Chapter 14

T he music changes as Rhydian leads me out onto the dancefloor, the other dancers instantly making space for us. My skin crawls where I touch him, and I literally feel repelled by him.

I can feel the eyes of the whole ballroom on us, watching our every move, and as his hand lands on my waist, I swear I hear the growls of at least four males. However, when I glance over my shoulder, they all seem to be behaving themselves, except for Eldrin, who has disappeared. That makes me nervous, but I don't have time to worry about that right now. I have to focus on the prince who's grinning at me as he leads me into a simple waltz. My dance experience is extremely limited, which, from the smug look he keeps giving me, he knows, but he doesn't say anything or try to trip me up with more difficult moves. In fact, he doesn't say or do anything untoward, which makes me suspicious. What is going on here? Are they trying to distract us from something? I ponder, but that doesn't feel right either. All I know is the longer I dance with the prince, the more I start to feel nauseous, and my skin almost burns where he touches me. A tingle runs over me, something which my body seems to try and reject, and it takes my entire concentration just to focus on keeping myself upright and following his simple movements.

"What's wrong with you?" I finally ask between gritted teeth when I can't take it any longer, my gaze locked over his shoulder.

I can feel his eyes on me, his body shaking as he chuckles. "Whatever do you mean, my dear?" His smooth voice may charm the other ladies, but it just makes me want to shudder.

"You know what I mean." My words are harsh and clipped, my patience shattered by his presence. Finally deigning to meet his gaze, I narrow my eyes as I look him up and down. When I meet his eyes, a flash of fear goes through me, but I can't explain it other than he feels dangerous, like a predator, and right now, I'm pressed right up against him. "You are…wrong," I spit, and I know I probably shouldn't be antagonising him, but I just can't seem to help myself. His wrongness awakens my anger and frustration. "I've seen the way people react around you, even if they don't realise they're doing it. Not to mention your eyes changed." As I look into those black orbs, his smile widens, making his handsome features take on an intense, creepy mien. Instead of upsetting him, my words almost seem to please him as another wave of prickles rolls over my skin. "It almost…it almost feels like magic, but it's twisted."

I struggle to explain the sensation, but I needn't have worried. Humming low in his throat, Rhydian leads me into a spin, giving me a brief respite before pulling me back into his hold. Landing against him with an ‘oomph,' I rest my hands against his chest, trying to put some space between us.

"Very impressive," he purrs, lowering his face until we are eye to eye. Leaning back as far as I can, I raise my eyebrows at his comment. "Most people don't notice," he continues, releasing his tight hold on me and returning us to a slow waltz, never once stopping his conversation. "And those that do don't realise it's me making them feel uneasy." Spinning us around the ballroom, he weaves us through the other dancers. "You are the first to figure it out." I feel his eyes land on me once more, but I keep my head up, my gaze on the room around me. He seems to find this amusing as he just chuckles.

His laughter makes me indignant, stirring at my anger. "What are you?"

My question seems to catch him by surprise, because from the corner of my eye, I see his smile drop for a second as he pauses. "I'm Prince Rhydian of Arhaven," he answers after a beat, his tone light, deceptively so, but I didn't miss that pause.

I look at his face, really look, and see something I didn't notice at first. Something about what I said upset him. However, I get the impression I'm asking the wrong questions. Think, Clarissa , I muse, contemplating everything I know so far. A thought comes to me. "You changed," I murmur, thinking not only about the way he's acting, but his physical appearance. "What happened to you?"

He smiles again, showing too many teeth, and his pupils seem to get impossibly bigger as he stares at me. Another wave of awareness rolls over me. Real fear surges through my veins as I rip myself from his hold, taking a step back. "A lot has changed since you and your goddess abandoned us," he accuses, stepping towards me, closing the distance I try to put between us. The other dancers continue to move around us like nothing's happening. Rhydian takes one last step and grabs my wrist, making me hiss with discomfort at the sense of wrongness radiating off him, but he doesn't seem to care as he stares down at me. All smiles are gone now, his face is completely serious, and I swear for a moment his eyes seem to…quiver, like the black retreats and I can see some of the blue of his iris. Except he blinks and it's gone. I must have imagined it .

"Are you going to save us, Clarissa?" Voice a whisper, he lowers his head again, and for a horrendous second, I think he's going to kiss me, but he doesn't, he just stares into my eyes. "You're our only hope now."

"Rhydian," a voice snaps, breaking the spell over us. Rhydian straightens and steps away, his usual smirk back in place as he looks at the speaker—the king. Suddenly able to breathe, I feel a strange sense of gratitude towards the king, which I never thought would be possible. Now free of the strange nausea his son was causing, I look over at the king and see he's frowning at Rhydian.

"Don't monopolise all of Clarissa's time," he chides. He smiles and pats Rhydian on the back as if he's gently chastising him, but from the tightness in his eyes, it's obvious he's not happy about something. My stomach churns, there's so much more going on here that we don't understand. The bonds in my chest are tight where my three mates are all reaching out, their concern like a siren going off in my mind and making it difficult to focus on anything else.

The king turns from his son, and his eyes land on me, glinting as he takes me in. "Why don't you come and join me, Clarissa?" He gestures towards the dais where the five thrones sit, and I realise with a shock how far Rhydian and I had travelled while we danced. The king's eyes glitter with glee as I look up at him again. "A woman like yourself should be sitting on a throne," he declares.

Horror and rage race through my system, and from the look in his eyes, he knows the exact effect he's having on me. How dare he? He wants me to sit on my mother's throne, knowing full well what that would do to me. It's another power play to make me look like the heartless ruler he's trying to portray me as.

"No, thank you, Your Majesty." I'm unable to keep all of my anger from my voice as I reply, but that doesn't seem to bother the king.

"Shame." Shrugging, he takes a step closer before circling me. My back stiffens, objecting to being examined like a prize pony, but I bite my lip. "I see you like the dress I picked out for you, a dress fit for a queen," he comments from behind me, but I refuse to react, keeping my gaze ahead until he finishes his appraisal. "You look so much like your mother." The king sighs wistfully as if some tragedy befell my mother rather than the fact he murdered her in cold blood. Rhydian makes a sound of agreement next to his father. Again, I refuse to react, despite the icy anger that's freezing my veins, but I push it away, saving it up. I need to know what's happened to Jacob and why I'm here before I decide what to do about the king.

Realising I'm not going to rise to his bait, the king makes a noise of amusement and waves his hand, gesturing for me to follow him as he turns on his heel. "Come with me, we have much to discuss."

This is it. Trepidation fills me along with a sense of relief. We may finally glean some answers. Turning, I gesture for my mates to follow, but I'm cut off by the king's barking laughter. "That won't be necessary." I whirl to face him, an argument already on my lips as my dress twists around me, but I'm stopped by the king's snarl. "My dear, if you think I'm letting elves anywhere near me, you are more dim-witted than I thought."

I'm taken aback by his sudden animosity. Until now, he's at least pretended to be civil in front of his subjects, so the change in attitude is giving me whiplash. Recovered from the initial shock, I laugh and place a hand on my hip. Later, I'll wonder where I got this confidence from, but my anger has given me an attitude. "I won't be going anywhere with you alone."

There's a beat of silence as we stand off against each other, until eventually he narrows his eyes and, with a low growl, concedes with a nod of his head. "Very well, you may bring one of the mages with you, but not the high mages," he growls, looking over my shoulder to where I know Grayson and High Mage Ellis are standing. "I refuse to have either of those traitors privy to this conversation."

After a terse silence, I nod my head and turn my back on the king and his son, walking back to my party. Nerves make me feel shaky, but I refuse to let the king see that side of me anymore. Vaeril begins to walk towards me, the others close behind him, but I shake my head slightly, gesturing discreetly with my hand as I move past them to where I left Aileen with my aunt earlier. A small group of mages is watching the ball carefully, and they dip their heads in respect as I approach.

"Samson," I greet as I join the mage. "Will you please assist me? The king wants to talk to me in private, and I wish to take an escort." If he's surprised I singled him out, then he hides it well. I know what I'm asking of him, what he would be risking by coming with me, but as a mage, I know he will be able to protect me and with his abilities to heal, and that makes him a valuable asset. Not necessarily to me, but I have a horrible feeling that when I finally find Jacob, he's going to need more help than I can give him.

"I would be honoured, beloved." Samson bows his head and steps forward immediately, settling some of my nerves. There's just something about this mage that makes me feel calmer. Perhaps it's part of his gift?

Spinning to return to the king, I'm stopped when Grayson steps in front of me, his concern etched into his features. "Clarissa, what's going on?"

Everyone's watching me. The atmosphere is tense, and I know he's not just asking for himself, but on behalf of the others with them. Grayson and my other mates have a connection to me, so they will be able to tell if I'm in danger, however, the others will have an anxious wait. While Grayson or Tor can tell them what they're sensing from me, no matter how I feel about it, these people look to me for guidance. They followed me here, so I owe them an explanation.

Taking a deep breath, I look around at those gathered, lingering longer on Revna. "I'm going to find out, but the king won't tell me with any of you present." I say this last part with a gesture towards my mates and Naril. I lean forward. "Be ready to leave," I warn, seeing the acknowledgement in their eyes. They know this meeting with the king could go either way. When they nod their heads, I step back and signal for Samson to stay where he is for a second before pulling Tor and Vaeril into an alcove, cocking my head for Grayson to follow. As I look around for Eldrin, my heart sinks. I can't see him anywhere, but I'm running out of time so I can't wait for him.

The three males watch me as I blow out a breath, cocooned by them in the alcove. I don't have enough time to say what I truly want, how much they mean to me, how each of them has changed my life, how they have given me life and helped me find myself when I was nothing but a blank slate thanks to years of slavery. Each of them brings something different to our relationship and helps me in their own way. Taking a deep breath, I look between them and just have to hope they can sense the depth of my feelings for them through our connection. "I don't know what's going to happen when the king takes me away." The three of them instantly stiffen, and I push on before they try to stop me, needing them to hear what I have to say. "But I wanted to say I love you, all of you."

I wish Eldrin were here to hear this.

"We love you too," Tor replies, his tone suggesting it was a given, but he's frowning as he leans forward, cupping my cheek with his large hand. "But you can't speak like this." His voice takes on a harsher, more urgent note that I'm not used to hearing from him, at least not when he's talking to me. "You sound like you're saying goodbye."

I wince at the accusation in his tone, unable to meet their eyes. I know what they want me to say—that I'll come out of there alive, that I'll best the king. The Great Mother is on my side, but there is evil at work here and the king is cunning. "Well, I couldn't go in there without saying—"

A growl cuts me off, and relief floods me as I instantly recognise the timbre. He came back. I don't know where he went, and at this moment, I don't care, all that matters is he's here now.

"Don't you dare say goodbye," Eldrin growls from behind the others. Parting, Vaeril and Grayson let him through, and the elf stalks towards me. He's practically vibrating with anger. "If you say that, then he's already won." Eldrin's voice is so low, it's almost a snarl, his eyes intense as he comes to a stop directly in front of me. He releases a deep breath, and that anger seems to leave his body, only to be replaced with desperation and a hint of fear. Reaching out, he grasps my shoulders, exploring my face like he's trying to remember every inch of me. "We've only just found each other. You need to promise you are coming back to me." His voice breaks, and it would be a sweet moment if Vaeril didn't snarl softly behind him, reminding him he's not the only male in my life. "To us," he amends reluctantly, bringing a small smile to my face.

Grayson sighs, drawing my attention. When I meet his gaze, I expect him to smile, but he's uncharacteristically serious. "I hate to agree with the elf, but he's right."

"You have to promise us, Clarissa," Vaeril says, stepping forward and taking Eldrin's place as the other elf moves back to make room for his friend. Placing his hand on my chin, he lifts my face and presses his forehead against mine. "Even if you have to come back kicking and screaming. You come back to us." Each word is forceful and precise, he's very clear about what he wants me to do. He knows doing that would start a war, one he would fight to get me back. Also, he may not say it, but I know if it came down to my life or Jacob's, he would want me to leave the prince behind.

"And we will be fighting for you on the other side," Tor vows as the four of them share a look. They may not like each other, some of them are even enemies, yet for me, they are united and would work together.

The idea that they may try to fight their way through all of the king's guards to get to me is terrifying. I need to make sure I return to them so they don't try anything.

"I promise." My voice is somber as I meet their eyes.

We don't say anything else or hug and kiss, we don't need to. I know the strength of their love from the heat in their eyes. The king doesn't deserve to witness our affection.

They part to let me through, and I stop when I see Naril leaning against the wall by the alcove, guarding our backs while we were speaking. His expression is set in his usual smirk, but his eyes are alert as they scan the ballroom. When they land on me, something on my face must alarm him, because the smirk drops and he pushes away from the wall, coming to stand before me. Glancing briefly at the males still in the alcove behind me, I return my attention to Naril. "Look after them for me while I'm gone?"

He knows what I'm asking. We both know that as soon as I leave this room, the four of them are going to struggle with their protective instincts, particularly Eldrin, who doesn't have a constant link to me like the others do. I'm worried about Grayson too, and as I stare into Naril's eyes, I know he will do what he can to protect Grayson, even from himself, despite his feelings towards magicians. He will do that for me. We had a rocky friendship at the start, and he's fiercely protective of his friends, but at some point, I earned that loyalty.

Golden eyes lock with mine, he reaches out and clasps my shoulder. "For you, chosen one, always."

His stupid moniker for me makes me smile, breaking some of the tension inside me, and with a final look at my mates, I nod at Samson and walk towards the king.

It feels like the whole ballroom is holding its breath, as despite the orchestra playing, the only sounds I can hear are my own footsteps on the stone and the pounding of my heart.

The king is waiting for me at the base of the throne, his right hand resting on the pommel of his sword which is strapped to his waist. I pause when I reach him but don't bother to bow. I simply look up at him with a raised eyebrow, Samson just a step behind me.

"Well, that was lovely," the king drawls, rolling his eyes. I know exactly what he thinks of my little goodbye scene, but I don't care. When I don't react to his comment, he simply snorts and turns, gesturing for me to follow. "Come."

Walking past the now empty thrones, I glance at the ballroom once again. Rhydian is nowhere to be seen, which isn't a good sign, and there seem to be more priests than lords and ladies, but there's nothing I can do about that now. I just have to hope that the mages have a strong enough shield to protect everyone. Behind the dais is a small, unadorned wooden door, and without checking to see if we're following, the king disappears inside the dark space beyond it. Sharing a look with Samson, I take a deep breath and step through. I have to blink a few times as my eyes adjust to the sudden darkness, but as they do, I realise we're in an empty corridor. It's cold and damp in here, the only light coming from the open door behind us, and the single window at the far end of the corridor.

My heart pounds in my chest when I realise we're alone. The king is gone. The corridor doesn't seem to go anywhere, it's just a long, narrow passage. Was this a trap? With my breathing starting to accelerate, I try to keep calm. Samson mutters something in a language I don't recognise, and in the next moment, a ball of light appears in his palm. Instantly feeling my panic recede a little, I give him a grateful look, and we start to walk down the corridor once more. The king can't have just disappeared , I reason, knowing there must be more to this than what meets the eye.

We've almost reached the window when I realise that part of the wall looks different. I reach out, and the wall gives way, the sticky feeling of magic coating my hand before revealing a room beyond.

"An illusion spell. They don't usually react like this though. It must be an old one." Samson sounds surprised, and I just nod in agreement, not bothering to tell him that I just shattered said spell with my gift.

Stepping into the room, we find the king waiting for us with a grin on his face. He's eyeing the doorway where I just broke his spell, and his eyes are alight. I just confirmed his theory on how I escaped from the castle before. It was a trap, just not what I had been expecting, and because of that, I walked right into it.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare at the king. "Why am I here?" I demand, having had enough of his games. Turning my attention to the room, I search for clues. It looks like an old study. Two of the four walls are lined with bookshelves, and the others are covered with maps of Morrowmer. The king lounges in a large leather chair behind a wooden desk, but other than that, the room is empty. Something doesn't add up. If it's just a study, why would it be so well hidden? With no hints of why I'm here on display, I return my attention to the king. "Where's Jacob?"

Relaxing back in his chair, the king places a letter on the desk. The script looks flowery and elegant, but I'm unable to read it, so I dismiss the parchment, not understanding how it could be relevant. "You see, Clarissa, you've put me in an awkward position." He taps the letter with his forefinger. "The elf queen is killing the land, and soon, she will kill my people. Her powers are dark and evil." He actually sounds passionate as he speaks, like he cares.

I want to laugh. I've experienced his own personal brand of evil. He must sense my disbelief because he smiles. "I know you think I'm evil, but she is something different altogether." Pausing, he tilts his head and gestures towards me. "Which you would know, you've seen it. Those forsaken of hers…" I shudder, and he notices. "Yes, I don't blame you for that reaction."

A chill runs through me when I notice his face has gone pale from mentioning the forsaken. He may be trying to hide it, but he's afraid.

Glancing at Samson, I see he's frowning slightly, and I can't help but wish the others were here. I blow out a breath, observing the king who's watching me closely. "I don't understand how this has anything to do with me."

Looking down at the letter on his desk once again, the king goes silent as if he's reading it, although from the dogeared state of the parchment, I would guess it's been read multiple times. "The queen wants me to join forces with her to destroy you."

Mother above . A rushing sound fills my ears, and for a second, I swear my heart stops in my chest. The bonds warm as my mates send me their strength, grounding me. Don't panic. The queen is trying to undermine you and cause you to make mistakes , I tell myself, clasping my hands in front of me to stop myself from tracing my goddess mark. She's gone to your enemy to make a statement, to cause you pain. I don't say a word and try to adopt the blank mask the elves seem so adept at wearing.

Looking up from the letter, the king scowls as he runs his eyes over me. "Now, while I hate you and everything you stand for…your dalliances with the elves" —his face twists with disgust— "not to mention you took my mages from me—"

"I had nothing to do with that." I take a step towards the desk, not allowing him to spew his lies as my anger rises like a volcano inside me. "You pushed them away with your actions. They came to me."

A tingle of magic fills the room, making the hair on my arms stand on end, but it doesn't feel malicious. From the corner of my eye, I spot Samson stepping closer to me, his hand making small motions down by his hip where the movement would be hidden by my skirts. Gratitude fills me, I may not have known this mage long, but I trust him to protect me.

The king's eyes flash at being interrupted, but he shows no sign that he noticed the mage performing any magic. "That is beside the point," he spits, pushing up from his chair, bracing both hands on the desk as he leans towards me. "The queen is killing the land. I'm not stupid, I know she will turn her army on me once she's dealt with you." A genuine look of concern passes over his face. "The only reason we're still alive is because you really seem to wind her up."

So far, everything he's said is true, but I don't understand why he thinks I would ever help him. It's like he's forgotten everything that happened to me. He might not have been the one to brand me, to beat, starve, and work me almost to the point of death, but it had all been done in his name. When I was saved, I found that he treats his people almost as badly.

I start to lose my battle with my anger, and my cool mask drops. "Why should I fight with you? You are a killer, and you kept me as a slave for most of my life."

He smiles as he senses my growing frustration. "I have the numbers and the experience that will help you win a battle." Pushing away from the desk, he walks around to the other side, perching on the edge. It's a small move, but it puts us much closer together, and he's watching me closely to see what I'll do next, to see if I'll move away. I don't. Smiling in a way that makes a chill go down my spine, he nods his head as if this confirms something. "And when this is all over, I will give you a throne to sit on." Lowering his voice, he leans forward. "A true queen, just like you always should have been."

If he tried to appeal to my softer side to help protect the innocent and offer a safe haven to the weak, then I might have entertained discussions with him. The people don't deserve to suffer because their king and I don't see eye to eye, but he never even thought to consider that as an option. The populace is so far down in his consideration, simply collateral damage as far as he's concerned, that he didn't even think to suggest it. Instead, he jumped straight to offering me what he would want, a position of power. He really doesn't know me at all. Disgust fills me. The people will never be safe while having a king like him, war or not.

I've had enough of the pretences. Striding forward until there are only a couple of inches separating us, I snarl in his face. "I could never sit on a throne next to my mother's murderer."

The king doesn't react how I expected. Sighing like I've disappointed him, he makes a gesture with his hand that I don't understand, but I can see excitement in his eyes. "I thought you might say that, which is why I brought collateral."

A scuffling noise has me spinning to the wall of maps behind me, only it shimmers, and I curse as a bound form is shoved into the room by two armed guards. Samson jumps in front of me in a protective stance, his hands glowing as the male falls to the ground, but his eyes are on the guards. The king gestures again with his hands, and the guards disappear through the hidden doorway, the illusion shimmering back into place. When it's not being used, or I'm not touching the magic, I can't detect it, a frustrating aspect of my gift.

The man on the floor groans and rolls over, allowing me to see his face for the first time. "Jacob!" Horror and fury surge through me as I run to his side, kneeling down to untie his hands and remove the gag in his mouth. "What have you done to him?" I demand, my hands shaking with my anger as I see the welts and wounds on his skin. I gesture for Samson, a sense of understanding hitting me—this was the reason I felt like I needed to bring the healing mage with me. The mage is at my side in an instant, laying his hands on the prince and muttering low words under his breath. Jacob's eyes start to clear and lock on me with recognition.

"Clarissa, you came back." I barely recognise his voice, his words broken and his lips chapped, but I place my hand on his cheek and smile as I fight back tears.

"Of course. You're safe now," I promise, because I know one thing—there is no way I'm leaving here without him.

"How touching," the king sneers, crossing his arms as me looks down at us. Leaving the prince in Samson's capable hands, I stand and face the king, wanting to take his attention off Jacob. I don't know how long it takes to heal with magic, but I need to give him as much time as possible. I have the feeling we may be leaving in a rush.

The king seems only too happy to ignore his injured son, keeping his beady eyes on me. "I thought it only right that my son be here for this particular story, seeing as it affects both of you. You are brother and sister, after all."

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut at his confirmation. As soon as I discovered the queen was my mother, I'd known it was a possibility, but hearing it out loud is something different altogether. What does that mean about the other princes then, and who is Jacob's father? He shares the king's tan skin and golden hair, so I'd never suspected he was anything other than his son.

"But I thought…" Jacob starts, his voice weak. Opening my eyes, I glance over at my brother as he struggles to sit up, but Samson puts a gentle hand on his chest, speaking to him in a low voice. My brother… Even the thought feels foreign to me. I've gone all my known life without a family, then in a few short months, I've discovered who my mother was, only to learn she was killed in front of me, and then learned I have an aunt and a brother. All the while, I created my own family, believing I didn't need one of blood.

The king pushes up from the desk and walks around to the wall of books behind it, reaching for a large tome. With a frown, I watch him, wondering why he's getting books down when his son is making pained noises on the floor, but as he moves to the side, I realise why. What I thought was a book was actually fake, hiding a compartment with a bottle of what looks like whiskey. Pulling out two glasses, he pours the strong-smelling liquid into them and pushes one towards me. I shake my head and he just laughs, shrugging before sipping from his glass and smacking his lips.

"I was married before I met your mother, but she was barren," he explains, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Rhydian's and Michael's mothers were from the whore house, but obviously, it was made to look like she carried both of them. It wouldn't do for the queen not to function like a woman should."

Rage fills me at the casual way he dismisses this. Those poor women. Not only did he flaunt the fact that the past queen was unable to bear a child by sleeping with other women and getting them pregnant, but he then ripped those babies from them.

Either ignorant of my anger or uncaring, the king continues, staring into his glass. "I met your mother years before either of you were born. She liked to rebel and explore, and I used to leave the castle to…well, that doesn't matter." A grin curves his lips, and I shudder at the thought of all the disgusting things he might have been up to. His eyes suddenly flick up from his glass to me. "We had an affair." The words hit me like a physical blow. I knew it must have happened at some point, I knew about the birds and the bees, however, to hear that your mother did that to your father, especially with someone like the king…

"I knew she loved that half-elf , but she loved me too. She couldn't admit it, but she couldn't stay away," the king says, madness in his eyes. "When she fell pregnant with Jacob, we made it look like my previous wife died in childbirth. I took Jacob, but your mother ran away. She was scared, and she returned to him ." He slams his glass down onto the desk, and it shatters, sending shards and whisky across the room. His hand is bleeding, but he doesn't seem to notice, his eyes blazing with disgust. "I don't take kindly to people taking what's mine," he grinds out, talking about my mother as if she's a possession rather than a person with wants and free will.

All of a sudden, as if a switch has been flipped, he straightens, his eyes becoming cool and calculating as he glances over at his son. Seeing the mess on his desk, he tuts and opens a drawer, pulls out a cloth, and starts cleaning the surface, brushing the glass into the open drawer. "Then I heard she was pregnant with you." He looks at me, his tone conversational as if he isn't discussing the events that led up to our separation. "She and that half-elf mate of hers went on the run with you, never staying in one place for long." Pausing, the king puts the cloth away, and I get a feeling of trepidation as I sense what's coming next. Closing the drawer, the king smiles. "But she couldn't run forever."

His cruel eyes lock onto mine, and I see true evil staring back at me. "Catching her was the best day of my life. Killing her mate and making her watch as I had your memories wiped and made you a slave…" I'm vaguely aware of Jacob making distressed noises, but I don't know if that's due to his injuries or because of what's being said. However, I'm so focused on the king and the anger threatening to boil over that all of my concentration goes to not pulling the dagger from my thigh sheath and slamming it into the king's chest. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes as I try to calm my racing thoughts.

My mother left her baby with the king and escaped. How could she have left Jacob when she knew what the king was like? Perhaps it was her only option, maybe she was going to go back for him? I wonder, my thoughts a whirlwind in my mind. Would I have done the same in her position? Could I have left my baby behind? Then she fell pregnant with me with her mate, my father, and they went on the run. Was I the reason she never went back for Jacob? In the end, though, none of it mattered, because he caught us. Pain slices through me as a part of my heart shatters for the father I never knew. The idea that he was cut down while trying to protect us brings a tear to my eye, but I won't shed them here, not in front of the king. He doesn't deserve to see my pain.

Feeling more in control, I open my eyes and see the king is watching me closely. "After you were dealt with, I had her memories wiped and made her mine." The last word is said with a growl and full of possessiveness. With sudden comprehension, I understand his motives. If he couldn't have her, no one could. Is that why he killed her in the end? Was she remembering? The thoughts strike me like a bolt of lightning, the answer suddenly important.

"Memory wipes are tricky things, as some strong memories stick, like love for a child." The king grins, he knows he's making me angry. In fact, he's choosing his words carefully, trying to inflict as much pain as possible. Balling my hands into fists, I grip them so tightly, my nails bite into my palms, breaking the skin, but the sting helps release some of the tension building in my body. Perhaps I was right, she might not have known I was her child, but she remembered she had a child, which could be why she felt so familiar when we met in the courtyard.

"Or," the king calls, "for example, she knew I killed her mate. No matter what I did, I couldn't get rid of that memory." Although he's obviously trying to goad me, I hear the anger in his voice that he wasn't able to be the only male in my mother's mind. He couldn't take away a goddess blessed bond.

"That's why you built the courtyard," Jacob rasps, sitting upright with the help of Samson as he frowns at his father. "I always thought it was a place for her to mourn her first husband, but you were rubbing it in that you killed her mate." Shaking his head, Jacob stares at his father as if he's truly seeing him for the first time.

"What can I say?" his father replies, spreading his arms wide as if he was admitting to some small faux pas and not all the evil he just confessed to. "I'm a jealous man."

Jacob shakes his head, his whole body trembling as he leans against Samson. "I always thought that…" He trails off, like whatever he was about to say slipped from his mind. "I always thought the old queen was my mother… Why-why can't I say her name, either of their names?" Jacob demands, his voice growing stronger with his anger, his face contorted with grief, confusion, and frustration. "Why did you let me believe she was my mother when my real mother was alive and in front of me the whole time?"

"Magic. We needed the kingdom to forget some of the events leading up to our wedding. Names are important for a sense of identity, without them, people are easier to control," the king explains with a shrug, like this whole conversation is boring him. "My previous wife was collateral. Most of the citizens of Arhaven won't even remember that I had a previous wife."

"A spell like that…it breaks the code," Samson murmurs next to Jacob, shaking his head as he looks up at me with wide eyes. He seems like he doesn't want to say anything but can't stop himself. "A spell that large, that strong, would have required several of the high mages."

A spiteful laugh from the other side of the room brings our attention back to the king. He raises the discarded glass of whiskey and examines the liquid within before taking a drink. "The beauty of that spell was even the caster doesn't remember casting it. Only those protected against memory spells kept their recollections of the events leading up to me taking your mother as my wife."

The reality of what he's told us settles over me. "You took away her name." Horror sinks like a lead weight inside me as I realise I may never learn my mother's name. That horror quickly turns to anger. He took away a part of her that he had no right to, wiped it away like it was nothing. "You took away my name, my memories." Taking a step towards the king, I bare my teeth in a snarl. "Give. Them. Back."

The king laughs again, only stirring up my anger even more. "I can't, some are hard to wipe, but once they're gone, they are gone for good," he replies, spreading his arms wide in a ‘what can you do?' gesture.

Marching forward until only the desk separates us, I channel my inner elf, baring my teeth as I brace my hands on the wood, leaning forward as I snarl. "You've done all of that to me, to my mother. Then you beat my brother and used him as leverage against me." It's my turn to laugh, but there's no humour in it. "You disgust me." My voice lowers as my fae side rises to the surface, feeling the need to protect and fight. "You separated our family, and you expect me to ally myself with you?"

The smile has vanished from the king's face, but he looks like he almost expected this outcome. Nodding slowly, he places the glass on the desk. "You don't have much of a choice, my dear," he drawls, gesturing to Jacob. "Your beloved brother is dying, poisoned with—"

Jacob stands with Samson's assistance, cutting off the king's words. Running my eyes over Jacob, I notice he still looks pale and bruised, obviously beaten, but he's much stronger than before as he glares at his father. I glance at Samson, and he gives me the slightest nod of his head, so I know he's been healed. Not completely, but enough to get him out of here alive. Turning back to the king, I meet his hateful stare. "I ask again. Why would I ally myself with you?"

"You will never get out of here alive." All pretence of friendliness is gone, and I'm glad for it. I can finally see the snake he is under the act. "I have hundreds of soldiers. You have no choice," he sneers as he leans over the desk, our faces so close they almost touch. I used to fear this man, but now I see a flicker of terror in his eyes, and I know it's because he realises I'm going to walk out that door and take my army and his only hope of salvation with me. As we stare at each other, eye to eye, I stop snarling and the corner of my mouth twitches up.

"I think you greatly underestimated me. You always have, and that will be your greatest downfall." I keep my tone even. He disguises his reaction quickly with one of scepticism, but I didn't miss the flicker of unease that passed over his face. "One day, all of the slaves, the beaten and downtrodden that you overlook and treat so badly, will band together, and when we do, we will come for you," I promise, my wrist glowing as the presence of the Great Mother settles over me. His eyes flick down and lock onto my mark. He freezes in place, but I'm not finished yet. "On that day, you better hide, because I think you'll find that there are so many more of us than there are of you."

Pushing away from the desk, I hurry to Jacob's side, wrapping my arm around him. "Let's get out of here." The three of us hurry to the opening in the wall and back out into the dark corridor Samson and I had entered through, leaving the stunned king in our wake.