Descendants of the Kings (Book 2)

Ch 11.2: Shed your skin

"Why are you against him this time, when in the past, you were his most ardent supporter? You don't strike me as a man who picks the side of the underdog."

The General's gaze was hard and calculating, as he raked over them like he could pick them apart the way crows picked at bones. He was the fortress around his Kingdom, and he would not hesitate to strike them down if they posed harm.

"Furthermore, almost the entirety of your entourage is composed of high-ranking Ardowenians. I find it difficult to believe you would align yourself against king Torin."

This was said by Count Tara, a thin-faced man with silky blond hair, who had been quiet up until then. He was a powerful noble, but he tended to stay away from matters that didn't much concern him. He was easily swayed, though. But now, it seemed he was leaning against them.

The rest of the courtiers murmured amongst themselves, observing them suspiciously. This was the price to pay for being such a cutthroat Kingdom. Fear and respect, but also distrust

"I am not my father or my brothers," Aedion uttered stiffly. Beneath the table, his fist gripped the armrest. "Nor are Valren and Blaise. We are loyal to King Callan and Gerreathea."

"You may not be him, but you sure look like him, Lord High Chancellor. Everyone here has heard of your sadistic streak. You might share other qualities, too," quipped Lord Roan. This earned him a hum of approval from the others.

Aedion's jaw ticked, but he didn't shift. The armrest groaned under his grip.

Ella bit back a vile retort, hot fury creeping up her spine. She could stand to hear slanders against herself, but she would be damned if she tolerated them against her friends and Aedion.

"We are not our families. We are what we make of ourselves," Ella retorted. "Or do you all wish to be judged by the actions of your ancestors?" She turned her icy gaze on the General. "Lord General, is your great-grandfather not known for cowardly fleeing the Great War? Am I to assume that reflects on your courage as well?"

The general went splotchy red up to his pointed ears, mouth gaping open slightly, but unable to defend himself.

"And you, lord Roan." A cruel smile curved on her lips. She remembered a particular conversation she'd had with Briar.

"I don't even have to go back in time. In fact, did your son Vaeryn not break off a betrothal recently? I hear it was quite awful for the poor, dishonoured girl." She tutted and briefly flicked her gaze towards Lord Rubyn, the father of the girl in question. "Should we call your own word into question?"

"I would never--" Lord Roan stuttered, throwing the offended Lord a beseeching look.

Ella didn't give him a chance to continue. "I shall not have you questioning the loyalty of my courtiers based on what their families did. They have been serving the Kingdom dutifully for well over a decade, bringing pride to our people."

"I know you may say I am merely a young woman who has just arrived at the position, but I needed no more than a few months to be convinced of their honour. I have seen with my own eyes the way they serve and protect, selflessly laying their lives on the line day after day. I may be out of line--and His Majesty will correct me if I am--but I will not allow them to be scorned for others' faults."

Ella met Lord Roan's gaze with her own, hard as chipped ice, daring him to refute her. To raise even a word against her own. If she could have reached across and carved out his tongue for his insolence, she would have.

Ella felt a light squeeze on her fingers, and with a start, she realised that at some point, she had inadvertently reached over and covered Aedion's hand with her own. Now, he had turned his palm and gently tangled their fingers together, his touch warm and reassuring. He squeezed, and it conveyed everything he couldn't say. Silent gratitude.