Page 88 of Tricky Princess
“No,” Ros growled, searching for the right words. “You’re the reason I was born, why I’m destined to rule after you, and why I cannot be with the woman I love.” Ros choked on the last word, and his eyes were wide as his father grinned at him.
“And why can’t you be with the woman you love, son?” The smug bastard didn’t even try to hide how happy he was.
“You know why!”
“Do I?”
“Have you gone mad in your old age?” Ros seethed. “The curse! The reason my mother is dead, why no other ruler has someone ruling beside them.”
His father stared at him coolly, waiting for him to calm down.
“Do you remember the day I told you about the curse?”
Ros nodded his head; of course he did. He was about ten, sneaking looks into his father’s many volumes in his office.
“You were so small then,” he said with a distant look in his hazel eyes. “So young. I remember you on the floor with one of my giant journals in your lap. You asked me about the saying—”
“‘The binding of the Gods’ chosen and their promised will amend the lapse of the realms. The chosen must seek the Creator Of Chaos and Bringer Of Shadows. Until they are forged, there will only be death,’” Ros recited word for word. “You also told me then that it was about you and mother.”
Ros looked down at his hands; the memory was still fresh in his mind from his journey through the Gods’ woods and his nightmares last night.
“And at that time, I thought it was true,” Asmodeus said with a sigh. “You know I never chose her because of the prophecy. It was fate, and I loved her more than old words and curses.”
“That doesn’t change anything with Ellea.” His words were bitter.
The curse was still alive, and she needed to stay far away from it.
“You were never meant to rule alone,” he said, and Ros whipped his head to him. “You remember the destruction that followed your mother’s death, all those I killed, all those I interrogated. It wasn’t only to find her killer.”
They had never found her murderer, but Ros had always blamed Beelzebub. He was always jealous of them, of how his father was more powerful thanks to the Gods’ blessings.
“I stormed the Gods’ territory, furious and crazed with loss,” his father said with a sad smile. “I rode for days, hunting for their resting spot and leaving damage in my path. Loki was actually the one who found me.”
“You never told me that.” He knew his father had been with the Gods before they retired, but to hear about them being awake, able to be hunted down…
“You’d left by the time I came back,” his father said, cutting into his train of thought. “Loki stopped me before I could reach all of them, and he told me the truth. The prophecy was never about me; it was about you and his chosen.”
“His chosen? You were his chosen, you were all the Gods’ chosen.” Ros was confused.
“I was, but only because I was a fair ruler and destined to have you. You were always meant to find his chosen…his descendent.”
His descendent?
Ros felt the color drain from his face.
“No,” he whispered.
“Why?” his father asked with a cock of his head. “Why not her? She thrives here, she is stronger than any of us, and she can learn to rule. She was already putting the work in and she didn’t even know she was destined for it.”
“No,” Ros said again.
“You can’t stop it.” He said it with so much certainty, Ros almost believed him. “I’m not asking you to start tomorrow; you have time. You both have a lot to learn and a lot to do.”
Ros shook his head. It couldn’t be. This was too much.
“What are you afraid of?”
“Her getting hurt, this place corrupting her.” He breathed out a shuddering breath as horrible visions flashed through his mind. “Her dying.”
