Page 209 of Curse of Darkness
Just that easily.
If only….I turn and stare at the tree.
“Give me the fucking torch,” I say to the servant in a dead voice, even as I watch Lysander stalk away.
The stammering servant presses it into my hand.
And then I turn to the tree.
“Fuck you, you bitch,” I tell her, hoping she can hear me even as I set the flame to her roots. “You think you’ve won? I will take everything you ever denied me. I will take your throne. I will take your daughter. And I will burn everything you ever touched to the ground.”
Flames sparks, catching against the dry grass around the base of the tree.
Maybe it’s my imagination, but I swear it tries to rear away from the smoldering flames.
“Burn, Adaia,” I whisper as I toss the torch at her base and tug my gloves on. “I hope you feel it.”
47
ISKVIEN
There are a thousand things to do in the wake of the war.
But the first thing, the most pressing thing, is to work on the accords.
Unseelie is broken. The Seelie Alliance shattered.
And the Old Ones returned.
The Duke of Thornwood hastily assembled a tent in the middle of the field for the alliance to meet beneath. I kissed Amaya on the forehead as Grimm escorted her back to Ceres and then made my way toward it.
We’ve spent three hours arguing about whether to accept the Old Ones’ treaty, and the talk seems to be going in circles again. Thiago sends for food and wine, hoping to clear the air for the moment.
“What do we do about Asturia?” Prince Kyrian finally asks, as the platters arrive.
I pause with a grape halfway to my mouth. “What about Asturia?”
“There’s an empty throne sitting there,” he says, arching one of those dark brows. “Who’s going to rule now? You? Your sister? Precisely where does the succession sit? Who’s going to cast Asturia’s vote?”
“Not me. It’s not my home anymore.” It was never my home—
Andraste captures my hand in hers. “It belongs to someone who gave up far too much for it,” she whispers, and glances to her right, where Edain sits stony-faced and silent.
“No,” he says, rousing for the first time, his eyes flashing fire. “No. I don’t want it.”
Andraste tips her chin up. “And maybe that’s the one reason you should have it. When mother claimed the kingdom, she changed the laws so the throne is not given hereditarily. Most likely because she was no heir to the previous king. She never changed them back. She insisted that as crown princess, I spend hours training in order to be able to fight off any challenges.
“So why not you? You have the ability to hold your own against all who might see a throne in their future. And you played Mother like a fiddle. What the others do not understand is that you have always steered her policies, pushing her toward leniency, toward peace, when her first instinct was mayhem. You’ve had a great deal of practice in ruling already.”
“Everyone in Asturia considers me an extension of your mother’s will. There will be blood for this.”
“There will be blood anyway,” she retorts. “You think the baron of Harewood is not going to take a tilt at the throne if it’s unclaimed? Or Essington? Or even the Duke of the Southern Reaches? Every aristocrat in the kingdom with even a hint of the royal lineage in their veins will be calling their bannermen to them.”
“Then maybe their crown princess should return?” he bites out.
Andraste gathers herself primly, strangely calm. Something happened between them last night, I’m sure of it. But she seems at peace with it. “I have relinquished all right upon the crown of Asturia. I promised it thrice before Maia. There’s no coming back from that, Edain.”
“And does your sister agree with such assessment?” Edain turns to me, his words hissing between his teeth.
