Page 84 of The Fallen Fae King

Does Freya understand that?

I shift, suddenly uncomfortable.

Inside me, Hadrian stirs darkly.

Instantly, I slam down, suppressing my emotions.

Feel nothing. Be nothing. Feel nothing…

When the doors to the banquet room slam open, my heart stutters.

Maximinus, my uncle, marches into the banquet chamber. Shadows swirl around him like wings. His magic is a heavy pall.

The laughter and chatter die down.

I sit like a statue, watching Maximinus’ approach.

I notice Ignatius push Aquila away with difficulty, sliding his hand to his sword.

War and Lucius both straighten behind my throne, on the alert.

Maximinus is an Alpha in his fifties with a thin mouth and jutting jaw. The moonlight dyes his silver tunic and cloak like he is stained in the blood of the enemies who he has slaughtered for decades. It shines off his bald head, glinting in his cruel amber eyes.

Maximinus, the creator of magical nightmares. Horror of Bael. Pet-hater.

Although I am the one who is sitting on the raised dais, by the way he approaches, most people would think that Maximinus was the king.

He doesn’t bow or drop to his knees.

Instead, he spins away, gesturing impatiently like I am his servant. “Where are they?”

“Where are they, Your Majesty?” I correct.

Maximinus stops, clasping his hands behind him in a military pose, as if that will intimidate me. “This is the end of a campaign to conquer our final enemy and create our empire. I have been fighting this war since before you were born, boy.”

“And yet,” my eyes begin to swirl, “I am still your King.”

A hushed silence falls over the room.

War edges her sword out of its sheath.

I meet Maximinus’ gaze, quirking my brow in challenge.

Maximinus studies me like he expected me to be shaking with nerves tonight. His spies are everywhere in the palace. He must know how hard I have found being apart from Freya. It will turn any dragon feral to be torn away from their bonded Omega.

My uncle was betting on that; I can see it in his eyes.

My pheromones are wildly fluctuating. Pain tremors through my scent glands. It is a struggle to think or speak.

What serves Maximinus fucking right, however, is that by banishing me to the academy when I was six years old and ensuring that I was trained with military discipline and whippings, I have survived pain now that would have wrecked most dragons.

I can function in the most brutal conditions.

Fuck. You. Uncle.

Maximinus’ eyes blaze, before he forces himself to smile. “Are you quite well, Your Majesty? You look tired.”

“He stayed up last night preparing for the return of the brave wolf spy,” Lucius replies with a cloying sweetness. I glance at the Alphas in the court, noticing that as usual, Lucius’ act is working on them. “What Alpha wouldn’t be preparing a nest for their Omega?”