Jessamine
"I would like to return home."
The King's gaze remains fixated on his desk, his fingers moving with a practiced dexterity as he scrawls across the letterhead. “This is your home now.” He pauses in his writing, his sharp eyes lifting to meet mine. "Darrock tells me you were banished by your King. Why is that?"
I fumble with the folds of my dress, disregarding the disapproving gaze of the raven-haired beauty at the king's right—the Queen, whose disdain for me is as plain as the sneer fixed on her red lips. She attempts to mask it with an air of nonchalance, but the hostility in her eyes is unmistakable. "It was…" I shake my head, unwilling to share the details. "Actually, it's none of your business."
“Mind your tone, girl,” the Queen says.
I arch a brow in response before turning my attention away. I don’t have the patience for her. I take a step forward and a guard moves in tandem, hand on the hilt of his sword. Right, because fragile, old me can murder a king.
I halt abruptly, tossing a lock of hair and a dagger onto the table. The dagger clangs, landing perilously close to the King's scroll. “Someone was in my room last night. I will not spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, barring my doors and windows. My life was great and I would like to return to it.”
“I see.”
I wait and wait for another response, but that’s all I get from him. What does he see? I’m not staying. I’m not spending one more day in this castle, feeling like my body isn’t mine to control. What if I strangle myself in my sleep? Or even worse, harm someone, because Goddess knows for a moment there, when Nymeria hit me, I’d felt something. A spark of rage, dangerously close to bloodlust.
It worries me. That too and having maids storm my room, hurl me into my bathtub and repeat the same grueling routine I was subjected to yesterday at Darrock’s home.
So, no. I’ll take the borders anytime.
“Az,” the man who’s supposed to be my father says, and his guard steps forward, his lemon green eyes that remind me of snakes never leaving my form. “You will oversee the princess’s safety from now on.”
“Sire, I am sworn to you—”
“I do not like repeating myself, and unless you’d prefer being dissolved of your position as Captain, you will do as I say. Assign her the best guards.” He remains engrossed in that damned scroll, his voice dripping with indifference. "Should harm befall her, I'll have your innards woven into a sweater and delivered to your mother.”
Perhaps, it’s the way the words sputter off his lips with such ease, or the fact that Az has gone white as sheet. Or it could be because I saw him throw Darrock into a wall in one effortless swoop that broke his bones and rendered him unconscious. But I know he isn’t bluffing.
“T-there is no need for any of that. I do not plan to stay,” I stutter, folding my hands behind my back to hide the tremors.
He looks up then, meeting my gaze, and the crushing weight in the study dissipates. “You have barely stayed enough to decide if you like it here. Where would you go?” No care. Just practical, logical questions.
“Duskwood.”
The queen snorts. “You’d be dead before you reach there. If the rogues don’t kill you, the humans will.”
I frown. “The humans are neutral in the matters of war.”
“Not anymore,” she declares. "The mortal King's daughter met a grisly end in Oakshire, and he hungers for blood. There’s word that Atticus's horde of rogues has swelled tenfold, armed with mortal-forged weapons. It's just a question of months before they descend upon Neredia."
No.
Every thought in my head is replaced with dreadful silence and my breath hitches. Kier. Lloyd. It is required of the Alpha King to stay behind during battles and let the sentries fight, but Kier has never been that man. He leads and carves a path of safety for his people. He puts them first. It’s one of the reasons why I fell in love with him, and now, one of the reasons I resent him fiercely. Leaning in, my fingers press into the desk's cool surface. “I must return.” The King's eyes, frosty orbs of indifference, meet mine. "Please."
“I'm afraid that's not an option. Your claim to the throne makes you invaluable to Dawn.”
I bare my teeth at him. My teeth are bared in a snarl. "Nymeria is your chosen heir, not me! I never sought any of this, nor do I desire it! I won't be shackled by the decrees of a kingdom that isn't mine, a kingdom where I have no place! You have no right to keep me here! You ARE NOT my King! Kier is, and I demand to return to him!"
The lights in the room flicker once, then twice as a pressure builds in my head. King Hunter's gaze intensifies, growing darker and more imposing. His presence feels suffocating, permeating every inch of the room. In an eerily composed tone, he asserts, "No. You shall stay and begin your training for the court."
His words taste and feel like poison. I let out a ragged breath, but more keep crawling up my throat in an attempt to suffocate it. My chest tightens painfully, and a wave of nausea hits me as I break out in cold sweat. I want to…I need to…scream.
My lips part, a feral sound ripping through the air. Glass shatters, wood splinters, and papers whirl like ghosts in the chaos. The earth rumbles. The Queen's screams pierce the tumult as she shields her ears, toppling from her chair to cower beneath a table, desperate to hide from…me. Az is no better, his knees hitting the ground as his hands clamped over his ears, crimson blood trickling between his fingers.
King Hunter blinks, seemingly unaffected, and it doesn’t matter that his desk is ruined, or the fractured glass flies, cutting his skin. He sits there until my scream dies, watching me with an unnerving calm.
A heartbeat of silence ensues and guards burst into the room, searching for the threat. My fingers tremble as I stagger back, nearly tripping from the lightness in my head. I grip the broken desk to hold upright and I stare at the mess.
It looks like there was an explosion, and everything within my line of sight is shattered and broken. Except the King. He plucks a piece of cloth from his pocket and wipes the blood from his cheek. “Az, escort Jessamine to chambers. There will be no tutoring outside until she masters control of her emotions. Glenda will join you shortly.”
He stands to his full height, towering above me, above us all, and he glances down, extending his hand to his wife who’s still crouched under the table. “Tara.”
The Queen, Tara, glances up and even I can smell her terror. She looks between me and King Hunter, hesitating for a moment before she puts her shaky hand on his. He pulls her up and holds her to his side before turning his gaze to me. “You will learn to keep your emotions in check, Jessamine, not just for the sake of those whom you might endanger, but for yourself, lest you roar and bring down an entire building on yourself. Do you understand that this will never happen again?”
I stare at the frightened queen and the blood stain on his cheek. I look to Az whose ears bleed and the guards who stare at me like they want to eliminate me, but are much too terrified to do it. My gaze drifts to the claw marks I've gouged into the desk, proof of whatever shit I released with that sound.
It wasn't a scream; it was a roar.
My lips tremble, and I lift my gaze, locking eyes with him once more. "You could aid them—"
“My people will not fight for the son of a man who killed their families and shut his gates when we sought refuge. Your king is on his own.”
Tears prick my eyes and I start towards him. Tara flinches and I stop. “Kier is not his father.”
King Hunter angles his head to the left and I catch a glimpse of sadness in his eyes. “Children often bear the weight of their parents' deeds. It is the way of things.” Ever so slowly, he reaches forward and touches my cheek. His hands are cold. “I'll lend my support if he ever deigns to seek it, only if he bends the knee. Consider it my favor to you."
I turn on my heels and storm out of his study. There’s not a life that exists in which Kier would bend the knee to another being. I can only hope he has enough men and resources to curb the impending crisis.