Page 37 of The Stolen Kingdom

“I’m sorry—” Before the words could fully escape, a sharp sting burned across her face. She cupped her cheek instinctively, turning wide-eyed to Arwin, whose bloodied hand clutched the hilt of his sword.

“Never apologize.” Arwin snapped as he unsheathed his sword from the scabbard and took a step towards the fallen man. Moving behind him, Arwin gripped his head with one hand, forcing it back.

“Goddess Eris, accept my sacrifice,” Arwin whispered, eerily calm.

The blade slashed across the man’s throat in one swift motion.

Valda flinched as blood sprayed, splattering her shirt and face. She clamped her eyes shut, her stomach twisting as she turned away. The sounds—the wet gurgle, the body collapsing to the ground, the pooling blood...

“What have you done?” She looked over at the mess, a darkness setting deep within her.

Arwin wiped his blade on the lifeless man’s clothes with unnerving nonchalance, letting out a weary sigh. “I killed a traitor. Clearly, you weren’t finishing the job yourself.”

He spat on the corpse before sliding his sword back into its scabbard.

“A stab to the stomach?” he scoffed. “I thought I taught you better than that.”

“That man had a family! He had a mate—they probably felt the snap, and—”

“And so did your father!” Arwin snapped.

Valda took a step back, shaking her head as she turned away. She couldn’t bear to look at him—or at the lifeless body on the ground.

Without another word, she ran toward the castle, her footsteps pounding against the sand. She ignored the curious stares of the soldiers as she passed, their murmurs barely registering over the storm raging in her mind. She couldn’t stand the sight of the blood pooling beneath the man’s neck, couldn’t stand the weight of what she had done.

She had killed a man.

A man who had begged for his life.

A Skylian soldier—one of her own.

Shame settled in, and Valda ran through the castle’s corridors. Tears ran freely down her cheeks, her stomach turning with self-disgust.

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined taking the life of someone pleading for mercy—a man with a family, a mate, a daughter.

Tripping, Valda fell just as she had made it into the main hall leading to the throne room. Cupping her stomach, she tried to steady her breathing.Don’t show weakness. Don’t show weakness.

Her mantra failed as she dropped to all four, her gaze falling to her warped reflection in the pristine, marble floor.

Shit! Shit! Shit!Valda sat on the ground, staring at her blood-soaked hands. A hiss escaped her lips as she furiously rubbed her palms against her linen pants.

“It won’t come off,” Valda murmured, her jaw trembling as tears welled in her eyes. “I can’t wipe it off. I thought…” Her voice broke into a sob. “Arwin said—”

She clutched fistfuls of her dark hair and buried her face between her knees. “I didn’t mean to. I was following orders. Gods…”

Darkness covered her like a veil. The same darkness that suffocated her months ago.

“Maris, I’m so sorry,” Valda whispered to the surrounding emptiness. “I’m so sorry…”

But no one was there to hear her.

“You murderer!”

The words sliced through the bitter silence like a blade. Valda froze, her breath catching in her throat as Maris’s voice echoed in the void.

A shiver ran down her spine as she slowly opened her eyes—and stared into Maris’s.

Their gazes locked.

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