Page 67 of Sinless Demons
“He forgot his own son’s memorial?”
“I heard he planned it. He requested this memorial. And now he’s forgotten?”
“Well, I hear he’s forgetting a lot of things these days.”
“The apple doesn’t fall far from Old Headless Hyval, eh?”
“Calm down,” Pen says with a wave of her small hand.
“Calm down?” An elderly high fae asks with her blazing red wings fluttering. “Our King has forgotten us. Again. Forgotten his own children. This Kingdom needs guidance. Not a speaker!” The woman looks familiar, and it takes me a moment to remember her name from my childhood. She’s Waltry’s mate. I’m staring at her while her disgusted gaze holds on Pen for a long passing moment.
I let the time slip into the silence for several heartbeats before striding to Pen’s side.
“Lady Charlotte, I can assure you, the Kingdom is not without guidance.” I smooth the conversation and start to pull Pen away, taking a single step toward my mother, who sits without comment on all the chaos of her life.
“You have your mother’s features,” Lady Charlotte says, loud and clear. It brings a growing smile to my lips.
Because she’s right on time.
“You have her strength, too. A true Princess of Roses,” she calls out to me.
Yes. Yes, I am.
When the threads of my black gown sweep over the gleaming tile, the entire room is looking at me with big shining eyes. My chin tilts higher, my back straightening beneath their heavy attention.
This isn’t a memorial.
It never was.
It’s a revolution. The end of an era. And the beginning of a new fucking reign.
“Thank you,” I say with a touch of humble kindness.
My lips part to say the speech I’ve prepared. The one that announces me as more than just a Princess. But a Queen this lost Kingdom needs.
Too bad those words never come out.
A door bangs open with slamming anger.
Big boots thunder over the tile, and I peer back and meet blazing silver eyes.
Eyes just like mine.
Fuck.
“You had a memorial for my only son. Without. Me.” The King yells. The words boom over the fine wine glasses the guests hold and I note how many women just flinched from the sound of their King’s voice.
He storms toward me in three big steps, and I’m going to fire whoever the hell was supposed to take him to his little doctor’s checkup today.
“Father,” I whisper, searching for words and lies lost in my head.
“Your Highness, you planned the memorial,” Johnn says slowly but loudly enough for all to hear.
My head turns. As does every-fucking-one else’s.
“Wow,” Damien whispers from behind me.
I fucking agree.
