The statement was delivered calmly, utterly matter-of-fact, without glee or remorse. Despite preparing for the worst, I felt an icy chill travel my spine. Was this it? The moment he finally turned? Showed his true face?

A growl escaped my throat. “Sera’s your gods-damned-daughter.”

“So she is. But I wasn’t talking about Sera.” King Gil responded evenly.

“What?”

“Annette is no longer needed here. She has done little for years, and serves no current or eventual advantage for the looming threat.” King Gil stated matter-of-factly, as if he was listing the pros and cons of weaponry.

“Horse shit.” I spat. “She’s a tactical genius, worthy to retain on that merit alone.”

“Genius.” The king rolled his eyes, subtly enjoying the reaction he was raising. “What wars has she won?”

“What conflicts have you sought her counsel for?” I countered, knowing the number was probably none. “Annette won the battle against my regiment. I’m no stranger to strategy but engineering a victory in a battle like that is beyond me. She knew the chokes, the terrain, where best to lay an ambush and where to avoid at all costs. Her knowledge is far more than hypothetical. It’s practical, worthy of any general or lord of arms at your call.”

“Yet I have many generals, and only two daughters.” King Gil took a step forward, now a torso length away from me. “My intention from the start was to marry one of them off to House Westmore.”

I nearly pondered why he was telling me this before the name sunk in, washing away everything else.

“The House of shady deals and slavers?” I seethed.

He sneered. “Grow. Up. With my heir’s absence, it made sense to keep them both close as contingencies. Now that you’ve returned, there’s no need for both. A political marriage to House Westmore would serve us greatly. Offer more beneficial trade terms and secure supply lines overseas that could otherwise be bought out from beneath us. They will make considerable concessions in exchange for proximity to the crown. And if what I hear about the rarity of her magic is true, they will inevitably make more. With their full backing, no matter how long the war with the arch-mage extends, our coffers will never run dry.”

I struggled to keep my voice low. “You informed me our current agenda was to end the war early.”

“Does a farmer plant only the minimum number of crops necessary to reach his quota, boy? No. He accounts for complications. He accounts for loss. Why should we do any different?” He said, entirely nonchalant. “It was supposed to be Sera. She is middling and unimpressive in nearly every way, making her ideal for these purposes. However, given the value of Annette’s recently uncovered talent, and the reports of Sera’s performance in the mock battle… well.” His mouth quirked. “I changed my mind.”

“And the reports of how House Westmore treats their women?” I snapped, pleading the one progressive view I knew he held. As a society, Uskar wasn’t strictly patriarchal. It didn’t matter if you were a man or a woman. Anyone could hold a title or fight in the armies, so long as they had a varying mix of blood, connections, or merit. House Westmore’s protest to this was mostly silent. Legally, their women were afforded the same rights as the rest of the nobility. Behind closed doors, however, the rumors painted a completely different picture. Annette’s royal blood wouldn’t matter. She’d always be treated as less. Subservient.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Unfortunate, but of little import.” King Gil shrugged.

“This was all going so well.” I said, my voice too frigid to recognize.

I couldn’t hold it back any longer. My aura spilled out of me in a gale, ruffling through my hair, unsettling everyone else around us. But not the king.

Instead of reacting, he slid into a stance, unfinished sword pointing behind him, prepared to swing. And grinned. “There they are. The teeth I’m looking for. You’re not some feckless poet, mooning over some common flower you can barely remember. You’re a wounded animal backed into a corner.”

I ground my teeth and began to circle, signaling a closed fist behind my back to hold position, visible only to Mari. “Is that what this is? Some mind game to test my mettle?”

Still grinning, he mirrored my movement, languid in the growing tension, “Oh no. This is very real. I have struck a deal with the Westmore Nobility. Annette will marry into their bloodline. As I never expected you to see reason, the Black Shields remove her from the castle premises this morning.”

“Where. Is. She.”

“A more secure location. If all goes well, she’ll be on a trader’s ship by evening.” His brow raised. “However, the lord she’ll be marrying is on a tight schedule. If the princess was delayed, the ship forced to leave without her… well. It would be some time before we could make new arrangements.”

There it was.

In hindsight, I should have expected something like this. A simple combat trial wouldn’t be a satisfactory test without stakes. He’d want to see how I managed under the pressure of real consequence. Nothing about this was demonstrative. I couldn’t afford to fail. If I failed, there was a good chance I’d never see or hear from my sister again.

“Terms.”

“None. The deadline is nightfall. Annette is within the city walls. And I have instructed the city guard to turn a blind eye.” He paused. “To be clear, the Black Shields are simply following orders. One such order was to use blunted weapons. Given that knowledge, the terms of engagement are up to you.”

“If you were concerned about the lethality of my response, it would have been wise to threaten something I cared about less.” I breathed.

Out of the corner of my eye, Mari stiffened.

“Good.” King Gil nodded approval. “Never cede an advantage to your enemy, given the choice—”

“Save it.” I snapped. Even beyond what he intended for Annette, he’d spent the morning “interrogating” Sera. As she hadn’t told him what he wanted to hear, it wasn’t hard to imagine how exactly that went for her. I was done listening to him. “How do we begin?”

“In the spirit of fairness, I’ll allow a safe period for you to confer with your banner lieutenants. Form a strategy. When that discussion ends, or any out of the ordinary movement is spotted from your camp, including,” He pointed his sword at Maya, “the emissary—It will be taken as a signal of readiness.” There was a harsh crunch, followed by the vibrating keen of steel as he planted his blade into the ground, leaning on it and crossing his arms, assuming an expression of boredom.

For a statement so simple, it was laden with deception. The tell was how reasonable it sounded. He’d sprung this on me out of nowhere, completely unexpectedly, giving me almost no time to prepare. If he was anyone else, the allowance of unlimited time to strategize would probably be a genuine olive branch. But this was King Gil. And the lessons he doled out so earnestly, such as never ceding an advantage to your enemy, were part of a core ethos he followed with the devoutness of a bishop. Further supported by the way he seemed intent on staying nearby, presenting himself as a threat.

I needed to test something.

“Will you consider dispatching runners to alert and gather the rest of the regiment as out of the ordinary?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

He made a show of considering the question, then shook his head. “No. But if they deviate from that exact order, or are instructed to gather here, there are limits to my generosity.”

Shit. It was a risk he’d only take if Thaddeus had been summoned back from whatever hole he’d crawled into since my return.

“Very well.”

I turned on my heel and jogged over to where my banner lieutenants were standing, Mari trailing behind me.