Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 247882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1239(@200wpm)___ 992(@250wpm)___ 826(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 247882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1239(@200wpm)___ 992(@250wpm)___ 826(@300wpm)
“Instead of fearing the false god in front of them? A demis who has stolen the essence of a long-forgotten Primal and used it to kill the King of Gods’ guards? Who sanctioned the slaughter of countless children in the so-called, honorable Rite?” I arched a brow at Isbeth. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I wonder how they will feel to learn that not even your name is real.” I laughed softly. “Fake, just like the Blessing. Just like the Rite and everything that makes up the Blood Crown. False, just like the god you believe you are.”
“Careful,” Isbeth warned.
“What about the other Ascended?” I pushed. “Those who aren’t favored by you? What do you think they will do if they learn you’re not one of them? Should we find out?”
She stared at me, her glass forgotten in her hand as Malik edged into our space. “I wouldn’t suggest doing anything so reckless, Your Highness,” he said to me, placing his hand on the Blood Queen’s arm. “You may be the one to walk out of whatever catastrophe you create, but many of those in this room and beyond won’t. Is that what you want?”
I stared at his hand, momentarily stunned. Disgust built inside me, joining the cold anger. “How can you even touch her?”
Malik lifted a shoulder. “How can I not?”
“You fucking bastard,” Kieran snarled, stepping forward.
I grabbed Kieran’s arm, stopping him, somehow becoming the rational one.
The Prince eyed Kieran. “It’s been a while since we were around each other for any amount of time, so I’ll let that slide. You’ve apparently forgotten I can kick your ass from here to Atlantia without breaking a sweat.”
Kieran’s wintry eyes brightened. “I haven’t forgotten shit.”
“Good.” Malik smiled. “Now you know that hasn’t changed.”
My eyes cut to Malik, to that bored, indifferent smile, and I let my senses reach out to him again. I brushed against those thick shields, and this time, I didn’t pull back. I didn’t stop the dark urge to find those vulnerable spots. I let the essence follow my senses, let the power gently wash over those walls, discovering the cracks.
Malik’s gaze snapped to mine, and that lazy smile of his froze. I didn’t stop myself. I sank the eather into those mental walls, digging in with claws, into those tiny slivers of weakness. Blood drained rapidly from the Prince’s face as I tore those fissures wide. The glass slipped from his fingers as I shattered his shields.
Emotions poured out, raw and unfettered, as Malik stumbled to the side—a wild, spiraling mix that was almost too fast and too chaotic to make sense of. Almost. I caught the sugary residue of fleeting amusement and pooling, acidic anger. Malik shuddered, bending at the waist as his fingers dug into his hair. The Handmaidens stepped in, blocking him from the view of others as I continued to pull his emotions from him. I tasted hints of sourness and tart tanginess. Equal parts shame and sorrow, but it was the dagger-sharp bitterness that overpowered everything else. Fear that had grown into an ever-present panic.
I pulled back then, recoiling from the holes now left in his shields. He lifted his head. Blood trickled from his nose. His stinging pain eased off, becoming a dull, throbbing ache as he stared at me.
“Get him out of here,” Isbeth ordered in a clipped voice. Two guards stepped forward. One of them took hold of his arm.
Malik shook them off. “I’m fine,” he rasped, but he didn’t fight them when they turned him. When he walked off, his steps were shaky.
“And someone clean up this mess,” she snapped, her dark eyes flashing with a hint of eather. “That was not kind of you, daughter. He is, after all, your brother-in-law.”
“He had it coming,” Kieran said with a smirk.
“Maybe.” Isbeth stepped to the side as a servant hastily cleaned up the shattered glass. She took a deep breath, and the faint glow faded from her eyes. The strain left her mouth. “As I was saying, there is much to be discussed. This war. The kingdoms. The True King. That is why I allowed you to enter the capital.”
Still rattled by Malik’s emotions, I said, “You want to have a discussion? That’s not going to happen until you release Casteel and my father.”
The Blood Queen’s laugh was like wind chimes. “My darling, think of what you’re asking. You want me to give up leverage—the only thing that keeps you from doing something incredibly reckless and foolish? Something you’d regret? You should thank me.”
I drew back. “Thank you? Are you out of your—?”
“You are my daughter, Penellaphe.” Her hand snapped out, curling around my chin. This time, I warned Kieran and Reaver off with a raised hand. Her hold wasn’t painful. Her touch wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold like an Ascended’s. “I carried you in my womb and cared for you until it was no longer safe for me to do so. That is why I tolerate from you what I would not allow from others.” Her eyes flashed once more. “That is why I will give you—only you—what you haven’t even begun to earn. But you must make a choice. You either see your King or your father. Not both.”