Queen Of Glass

Chapter 6

Seated on his glass throne, the King of Adarlan stared down at his son with eyes of cold iron. His son bore no resemblance to him, physical or mental; and in the past few years, it had become a constant source of frustration to him that his wife had been incapable of bearing another child after Dorian's birth. He had loved his wife in those days, and had been unwilling, despite her urging and his foul nature, to take another into his bed to ensure the continuation of the DeHavilliard rule. But now, past his prime, the man sorely regretted his love-blinded decision—he was stuck with a son who, though obedient and respectful, had no link or common ground with his father save the blood that ran through his veins.
The King of Adarlan was worried. Worried what kind of king his son would be, and how his son would rule the empire that his father had created. He knew that his son had yet to comprehend the ruthlessness with which you needed to run a country of such magnitude—Dorian DeHavilliard didn't have the heart to be a conqueror. Which was why, in the past three years, the King had been fervently trying to finish his grand conquest of the majority of their surrounding countries. He now had five countries under his thumb—and soon, very soon, Wendlyn and its allies would fall.
He began plotting his conquest twenty-three years ago—when his wife was just barely with child—and since then, no power had arisen to stop his armies. After growing up in the shadow of a pre-industrial era, the king realized the economic potential for all the lands of the world. He introduced to Adarlan new farming and cultivating methods—and the country benefited from them.
Soon, however, the borders of Adarlan and the skill and expense at which its goods were produced began to choke the country. He had tried to convince the other countries to upgrade to a more successful, reliable, and powerful economic system, but after they had insisted that the old ways were best, and Adarlan's technological advances began to turn into its downfall, the king had decided that the only way to save his country's dying economy and raise the bar for production everywhere was to take the lands for his own and force them to change.
Fifteen years ago, he turned his vision into a reality. The first county he acquired was Trasien, by means of inheritance. True, there had been a few others before him in line to the throne, but all that had been required to gain it was a simple process of elimination. Trasien had been a bountiful and powerful country, and it had been a good step to take in achieving his ultimate goal. Its borders, economy, and armies merged with his own, and after seven years, he had enough resources to march into Eyputiusunn and take control. Their resistance had been futile—they lacked the forces and advanced weaponry to give a proper fight back.
After securing Eyputiusunn, he had swept with his armies through the other surrounding countries. One by one they fell. There had been some resistance, but within ten years, Adarlan had grown to encompass the entire continent.
From time to time rebellion broke out, but it was nothing that his legions couldn't handle. To keep the disgraced leaders happy, the King of Adarlan established a "council," for which they would be diplomats to voice the concerns of their own lands. He let them have their old titles, but erased all of the power and influence that they had once held. Killing them would have been easier, and some of the more unwilling leaders had been eliminated, but out of fear of rebellion, the king had stayed his hand and allowed most of them to live. In hindsight, the king was pleased by his decision to keep the majority of leaders alive—it had helped him greatly in controlling the millions of people he now had under his power.
However, with only perhaps ten to fifteen years left in his life, the king was scrambling to gain control over their overseas neighbors, who were so ardently protesting their inevitable reformation. He would secure Wendlyn and its surrounding countries and break them to his will. Once conquered, his son would be free to rule all of the territory his father had acquired, and he hoped that his son's lack of ruthlessness would not be an issue. But then again, no great force would dare to come up against Adarlan's power.
His son shifted impatiently on his feet, waiting for his father to speak to him. He seemed anxious, which wasn't surprising. The King of Adarlan hadn't been too happy to free Celaena Sardothien from her prison. She was a menace,

a threat to his power. She had killed off some of his chief supporters. Politicians wielded her skills like a double-edged sword.
She owed allegiance to no one save herself, and hadn't balked from destroying some of her former benefactors. She was a creature dragged up from the bowels of the Underworld. He had almost killed her twice now (her near execution two years ago, and then the death that had been so close by in the mines); and yet, by some twist of fate, she had managed to rise from the dead to become even more of a malevolent beast. However, if she proved to be capable and trustworthy of eliminating the King and heir of Wendlyn, he was willing to consider letting her live at least for a little longer.
"So," the king said in a booming voice. "She's arrived?"
His son nodded, his sapphire eyes gleaming. "She doesn't appear to be much of a threat, father. She's almost...civil."
The king narrowed his eyes. Was his son that easily deceived? Handing over the throne would be a difficult thing. "A wolf can easily wear a sheep's clothing."
"I know that," his son said hastily, wiping his ebony hair out of his eyes. "She seems fully capable of doing the job. I don't know why you need to have all of these other women—Sardothien is the only one with assassinating experience. It's so unnecessarily to make twenty other women into assassins just like her! If you're worried about the threat that Sardothien poses, imagine what twenty of her type will do! All that we need to do is to find a way to ensure that she —"
"Don't doubt my motives, boy," he snapped. Dorian seemed to be slipping further and further away from the obedient, quiet boy he had once been.
His son colored and lowered his head, mumbling his apologies.
"If she proves to be more effective than the women we have here," the king said, his voice like granite, "then we'll use her."
The King of Adarlan looked down at his heir's pretty face, and a spark of worry and repulsion formed in his mind.
"Though she may look pleasant," he warned, "she is still a monster. You are not to be involved in her in any way, understood? Keep your distance." The king noticed the look of surprise and shock on his son's face. "Don't look at me like that, boy. I know that you waste your time courting and bedding as many ladies as you can without getting in trouble. Sardothien isn't a lady, and she isn't someone you want to be associated with. Don't even give her a second glance."
His son snorted. The king felt a tremor of anger rise up within him. "I'm serious, boy! If I find that you've been associating yourself with her, the consequences will not be pleasant for either of you."
Dorian suddenly looked at him with startling clarity and anger. "And what would you do, father?" he said sharply, raising his eyebrows. "Throw me into the mines as well?"
The king rose from his glass throne, anger and fear welling in his breast, and crossed to where his son was standing unflinchingly. Without a word, he hit him across the face with the back of his hand. Dorian staggered, but regained his countenance before he could fall, a red mark already appearing on his smooth cheek.
"Son or no son," he snarled at the youth, "I am still your king. You will obey, Dorian DeHavilliard, or you will pay."
Perhaps Sardothien was already poisoning his son's mind—perhaps this rebellious behavior was due to the woman who had been a thorn in his side for more years than anyone actually realized.
He should have her killed immediately—destroy her and end all of the threats that she posed to his grasp over the world...
Dorian DeHavilliard, not giving the king the satisfaction of seeing him wince at the throbbing pain in his cheek, bowed briskly and turned from his father, eyes gleaming with barely-controlled malice.

The King of Adarlan, sighing at the weight of his many burdens, took a seat once more on his glass throne, pondering the danger he had just unleashed in his realm.