Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Barron Laurent had no such qualms. He was in a general’s uniform, the black insignia of his family against his left breast and a string of silver cords slung up to the right shoulder. A more formal cravat was missing, and instead, his shirt was buttoned all the way up over his pale throat with a high collar. His stark-white hair was slicked back off his face, making him look even more severe. His gaze was impassive as Fordham took his position as the highest rank there.
Adelaide stepped forward after a nod from Fordham. “Ladies, gentlemen, and all those assembled,” she began, her voice amplified by air magic, “thank you for joining us today for an official kathiria e sendera, the likes of which we have not seen in my lifetime.”
A roar went up as the Fae stretched for ages across the valley floor. Kerrigan wasn’t sure how many of them could even see what was happening. This would have been better in an arena, but there was no arena here.
“A denouncement has been called. Any who wish to issue an official kathiria e sendera to His Majesty Fordham Ollivier in combat for the right to his throne, now is the time to do so.” Adelaide was silent another beat. “The fight ends when one of the contenders is dead. There will be no clemency given. Issue your contestation at your own peril.”
Then she stepped back to wait.
Fordham had told Kerrigan that traditionally, it went either one of two ways—no one contested the throne, or everyone did. But usually the latter only happened when clemency was offered. Most didn’t want to risk their lives for the mere hope of a throne.
Viviana looked first to Celeste, the Fae from the Blanchard family on the war council, and her daughter Aurelie, who squeezed her mother’s hand. Celeste nodded at her, allowing her the chance to do the honors. Viviana stepped forward, and Kerrigan held her breath. “The Blanchard family puts forth no contest. Our denouncement has closed.”
Fordham held his hand out to Viviana, who took it uncertainly as if she expected him to kill her without notice.
“I have no quarrel with your family and hope to remain allies in this war,” he said.
“As do I,” she said.
She stepped back. He hadn’t thought that Viviana would put forth a competitor, but there had always been a risk.
Instead of Barron stepping forward, René from the war council did. “The Laurent family puts forth no contest.”
Fordham raised an eyebrow as René thrust his hand forward, as if he could physically put himself between him and Barron. Fordham took his hand.
“That’s a relief that Laurent has no issue with my reign.”
“You brought us all those dragons,” René said. “Who could argue with your reign?”
“As much as I would like to take credit, it is my love, Kerrigan, who managed to bring us all these dragons.” Kerrigan opened her mouth, but Fordham held a hand up. “I’m sure she would say that it was her dragon, Tieran, and the dragons themselves who make their own choices.”
“Either way, you are the rightful ruler. You sent them on the mission. The sun shines brightly upon the Ollivier family in these trying times.”
Kerrigan thought this was all well and good, going exactly how it should before the entire court—except Barron Laurent hadn’t said a word. He was just observing, letting René take over for the family. Prescott had said that Barron wasn’t going to compete, but she found it hard to believe he could rein in his ego.
Fordham must have felt the same way, because his gaze shifted to Barron. “Have anything to add?”
Barron smirked. “Did you think I would contest your precious throne when there are dragons to be had?”
Fordham held his hand out to his enemy. “It is good to see you have come to your senses.”
The silence stretched between them as Barron didn’t raise his hand. He was no longer looking at Fordham but past him—not to Kerrigan but as if he were seeing through the house of his enemy.
He took Fordham’s hand a second later, and a breath of relief filled the space—but then Barron yanked Fordham closer, putting a hand to his back. His voice was so low that Kerrigan couldn’t hear what was said.
But between that second and the next, Fordham ripped backward with a shouted, “No!”
Kerrigan reacted on instinct, rushing forward toward him. But it was not Fordham that Barron had his sights on. A powerful ball of energy, as hot as the fiercest burning fire, erupted from Barron’s clenched hand, and with precision, Barron shot the lightning directly at Prescott.
The world erupted into chaos. Kerrigan’s screams were drowned out by the rush of activity. The terror at the use of Barron’s power not for the denouncement but for an innocent bystander—none of this made sense. None of it fit.