Serpent's Traitor (Four Kingdoms #2)

3. resolve (part 1)

Two years and she had nothing to show for it.

Nothing but fury and pathetic, useless emotions.

"I don't care," Alethia stated in a flat tone, turning away from the group. She didn't need them. She never asked for their help, and she didn't care what they planned to do.

She had her own plan, a plan formulated for vengeance. The queen, Icarus, and whoever the traitor enemy was would all pay for what they did. After two years, her wrath accumulated, searing with the desire to kill every last one of them.

A soft voice whispered in her mind: what of Roxana?

Her throat closed up, her chest tightened, and she lost her breath at the thought. Handling Roxana came afterward.

But is Roxana my enemy?

Alethia shook off the doubt and stalked forward, intent on her goal. The elders had pronounced their training complete. A declaration that occurred when the queen was making her move. Naevia reported on the army, which planned to start their trek through the Dreary Waste in a few months.

There was no better time than now to strike her down. The rest of the group believed heading to the Nix Kingdom was the best course of action. Alethia wanted to end the war now. Why wait?

She was ready, and she wanted it over.

Alethia could hear the reluctant, trudging steps behind her and ignored them. She wasn't their master. They didn't have to follow her anywhere, nor would she coerce them to.

If anything, she wanted to be alone.

"I wonder what'd kill you first," Ren grumbled by her side. "Your cursed stubbornness or your anger."

Alethia's lips pulled down as her stormy grey eyes darkened on him. Ren met her glare head-on, his black braids whipping with the brisk wind.

Ever since the banquet and her decision to save the Four Kingdoms, the two of them had been at odds. When she'd seen him laid out on the ground and near death, a practically replicated scene from the throne room with her father, she had come to another decision.

Alethia was done being the reason why the few people she trusted died, sacrificing themselves for her.

Even now, she could recall the banquet night as clear as if it happened yesterday.

After talking to the elders, the group headed back to their tents. Alethia slowed her pace until she was walking in line with Ren. She reached out and grabbed his cloak.

"Stop," Alethia said. Ren paused, turning to look at her with raised eyebrows. She released his cloak and stepped back, peering up at his ice-cold blue eyes. She struggled to find the words she needed to express the turmoil of thoughts rattling in her brain.

The silence ticked away until Ren scowled. "What do you want?"

Alethia opened her mouth then closed it. She scanned the vibrant, colorful tents around. The stars glittered like the snowflakes her father used to describe after his trips near the Eastern Slopes.

Her father had been her hope. A tiny light that sparkled in the thickening shadows--equivalent to the stars against the dark skies. With the open, innocent eyes of a child, she had reached for him constantly. In a garden full of roses, the stench of blood concealed by their aromatic scent, Alethia was faced with a choice between cruelty or kindness. Each time, she went toward her father with fingers extended. She gripped him as if he could fight off every horror raining down on her, every horrible lesson, and every cold night drenched in sweat.

His death engraved itself like a dying ember in her soul. Persistent in its attempt to scorch the remaining pieces of humanity holding her heart together.

Then entered Ren.

Someone her father saved and raised like his own. Ren was the only person who could even begin to comprehend her loss.

If trust existed in this world, she would give it to him, but with trust came a price--weakness.

Alethia could not have any weakness whatsoever if she wanted to defeat the queen.

"You have upheld Galen's promise," Alethia started as she continued to stare at the dark sky and those snowflake stars. "Stop protecting me. I didn't ask you to do it, and I don't need your help."

"I do what I damn well please, princess," Ren replied. "I don't give a rat's ass what you want."

Flames of anger, pain, and grief intertwined and flared within her at such a level she wished there was one word to describe the emotions overtaking her body.

She chose to focus on the rage as she let the mask on her face fall. Her brows slammed down, and her cheeks heated with the rush of fury.

Ren stared at her in shock as she stepped closer and her wrath coated her voice. "What do you not comprehend? You are unwanted. I do not need a weakling dragging me down, nor do I require your pathetic excuse for protection."

Her chest rose in quick successions as her breaths came at faster intervals. Alethia's hands balled into fists so tight, her nails bit into her palms, drawing blood. Ren's shock dissipated into a stone-cold expression.

"You know what a weakling like me could do?" Ren spoke with a mocking tone. "I could pull your head out of your ass, woman, and show it how foolish you sound."

"The only fool here is you," Alethia snapped, crossing her arms.

"Let me burst the bubble you seem to live in up there," Ren indicated her head with a wave of his hand as he plowed further, "What I do doesn't concern you, princess. My motives to be here far exceed the promise I made with Galen. Remember that the next time you come barking up the wrong tree."

"Forget the promise," Alethia's voice was thinner than the blade of her sword as her mask slid back over her face, smoothing the wrinkles on her brow and flattening her lips into a pale line.

Ren tilted her head as his observant eyes searched her face. His own remained unreadable, although his scowl deepened further. "I'm a man of my word."

"I will not save you again," Alethia responded, her eyes narrowing at him. "I have settled my debts with you."

Ren scoffed, a menacing grin appearing on his face. "Then what else is there to talk about, princess?"

He turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving the question dangling between them, unanswered and swept away in the gusting winds.

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