“Alaric, we don’t need a second father. Really, one iron-fisted ruler is enough,” Casimir scowled. “You know, I’m glad you’re fourth-born—”
“Yes, I get it,” Alaric snapped, “you don’t want someone like your father ruling again, am I right?”
“Our father,” Theo corrected, pursing his lips. “May I remind you, we have guests . . .” Theo’s eyes glanced at us, landing on Isabel. Almost immediately, he sighed. “And what’s your name, darling?”
“Isabel,” Isabel said numbly. I could tell she was beginning to get annoyed with the boys. “How many of you are there, again?”
“Just us three, and Valentin,” Casimir explained, lowering his voice as if he was telling a secret. “There used to be a fifth. He was the youngest of us.”
Alaric shot him a disapproving glare.
“We don’t talk about him,” he said.
“Can we discuss this later?” Theo asked with a groan, throwing his head back. “I need to stretch my aching limbs.”
“Riding only makes the ache worse,” Casimir pointed out as he started walking in the direction of his brothers. “Let’s all be glad Cyprian isn’t here. He would’ve tattled on all of us by now.”
“You insensitive son of a—” Alaric grumbled, but I cut him off before he finished the sentence.
“Cyprian?” I asked, finally interested in where the conversation was headed.
“The fifth. We believe him to be dead, even though his body was never found,” Casimir explained. “He was mother’s favorite, of course. She hated us all after he died. She thought we drove him to madness. His ship sunk at sea, you know. Quite the adventurous soul he was.” The prince let out a sigh. “Well, shall we?” he asked. “Enjoy the ride,” he said to his brothers as he started walking again, away from us and past the other two boys.
“We apologize for his rude behavior,” Theo said as I made
my way towards Casimir, “he never had a filter on his mouth.”
“I heard that,” Casimir called.
Theo smirked. Then, he stopped Isabel by gently holding onto her shoulders. Surprised, she jumped away from him, smacking into me.
“Will I see you around?” the green-eyed prince asked her, his eyes kind. There was no doubting it, he’d taken a liking to the pale beauty.
Even after everything, under all the dirt and exhaustion of being away from home, Isabel’s charm shone through instantly. She batted her eyelashes, her icy blue eyes shining with a familiar fierceness I finally saw after one too many days.
“Maybe.”
TWENTY TWO
When I met Cyprian, he never stopped talking about his brothers. He despised Valentin, saying he did not have a heart in the left side of his chest, only a cold stone with jagged edges.
“Really? Is he that terrible?” I’d asked him, swinging my legs over the edge of the ship. We’d already been scolded twice for getting too close to the edge (for Cyprian’s sake, of course).
“Horrible. He killed my cat once, just because he lived by this sick notion that ‘love makes you weak.’” I’d squeezed my fists shut, feeling a hot anger surge through my body. I of all people knew how that felt. “My father, on the other hand,” Cyprian had said with scorn, “Is obsessive. Everything is to be perfect, from attire to running the damned kingdom.” Suddenly, as if that had given him an idea, he turned to me, nut-brown eyes wide. “Would you like to take a tour of the kingdom with me?”
“I was ordered to watch the ship,” I had replied, and he’d pouted like the child he was. “I’m . . . sorry?”
“I get it. I’m not the only one with a controlling father.”
“He’s not my—” I tried to say, to cancel the ridiculous idea of King Sadim being my father, but Cyprian didn’t even seem to care. He turned, hopping off the edge, back onto the wooden floorboards of the ship.
After Valentin was Casimir. Despite the two year difference, Casimir was the jester of the family. He rebelled, but not as much as Cyprian did—which was also a reason Cyprian loved this brother in particular.
Third in line was Theo, the shy, loving brother. He’d been born just a year after Casimir, and was the one who usually solved fights between the brothers.
Last, but certainly not least, was Alaric—who had taken after his father in a couple of ways—of course, not as much as Valentin. Cyprian had described him as calm, strong, and collected, but if messed with, had the ability to snap someone in half with just his eyes. He’d been born three years after Theo, and even though he wasn’t nearly as obsessive as his father, the rest of the brothers teased him about it, which he loathed.
In all the talk of his brothers and father, Cyprian barely mentioned his mother, which led me to believe none of them had any problems with her.
“Here are your chambers,” Casimir said loudly, bringing me back to the present. “Isabel, correct?” he asked her, who nodded. She glanced at me.
Her eyes asked if it was safe. I nodded my head, and, letting her shoulders relax, she opened the door and entered her new place to stay.
When we dropped Jax off at his very own set of chambers, I made sure he had someone inside to tend to him.
“Get rest, Jax,” I said to him, and he gave me a small smile as he too left our little group, disappearing behind the big oak door.
“You’ll be staying here,” Casimir said as he entered another corridor.
“And Adalia?” Xavier asked.
“Next door,” he said reassuringly.
Xavier narrowed his eyes at him.
“I assure you, I won’t harm her,” Casimir said with a laugh, his night-blue eyes full of humor.
“Xavier, don’t worry about me.”
“Oh, I promise you, I won’t,” Xavier scowled, walking in and slamming the door shut behind him. Casimir turned to me, his face knowing.
“’It’s complicated’?”
If he weren’t a prince, I would’ve told him to shut up.
If I had called Crea’s chambers marvelous, I was speechless in describing Trella’s. It took me a few moments to collect myself.
Massive chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, long candles lit in preparation. I wondered how they had time to do all of this so quickly. The silky silver canopy draped over the sides of the four poster bed. Picture frames decorated the walls of family members. Black and silver flags lay flat on the walls, the outline of a two-headed drakon in the center of each of them. This was Trella’s flag: delicate, yet intimidating.
The sofas matched the theme of the room. Lush, expensive carpets were rolled on the hardwood floors.
I heard a sigh. I looked around to see if there was anyone in the room with me, reaching for my knife. But I was alone.
With a weird feeling, I realized I had sighed. Shaking the feeling off, I composed myself. I wasn’t here to get caught up in all the extravagance of Trella. I was here on a mission.
To speak with the king and to help Crea build an army against Dystalphi, who was plotting to overthrow future queen, Princess Zinovia.
But first, I would take a nap. It was well deserved, after all. I was exhausted—seeing the lavish bed made me realize that. I kicked off my boots, sliding out my empty belt, and hopped onto the bed, sliding under the heavy, rose-scented covers.
I fell asleep before my head touched the pillow.
I dreamt of serpents and a thick fog, flying sharks and protruding, jagged rocks. I dreamt of kings and kingdoms, happiness and sorrow. I dreamt of bloodlust.
War.
I didn’t get much sleep, for I kept jerking awake with every passing dream. The fifth time I woke, I didn’t try to go back to sleep. I took a warm bath, opening the tall wardrobe for a fresh change of clothes.
My stomach dropped.
Dresses? This was a joke! I couldn’t possibly wear a dress in this situation.
I frantically searched the room for something, anything, but finally slumped against the bed in defeat as I realized I had no other option.
I picked out the lightest looking dress, which unfortunately had long, flowy sleeves that became part of the dress when your arms were down. The dress was a deep ruby color, waist-hugging and flowy from the hip bones down.
To my surprise, the hallways were full. The sun shone brightly, which meant I’d slept through the night when I thought I’d got but five hours of rest. I pressed a hand to my ear as they chattered.
Quickly, I slipped into the corridor, grabbing one of the boys by the arm.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“There’s a hearing,” he said quickly. “Someone was heard plotting against the king.” He pulled his arm from my grasp, disappearing around another corridor.
I stepped forward, ready to follow him, when someone pulled me back.
“What’s going on?” Xavier’s smooth voice soothed my nerves. I turned to face him.
I swallowed. He looked as shocked as I was.
“Adalia?” he asked. A pink tinge appeared on his cheeks as his amber eyes took in my dress. “What are you wearing?” He looked stunning, even more than when he was beaten up, battle-ready.
I know,” I said with a blush, “it’s ridiculous. I’ll ask for something later. Right now we have to go—”
“No, don’t,” he said, almost too quickly. I felt my face burn. He cleared his throat. “I mean, you’re fine like this. It’s been a while since I’ve seen this side of you.”
I had no idea what to say. The foreign, awkward, warm feeling was back.
“We have to go,” is all I said. I mentally scolded myself for the weak reply, but there was no time to learn how to flirt. I lifted my skirts, and made my way down the hall.
We followed everyone through the huge doors to the throne room. There, up on the dais, sitting on a grand throne decorated with rubies and diamonds, gold and silver, and built from the most expensive gold painted wood, sat the king. He had the same curly toffee colored hair and blue eyes as his sons. His beard was short and his face was serious. Next to him sat his wife—cocoa colored hair, green eyes, and the warmest smile. It was as if two opposites had married to balance each other out.
The queen wore royal purple silk that draped over her slightly smaller—but decorated all the same—throne, dark locks braided over her shoulder.
Everyone bowed or curtsied as they entered, so I followed. Theo and Alaric sat beside their mother, thrones slightly lower than the king and queen. On the opposite side sat Casimir and, using the process of elimination, a man who I guessed to be Valentin. All the way at the end was a smaller throne, where a little girl sat.
That was strange. Cyprian had never mentioned a princess. She was the mirror image of Valentin. Serious, dark eyes and curly brown hair. She couldn’t have been more than seven.
And then I realized, Cyprian had probably never even met her. He’d never found out if the child in his mother’s womb had been born a girl or a boy.
As the hearing started, we learned that the man was a servant. He pleaded for his life, swearing that he’d never said a word, never in his life plotted against the king.
“I have a daughter,” he said, begging as he fell to his knees. “Her mother is dead. I can’t leave her as an orphan in this world. Please, Your Majesty. I beg of you . . .”
“Silence,” King Tarquin ordered. “I will assign someone will take good care of your daughter to make sure she isn’t raised like her father. You are guilty. We have a witness.”
He needed three witnesses. Or, that was the way things worked in Astodia. But he was a king, and he’d made his choice. I watched as the man sobbed as he was dragged out of the room by knights, clad in armor from head to toe. I felt bad for the man’s daughter.
“What happens now?” I asked a doe-eyed girl beside me. She raised her fist, dragging a thumb across her neck.
“This is why we must never speak,” she whispered. “Lies can be fabricated against you if you pick a fight with someone of importance—especially a Drakan.”
“What’s a Drakan?” I asked. She jerked her head towards the knights that guarded the doors.
“Drakans are our knights. They’re supposed to be the pro-
tectors of our kingdom but they’re the ones ruining it on the inside,” she said in her squeaky voice.
“I see.” I turned back to the royal family, only to see the little princess smirk as the man was carried away—the same look on her oldest brother’s face.
Right then, I made one assumption. If Valentin became king, he would be worse than his father. There would be chaos, and he would be the one setting the fires.
I needed their alliance. I was desperate for it.
As the room cleared out, I stayed behind with Xavier. I spotted Isabel who wore a cerulean dress, one that brought out her sky eyes, her pale hair free down her back. Her brother stood next to her. Jax had cut hair short and shaved his stubble, bright blue eyes landing on me.
He smiled, pearly teeth showing. The twins approached us.
“What’s going on?” Isabel asked me, running her fingers through her hair. She leaned close, lowering her voice, “I managed to snag a few of these from the kitchen.” She held up her arm, showing us the inside of her bell sleeve. Three knives were strapped up her arm. I beamed at her proudly.
“Well done. Keep them hidden.”
“What are you four still doing here?” a voice boomed, interrupting our conversation. Isabel dropped into a curtsy, Jax and Xavier leaning down into a bow. I followed.
“Your Majesty,” I addressed the king, “I’m Adalia from Astodia. You must recognize me . . . I was here once many years ago with King Sadim.”
“I can’t say I remember you,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows.
“That’s because I never entered the castle. Your Majesty, I’m here on behalf of Crea. I was sent by Princess Zinovia, and would like to discuss an important matter with you.”
“I’m a busy man. Why should I listen to you speak?”
“Because, Your Majesty, there’s a war brewing and the only way we can prevent it is if we have your alliance.”
“Who is this ‘we’?” the King asked, amusement in his eyes.
“Astodia and Crea have already created an alliance, and Dystalphi will soon be on their way here to try to talk you into allying with them.”
“I see,” he said, interested. “And what makes you think I’ll help you?”
Still confused, I fell silent. I examined the princes’ faces. They gave away nothing, but as usual, Valentin and the princess smirked.
“Your Majesty, Crea’s army is a very small one. We need fighters.”
“But why your side? Why not Dystalphi’s, let’s say?” he asked, rubbing his chin.
“If he takes Crea, he will have more power than you,” I pointed out.
Suddenly, the doors were thrown open. Knights clad in armor filled the room, holding royal blue flags. I stepped back, holding my hands out to keep the twins behind me.
They weren’t knights of Trella, clad in black armor. They wore silver.
It took me a moment to realize, only because I didn’t want to believe it. I felt the blood drain from my face as the knights parted, giving way for a blond man to pass through.
“King Adrean,” Xavier whispered. I glanced at him, only to see that his face had turned completely, unhealthily, pale. He pulled his hood lower.
King Adrean was the King of Dystalphi. He was here, in Trella, and he knew exactly who Xavier was.
“Assassin,” King Adrean said with a smirk, “we meet
again.” I watched him enter the giant throne room. “I’m sorry to hear about Sadim and his son. What was his name? Xander?”
“Xavier,” I said, gritting my teeth.
“If we take Crea, we don’t get more power than Trella. What if we agreed to split the kingdom once it’s conquered?” He walked up the dais, taking the queen’s hand for a kiss. He turned to me. “It’s not too late to ally with us. We can split the wealth evenly.”
> “This isn’t about wealth,” I persisted. I tried to get rid of the feeling that all hope was lost. King Adrean had come in person and arrived before we had. Which meant he’d already helped the King of Trella make his mind. We’d already lost this alliance. “Why a war? Thousands of people will die, and for what? We can avoid this, your Majesties.”
I glanced at Xavier, whose head was lowered. If Adrean saw him, things would go downhill. Almost three years of staying undercover would go to waste, and everyone would learn the prince of Astodia faked his death. He would be ridiculed for the rest of his life.
“We’ve been four kingdoms for five hundred years. A princess that young cannot rule a kingdom herself. It’s time to change things.”
“What happened to ‘Trella will always be the neutral kingdom’?
“You never took sides,” I said, keeping down a wave of frustration.
“Owning half the wealth of another kingdom could perfect Trella. You wouldn’t understand these things,” the dark-haired king said.
“She was Sadim’s advisor,” King Adrean explained. “She understands quite a bit.” And then, he concluded what I feared the most. “But, unfortunately for Crea, we have al-
ready formed an alliance. The papers are signed, the plans
have been made. I’m afraid you’re too late.”
I was enraged. We came all this way, all this way to find out Dystalphi had beaten us to an alliance?
As I stood before the Kings, I set my jaw, tears of anger pricking at the back of my eyes. I was exhausted. We’d sent word of this beforehand, and they’d betrayed us. They knew we were coming.
The princes sat, expressionless, although Casimir looked apologetic. Every single one of them knew about this, and they hadn’t bothered saying a word when we had arrived.
I clenched my fists and stood there, hating at how helpless I felt. I wanted to drag them down and destroy them.
I could do it. I glanced at Isabel out of the corner of my eye, who watched me silently with her icy blue eyes. My eyes fell to her sleeves, the one with the hidden knives.
Two flicks.
The Four Kingdoms Page 18