Page 85 of The Reaping Rose

Not yet.

“I will,” I lie anyway.

Her rage licks against the gods-touched orb around my neck, and it recoils just the slightest. Enough that I know better than to encourage a bad mood.

Hazel relaxes as a knock sounds at the door.

“Come in.”

Lady Reah pushes the door open. The priestesses are better at hiding their disdain than most. She holds back from commenting when she meets my gaze, cautiously eyeing the orb. After what happened in the Ley Court, some of those in my realm have whispered of rebellion. They can’t see that I’m doing this for them.

Which is why I’ve dispatched Alasdair to set their minds right while I prepare for what’s to come.

“You received my summons,” I say as Lady Reah stops before me.

Her white hair is tied in tight braids, wound in a bun atop her head. A single one hangs loose beside her ear, resting over her shoulder.

Down the hall, the female I bedded moans as she starts to wake. It draws Lady Reah’s gaze, since her senses are more honed than most Fae.

“You’re not well.” Her stare moves to my bloodied chest.

“Is that a matter of observation or a foresight from the fates?” My fingers thrum on the arm of my chair. “What message was so urgent that you could not send it through my generals?”

She cools her expression, folding her hands over her white lace dress.

“There is a problem in Tempest,” she warns, though her tone remains even. “The priestesses have been unable to find answers in any of our visions. What the orb does to the realm does not agree with the fates. What’s to come cannot be seen at all.”

“The orb is gods-touched, but the gods refuse to speak of it to you. That says more about them than what it has shown me.”

“What has it shown you?” Lady Reah asks. “There are whispers you wish to unmake the realm.”

Hazel’s attention perks, even as she does not move. She shifts in her seat, watching embers shoot onto the stone before bathing them in darkness.

“I wish to save this realm. To see it become something greater.” My fingers toy with the orb.

It throbs for me.

Calls for me.

Paints me a picture of something so grand I cannot explain it.

Power so vast there is no containing it.

Its magic reaches for something out there, summoning me to that call in the distance.

When the orb is finally unleashed, I will not need anything. Not Elorie or Wilder. Not even my sister. I will harness the power of creation.

“Fate has a way of correcting that which is broken,” Lady Reah warns. “Careful how far you test the edges of this magic you wield, Your Majesty.”

“Careful with the words you use so carelessly to threaten your king.” A surge of power throbs in the room.

The force pushes Lady Reah back a step, while Hazel is unmoving. Surprise flares in Lady Reah’s eyes, as if she does not understand what I can do.

What I will do should anyone challenge me.

After the failed Rite, I sensed my people growing restless. The court fell, and rumors spread throughout the territories. Whispers of rebellion grew louder, so, using General Balk as an example, I made sure to paint a picture of what would happen should they attempt anything as careless.

Alasdair did the rest, spilling blood until the others fell in line.