Tornado of Nightmares (Book 2)

ten

River wrings his hands on the table in front of his plate. His green tunic bunches with the movement, the tight muscles underneath pressing against the material. Warren sits up straighter, so does Dilynn. Gods, here we go.

"Your Majesty," says River, his voice tight and raspy. "It is always a pleasure to have you in my home. But what is it you want from me and my family?"

I lean back in my chair and give him the most innocent smile I can muster. "Perhaps I am here for the food."

River snorts. "I doubt that my kitchen staff can conjure up a meal that is up to your par. What is it you want?" His words come out sharp yet no anger or annoyance rests in his tone, but I can taste the bite in it. Fine, no chivalry then.

"We're going to war. Llyria and Moriella."

River starts, his face aghast.

"King Adrian Gwenyth has kidnapped my mate and her sister; he has also taken General Landon Alinac. An act against my mate and General is an act of treason against Llyria. We will go to war and get them back."

I hate the way it sounds on my tongue. Making Ember sound like she's my property and I'll stop at nothing until I get her back. But River is old, seven hundred at least, and he's the archaic type. An act of "true love" will not convince him to help me. I want his willing help. I don't rather enjoy resorting to threats, but if I have to, I will.

Royal glowers after I'm done speaking, but he says nothing.

I can tell he hates it when I refer to her like that. She isn't my property. She may be mated to me, but she is no ones. She is her own person—gods, I always wanted a mate growing up. The fates have blessed me by making my best friend my mate, but I began to realize a few years ago how ancient and ridiculous it is. The way I see and hear men call the women "theirs" is disgusting. They talk as if they are entitled to their mates. They aren't. I'm not entitled to Ember, and she isn't entitled to me.

I think the fae and the elves royally screwed up the meaning of it. The mating bond is supposed to be something the fates have bestowed upon us. It's a blessing. Something that doesn't happen to everyone. And I think people take it for granted. They have the mentality that these women are supposed to drop everything and throw their arms around the man, they'll be the doting wife/or mate: cleaning, cooking, doing whatever their man wants.

It's disgusting.

They all take it for granted, none of them ever realize how precious their fated person is. I took it all for granted—

I never should have let her leave on that boat. I never should have ended it the way I did. I never should have hurt her. And I'm paying the price for it.

"With all due respect, going to war over your mate and General is not a smart move. The people would not approve. Lives would be lost. And for whom? Who are they fighting for? They aren't fighting for this country—they're fighting for you, Your Majesty. I ask you to reconsider this act of war—"

The room goes dark and the singing in my blood erupts. Mischief pours out of me and quiets the room. My Boundment.

I slam my fist down on the table, solidifying my mask. The High-King taking over. I become the spitting image of my father. I hate this mask sometimes, but it gets the job done.

"This is my country. You all fight for me in this domain. You are all under my jurisdiction. What I say goes. And if anyone has a problem with it, I'll be more than happy to have a nice little chat with them."

"I meant no disrespect—"

"Oh, but you did, River. You meant disrespect when you suggested I shouldn't retrieve what is rightfully mine." I hate the words so gods damn much, but I have to keep going. I have to. "I own all of you. You're in my country, and you shall do what I say. I didn't want it to be like this, River. But somethings must happen for a reason, I suppose."