Crowned in Crimson Cinders

Chapter 15: The Spar

I walked out of Aleah's room with Brock following close behind me. His silence did little to hide the fury radiating from him—I could practically feel his glare scorching the back of my neck. Brock stops and turns, as do I, maintaining our distance from each other.

Brock's jaw was clenched with his fists at his sides.

"If you have something to say, Brock," I said coolly, "I suggest you say it."

Brock looked at me, understanding that my words weren't a suggestion.

My challenge hung in the air like a blade dangling between us, completely up for grabs.

He stepped forward until only a foot separated us. I stand my ground, unwilling to back down.

"Oh, I have several things I would like to say," he said through gritted teeth. "If this is some scheme to gain our trust—if you're playing Aleah or me—it won't work. And I swear, if she's hurt because of you, even if it's just a papercut, I'll destroy this alliance and throw you in chains for the rest of your miserable life."

I held his gaze. I wouldn't let him see the anger behind my calm, something he was clearly incapable of doing. However, I wouldn't tell him that, unless my goal was to make him more angry.

"I'm only trying to help," I said. "I want what's best for Atalar... and for my wife."

"Don't call her that," he snapped back, stepping forward and showing a finger in my face.

I slowly raised my own arm and lowered his own down and away from my face so I could look him in the eye. I may be in his kingdom, but I still expect a degree of respect. "What would you prefer I call her?"

"Her name. That's all you're entitled to."

"I want what's best for Atalar," I repeated, steady and firm.

Brock scoffs. "Now you care about Atalar? After years of burning our cities and slaughtering our people? The people of this city think of you as a murderer, and they're right."

I paused. It was true about what I did. I willingly murdered hundreds of people, and Brock was right. However, now that I'm coming to terms with my new reality, things are different. I needed to craft my response wisely so that Brock could trust me.

"I used to see Atalar as the enemy," I admitted. "Your walls, your power, your magic—it all felt like a threat."

Brock stayed silent, urging me to continue. I did.

"But now," I said, "... walking your streets, seeing the lives shattered by this war... I regret what I've done."

Brock didn't respond, but his eyes narrowed with suspicion. I knew he didn't believe me. But I had spoken the truth. I may not have felt it then, but I do truly feel horrible for all the pain and suffering I have caused the Atalarian people.

"The damage is yours," he said coldly. "No one forced your hand."

Brock was referring to the assassination attempt on his father, the king of Atalar. I wasn't the one who gave that command, it was my father. The only reason he had done so was because someone had kidnapped Prince Flynn, my brother. My father believes that Atalar kidnapped and killed him to weaken Trithia. I thought he was still alive somewhere, and Atalar was responsible for his disappearance.

Now, I don't know what to believe about my brother. That mysterious woman told me he was alive, but how much could I truly trust her? Who even was she? She definitely hated Aleah and she was thirsty for power, but none of it made any sense.

What if she was the one who kidnapped him and used him this whole time as some sort of plan that I played right into?

I couldn't let this information slide from my lips. It was the whole reason why I agreed to come here in the first place—to find my brother and bring him home. I have already made a decision I regret, a decision that will hurt not only myself but also Aleah.