Page 20 of A War of Three Kings

I roll my eyes at him. It is childish, I know it, but I can’t stop myself. He calls a guard and arranges for everyone to be summoned.

My gaze falls on the spine of the book he was just reading.Chronicles of the Great Fae War.The leather is still pristine and the pages may have yellowed at the edges, but they aren’t warped or damaged.

“When was that book written?” I ask.

My father’s eyebrows shoot up. “I don’t know. Fifty years ago? It is a study that combines multiple accounts.”

“Do you have anything written around the time of the war or before? No rewrites, but original manuscripts?” I urge.

He frowns at me. “No. Those are in the crown’s library alone.”

“How can you guarantee these texts are accurate? That history hasn’t been rewritten to give our people a common enemy in the fae? It hurt us badly when the borders between worlds were closed and we no longer had direct access to their magic. The king at the time had to lay the blame somewhere other than at his own feet.”

A muscle ticks in my father’s jaw. “Do you realize how much that sounds like a conspiracy theory? Is this the poison he has put in your head?”

I grip the back of the couch that faces his. “I found the original texts in the palace, Father. Living Memory Scrolls too. All under lock and key with magic wards, so no one can touch them.”

“And did you read any of them?”

I suck in a breath. “No. It was forbidden and I didn’t get the chance.”

He pins me with a severe gaze. “Keira, do me a favor and don’t just trust what that man tells you.”

We glare at each other. There is so much I could say—about Aldrin’s goodness, about the Living Memory Scrolls I witnessed in the City of Vertical Gardens—but when a person has prejudice deep in their heart, words alone cannot change them. Stories or accounts of facts can be denied or discounted.

He needs to experience the fae firsthand to see that they are not all the same. To be vulnerable to them and receive their help, their kindness, like I did. To live among them and learn that they are not so alien, but incredibly similar to us.

But how do you force that onto a person?

A flurry of servants arrives, bringing extra chairs into the study and setting up a spread of breakfast foods. I don’t touch any of it except for the coffee as I wait in an armchair, tapping my foot with agitation. I can’t seem to get comfortable.

The significance of the way the seats are arranged isn’t lost on me. My family is positioned on one side of my father’s immense desk, while a single chair is placed on the opposite side for Aldrin, where he will be very much alone.

Part of me wants to drag my seat next to his, but something holds me back. I am not ready to give him an inch of my trust again. There is an iron vault around my heart.

Nervous anticipation rolls through me, making sweat prickle over my skin. Aldrin has the power to break me. If he turns into that feral, crazed fae they claim they have seen, a part of my soul will shrivel up and die.

Marching boots echo from the library, announcing Aldrin’s arrival, escorted by a team of guards. My mother places a soothing hand on top of mine and my father and grandmother cease their hushed whispers.

Aldrin’s huge form materializes in the doorway, then stops, flanked on either side by guards in our house colors of green and brown. My breath snags as I look at my lover. Former lover. I have no idea what we are. I never really have.

His long, dark hair hangs freely, framing a face that is all sharp angles. My eyes soak in those high cheekbones, that narrow jaw and perfectly straight nose. There is a paleness to his usually tanned skin and deep lines beneath his eyes, but that amber gaze holds a blaze of fury as it narrows upon my father.

It makes Aldrin’s masculine beauty absolutely brutal.

He cuts an imposing figure. One I could never fear. The taut rigidness of his broad shoulders and the tendons exposed below his rolled-up sleeves all threaten violence, but somehow it makes me feel safe. Like he is my protector angel of death. He would never raise a hand against me.

A guard nudges Aldrin forward and he gives the man a withering look that makes him stagger back. Aldrin approaches his seat and scans the room.

When he sees me, his steps falter.

His expression completely changes, his features turning slack with shock, and his eyes bore into mine with a wild desperation. He stares at me for a long time, gripping the back of his chair for support, but he doesn’t say a thing. I am pinned and breathless beneath his gaze.

My heart crashes painfully against my ribs. I don’t understand that look. It’s like he is trying to tell me something.

Aldrin’s eyes flick back to my father and a deep frown pinches his thick eyebrows. The hint of a smile grows on my father’s face, like he has won a game, and I want to kick him under the desk. I would, if I could reach him. But my position here is tenuous. If I overstep, Father will whisk Aldrin away to another prison where I cannot find him.

“Aldrin, please, take a seat,” my father says amicably, gesturing with a hand. “We will continue our…discussions. My daughter has asked to be present, but make no mistake…” He throws me a scathing look. “I will be askingallthe questions today.”

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