on either arm and his previous army of mages as my personal protectors.

Footsteps sound behind me, and I have to fight the impulse to whirl around, all of my senses on high alert, but I know I can't, not while I'm being watched. Focusing, I use my senses and realise I recognise the scents coming my way. They smell like family, like home. So instead, I repress my instincts and lazily glance over my shoulder, seeing it's my aunt being escorted by Ellis.

"Announcing the leader of the mountain tribes, High Chief Revna, and High Mage Ellis," the mage declares once more, his voice carrying around the courtyard.

Dipping my head to my aunt to show my respect, I watch as a flash of humour sparkles in her eyes as she steps into my view. She approaches and presses a kiss to both cheeks, the familiar gesture warming my heart, before she steps back. Accepting Ellis' arm once more, she stands between Tor and Naril. Although back with the tribes, Revna is higher in authority than I am, here, she hasn't come as high chief, she's come simply as my aunt and a warrior to support me.

The remaining elves and tribesmen have exited the carriages and get into formation around us—three elves and three tribesmen guarding us from the front, and the same guarding our rear. The remaining mages are spread evenly around us in a protective perimeter, with Grayson at the front.

They're waiting for a signal, some sign that I'm ready, and honestly, I'm not sure I'll ever be fully prepared to face the king again, but I want to get this over with, get my people, and leave this city. Taking a deep breath, I nod, and we start walking. I finally turn to face the people waiting for us on the steps of the castle.

My eyes are instantly drawn to the king. He looks like Jacob. He's tall, has blond hair that is turning grey, and blue eyes, but where Jacob's face always held curiosity and kindness, there's a cruelness in the king's gaze. The brand, although long healed, throbs at the bottom of my spine. It's the mark all child slaves are given when sold to slavery to show whom we belong to—the king's symbol. As if he can sense it, the king smirks, his eyes gleaming with an emotion I can't quite work out. Anger, disgust, and fear all war within me, but my determination is stronger and keeps my steps even as we walk towards my enemy. I can feel my mates' anger, but I push our connection to the back of my mind so I'm still aware of it, but the sensations are muted. I need to be able to fully concentrate and be in control of my own emotions right now.

At the king's side are his sons, Princes Rhydian and Michael, and on the other side is High Priest Rodrick and several other advisers. The priest sneers at me, but I ignore him, not even bothering to waste my time with the cruel man. The priests in Arhaven have completely twisted the Great Mother's words, and I can see them clearly now. I want nothing to do with their corrupt ways. I scan the group for Jacob, but my eyes keep being pulled back to Prince Rhydian and I can't pinpoint why. Something about him seems…different. I hadn't spent much time around him before I escaped Arhaven, and I heard some rumours about him, but as I look at him, his eyes flick up and lock with mine.

A jolt of ice goes down my spine, and I instinctively go to take a step back, pulling Eldrin and Vaeril to a stop. Thankfully, we are close enough that we can make it look deliberate, as there is no way I am getting any closer to that prince. Rhydian's once blue eyes are now completely black, the pupils so large, I can only just see the whites of his eyes. His lips curl up in a smile, and the feeling of menace emanating from him makes me aware that whatever I do, I need to make sure I'm never left alone with him. My wrist glows as my goddess mark comes to life, the presence of the Mother settling over me. I'm vaguely aware of people around me gasping and staring at my wrist, but I keep my eyes on Rhydian. He's the biggest threat right now.

There is much evil here, my beloved , the goddess whispers into my head, but her voice isn't as strong as usual, her presence coming and going in waves. I am being blocked. My powers are not as strong as they should be, but you are not alone , she reassures me, easing my worries. I sense her anger as I continue to watch Rhydian. But be warned, that one is dangerous. Agreeing with her wholeheartedly, I force myself not to shudder under his stare.

Eldrin begins growling quietly beside me, the sound vibrating through my body and helping to ground me. I don't bother to reprimand him as he snarls at the prince, since he makes no move to attack. Glancing at Vaeril on my right arm, I see he's also snarling at the prince, obviously sensing the same threat I do.

I don't think we're under any immediate danger, so I pull my gaze from Rhydian and sweep the group once more. Jacob's absence is obvious and sends a bolt of fear through me. Where is he? Is he okay? Has he been harmed?

"Clarissa," the king calls out in greeting, elongating my name as he speaks, putting more emphasis on the final letter. I meet his piercing gaze. Once, I shied away from those cruel eyes.

Now, with a confidence I didn't know I possessed, I tilt my head to one side as if examining him. He looks callous, and no one knows better than I how merciless he can be, but as I survey him, I realise something—he's just one man. A sadistic human. He has no power, and without the magicians behind him, no magic either. I have the might of the goddess at my back. The realisation makes me smile, only the slightest twitch of my lips, but the king sees it, and it's enough to wipe the smirk from his face.

Making a small noise in the back of my throat, I straighten. "Your Majesty," I greet simply, refusing to bow. My eyes flick over to the two princes, and I dip my head ever so slightly in greeting before immediately turning back to the king. "Where's Jacob?"

The smirk is back as the king watches me closely. "Cutting to the chase, I see." There's a hint of admiration in his voice that makes me want to shudder, and the hunger in his gaze makes me feel like I need to bathe. Except, I don't get the feeling he wants me for my body. "Good." His gaze darts to the elves on my arms, and although his expression doesn't change, he can't hide the hatred in his eyes. "You shall see him later after we have discussed business," the king tells me, his voice leaving no room for argument. "For now, retire to your room and rest before the ball. I'm sure you're tired from your journey." The patronising tone of his voice matches the smile he gives me as he opens his arms and gestures for us to enter the castle. I refuse to answer him, not rising to his jibes.

A steward appears in the doorway, dropping into a low, elaborate bow before standing and indicating for us to follow him. We turn to do just that, my face serene, but internally, I'm confused. This has not gone how I expected at all, although I'm not quite sure what I expected—the king to attack me on sight?

I'm just climbing the four stone steps that lead up to the large castle doors when I pass the king. "I see you've brought my magicians back to me," he says in a low voice.

Pulling Eldrin and Vaeril to a stop, I turn slowly to look at the king. We're much closer now, far closer than I would like, especially seeing as that puts me near his son, who's watching me with a smirk. His comment makes my anger simmer and bubble, which is exactly why he said it. Without looking away, I extract my arm from Vaeril's and hold out my hand, gently stroking the bond I share with Grayson, whispering a request. Within seconds, my mage takes my hand in both of his, raising it to his lips as he presses a kiss there, his eyes locked on his former king.

"They don't belong to anyone," I correct, arching a single eyebrow. "However, they ally with me now."

My display only seems to have amused the king, who is smirking. "We shall see." Dismissing me with a wave of his hand, he turns his attention to someone behind me, and glancing over my shoulder, I feel my stomach sink as I realise who he's targeting next. "High Chief Revna," the king calls out, and I see her freeze as he addresses her. Turning her cold gaze on him, she places her hand over her axe, and I know she would only be too happy to slaughter him on the spot.

"Now, it is a surprise to see you here," he practically purrs, moving forward as if to walk right up to her. A few steps away from her, he stops, cocking his head to the side and reaching out as if to touch something. A blue light ripples through the air around us as the king jerks his hand back quickly, and I feel the thick sensation of magic in the air as he activates the shield around us. Somehow, he knew it was there. Narrowing my eyes, I watch him carefully as he cradles his hand to his chest, his gaze calculating, and I realise he didn't know for sure, but he suspected.

What would the shield have done to him if he'd walked straight into it? I ponder, a dark little part of my mind wishing that he had. It would have saved us a lot of trouble.

Knowing he can't get any closer to my aunt, I see a flash of something go through his eyes as he takes another step forward, getting so close to the shield, I can almost feel it sizzling. "I didn't think you would ever leave the mountains. At least that's what your sister told me," he comments in a conversational tone, ignoring her hostile expression. With a sorrowful sigh, he places a hand on his chest and glances over at me before returning his attention to Revna, but I don't miss the gleam in his eyes. He's enjoying this. "It's such a shame she isn't here to show you around," he jibes with fake remorse. Body stiff, Revna simply glares at the king, not bothering to respond, although I can see her hand twitching, longing to reach for her axe and settle this the way of the tribespeople.

Having failed to rattle the high chief, the king changes tactics, his body language changing in an instant. "Never mind, maybe I could show you around. I would love to spend some time with you this evening. Perhaps I chose the wrong sister."

Hatred runs through my veins, and if it wasn't for the two elves holding me back and whispering to me in elvish, I'm not sure what my actions might have been. Fool , my thoughts chide, that's exactly what he wants you to do. Vaeril is still talking to me under his breath in his lilting language, and while I have no idea what he's saying, it helps calm me. Eldrin, on the other hand, while also speaking in elvish, sounds like he's making a promise. As I pull my gaze from the king to look at him, our eyes meet, and I see I was right. I don't need to be able to understand elvish to know a promise for vengeance when I hear one.

A feral sounding growl catches my attention, and the thick push of magic fills the air. Revna has stepped right up to the king, the magical barrier between them glowing as she snarls at him. "My sister was too good for you," she spits, visibly furious as her body trembles with rage. Tor is at her side, speaking to her in a low voice, too quiet for me to hear, but whatever he says makes her pause. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she steps back, her head held high. "I am here for my niece, and nothing else."

My heart swells with emotions I struggle to put a name to, feelings I'm unused to experiencing. Revna put aside her anger, pain, and need for revenge for me, knowing I need her support to get through this, even if I didn't know it myself. Loyalty , my mind whispers to me. She may be here to support me, but being here is also hurting her, knowing that her sister suffered in this place. She needs me too, and perhaps we can both get answers.

Glancing at Vaeril, I stroke our bond and release myself from his hold. Placing my now free hand on Eldrin's arm, I glance up at my scarred elf and ask him to trust me with my eyes before sliding my arm from his. His expression tightens, but he doesn't stop me. With a slight tilt of my head, I motion for them to follow me. Slowly, I walk to my aunt's side, knowing without having to check that my elves are following closely behind me. Reaching Revna, I ignore the king and hold out my hand to her, praying to the Mother it stays steady.

"Come," I call softly. To the king, it may sound like an order, but as she drags her gaze from her sister's killer, I see the gratitude in her eyes as I give her a way out. Dipping her head slightly, she takes my hand. I link her arm with mine, turn away from the king, and start walking towards the steward, who's still waiting by the doors.

With my aunt at my side and my mates close by, I stride into the home of my enemy. The last time I was here, I was no better than a prisoner, an ex-slave. Could we be walking into a trap? Possibly. I know there will be no easy way to get out of this. This time, I hold the power because I have something the king wants. I just have to pray it's enough.