“I can’t say,” Orrtyn with a sigh. “It crosses a parameter.”

  I refrain from letting out a frustrated sigh, knowing the man did already give me more info than I could have hoped for.

  “Fine, continue with the rest of the story.”

  Orrtyn’s lips twitch for a moment before he gives me the information that I need. “So, I decided that we should test the theory. There wouldn’t have been any harm otherwise. The sanzuh flower isn’t poisonous and doesn’t have any negative effects from the books I read on it, so what did we have to lose?”

  “How old were you?” I ask, needing a better idea of the time frame of all of this.

  Was it before or after my family was killed?

  “Fourteen.”

  I would have been four at the time, two years before the fire.

  “How did you get the flower?” I ask.

  “The Fawecetts were visiting the Deightyn kingdom. Orrtyn and I always attended with Elyjah on those trips. We knew that we’d have to pass through the Michaud River and that the flower would be there. During the trip, Elyjah acted like he needed to stop so we did and while the guards were distracted with him, I collected the flowers and Orrtyn used a canister to collect the water. As soon as we got back to Eryth,” where the Fawcett kingdom resided before they took over my family’s, “we mixed them together. We took them and initially nothing happened. I think we all felt a little different, but certainly not magical.”

  “When did that change?”

  His gaze darkens slightly, a sadness lingering beneath the surface. I watch as he closes his eyes for a moment before reopening them, the sadness gone. “About a week afterwards. We found Elyjah huddled in a corner in his room and he was painting. Before then, he’d always been an artist, even though he knew it was something he couldn’t take seriously because of his duties as the crown prince.” He shakes his head slightly as he runs a hand through his hair. His fingers twitch. “But when we saw him, we knew something was different, he was frantic, and he was solely focused on his work. When we tried to speak to him, he didn’t respond and there was this…” he brings a hand up to his face, gesturing at his eyes, “this crazy look in his eyes, vacant but so intense. As if he were seeing without seeing. His eyes had gone from grey to nearly a white color.”

  He bites down on his lip slightly. “He finally passed out and… the painting, we didn’t understand it, didn’t know what in the hell it meant. Before we could get him to medical help, Elyjah came back to and he couldn't remember anything. We kept hush about it even though we worried. At the time, we didn’t understand what the painting meant. It wasn’t until a couple of days later when Elyjah had another vision, this time during a dream, that we realized his gift for premonition.”

  “What did he dream of?” I ask, leaning forward slightly.

  “That the queen had her men chain Walker up and beat him. He knew he was in one of the buildings on the east side of the grounds in the dream, so we went and checked and sure enough… there he was.” Anger bleeds into his words. “Walker still wasn’t very trusting of us at that time even though he’d been at the castle for a couple of years. That discovery made us realize why.”

  The mention of Walker is a bit of a surprise since he didn’t mention him in their initial discovery, but that makes sense if he was still distant from them. I know from a discussion with Orrtyn that it took Walker a while to come around to them.

  “It would still be another year or so before we started to form the bond we have now with Walker, but that moment… It changed things in some ways. It made us see a lot more in a different light.” He doesn’t expand on that.

  “What happened with the painting?” I ask, thinking of the story.

  “Huh?” He rubs his hand together slightly as he looks at me in confusion.

  “The first painting that Elyjah did. What was it of? Did it come true?”

  Orrael takes a sharp breath of air and his lips twist for a moment. “Actually, yes, the painting, I showed it to y-” he cuts himself off before he can fully form what he was about to say. Before I can press on, he continues, “Yes, it came true, but not for another two years.”

  “And?” I lean forward.

  “And in the end, it didn’t help prevent the event that happened. At that point, we’d forgotten about the painting, blown it off. So, when the event in the painting happened two years later there was nothing we could do about it. When we even drew the connection to the painting, the damage was long done, and nothing could be done about it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  "What are you going to do?" Brielyn asks as he looks over me, his eyes wide.

  "The answer is still the same as the last time you asked me, Brielyn." I frown at my friend as he rolls his eyes at me.

  "Yeah, yeah, you don't know," he says mockingly, waving a hand at me. "Well, that's bullshit, Roxanna." He raises his voice slightly before glancing behind us as if to see if anyone is listening in.

  It's just us though. We're out hunting for lunch and I'd refused to let any of the royals come, bringing Brielyn with me instead. Walker had said some smart shit about if I get into any trouble, Brielyn isn't likely to save me since he's a shitty warrior. I'd rolled my eyes at the man while Brielyn had asked Walker if he wanted to be the one to keep me safe and that's what his problem really was.

  I'd dragged my orange-haired friend out of the room before Walker could plant an arrow in his skull.

  Still, this trip is supposed to help me clear my head and so far that's not really working since Brielyn keeps asking me questions that I don't have answers for.

  "You're making this more complicated than it has to be," the man says. A frown tilts over his face as he steps over a fallen tree.

  "What do you mean? I'm making it complicated? It's already complicated and that is not my fault at all," I protest.

  He shakes his head. "Yeah, whatever."

  I grit my teeth, not a fan of the man’s dismissive tone. “No, say what you need to say, Brielyn."

  I don't like that he obviously has something to say but had decided to keep his mouth shut for once. When I want him to actually be quiet he never is, but he picks to be this time.

  He lets out a sigh and pauses, turning to look at me. I meet his gaze head on, studying the slump of his shoulders. "Okay, I'm going to warn you that you're not going to like what I'm about to say," He finally states. If I didn't already know that the man was serious, that'd be a key starter. He's never seemed to care whether or not I was going to like what’s going to come out of his mouth.

  I shake my head. "Just say it, Brielyn, stop tip toeing around your words.

  “Okay." He gives a sharp nod before taking a step away from me, his eyes flitting to Gwev' for a moment. "I just want to remind you that I have supported your plans for anarchy and haven't said anything since you informed me of your plans."

  "I know," I say, feeling a little irritated that he won’t just push the fucking words out.

  "Well." He pauses again until I narrow my eyes at him. "Have you ever considered giving up on your plan?"

  "What?” I blink, my heart pounding a little quicker in my chest at the suggestion.

  He takes another step back, this one bigger than the last as his face scrunches. "I mean you seem to be so headstrong on your plan, but it's obvious that circumstances have changed since you got here," he says slowly, and I can tell he's trying to be careful with his word choice. "You came here with this whole plan of vengeance and then you actually got to know the royals, so why are you still insisting on-"

  "No," I cut him off, knowing exactly where he's heading with this. I've asked myself the same question repeatedly in the last couple of days.

  Do you think that you should change your plan? That you should spare the royals? Or at least the four men who I've gotten to know better?

  The question in itself feels like a betrayal to my family.

  And it should.

  Brielyn sighs and when he takes another step away, nearly tripping over a branch in the process, I know that he's about to say something else that I don't like. "I mean, think about it, Roxanna. These men, Elyjah, Orrael, Orrtyn, and Walker, didn't destroy the Deightyn kingdom, your family. Maybe their parents did it or plotted it, but they didn't do it themselves. Must the son really pay for the father's sin, or I guess in this case, the queen's sin?" He asks, his lips pinched at the corners.

  "I can't..." I try to form the words, to explain why I can't give up. But Brielyn doesn't know that my family were actually the king and queen, the people who had actual relationships with the Fawcetts. Maybe it was mostly political, but they weren't enemies and that's the thing that has always hurt the most.

  My parents trusted the Fawcetts.

  They were warned that the Fawcetts were going to betray them and yet they didn't listen because they thought they could trust the Fawcetts, that they would be loyal to them and not betray them like they were told.

  If I allow myself to trust the royals only for them to betray me then I'll be right back in the same position as my parents.

  I'll trust the wrong people and die for it.

  That's what's going to happen if I trust the royals, they're going to betray me, and I can't let that happen. I need to strike first, to be the one to put the knife in their back.

  I think about the Bae twin's mother and her warning about the knife that I expect to come from the back could instead come from the front.

  Does she mean it'll come from someone I trust and if so, how does she even know that?

  It's all too much.

  I place a hand to my head, rubbing at the sudden throbbing pain that I feel.

  "I know it's hard to even think of," Brielyn goes on, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he watches me with cautious eyes. "If something were to happen to my sisters and I was asked to trust the sons of the people who killed them, I'm not sure that I would so easily accept that, but I would consider it and that's what I'm asking you to do, Rox. Consider changing your plan. We never know what life is going to throw at us, but we must be willing to adapt when it does, you know."

  I look up, finding those puppy dog eyes full of sympathy and hope as he watches me. "I think that I've gotten to know you pretty well in the short time that we've spent together. It honestly feels like we've been friends forever. Yet, I still remember the moment we met.” A small chuckle leaves his lips. “You sent me this look so full of hate and disgust, I knew in that instant that I would make you be my friend even if you didn't want to and look at us now." He waves a hand between the two of us. "We're like... besties." He says it jokingly even though his words ring true.

  I didn’t trust or like the man in the slightest bit when we first met and yet here we are, him being my closest friend in this realm. He knows the secret that not many do and while he could have easily turned me into the royals, he didn't and now I have a confidant.

  But none of that would have happened if I hadn't trusted him and I can't be ignorant to that fact.

  I sigh, rubbing at my forehead.

  Could I really consider letting the men with all my guards completely down

  "Have they done anything to signify that you shouldn't trust them?" Brielyn inquires. "Tell the truth and if the answer is yes then I will stop pestering you about this."

  The answer is no and we both know it. The men haven't done anything to betray my trust, always the opposite if I'm being honest. Maybe they've withheld information, but I've done the same and they’ve always been clear about the fact that there were some things they couldn't tell me. However, they never lied to my face that I know of or that I believe. They've always been honest and open with me.

  "Tell the truth, Roxanna," Brielyn encourages.

  Sighing, I nod. "No, they haven't given me any reason to not trust them."

  He bites down on his lip slightly before asking, "And do you think they're going to give you one?"

  Again, the answer is no.

  I shake my head, my throat feeling too tight to actually speak.

  Conrad's face flashes through my head and I see nothing but disappointment. Gods, if he even found out that I was still considering this, considering that the royals aren't all bad...

  "Tell me about your parents," Brielyn says, moving in a little closer to me. He seems to think I’m not going to attack him anymore. "What kind of people were they? Did they expect you to blindly do everything they wanted you to do or did they trust you to make your own decisions?"

  It's a difficult question for so many reasons. I always had duties and I was to follow those duties and respect the crown that would one day rest on my head, even if I was only going to be princess and not a queen.

  Yet, they let me have my own personality and make my own choices when I could, even at six. From the dresses they let me pick and choose that didn't quite follow proper etiquette, to running around in the mud even though it wasn't what was expected of me with my title.

  They supported me even when they frowned at me.

  Would they support me in deciding to let the royals live?

  It wouldn't be all of them after all. I'd still make sure that Pamula gets what's coming to her which is a dagger in the chest and I certainly won't spare her trophy husband. No, Larkyn won't escape my sword either, but do Elyjah, the Bae twins and Walker have to suffer too?

  Walker isn't even a royal for fucks sake, he's just a hanger on that was wrapped up in this life to avoid slavery and servitude, and that's something that can't be ignored.

  Would I choose death over slavery?

  I don't think I would, and I know that I would certainly make the most of what I could. I wouldn't cower away and crawl into myself, knowing the risks that come with it. Why would Walker dismiss the royals if he didn't have to?

  "I... I was only six when my parents died," I tell him, and I watch as the wheels start to spin in his head.

  "Six and it's been twelve years now... You're eighteen." He trails off slowly as his eyes dart to the side as if he's thinking.

  My shoulders settle slightly, since it seems we're moving away from the topic of whether or not I should let the royals live. "Yes, Brielyn, you're just stating obvious facts now."

  "I know," he says but he seems to be distracted. Suddenly his brown eyes snap to me and he squints slightly, moving in closer as he studies my face.

  "What the hell is wrong with you?" I ask, frowning at him as he moves in closer to me.

  "Just had a little epiphany," is all he says before shaking his head. "But we'll come back to that in a second. What are you going to do? Are you going to consider changing your plan and let them live? I know just from how you handled this discussion, without trying to run me through with your sword, that maybe the idea isn't as crazy as it seems. You're actually considering it."

  I open my mouth to answer him, but the answer is snatched from my lips as something scratches me across the head.

  "Fuck," I curse, putting a hand through my forehead and looking at the blood that covers my fingers. It feels like I've been scrapped by Ragna, something the shitty bird does a lot, but the sting feels a billion times worse than usual. "I'm really going to kill that damn bird this time," I say as I draw Gwev.

  "Holy fuck," Brielyn breaths, his mouth wide open as he glances over my shoulder.

  I frown, turning to see what he's looking at and I let out a curse as my eyes land on the huge creature not even ten feet away. Its wings are huge and wide, black and big, but it isn't quite as big as the other birds I saw when I first got here which is a blessing. Its head is long with a beak that's orange and has to be half the length of my pinky finger. It lets out a squawk, sticking its beak in my direction as its wings go flying up.

  Shit.

  That’s not Ragna.

  "You've got this," Brielyn says before running and ducking behind a bush.

  I don't even bother to shoot the man a glare since I have to keep my eyes on the monstrous bird. My gaze moves to the talons it has digging into the ground and as I look at the sharp things I realize it has to be what it scratched me with.

  I'm going to fucking obliterate this thing with joy.

  Growling slightly, I make sure my feet are steady as I face off with the animal.

  If I kill it just right, then we can eat its big ass for lunch.

  The bird lunges, beak first, and I dive out of the way. It lets out a squawk before turning and lunging at me. I try to pierce it with my sword but when a big wing swats out, I end up losing Gwev instead, the sword falling from my hand.

  I ignore it, trying to grasp the thing's wing with my hand but it jerks out of the way. I move back, away from the bird. I watch, studying its wings, it seems to be its key part of attack, tossing the big thing at me.

  When it charges back at me, I go for its neck and I let out a breath of triumph as I wrangle the thing, but it doesn't give up as easily as I'd like. The bird starts to thresh, tossing its neck and me with it, but I refuse to let go of the firm hold that I have on the bird.

  You're going to be my dinner, little bitch. I can use you as practice on how to perfect a bird so that when Ragna's time comes I can chow down on the bird without worrying about her flavor being bad.

  The bird's wings start to flap wildly, and I tighten my hold on its neck as it jerks backwards. It uses more weight then I'm prepared for, pulling me back but I don't let go.

  "Snap its neck," Brielyn cheerleads from his hiding spot.

  I let out a growl. "What do you think I'm trying to do?" I ask him before taking a deep breath. I tense my muscles, refusing to let the thrashing control me. With a burst of energy, I squeeze the bird's neck, its soft feathers dipping between my fingers. With one last huff, I squeeze, and twist and I let out a breath when I hear the snap of the bird's neck and feel its bones shatter beneath my fingers.

  Grinning, I toss the lifeless bird to the ground and turn, my eyes moving in the direction of Brielyn's hiding spot. The man peeks his head up as if to check if the bird really did die. When he sees that it doesn't move, he lets out a breath of relief and moves from his hiding spot. He moves closer to me, dusting his clothes off. "Woah, that was a lot of work. That thing was stubborn."