Page 68 of Of Realms and Chaos

Softly, I separated some of the knots, trying to restore her curls to their former glory. The coils were soft, though they had lost their silky sheen from last night. Henry deserved a pat on the back for how thoroughly he undid her, if the embarrassment and lust that leaked from the princess was any indication. Reinforcing that golden gate inside of my head, I shoved out all that she was projecting, leaving her to those thoughts.

By the time I was able to successfully untangle her hair, Genevieve still had not spoken, though her shoulders relaxed and her breathing steadied. Pushing my luck, I began braiding the strands, mimicking the way Winona had often done my hair to settle me.

“I still cannot stand you, but I respect you enough to be honest. Please, tell me what plagues your mind,” I whispered, taking care not to scare her.

Her back straightened at my words, body tensing. Before I could apologize or attempt a different route, Genevieve let out a small chuckle, turning to face me for a moment. The way in which she scrutinized should have angered me, but it only reassured me that the princess was exactly who she showed herself to be—angry, smart, resilient, and determined. All traits I could understand and value.

“Something is wrong with Sterling. I can tell. He does not write often, and when he does, it is as if he is keeping secrets from us. The missives are always vague and unfeeling. I just want to know what you did to him. That is all.”

Despite how infuriating the words were, her broken and sorrowful tone made me think through my answer carefully. How did one explain to a girl that her brother was a psychotic beast in mortal skin? Clearly, he was never violent or wicked with her, which likely meant it was my own refusal and dismissive nature that brought out his rage. I was not stupid. I knew that I could be difficult and hard to please, but that did not justify the abuse and mistreatment I had suffered at his hands. Even the small touches had been violating. But what would I say to Genevieve that would convince her of that truth when she so clearly was not willing to accept what her brother had become? Or worse, what he had always been just beneath her nose.

“Mia once encouraged me to imagine how it would feel to be removed from my realm and home, forced to live with beings I had never met. She said it so I could better understand your brother, though, little did she know, I would be taken weeks later and forced into the exact same situation.”

The princess turned to face me, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin upon them. She looked so small—so young—sitting there in that way. At twenty-eight, she was three years older than her brother, and still, that was one hundred eighty years my junior. They were quite literally children, forced to grow up too soon and push away feelings that were not royal.

For the second time that week, I realized just how similar I was to a mortal woman.

“I was not permitted to use my magic on Sterling, and I tried with all of my might to like him, but even without my abilities I could see through his façade.”

Genevieve’s eyes hardened, the sound of her teeth smacking together as she clenched them telling me just how angry she was growing. Time was running out to make her understand.

“Never would I dare to say that he was a bad brother, son, or prince. With that being said, Sterling was not good to me. He attacked me, breaking three of my ribs and splitting open my head. All because I did not want to speak with him—because I did not want him. I pushed first when he began insulting me, so perhaps it was my fault, but it was I who ended up broken and bloody on the floor. I can still feel his hands on my skin and his fingers around my throat.” My voice was raspy, the emotions trying to fight their way to the surface, but I snuffed them out, suffocating them until they ceased their attempts. “I might have retaliated, but I did nothing to his mind.”

When she stood, sneering down at me and pointing to the door, I knew my time was up. “Get out, you lying abomination. Get out before I show you how hard we mortals train to be able to tear your kind apart.”

She was still as unoriginal as her brother, and just as foolish. The horrid part of me hoped she never got another letter from him. The truly evil side hoped I could drag my dagger across his throat and silence him forever. It would be a blessing to the world, really.

With the discussion so clearly over, I stood, wiping my palms on the fabric of my dress. Genevieve did not lower her finger, nor did she cease her glare as I took my time leaving. My bare feet brushed across the carpet, this one sporting a floral design, and I paused. Turning one final time, I found she was not far away, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed.

I am sorry I could not give you the answers you wanted to hear. For what it is worth, if I succeed in taking the fae throne, I will not marry him. I will allow him to come home to you and make your family complete once more.

She jolted at the sound of my voice echoing inside of her mind, a chill racking through her body and leaving noticeable goosebumps in its wake. Her tears were quick to both come and disappear, the slight raise of her chin a sign that she was not willing to show me any more vulnerability.

I wondered what it must be like for Genevieve. She did not have power or magic, nothing that would propel her beyond the definition of female. In a world where daughters were practically sold off to eligible males, Genevieve was likely only seen as a womb and a title.

You are worthy of joy, Genevieve. Whatever makes you so angry, so bent on spewing hatred, know that you are allowed to let it go. You are not to blame for Sterling’s absence, nor are you evil for enjoying the company of a willing male. Allow yourself the grace that you likely afford that brother of yours—forgive so your soul may heal.

This time, I did not turn again, making my way to the door quicker than before. There was nothing else I could do, no words that would change her mind—not even those I had spoken, so similar to Shah’s that I could not begin to separate the two thoughts. All I could hope for was that she would have a change of heart and not inform anyone she saw us here. That she wouldn’t tell her parents what was discussed and revealed.

“Keep Henry’s cloak. If you ever need us, just pick it up, place a note in the pocket, and let it go.” I paused at the doorway, my hand resting against the frame. And, though I did not know exactly why she had those thoughts at dinner, I felt it important to speak them aloud. “I know you do not want this war, that you plan to rule differently when it is your turn. I hope to one day see what Maliha can be with you atop the throne. Good luck, Genevieve.”

III

Act III

~ To Learn ~

Chapter Twenty-Three

Asher

Iwas so sick of the cold.

In particular, I never wanted to experience a Gandry autumn again. Already far too chilly, the weather was made worse by our constant need to be outside. The hunt for a creature who had been wreaking havoc on the southwest kingdom for nearly eight years led us from small villages to sprawling cities.

Not noticing the horrifying difference between the quality of life in Behman and Gandry was impossible, though it did further cement our plans to aid Shah. Bellamy had agreed—rather excitedly—to my plans. In fact, his notes were a bit too enthusiastic. As if he was waiting for me to take charge in this way.

Three days after Henry, Wrath, and I left Jore, Bellamy was ready to begin portaling in mortal soldiers. To everyone’s amazement, nearly three hundred Behman subjects had volunteered to go to Eoforhild. Two hundred ninety-one mortals willing to learn from the demons that they had been told their entire lives were monstrous creatures who would eat their souls.

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