The Twelve Kingdoms by Jeffe Kennedy Page B

agility, holding my chair as I arose. I ignored the gesture, especially when Uorsin made a sound of disgust. His son would not have elicited such chivalry.
    â€œYour Highness.” The Dasnarian touched my sleeve as I passed him, his gaze serious. “Good luck.”
    He said it as one warrior might to another, as she headed into battle, taking me aback. With a solemn nod, he lifted one hand, tipping two fingers back against his forehead, much as he’d done with the flat of the blade that afternoon.
    â€œGood night,” I told him. And I strode away as quickly as I could, to face my father.

    He went for his private rooms, naturally, sending his attendants scattering so we would be alone. To my knowledge, neither Andi nor Amelia had been inside them. I had gone to lengths to prevent that. Normally he conducted family conversations in his private study.
    With me, however, it had always been his bedchamber. An intimacy he shared with very few.
    Unlike mine, Uorsin’s private chambers were not divided into smaller spaces. Located in the dead center of the castle, the room had no windows and was sealed with three sets of doors. The stone walls, an arm’s length thick, allowed no sound through. Once closed, the room became as impregnable as any prison.
    The King’s final fortress.
    â€œSo.” He poured wine for us both. A picture of careless indolence. He handed me a goblet, face weary as he studied mine. “Speak to me truly, Daughter. Do you challenge me for the throne? Wearing the Heir’s Circlet? Flaunting the queen’s jewels in my face? Must I look for betrayal from even you?”
    The dredging sorrow in his voice made my heart ache. Few people knew him as I did, understood how lonely holding the High Throne could be. He might be difficult to deal with at times, but he carried a heavy burden. He was everything I aspired to be, my King, my father, my hero. I loved him despite everything.
    â€œNo, my King,” I answered, wanting to say more, knowing too many of the wrong words would only push him back into rage.
    â€œNo? No, you did not wear the circlet or your mother’s witch jewels?”
    â€œI did not wear them as a challenge or to flaunt them.”
    He waited to see if I would say more. Another technique. When I was younger, the expectation, the stinging silence, would get to me and I would inevitably blurt out something more. More for him to chew on. Eventually I learned to hold my tongue and I held it with all my might.
    â€œI know why you wore them.” He clasped my shoulder, eyes sympathetic. “You fear for your position as heir. Your ambition is understandable. I’ve groomed you for this all your life. It bothers you that I intend to give it to my grandson instead.”
    â€œMy King—the throne is yours to decide. I wish only to honor it and you.”
    â€œYes.” He sat, heaving a sigh, and pulled off the crown, tossed it on the table, where it clattered against the wood. “It’s a heavy burden, that crown. Have you ever wondered why I never let them soften the sharp edges, make it more comfortable?”
    â€œYou told me before it was so that you wouldn’t forget what you suffered to bring peace and so that the weight of rule would never become too comfortable.”
    Uorsin eyed me. “Did I say as much?” He huffed, sounding like the bear he was named for. “Then you understand why I must make this choice. I cannot have someone unworthy as my heir. Someone who is not strong and clearheaded enough to remain loyal.”
    â€œI am loyal.”
    â€œA pretty lie, I’m afraid. You’ve been conspiring. I see it all clearly. You plot with your sister and those demons she consorts with to overthrow me. That’s why you let her go, why you did not bring her back. Did you murder your nephew, too? Perhaps my beloved Amelia, as well? Do they even now lie moldering in the ground, in some pauper’s