Page 64 of Queen of Thorns
The carriage continues forward at a snail’s pace, and by the time we reach the wrought iron gates into the palace grounds, there are a few hundred people lining the street behind me.
I open the windows and wave at the smiling fae who shout back. There is laughter and eager waving. A few bold souls rush up to the carriage and reach for me, but they are knocked back by High Court guards.
“Rev!” the crowd chants over and over.
These people don’t know me, but they love me.
This kind of attention has always felt strange, but today it serves a purpose. I intend to use the people’s devotion as leverage against my father.
Palace guards swarm the gates, carefully guiding the carriage through, and within only a few moments, we’re safely inside. The carriage picks up speed, bouncing down the paved pathway until it halts right at the white stairs leading up to the palace.
I climb out without waiting for my personal guards to open it and I march up the glistening steps. With a loud crack, the massive doors part at the center and begin the slow drawl out, but I slip through as soon as I’m able to fit.
High Court guards and Luminescent Court guards follow behind me as I continue my purposeful march. The Luminescent King nor any advisors have met me yet, which means I’m right on time.
Down a long corridor, I stop in front of a shining silver-painted door. “Open it,” I order to the closest Luminescent guard. With shaking fingers, the guard fits his brass key into the slot and turns it slowly until the door unlatches with a soft click.
I throw open the doors to the meeting chambers, ensuring they slam back against the wall.
I remember the time Caelynn did nearly this exact thing—barged into a public meeting, causing my father to nearly lose his shit. Still one of my favorite memories.
The thought allows my lips to quirk up into an arrogant smirk just as I meet my father’s harsh stare.
He’s sitting on his makeshift throne on a platform before several advisors, with my two half-brothers on each side of him.
“Reveln,” my father’s voice is low, full of undisguised venom, “we were not expecting you.”
“Were you not?” I ask, tilting my head innocently. My snide smirk has not faded. I’m not as good at this as Caelynn. I cannot hide my pleasure at their discomfort.
When no one responds, I take the opportunity to pull a chair over and sit next to Arlan, the eldest of my brothers. Well, I suppose technically we share no blood at all, but no one outside of our family knows that bit of tricky truth.
My father is not my father by blood, and my two brothers, who were not conceived in an official union with the queen, are not considered true heirs. They can benamedheirs but only as a backup plan when there are no true heirs. Ironically, I am a bastard as much as they are. My father is simply too proud to publicly admit that his wife had an affair.
And without that knowledge, the people would riot if the king were to replace me in the line of succession. It makes sense why he’d constantly tried to present me as weak and stupid to the public, so he’d have ammunition in case he ever had to strip my title.
From the day Reahgan died, he’s been plotting to undermine and replace me. But I’ve bested him at every turn. Now that I’m High Heir, he cannot undo the High Queen’s choice.
He hates me more now than he ever has—which is saying a lot. I’ve learned to enjoy it, to be honest. It feels good to shed the shame of a father who doesn’t appreciate or care for me. And now, I relish the moments I can make him as uncomfortable as he has made me my entire life.
But, after my fun, I have a plan that will relieve it. Sadly. It is in the best interest of everyone.
The chair I choose is cool metal, not nearly as luxurious as the rest of the royal family, but I don’t mind. I flop down and set my ankle over my knee in a much too casual position. The king openly glares at me.
I only smile.
“So, what matters are we discussing today?”
Arlan’s brow lifts, but his features remained schooled. My eldest half-brother is nearly seventy-five years older than me, and we’ve never exactly beenfriends.Reahgan was in a true rivalry with him, and I was always on Reahgan’s side.
Bastards, generally, are treated well but not given the same education as an heir would. Arlan and Brannon, both, were an exception. Often, they were given more attention than me.
At the time, that bothered me to no end. Now, it makes all the sense in the world.
My father has expected Arlan to take his throne for the last decade.
Cairo, one of the king’s oldest advisors clears his throat. “We were discussing the shadow rebels involvement in—”
My father lifts a hand to stop him. “Of course, having the High Heir in our meeting is a pleasure,” he pauses to give me a stare of veiled rage, “but these are not High Court matters.”
