Page 48 of Of Realms and Chaos

When I was younger, I had promised myself that, if I ever found a way to get this stolen magic out of my body, I would cover my newly clean skin in my story. As Asher leaned into me, her presence soothing my troubled mind, I wondered if the gods or Eternity would be kind enough to allow me the opportunity to have our story written upon my skin before I die.

“Prince Bellamy,” Shah said, her smile taunting. I did not miss how she refused to bow, just as she had when I first arrived. Such a thing did not bother me when I could not care less about a crown or a title or a gesture of acknowledgement.

Asher moved forward, dipping into a low curtsy and holding herself there. Sometimes I forgot that Asher had been ingrained with matters of diplomacy and ruling, every aspect of her life preparing her to be queen. She was made for this, and that fact shone as she waited on steady legs.

“Queen Shah, it is a pleasure to meet you,” she said, her face still to the floor.

Shah stared at her, brown eyes wide as she took in everything that was Asher Daniox. It was a lot. To be so near Asher meant feeling that pulse of her magic, the demanding nature of it forcing one to submit. When Shah dipped into an equally low curtsy, I nearly let out a mad cackle, but I pursed my lips and covered my mouth, resisting the urge. My eyes flicked over to Henry, who also seemed to be on the verge of a fit of laughter.

The queen’s advisor, Lord Callahan, glared at us from her left. In the hour or so that I had been at Castle Jore, Callahan had screamed at me twice, called me a beast, threatened my life, and scowled at least fifty times. Entertaining did not even begin to describe him. That permanent crease between his brows and downturn of his thin lips was absolutely hilarious.

Asher and Shah both stood, the two of them momentarily frozen as their eyes locked.

“You threatened me,” Shah said, her face stony but voice amused.

My eyes went wide, darting to Asher in surprise. I was aware that she had entered the queen’s mind the moment Shah screamed out, her nails digging into her scalp. But she had threatened her? That seemed so unlike the Asher who was set on choice and peace. Had something gone wrong?

“Well, that is an exaggeration, Your Majesty. I merely told you I wanted an audience,” Asher countered, a small shrug lifting her shoulders. On the outside, she seemed comfortable, completely unfazed by the situation. Inside, I knew she was likely near panicking at the thought of failure.

Luckily for us, Asher rarely did so.

“It felt like you were squeezing my brain!” Shah exclaimed, a baffled laugh following.

Asher smirked, her eyes alight with a small piece of that mischief she used to sport so often in Betovere. Watching her back then had been both painful and intoxicating. She was hurting and trapped, but she was also far more carefree, the feeling of security she held allowing her to play pranks on her friends and sneak out at night and practice her pianoforte for hours on end. I had a sinking feeling that I would never get to see that Asher again, not in this life at least.

“Technicalities.” The wave of Asher’s hand and her growing smile seemed to bring a sense of ease to the room, everyone’s shoulders relaxing a fraction.

“Well, since you went to all the trouble to come here and even dressed in Behman red, would you like to join us for dinner as we discuss whatever it is that you so desperately need to speak with me about?” Shah was being far nicer to Ash than she had been to me, but there was still a hardness to her face that her soft tone could not mask. She did not trust us in the slightest.

All five of us, followed closely by a group of guards in purple and red armor, made our way to a long table at the opposite end of the throne room, the single golden throne a daunting presence at our backs. The red table—so dark it was nearly black—looked large enough to seat dozens, but only six places were set, one more than we technically needed.

I paused, my head tilting to the side as I considered that. There was to be another guest. But who? Of course, it had likely been discovered that there were immortal beings within Behman, but had anyone realized that Henry was a demon? Or that Asher was the fae princess?

Clicking sounded to my right, the classic sound of heels meeting the floor. My head whipped around, catching the brown-eyed gaze of a woman. Her hair was like spun gold, the curls thick and bordering on unruly. Her pale skin had a slight blush to it, as if being in this room made her nervous. Still, her posture was impeccable, her head high and chin raised as she made her way to us. She wore the forest green and navy blue of Maliha, the gown a puff of tulle and silk that skated across the tile below. At her brow was a golden diadem, the diamonds on it bright in the light of the flames.

“Genevieve,” Asher said with a gasp to my left.

This was the soon-to-be queen of Maliha, then—Sterling’s older sister.

Fury filled me at the realization, threatening to burst free and take my magic with it. This disgusting mortal family, which had been the root of so many of my problems, deserved to feel that rage. King Lawrence and Queen Paula raised one monster, the likelihood of the golden heir apparent heading our way being just as evil was high.

“I do apologize for being late, friend. I had quite a lot of dress to attempt to slip into.” Her voice was bright, as if her hair had claimed the sun and that light poured out of her in rays. She had the same heavy accent that all from Maliha had, like her tongue was too large for her mouth, though she spoke the common tongue so well that it was faint in comparison to most in her lands.

“It is not a problem at all. I have saved you a seat by my side,” Shah said, patting the back of the violet chair to her left, directly across from Asher.

Genevieve closed the remaining distance quickly and gracefully, gently taking her seat. Asher went rigid at my side, her hands balled into fists on her lap. I reached over, gripping both of her hands in one of my own and offering a small squeeze of reassurance. Based on her blank stare and pin-straight back, Asher would not relax any time soon.

“Introductions are in order, it seems. This is Genevieve Windsor, Heir Apparent to the kingdom of Maliha. I believe,” Shah said, turning to look Asher in the eye, “you are engaged to her brother.”

Henry growled at my side, the sound rumbling the dishes on the table as his Sun magic faintly leaked from his hands. I felt my own body shake as I stared at the princess, holding myself in my chair with sheer will alone.

Killing her would send the wrong message—not only to the mortals, but to the demons and the fae as well. We could not allow ourselves to be the evil that others deemed us.

It did not slip my attention that I was as hypocritical as they came.

Genevieve’s brown eyes never left Asher’s gray ones—the two females squaring off, both so clearly on edge. Lord Callahan cleared his throat, as if that small sound would quell the growing tension within the room. Genevieve flicked her steely gaze towards him, and I watched with reluctant amusement as the prickly man scrunched back into his seat.

Then she looked my way, and all hints of delight faded.

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