Page 37 of A Trial of War
“Right this way.”
We began walking together, our footsteps echoing through the corridor. I tried to ignore the whisper of my conscience. The one that reminded me to play my part today, to watch for weaknesses, to report anything that could be used against them.
But the longer I walked beside them, the less certain I felt about where the real danger lay.
The corridor opened into the grand hall, leading to the throne room and the gallery of painted ancestors that stretched from one end of the palace to the other. My family’s history displayed in color and gold.
“Feel free to look around. We’re early,” I said.
Daxton walked ahead, emotions unreadable. But Skylar slowed, her eyes skimming each portrait as though searching for something. When she suddenly stopped, I nearly collided with her.
She stood frozen before a painting: a tall woman in a green dress, golden hair braided with white threads, eyes soft with a warm smile.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
Skylar’s voice was a whisper. “Who… who is this?”
I hesitated, glancing between her and her companions. Daxton frowned slightly. The others shifted, tense and alert.
“That is my father’s sister,” I said at last. “Lady Dawn Avermont. She served as an ambassador to the shifters many years ago. She was a healer, but sadly, she passed away almost twenty-three years ago.”
I decided, for diplomatic purposes, to leave out the part where shifters killed her, and her body was discarded along the northern border of our city.
Skylar’s lips parted, and the color drained from her face.
“She was a healer,” she echoed. Her fingers trembled as they brushed the edge of the frame, as though touching something sacred.
For a long moment, no one moved. The silence pressed tight around us, heavy and waiting.
Then, softly, almost too quietly to hear, Skylar said, “This is my mother.” Her eyes met mine, bright with awe and grief.
My eyes widened as my lips parted in a sharp inhale, the missing pieces clicking into place. Her hair, the shape of her face, and gods, even her voice.
I glanced at Skylar’s neck, seeing a familiar bite mark along the base. My eyes then darted to the High Fae king, recognizing the same mark along his neck, recalling the mating rituals from my recent studies.
I sucked in a breath, realizing it was the same mark my aunt Dawn had on hers.
“She’s your mother,” I said in a hushed whisper.
This changed everything.
I grasped Skylar’s hands, holding them tightly, praying she would listen. “You need to leave. You’re all walking intoa trap.”
Chapter Fourteen
Daxton Aegaeon
I watched my wife carefully as her emotions spiraled from shock and awe to confusion.
“Skylar, she’s your—”
“I know.”
“Did you hear me?” Princess Réalta asked, her grip tightening on Skylar. “You need to—”
Castor stepped in behind her. “We know.”
The princess blinked, shaking her head. “Then why did you come?”
