Book 2: Responsibility

Anwen

Kieran paces back and forth in front of the thrones, his royal robes flapping in a wind he’s creating, a habit we both picked up from Father. The Sollabellas called a meeting with him to discuss the events of the ball last night, and Raven is too ill to do more than sit up in bed, so he asked me to join him. I fidget with my shirt, trying to stop it from scratching over the claw marks Estrella left behind. If I can’t feel them, it’s easier not to think about her.

“Last night was our first statement to the world,” Kieran says. “Our first shot to declare that we’re different from Father.”

Your first shot, I almost say. Judging by most of the conversation I overheard last night, the rest of the kingdoms consider Kieran an outlier and hold the rest of us in suspicion. Raven is the only reason he’s getting the chance he is.

“It needed to go perfectly.” He stops and looks at me. “Instead, another king’s blood stains our floors.”

“I didn