Page 44 of The Crimson Princess
My father’s swift avoidance tells a terrifying story. The leak is growing with a troublesome crescendo. Toren was right. Opening that portal for the Challenges is a problem and we’re set to do it again next week. No wonder my father allowed Toren to stay and offer aid.
Evie and two other maidens return and set plates in front of us, all of which are filled with sweet bread, heavy servings of fruit and syrup on top. My stomach growls rather loudly—yes, gales can get rowdy when we’re hungry, too—and I don’t hesitate to pick up my fork.
My father casts me an approving look, and follows my lead, lifting his fork. “I remembered how much you like sweet bread,” he says, a rare tenderness in his eyes, in his voice. “I asked for it to be made especially for you.”
“I’m excited about it,” I assure him, yet another pinch of emotions in my chest, at the realization that he really does love me. He really is worried for me. Which only makes his willingness to sell me off to the druids all the more confusing but for now, I focus on his gesture. “Thank you, father.” I dig into the lush bready delight and give a little moan as the deliciousness fills my tastebuds. “So good. I missed this when I was on shadow duty.”
“I should have visited more and brought you some.”
I tilt my head in surprise, reminded that he had started visiting my mother on Earth in the months before her death. They were trying to reconcile. He was trying to win her back. The idea that they can never find a place of peace and happiness together gut me, but maybe, just maybe, he needs a connection to me to remain connected to her. “I’d have liked that,” I assure him, my voice warm, a tiny crack in the depths.
He gives a tiny nod of approval, a hint of regret in his eyes. “Your mother loved sweet bread, too. I actually took her some not that long ago.”
“And not me?”
“You were off with some guy who was courting you so she ate yours, too.”
I laugh and scoop another bite. “Of course, she did.” I glance skyward, and scold, “Mother.”
My father actually laughs, but then seems to remember Idris is with us, his voice firming to a kingly demand. “Back to the important matter of eradicating the rogue werewolves.”
“I’ll take the team we discussed into the forest tonight,” I say. “And of course, report back to our king.”
“I’ve got it,” Idris asserts. “It’s beneath you to do such things, princess.”
“Anything that protects my gales is not beneath me,” I counter.
“I’ve got it,” he insists. “I’llreport back to our king in the morning.”
“The frostburns will attack you,” I remind him.
“And you,” he counters.
“No,” I say easily, “theywill not. I’ve become their alpha.”
He snorts. “What nonsense is this?”
“No nonsense. I killed the alpha. I became the alpha.”
“Now I’ve heard everything.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “And even if that’s true—”
My father sets his fork down. “Are you questioning the future queen’s honesty?”
Idris holds up his hands. “No. No, my king. I apologize.” He eyes me. “I’m sorry. I don’t doubt you, but if you are on the front lines, how will the gales feel secure you will be around to stabilize our future?”
“By knowing I survive, and our enemies do not. But I’ll tell you what, you want to do this without me, do it. Just let me know your body count tomorrow. One survival tip you’ll want to pass along to your team. The forest and the frostburns have a magical connection. Don’t kill the frostburns or I promise you, the forest will make you pay. You may never get to leave.”
He smirks. “If that’s true, why didn’t the forest make you pay when you killed a frostburn?”
“I chose right. I killed the alpha and created a new ruling order.”
My father bristles and waves his hand in irritation. “She’s going with you, Idris. Now both of you, finish eating.”
Idris grits his teeth, and glares at me, resentment brimming from his stare. “I’m done, my king.” He shoves his half-eaten plate aside. “If I may be dismissed, I need to put together my hunting team.”
“Considering I can barely tolerate the two of you together, go do what you need to do.”
Idris stands, his attention on me. “Ten p.m., on the forest line at the back of the castle.”
