Page 50 of Of Realms and Chaos

“If you would let me finish, Your Majesty, then you would know that I mean both. There is no world in which a war does not spell doom for every creature of Alemthian. The fae royals seek to conquer. They want power above all else, and they will not stop with the Demon Realm. Do not think neutrality will save you.” The three mortals all stiffened—their faces betraying their nerves, just as their elevated heart rates did.

Lord Callahan was the first to break free from the spell of Asher’s words. He shook his balding head, his glare boring into the fae princess.

“We have no qualms with the Fae Realm, nor do we plan on creating conflict when it is not needed. Perhaps you have mistaken our silence for neutrality, but we do not stand in the middle. We are firmly on the side of the fae, who seek to rid the world of the demons. Let them return to the Underworld. We care not if—”

“When my crown sits atop your head, then you may speak for the kingdom over which I rule. Until then, do shut up, Lord Callahan,” Shah said, cutting Callahan off mid-sentence. Asher’s answering smile was a thing of divine beauty, the darkness lurking beneath calling to that which hid within me. “That being said, I fail to see how you think I can help you, even if I wanted to. With my limited resources and starving soldiers, I imagine I would be of little aid, especially when Maliha’s forces march with the Fae Realm.”

Surprise filled me at her words, especially since she did not outright deny us. Asher seemed equally surprised, but her baffled expression was trained on Genevieve rather than Shah. Whatever Shah’s words had triggered in the Heir Apparent, it must have been intriguing to silence Asher when she was so clearly winning.

Genevieve blanched, her skin so flushed that she looked sickly. I cocked my head to the side, assessing the stare-down between the two. What were Genevieve’s goals? She would sit on a throne one day, but did she understand what most kings and queens did not—that you cannot rule over a dead kingdom?

“Did you know that the Mounbettons are not my parents?” Asher asked the mortals, her eyes tracing over each of them. All three shook their heads silently, their faces once more stony. “I assumed as much. My parents were murdered. For the longest time, I believed that demons had done that. That they had killed my family and the fae prince. When I was told that demons cut my ears to send a message, that they let me live as a warning—or perhaps an accident—I believed it.”

Wincing internally, I willed my face to remain blank. Now was not the time for Asher to know the truth of how her parents died. One day, when I had both her and Adbeel in the same room, I would let him tell her what befell her family that day.

“Imagine my surprise when I learned that the two fae that I had loved with every fiber of my being—that I had lied and killed and suffered for—were not honest with me about how my parents died. Worse, they had told me false stories of demons attacking our fae, slaughtering en masse over the years.”

If what Asher said surprised the queen, she did not show it. In fact, Shah seemed eerily stoic as she listened. Genevieve, too, was taking the story in stride, acting as if the words were not of importance—or maybe they were simply ones she had already heard.

“Tell me, do you know what it is like to be lied to your whole life? To learn that the beings you had looked at like parents had forced you to kill innocents under the guise of treachery and protecting the masses? I do. I know that feeling intimately. Just as I know what it feels like to be beaten unconscious and then to wake up and see a smile upon the face of the one who made you bleed, listening to them say they love you as if it had all been for your own good. I know what it is like to believe those things, to blame yourself and wish you had not provoked such a punishment.” Asher stuttered then, her voice catching as a single tear streamed down her face.

Shah finally began to show emotion, her brown eyes watering and breathing ragged. Genevieve’s eyes went wide, her lips quivering as she listened despite the clear effort she was putting in to prevent the reaction. To my right, Henry seethed, his fury second only to my own at the broken sound of Asher sharing her story.

“Yet I know worse still. My great love was named Sipho. He was everything I had ever wanted in a lover: kind, brilliant, honest, brave. There was nothing he would not have given me or done for me. The last time I saw him, he was burning alive, Xavier Mounbetton’s flames stealing away his life. Do you know what it is like to hear the desperate screams of your soulmate? To bear witness to the way the flesh you had once kissed and touched and worshiped melted off? To smell the boiling of blood and burning of hair that you dreamed your younglings—children—might someday have? I do.”

She paused, letting her tears stream down her face. Three times now, Asher had told that story. One she had held close to her for nearly two centuries, never letting herself think of it if she could resist, let alone share it with others. Now, as she shook through her growing sobs, Asher stood up, letting those emotions rise to her advantage. Letting Sipho’s death mean something more.

“For some reason, I think you thoroughly understand such feelings, Queen Shah. Something tells me that the nightmares that haunt my sleep also plague yours. Why is it that a queen of barely two decades married a man well into his seventieth year? Why is it that a queen with enough love in her heart for her kingdom that she is willing to give away her riches was so eager to alter the sigil that had represented it for centuries?”

Callahan shot up from his seat beside Genevieve, his chair flying backwards and crashing to the floor. Both hands smacked onto the table, cups of wine teetering back and forth, threatening to spill.

“How dare you speak on matters you know nothing about, you wretched girl!” he shouted.

As if I could not resist—as if my soul itself forced me—I stood too, towering over the man who I had watched undermine both females who held titles far surpassing his. Fire erupted from the wall sconces, flames shooting so high they nearly singed the vaulted ceilings. The wine in our cups rose, and the ground at our feet shook. I willed the wind to come to me, the sound of it barreling into the stone walls of the castle deafening.

“Funny, I do not recall the future queen of Betovere granting you permission to speak.” I let my black flames burst to life at the tip of my pointer finger, flashing Callahan a wide smile. “Have you ever smelled the scent of a burning tongue?”

He froze, violently shaking his head back and forth. Speechless, for once.

“Would you like to?” I asked with glee.

Callahan shouted, his terror contorting his face. Genevieve also looked horrified, her body shaking as she held onto her chair with a vice-like grip. If Shah felt fear, she did not portray it, her eyes still locked onto Asher’s. The two of them stared at one another, not even so much as flinching at what was happening around them.

I stopped, letting every ounce of my magic and power fade from the room. The silence that followed was somehow louder than the sound of the screaming. Genevieve was visibly distressed, her body still convulsing. Callahan had turned a green hue, as if he were on the verge of being sick.

“Well, that was a strange way of not interfering,” Henry said from my side, his laugh ripping through the quiet.

I rolled my eyes, my smile fading into a small smirk. “It seems I have reduced myself to a territorial lackey, though I cannot say I mind when the reward is so delicious.” My eyes remained on Genevieve’s as I spoke, not wanting to miss the moment her mind registered what I was saying.

The princess bristled, her cheeks gaining back their pink hue in record timing. “You are all psychotic!”

I laughed then, not able to stop the amusement that had slowly built up inside of me. Henry looked at me, and then he, too, burst into a fit of laughter. As I fell back in my seat, I leaned my elbow onto Henry’s broad shoulder, laughing harder when I saw a tear slip down his cheek.

Genevieve and Callahan seemed to grow angrier, both of them sitting straight once more now that the latter had retrieved his chair. But it was not them who spoke next. No, it was Shah.

“Well then, Queen Asher, it looks like we have a deal.”

Chapter Seventeen

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