I’m glad for the anger I see on his face. Misery may love company, but anger thrives on it.
“Midas struck her. After the welcome dinner. She has a fucking bruise on her cheek.”
Osrik curses under his breath, but just saying it aloud makes me fist my hands at my sides. I hadn’t noticed the mark at first—I’d thought the dim lighting and the shadows were the reason behind the slight darkening along her cheek. Just the thought that the slimy shithead put his hands on her makes my blood boil.
“What do you wanna do?” Osrik asks evenly. “Kill the fucker?”
I have to smirk at the way he so effortlessly proposes we kill a king.
The thing is, if I asked them to, any of my Wrath would do it in a heartbeat. No hesitation, no questions asked. They’d slit Midas’s throat and be happy for the bloodstain on their blade.
Yet like I told Auren, there’s a reason why I’ve held back. Not just because of the political problems that would arise—and they would arise. Especially if it became known that I killed him or had any hand in it. I don’t even want to think about the repercussions my kingdom would face, and my people don’t deserve that.
The other kingdoms would form an alliance to get rid of me, no doubt. Then my people would be forced to live through more war, and if the others succeeded, my kingdom would have to live beneath a new king or queen.
Fuck that.
However, aside from those reasons, I’d still kill him if Auren asked me to. But she won’t. Just like she didn’t ask me not to leave Ranhold.
I let out a frustrated sigh. “As much as I want to…no.”
Auren’s eyes are opened now, she sees the bars for what they are, but killing the captor she loved is another matter entirely. So for now, I can do nothing, and that alone makes me rage, makes my irascible power grow moody and demanding. Or perhaps it’s the thought of her leaving, disappearing. As if she needs to run away from not just Midas, but me as well.
At my reply, Osrik lifts his lip in a disappointed sneer. “What if I just maim him a bit?”
A chuckle comes out of me, helping to dispose of the black cloud that’s looming over my thoughts. The two of us start walking the halls again while I think. Ranhold is a maze of corridors and staircases, and it can be easy to get lost within its stone and glass walls, though I’ve made a point to familiarize myself with most of it.
“I’ll let you know on the maiming,” I reply. “I wouldn’t mind castrating him.”
Osrik gives me a grunt in return.
“No moves on the prince?” I ask, switching subjects.
He shakes his head, the fasten around his long hair pulled at his nape. “No. Lu’s just left her watch for the night. If Midas is planning on killing the little twat, he’s not doing anything yet.”
I hum thoughtfully. “Where are the others?”
“Already back at camp. We received the hawks for updates back at Fourth.”
“All is well?” I ask.
“Yep.”
I roll my eyes in amusement. “Always so loquacious, Os.”
“Low what?”
My lips twitch. “Nothing.”
By the time we make it down to the ground floor, I’m feeling more in control, though my moody power is still brimming and volatile. I thought I was going to have to expel some magic right there in the library. I let my anger surge so much that my forms shifted back and forth, which hasn’t happened in years. It took everything to hold it back, but even then, I thought I was going to lose it. Until Auren touched me.
One touch, and she brought my magic to heel. I could practically taste her sunlit aura as it swept against mine. It’s a good thing no one else can see it but me, because people would’ve figured her out a long time ago. But distance and my own damn anger has my power stretching and slinking, like it wants to crawl out from beneath my skin and rot this whole damn castle.
I let out a controlled breath to get a handle on it, just as Osrik says, “You need to get rid of some of that.”
He and the others know better than anybody what can happen when I don’t use my power and I let it build up too much. “Later.”
The two of us stride across the great hall, ignoring the guards propped up like posts along the walls. I’ll feel better once I’m outside, away from this damn castle and Midas’s guards who watch us entirely too closely. Yet just as we round a corner, we come across the last person in the world who I want to see right now.
Midas.
Beside me, Osrik makes the barest of grunts, loud enough only for me to hear. I’ve had a long time to decipher his wordless noises, and this one is basically the equivalent of calling Midas a fuckhead.