Council’s Queen, the voiceless, powerless pawn of her advisers… and yet Alexiya had said she had a streak of defiance in her and did what she wanted. She’d traveled into the wilds of Pyra with a handful of guards to confront her dangerous, volatile sister, all while pregnant, making a life for herself with the man she chose—not the man she’d been told to marry.
Pheronia Ashfire was no one’s puppet.
She’d refused to marry this man, and so would Veronyka.
“It’s poetic, isn’t it?” Rolan said, pausing to peer out the far window. “You even look like her.” He tossed an appraising look in her direction before returning his attention to the window. “And judging by the marks on your face and hands, you are equally stubborn and disobedient. Do not make the same mistakes as your mother did, Veronyka. Trust in your betters to make the right decision.”
“If she didn’t make those ‘mistakes,’ as you call them,” Veronyka said, lifting her chin, “I wouldn’t be here.”
“None of us would be!” he spat, the first ripple in his composure. “I’d be on a throne, not meeting in some disgusting hovel trying to secure the empire and my future, neither of which would be in peril if it were not for your spoiled, selfish mother. For too long my family has suffered insult and disrespect. We were kings once, just the same as that pathetic excuse for a governor, Cassian. And still he spurned my sister—a match above and beyond what he deserved—to run off with some half-wild beast-talker. Then this godsforsaken war took our father from us, so it was up to me to set things right. The weak, bumbling council gave me his position in Ferro, trying to appease me after I lost my chance at Pheronia, but it was not enough. The descendants of King Rol will be kings again, starting with me.”
He pointed a finger at himself, chest heaving while Veronyka marveled at the decades of brewing resentment. This was why he hated her. She represented the betrayal perpetrated by her mother, which was apparently one in a long series of perceived slights against not only himself, but his sister and his entire family for their lack of title and position since King Rol’s death.
“They were clever to hide you,” Rolan said, his features schooled into calm imperiousness again. “A helpless babe with a bloodline such as yours? I could’ve claimed you as my own, called you my daughter and ruled in your stead.” He adjusted his tunic. “Or perhaps I would have married you just the same. Better a true king than a king-father.”
Veronyka realized with mild shock that his words were true. That no matter how much she resented Ilithya for stealing her from her own father, for hiding her away and keeping her safe only to use her as a tool in a decades-old war, Veronyka had been safer with Ilithya and Val than she would have been with someone like Rolan. Ilithya’s motives might have been flawed, but she’d told Veronyka to call her maiora, had taught her and cared for her, even loved her—Veronyka was certain of it. By keeping her in the dark about her identity, Ilithya—and even Val—had allowed her some semblance of a normal childhood. From what Rolan had just said, that was more than she ever would have gotten from him.
“King Consort,” Veronyka said tightly. “Whether you marry me or not, you will never be a true king.”
He took a step closer to her, their face bare inches apart. He was taller than her, but she refused to tilt her head up to look at him. “We’ll see about that,” he whispered.
Veronyka sensed Val out of the corner of her eye and could’ve sworn she saw something like furious pride in her features. Whatever her feelings toward Veronyka at the moment, there was nothing she loved so much as seeing upstart valley kings put in their place.
“My lord,” came a voice from the doorway, and Rolan turned. “Riders have been spotted due north.”
“What kind of riders?” Rolan asked, stepping away from Veronyka. “Horse riders?”
The terrified look in the man’s eyes said it all. “Phoenix Riders.”
But being an Ashfire… being a queen…
is about more than what flows in your veins.
It’s about what beats in your heart.
- CHAPTER 48 - SEV
THE ARROW HURTLED STRAIGHT for them.
Sev already had his hand on Kade’s arm, and with the half second he had to react, he pushed, the momentum forcing them both in opposite directions.