“It is Father’s fault!” Ailea snapped at you before thinking better of it. She muttered a quick apology, glancing away. Aiwin may deserve her anger, but you did not. Ailea had always been closer to you, her other parent. “An error on his part has allowed a bastard child to live and threaten my claim to the throne.”

Lathael—her father’s first born, evidently—was no child. Perhaps it would’ve been easier if Aiwin had an affair more recently. At least then Lathael would be easier to manipulate. Unfortunately, Aiwin would never stray from you.

As everything with her father, it was complicated.

Her being named heir was already met with suspicion. You were human, making her half as well. Elves did not wish to see an elf with diluted blood take the throne. The only reason they’d been kept at bay for so long was because Aiwin—and his mother, the woman Ailea had been named after—were beloved rulers of Vesta. So her claim was shaky, but none questioned it.

Until Lathael emerged from the shadows like the rat he was. He’d announced at her coming of age ceremony that he was the bastard son of Aiwin, his first born. His claim would have no weight had he not been purely elven. That was why he was gaining support. She could forcibly take the throne after Aiwin, but then she’d fear a coup. The humans had already done it in Odara.

Ailea had dedicated all twenty years of her life to becoming queen. She exists for this reason alone. Your marriage to Aiwin was not your choice, you’d done it to bring peace to Vesta and Odara, to elves and humans. Ailea would not let that sacrifice be in vain. If Lathael became king, her life would be rendered mute. Would Xirin and Kelas, her younger brothers, be in danger? Would you?

Once again she was glad her father was giving her space. The only person she wished to see was you. Ailea stopped her pacing, sitting down on the bed beside you.

“What will we do?” she asked, hating that she still sounded like a young girl. She wished you’d hold her again, but she was too old for that.