Chapter 137
Asher
The tavern smelled like old Rogues and fresh blood.
it was the kind of place that never saw daylight, being wedged between crumbling stone deep in the less wealthy edge of the capital.
No banners here. No royal colors. Just soot–stained wood, a haze of smoke from cheap cigars, and a bartender who asked no questions so long as the coin was good.
It was perfect.
I sat in a corner booth shrouded in shadow, one boot braced against the edge of the table, the other foot planted firmly on the sticky floorboards.
The hood of my cloak hung low over my brow, enough to disguise the sharp lines of my face without obscuring my line of sight. I didn’t want to be recognized. But I needed to be remembered by the right people, after.
The door creaked open.
Kael arrived first. Broad–shouldered, armored in worn leather. A scar split his lower lip from brow to chin. He swept the room ance with a predator’s glance and strode straight toward me, all teeth and zero patience.
Behind him, Lady Sera drifted in. She was wrapped in silks too fine for this gutter, her mouth curled into a smirk as she trailed a finger along the bar’s edge, eyeing the patrons like pests. She always was dramatic.
“You’re late,” I said, not standing.
Sera shrugged, sliding into the seat across from me without waiting to be invited. “You’re lucky we came at all.”
Kael remained standing, arms folded, as if looming would remind me of the threat he once was. I thought it was cute he believed that.
“I assume you’re not here for the ambiance,” Sera drawled. “What’s this about a skeleton in Damon’s closet?”
I leaned forward slightly, enough for the candlelight to catch my eyes. “It’s not a skelton. It’s blood.”
Kael narrowed his eyes. “No riddles, King. Speak plainly.”
“Fine.” I reached into my coat and set a folded map between us. “Damon’s not the King by right. Not by blood, anyway. There’s a document buried in the late King’s archive–a bloodline assessment. Hidden. Misfiled. I found it before he did.”
Sera’s brow arched. “And what did it say?”
“I haven’t opened it,” I said, smiling thinly. “But I don’t need to. I saw the seal. I know the date. And I’ve seen Damon’s face every time someone mentions
his father.”
Kael finally sat, slow and deliberate. “You want a coup.”
“I want justice,” I lied smoothly. “And I want options.”
Sera tapped her nails against the map. “And you’re just offering us the kingdom? Out of altruism?”
“I’m offering access. And information.” I pointed to a mark on the paper and continued.
“Here’s where his guards change rotations early. Here’s where the service corridor isn’t patrolled. And here…” I tapped again, “is where you’ll find the armory gate key. Damon keeps it under lock, but I’ve seen to the guards who manage the ledger. They can be persuaded.”
Kael grunted. “Why now?”
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Chapter 137
Because I’m tired of losing to a man who never deserved the crown. Because I’m tired of watching Lila choose him over me.
Instead, I said, “Because now, he’s distracted. Weak. And because we’ll never have a better chance.”
Séra studied me. “You’d betray your own cousin for this?”
I met her eyes coldly. “He’s more than my cousin.” The words tasted good.
Kael leaned back with a thoughtful grunt. “You’ll get your proof?”
“I’ll get you everything you need,” I said. “But when the walls fall…he’s mine.”
Sera smiled. “Then let’s build a new throne of the rubble.”
And just like that, the betrayal began.
The night bit down hard when I stepped outside.
let it Cold wind slid beneath my cloak, slicing through the layers to find any exposed skin. I let it burn away the stink of smoke and rot from the tavern, carve through the heat still simmering beneath my collar.
The door shut behind me with a dull thud. single lantern hung crooked on
a
post outside, its flame guttering against the wind..
I moved beyond its reach and leaned against the dirty wall, pulling a thin cigarette from my pocket. I lit it with a flick of my thumb, inhaled deeply, and closed my eyes as the burn seared down my throat.
The silence here was different than the palace. No idle chatter, just wind. The occasional rustle of an alley rat. A lone bird stirring in the rafters.
I liked it better here.
Smoke curled from my lips in slow spirals. I watched it drift, thinking not of Damon, Kael or Sera, not of the bloodline test or the map I’d handed over.
I thought of her.
Lila.
The way she used to look at me: fierce and full of questions, like I was a puzzle she didn’t trust the answer of but couldn’t stop solving. I thought of the way her mouth tightened when I got too close. The way it softened when I moved even closer.
I’d almost warned her.
Gods, I’d nearly done it; reached for her across the mind–link, whispered some half–truth in the dark. A tiny hint of danger. A warning hidden in a question or some other courtly nonsense.
She would have known what it meant. She was clever.
But I took another drag, holding it in too long before exhaling. Let the smoke sting my lungs.
She wasn’t mine to warn. Never would be.
She’d made her choice. Chosen him: the so–called King with blood full of secrets and a voice that made her tremble. I’d watched her fall into his gravity like she’d been waiting for it her whole damn life,
And what had she left me with?
Longing. Unmet desire and memories. A single moment in a corridor when I thought, maybe. I let myself believe I could have something other than second place.
Stupid.
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Chapter 137
flicked the end of the cigarette away. The ember arced through the darkness and landed in the dirt, still glowing. I crushed it under my boot heel, grinding it out until the glow died completely.
Just like the part of me that wanted to be a better male for her.
What would warning her change? She’d run to Damon. She’d tell him everything. She’d call me a traitor. And maybe I am. Have always been.
But at least I’m honest about who I am and what I want.
She doesn’t need my mercy. She never asked for it. And I’m done offering pieces of myself to people who only leave or toss me aside.
I used to think I just wanted power. Influence. To get out from under Damon’s shadow. But that’s not what this is anymore. This is about undoing him.
Everyone thought Damon was the perfect son, the heir apparent. While I was the last in line ‘cousin‘ who couldn’t keep up. But I’m not his Beta, or his clean–up crew.
I’m something else now. I am what he was too afraid to become.
King of the castaways. Alpha of the forgotten. And I will bring his palace down stone by gilded stone… and make it mine.
Still, as I stepped away from the wall, a sliver of doubt curled tight behind my ribs. I squashed it immediately.
The crown Damon wore was forged in a lie, and I had just given the world the knife to cut it free.
And if Lila ended up in the crossfire?
She should’ve known better than to believe a Sinclair. Even one like me.
C
