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“I heard you killed your father,” Drazen stated, arms crossed over his chest as he stared me down.
“I did.” I did not elaborate, wanting my cousin to get to the point.
“I thought we had a plan.” His normally impassive face was firmly set, and his deep blue eyes were hard as sapphires.
“Plans change.” I shrugged dismissively, but Drazen was relentless.
“So you do not wish for me to carry out the second part?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge.
“No need. I have a much better plan now. I need you to fetch the Night Crown and High Priestess from Este Castle. We will ascend on the same day as the wedding, but I need both crowns and priestesses to make it happen,” I stated, my words carrying the weight of a king’s order.
Drazen pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. “Ruslan, when are you ever going to make a plan and stick with it? You are too impulsive, and it's going to get us all killed. From what I heard on my way up here, you are lucky that you didn’t kill Izidora. Let’s just stop and think for a moment, okay?”
“I don’t need a lecture from you, Drazen. I am your king now,” I hissed, turning away from him and narrowing my gaze on the city outside.
“And I am the only person who actually tolerates your presence and calls you on your bullshit. Don’t be the type of king who can’t take advice because his ego is the size of Vasvain. You should know from your history books how that turns out for them,” he chastised, joining me at the cracked window.
I growled my frustration, but he was right, and we both knew it. “Fine, what do you think our next move should be?”
“See who shows up tomorrow for the feast. We really pissed off the Night Realm, and I have heard whispers that they left with an army. If we can confirm that they are here for a fight, Vaenor will be vulnerable to attack, and then, and only then, will I retrieve the Night Crown. But I think it would bebetter to crush them while we have a strategic advantage, then wait until they have yielded to retrieve it. If they do not show up with an army, then we have a different problem. We will have to assess if they have chosen Izidora to replace King Zalan, or if they have named another successor. The rules are different in their realm since they have a council. Who knows, maybe the named successor will show up wearing the Night Crown. Wait, just one more day, and we will have a better understanding of our options.” The plea in Drazen’s voice was hidden, but there.
I cracked my knuckles as I thought through his strategy. Risking Félvér lives unnecessarily wasn’t my style, especially because we would need every last one of us for the war that would surely arrive on the Iron Realm’s borders. “I can wait, but only one more day. I can’t take any chances.” My attention drifted to the bedroom door, and the lack of sounds coming from within.
Drazen followed my gaze. “You are worried she will see the other male and go running back to him.” It was not a question.
“Yes,” I spat through gritted teeth, jaw clenched so tight I thought I might crack a tooth.
Better physical pain than emotional pain.
“Don’t let the old Ruslan return, otherwise she will. She likes this new side of you, at least enough to agree to marry your crazy ass,” he smirked, elbowing me in the side. I shoved him back with my shoulder, the corner of my lip twitching up.
A throat cleared behind us, forcing us to whip around and face the intruder. Rares appeared at the open door, his wrinkled face filled with hate. “What?”
“You will address your king with respect, Rares,” I purred, loving my new power over him. Unfortunately for Drazen, the old Ruslan really, really wanted to play with the Mage now that I was king of the Iron Realm and, therefore, his master.
“What can I do for you, Your Highness?” Rares’s words snapped out like he had taken a drink of a bitter potion.
“You will find a way to prevent Izidora from falling back in love with the male she thought was her mate. He is likely to arrive tomorrow, and I cannot have him interfering with my plans.” Drazen shot me a dark look, but I ignored him, waiting for the old Mage’s response.
“It will take time to develop something, if it can be done. Manipulating another’s mind is rarely permanent, as you are aware from Izidora’s own abilities,” Rares protested, wringing his gnarled hands.
“Then I suggest you start working now, Rares,” I replied coolly.
He spun on his heel, stomping away with as much force as his hunched form allowed. I grinned manically, my chest easing with the certainty that Izidora would not reject me.
Drazen punched my shoulder, hard, and hissed, “That is exactly what I was saying not to do.”
“I’m not leaving anything up to chance,” I countered, heat rising across my neck and shoulders. Drazen didn’t understand what this fear was like, how all-consuming it could be.
“No, you are a control freak,” he bit out. “You are incapable of trusting anyone or anything.”
“My father never did either,” I pointed out, keeping my voice cold to mask the heat rising within.
“Exactly. I hope you did not kill him simply to become him,” Drazen seethed. “Congrats again, Ruslan. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” The sarcasm in his tone forced me to snatch his arm to stop him as he made to leave.
“I am nothing like him,” I growled. “I do trust you, which is why I take your council. And why I am asking you to move my personal regiment to the citadel for our protection.”
Drazen shrugged me off, but nodded. “Anything else youneed before I go?” The tension between us remained, but it was clear he wanted to leave.
