“Wh-what are you on about, boy?” The Emperor of Rahava wheezes and splutters.
I smile, showing him my fangs—which I now know I’ve inherited from mother.
And when she turned on him for his betrayal—he had her killed.
My smile hides a feeling I’ve never known before.
I want my father to suffer. I want him to know nothing but pain and torment as he passes from this world into the next.
I lean in, putting my lips close to his ear. Death hovers around him. I can smell it on him. “When I become emperor, the first thing I’m going to do is separate your head from your corpse and display it on the traitor’s pike above the outer walls.”
“Y-you can’t do that,” he hisses. “The population will revolt.”
“You might be feared, but very few revere you. Aside from your supporters in the nobility, I suspect that most won’t bat an eyelid.”
The last of the color drains from his face. “You can’t do this, Corvan. It will just feed into the rumor that you’re unhinged.”
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For me to take over?” I don’t care what the court thinks of me. If they consider me mad, then all the better. I can use that to my advantage.
Besides, I have the luxury of time—something most of the court don’t. With time, the people will see what kind of ruler I am.
“Not like this.” Father’s eyes bulge, as if he’s straining to change my mind just by willpower alone. “I built this empire, boy. Without my approval, the lords aren’t just going to submit to you. Don’t be so fucking arrogant. Without the structures I’ve put in place to ensure power remains in our family, this empire will fall apart. Do you not remember a thing I taught you?”
“I remember everything,” I say softly. “And I know exactly what I should do. The second thing I’ll do is return the Vikurian territories to their rightful owners.”
Father sent his troops into Vikur shortly after he ascended the throne. Grandfather had left the empire teetering on the verge of collapse after his repeated attempts to conquer the Northlands.
So father had waged war on the Vikurians and forced them into submission, and the rich, fertile lands of Vikur were absorbed into the Rahavan empire.
It was the very thing that allowed him to consolidate his power.
“No…” He sits up and coughs violently, bringing the sheet up to cover his mouth. “I will not allow you to…”
I place my hand in the center of his chest and push him back down. “Did you enjoy it, father? Being a god amongst men? At some point, it seems you forgot that you aren’t a god. Power is useless if you can’t win over people’s hearts and minds.”
A roar fills my ears. My heart starts to beat again, thudding loudly in my head. My vision clouds red.
My hand goes around his neck.
They say I’m insane. Right now, I truly feel like I’m going mad. Memories of my mother swirl through my mind, mingling with the faces of the men that served under me—all dead now. The stench of father’s sickly blood becomes overpowering.
I want to retch.
I squeeze harder.
His eyes roll back into his head.
The roar in my ears becomes louder. It’s the sound of war-drums; the screams of men, the thunder of cannon fire.
It’s the blood soaking the marble walls of this cursed palace.
I want to raze it all to the ground.
“I’ll tear your legacy apart,” I growl. “Until there’s nothing left of your memory but the image of a traitor’s head above the gates. I’ll burn the portraits and turn the statues of you to rubble.”
His eyes bulge. Now I can see fear—good.
And hopelessness, because he knows I really can do it.
All he fought for, all he built—in the end, it’s going to come to naught.
“Stop,” he wheezes, but it’s too late. I am the very monster he made me into. I can do whatever I want.
But then a pair of slender arms goes around my waist, and the towering rage in me—that terrifies even me—is tempered just enough for me to regain a small piece of my sanity.
“Corvan, stop.”
And her glorious essence fills the chasm in my soul.
I stop. I close my eyes and drink her in, letting her scent permeate every last fiber of my being.
Nothing else in this world can douse the flames of my rage. Without her, I really would go insane.
My grip loosens. My father takes a deep, shuddering breath.
His eyes go wide as he catches sight of Finley. I almost want to kill him just to stop him from looking at her.
He should not be permitted to lay eyes upon her.
She’s pure, and he’s the embodiment of corruption.
“Corvan,” she whispers, her warm breath dancing against my skin. She’s right behind me, her lips close to my ear. Only she could dare come up behind me like this and expect to remain unscathed. Because all along, I knew she was there; listening, watching, approaching. But the storm of my rage had deafened me, and I chose to ignore her existence for a moment.
Maybe it’s because I knew she would stop me.
“You don’t have to be the one that ends him. It would leave such a hollow feeling, don’t you think? He’s already helpless against you, and nature will take its course. Hecoa’s hand is already resting upon his brow. Does he really look like he’s going to last through the night?”
I look down at my father; at his skeletal frame, his hollow, sunken eyes.
He’s a shadow of his former self, already with one foot in the afterlife. Finley’s right. Killing him now would leave nothing but emptiness. There’s nothing to be gained from defeating a helpless man.
The only revenge I can have is to live and rule my way—undoing his excesses and evils.
He thought I would jump at the chance to seize power.
My father really doesn’t know me at all.
What did you expect, with that deathbed confession? Did you want me to forgive you so you could go into the afterlife with a clean conscience?
“You should have summoned a priest instead,” I mutter bitterly.
On his deathbed, he has nobody.
Who would come?
The advisors?
He can’t trust them.
The clerics?
They would try and take advantage of him.
The priests of the Eresian Temple?
What could they do? Their prayers won’t prolong his life.
And Ansar would probably just kill him.
All he has are his guards to protect him.
And the two of us.
His attention is completely transfixed by Finley. He’s staring at her as if she were the Goddess herself.
“I brought you to him,” he whispers at last. “In truth, I’d forgotten about you until Solisar showed up at the palace and begged for an audience. But once I understood that you were the dryad’s child, I knew exactly where you needed to go. I knew that as soon as he caught sight of you, your fate would be sealed—both of you. Such is the nature of a child of Hecoa and a child of Eresus.”
He reaches toward Finley with his papery hand.
She moves to my side, and I almost want to stop her from letting him touch her, but she gives me a quelling look, and she’s the only one I would ever obey in an instant.
“My child,” the Emperor of Rahava begs. “For all that I have done to harm you and your kin, please forgive me. This old man became blinded by power and hardened by fear. I thought I could bend the world to my will.”