Page 35 of The Stolen Kingdom

Vulcanians.

It was hard to miss them with their fur clothes and angry gazes. Their first encounter happened when Valda was moving to Cressida for supplies. Their meeting in the sandy plains was brief yet violent. It had been so long since she had felt blood on her hands, so long since her hands ached from delivering punches.

It wasn’t until Isen pulled her back that Valda realized what she had done. The ruthless woman who knew no boundary on the battlefield had resurfaced, tucking away the gentle queen that Maris had brought forward. She could see the fear in Isen’s eyes when he looked at her.

She wiped her bloody hands on her slacks and jumped back on her horse as her captain looked at her with a silent question.

“I am fine,” she said, lying and avoiding looking at Isen. “Let’s keep going.” Valda left the corpses of what used to be two female Vulcanians to rot under the sizzling heat of Umbriel’s sun.

Her arrival at Cressida was no longer a quiet event. Instead of hiding away as she did a month ago, she would acknowledge the knowing gazes of her people. Isen announced he would fetch what was needed and left her to make it to the inn. On her arrival, a room was prepared for her; nothing but the best for the real Skylian queen.

Valda stared at the large bed, just as Cerberus inspected it. Her cat always smelled around, jumped on the tables, beds, and chairs. She found a comfortable spot in the corner of the room, where she sat down and stared at Valda.

The glow of a candle barely illuminated the room. Valda turned to the large standing mirror, her gaze locking onto the reflection staring back at her.

The woman in the mirror wasn’t Valda.

That woman was undone, broken, and exhausted. Her hair hung in messy, blood-streaked tangles, matching the stains on her blouse, slacks, and boots. Her face waslaced with fatigue and frustration. She looked older, harder, angrier. She was filthy—there was no doubt about that.

With a disgusted pout, she turned away, heading to the garderobe to clean herself.

She plunged her hands into the icy water of the bucket, scrubbing until the grime beneath her nails was gone. She splashed her face repeatedly, rubbing away the dirt and sweat clinging to her skin, and worked the blood from her hair with trembling fingers.

What would Maris say if she saw her like this?

Valda’s upper lip twitched at the thought of her mate. With a sigh, she patted her face and hands dry before heading to bed.

Sitting on the edge of the cot, she tugged off her worn-out boots, tossing them aside. Exhaustion weighed on her, and before she could think twice, she lay back, her hand instinctively resting on the hilt of her sword. The cold metal pressed against her palm, a sensation both familiar and grounding.

As tiredness consumed her, the grip on the sword tightened. Something felt… off. The weapon was heavy, its weight unfamiliar. It didn’t have the reassuring balance of the Heaven Sword’s handle.

Frowning, she glanced down and froze. In her hand was a regular blade.

Her breath hitched as her gaze traveled from the weapon to a pair of wide, petrified dark eyes staring back at her.

A man knelt before her, battered and bruised; a piece of cloth bound around his mouth. His wide, desperate eyes locked onto Valda’s, and he muffled something unintelligible.

“A shame really. To think I enlisted him myself.”

Valda frowned, her attention shifting to look up at Arwin. The General’s face looked younger, his hair still streaked with strands of dark color that she hadn’t seen in years.

“He’s a soldier in our army?” Valda asked, startled by the innocent, youthful lilt in her own voice.

“Well, not anymore,” Arwin said, running his fingers through his hair. “Listen, this is just a lesson, Valda. Nothing to think much of. Just slice his neck open and let him bleed out.”

“That’s it?” Valda asked, her frown deepening. “Wasn’t there supposed to be a trial? A court where my mother gives the verdict? How do we know he—”

“I’ve interrogated him thoroughly. He refuses to talk,” Arwin said, his voice clipped. “He’s keeping others—more of his people—away from me. He thought I wouldn’t gothrough with this.” Arwin shook his head in disapproval. “To protect the rest of his organization, he’s jeopardized the safety of our kingdom, your mother, and you.”

“But why didn’t you kill him when you found him?”

Arwin snarled, grabbing her elbow and yanking her closer. “Because your mother commanded me to teach you everything there is to know about ruling a kingdom,” he growled. “This is part of ruling a kingdom, Valda. Now, are you going to handle this, or will you be a weak ruler who lets others walk all over her?”

Valda looked down at the man as Arwin’s anger bled into her. She gripped the blade tighter, trying to steady her trembling hands, forcing herself to remain calm.

“Do you have any idea why you are here? Why are you tied up and kneeling before me?” she asked, her attention directed to the stranger.

The prisoner shook his head violently.

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