Total pages in book: 220
Estimated words: 205637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 823(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 205637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 823(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
The air seemed to flash-freeze over the table. Nyfain’s lifted his gaze to hers slowly, his profound confusion evident.
“I beg your pardon?” he finally said.
She took a deep breath. “The king’s animosity toward you probably stemmed from many things, but one thing in particular. The king knew he was not your father.”
ELEVEN
Finley
“Get out.” The staff at the other end of the room, standing by the drink station, flinched. “That’ll be all, thank you. Close the doors behind you. Do not come back in until we summon you.” Then, realizing how hasty and panicked I probably sounded, I added, “The soup is delicious. We need time to eat it.”
No fucking way did the staff need to hear that Nyfain might not be the heir to the throne. It wouldn’t do much for our cause. Not to mention this was clearly the first time Nyfain was hearing this information. If the king wasn’t actually his father, Nyfain had a lot more to digest from this conversation than some iffy decision-making by his mom. He might not be so keen to have strangers listening in.
The door clicked behind the last staff member, who peered through the crack for as long as he could before it latched. They’d heard the first bit of that, and they’d talk.
Fuck.
“Are you telling me that the man I called Dad,” Nyfain said, each word clipped, “was not actually my biological father?”
His mother took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get her emotions under control. This new topic was clearly easier for her to discuss. She didn’t seem to feel guilty about siring Nyfain with someone other than the king, or having lied to Nyfain all his life.
Nyfain must’ve realized that as well, because he leaned forward, bristling, his anger starting to rise. He pushed back his soup and leaned on the table, staring at his quickly sobering mother.
“If my father wasn’t the king, who was he?” he asked in a growl.
“You never knew him. You were too young—”
“Who?” Nyfain shouted.
She flinched, her whole body tense. I placed a hand on his shoulder to help him keep his head. I could feel his dragon roiling within him, feeding him fire and power. My dragon started to gently siphon it off and stash it away, making sure they didn’t destroy the whole room in a rage.
“It was the king’s commander. Not the commanders you knew over the years—his first, from what I understand. Please, allow me to explain.”
I rubbed Nyfain’s back, sensing he needed the contact. In all honesty, though, I couldn’t fault the queen for seeking comfort away from the mad king. Then again, I hadn’t been lied to my whole life. I doubted Nyfain would be so quick to see reason after a betrayal of that magnitude. It was a helluva thing to learn after all he’d been through, and right before he was supposed to assume the throne.
He didn’t comment, which she must’ve known was his acceptance, because she quickly jumped into the story.
“I was only eighteen when I permanently moved here, only seventeen when the king first started courting me. He’d wanted a wife with power and prestige, and I ticked all his boxes and had a pretty face. He dazzled me with riches and splendor, luxury and doting servants. He talked about the two of us sitting on the throne of his great kingdom. About my child being his heir, a future king…”
She took a sip of her drink, her soup long forgotten.
“I was warned by many in my village to talk to the elders about this kingdom. They said the king’s honeyed words would not be my reality. In my foolishness, I thought I could handle the situation, and when he offered me a handsome mateprice, an assurance that I would be well provided for if it didn’t work out, I agreed to marry him.
“I came to this kingdom with stars in my eyes, but it took barely a year for me to realize I’d made a grave mistake. A year after that, and I wanted to get out. He’d talked about the power I would have, the duties I would do—lies. Even if I had wanted to change things—and I did—I had no way to actually do it. I asked for my mateprice so that I might leave.”
“The gold reserve,” Nyfain said, his tone flat.
“Part of it, yes. Back then, there was plenty more. He said that I could have it, but I’d have to dig it out myself. I said that was fine.”
“But he wouldn’t give you the resources or the tools,” Nyfain said.
“Correct,” she said, inclining her head. “He had many excuses, and I believed them for a time, but finally I pushed the issue. That was the first time he struck me. Just the once, but it was enough.”
I wrinkled my brow. “Enough for what?”