Page 55 of Grimoire Omens

Someone had their priorities straight.

We stopped several paces from the king’s seat, and that ominous feeling from my dream hit me even harder than the last time. Reality sucked.

A pressure extended outward from the throne, a force I could kind of see if I concentrated, a silvery haze that coated the room. As it settled on those present, they all dropped to their knees. It touched Gryvak as well, and he fought it by tightening his grip on my arm. The pain was likely what prevented me from hitting the floor. Or could it be I just didn’t care to bow to some foreign leader? Because this show of power had to be coming from the king, a reminder to his subjects about who was boss.

One moment, the throne and the dais sat empty, and the next, a large elf lounged on it, dressed in silver and wearing a crown.

He looked to be in his forties or fifties at least, but then again, he could have been any age. Elves didn’t have short lifespans according to Ulseere.

The king didn’t move, didn’t do anything, and yet he oozed power. It pulsed and radiated from him in a miasma I could practically touch. And this was who Gryvak thought he, with my aid, could defeat? Ha.

At least with his arrival, the crushing sensation vanished and fabric crinkled as people rose to their feet, but not a peep emerged from them. Everyone watched to see what the king would do—including me.

Gryvak gave the world’s tiniest bow. “Greetings, Majesty.” Was I the only one who heard the mocking tone?

“Well, well. If isn’t the traitor prince. I am surprised you’d dare to show your face. Did you decide to accept your punishment with dignity instead of scurrying off like a roach?”

“I’m here to take what’s mine.”

“Yours?” The disdain in that single word went well with the curled lip. “You always did think too highly of yourself. My fault. I should have never elevated you to status of prince knowing of your weak character.”

“You would call your own flesh and blood weak?” Gryvak spat, showing some emotion.

My brows lifted. Hold on, the king was related to Gryvak? This was shaping up to be some Shakespearian-type drama.

“My seed can only do so much. Perhaps had the womb fermenting you been of better quality, you might have had some worth. But alas, you ended up such a disappointment.” Damn, he sounded just like Grams. No wonder Gryvak had a hate-hard-on for his dad.

“I’ve led armies,” Gryvak spat. “Decimated enemy legions. Eradicated?—”

The king waved his hand. “As have other princes, usually more efficiently than you. Speaking of which, I am surprised you escaped my hunter.”

“Ah yes, Ulseere.” Gryvak sneered. “I bested your champion.”

“Pity. He had much promise. I often wished he’d been born of my loins. In his honor, I shall finish his hunt.” The king stood, and I swear everyone in the room took a step back. I couldn’t blame them. Shit was about to hit the fan, and I stood in its path.

I glanced from my captor to the king, noting how puny Gryvak appeared in comparison. He’d never stood a chance. Even with me as his supposed secret weapon, I doubted we’d manage a scratch. Meaning I was about to die because I’d have no choice. Gryvak would force me to use my power. I didn’t know how exactly but imagined he would siphon it like Grams had, leaving me defenseless, which, in turn, would lead to my death because this king would show no mercy.

“Fuck me,” I muttered.

Aloud.

Oops. It caused those watching avidly to stir, and the king raised a brow. “Not only a failure as a son and a prince, but you can’t even properly train a human slave. Even worse, you dare bring her into my presence.”

“Now, Father,” Gryvak replied in a mocking tone, “don’t tell me you don’t recognize her.”

Ever get a sick feeling in your belly that you were about to learn something you really, really didn’t want to know?

The king’s brows lifted. “I’ve never seen this woman before.”

“Not her perhaps, but you knew her mother quite intimately. Look closer, especially her aura, and maybe you’ll remember.”

The king’s gaze fell on me, and I swear it stripped me down to the bones. When his lips parted, I predicted—and dreaded—what he’d say next. “It seems I have a daughter.”

15

I’d finally discovered the identity of my daddy, and I’ll be honest, I kind of wished I hadn’t. If only I could have remained ignorant and gone on believing I’d been the result of my mom hooking up some drunken frat boy at a party. But no, it just had to be this shadow elf king, which made this asshole by my side my half-brother. A brother who’d been mistreating me despite knowing we were family.

I yanked my arm free and, in the same motion, whirled and slapped him hard.