Cruel War (The Gilded Sovereign 1)

A clank sounds behind me, and moments later, footsteps echo around us, reminding me that we’re in a cell, in the dungeon of a mansion in the middle of a sleepy town that’s run by evil.

“It’s because of you, my brother is fighting for his life,” Philipe tells me.

Releasing my father, I spin on my heel and pin him with a glare. “Because of me? Why don’t you go up there and ask your father who pulled the goddamned trigger?”

“This,” Philipe hisses through clenched teeth as he pulls his sleeve up, and I take note of the ink on his skin. The emblem that Ares has tattooed on his back is clear as day on Philipe’s forearm. “This is what it’s all about. A brotherhood.”

“And your brotherhood thinks it’s okay to kill innocent people? Even if it’s your own flesh and blood?” The fire that burns through me comes across in my words. I want him to see how wrong this is. If I can get through to him, maybe, just maybe, he’ll let me and my dad go.

“No,” Philipe nods. “It’s not right to kill innocent people, but—”

“But your father shot your brother,” I interrupt him. My fingers curl around the bars of the cell, and I tug and pull at the gate, as frustration flows through me like a river of lava.

Philipe’s green eyes shimmer with annoyance, but he makes no attempt to get closer to me or open the gate. As if we’re two chess pieces on a board, I wait for him to make his move. I’ve said all I can, there’s nothing that will change his mind after my little tirade.

“I can see why my brother is so enamored with you,” he finally tells me.

“He did what?” My father’s crackling voice breaks through our conversation. “No, you’re not to associate with any of these boys. None of the Sovereign can keep you safe.”

“Ares is the reason I’m still alive,” I tell my dad. “I love him.”

“What?” Both Philipe and my dad utter the one-word question in shock. Flitting my gaze between the two astonished men, I nod.

“I am. I love Ares. He understands me, he knows me,” I tell them, but the pain in my chest reminds me that he’s still in the hospital, and I have no idea if he’s still alive. If he’s survived the gunshot, the surgery, I wonder what will become of us.

Maybe I’m being a stupid girl.

Would he ever walk away from the Sovereign for me?

“My brother may have done stupid things in the past,” Philipe tells me as he unlocks the cell, waiting for me to exit. Once I’m beside him, he shuts the door and slides the lock into place. “But I think this time, he’s fucked up royally. My father will never allow you to sit at the table.”

“She’s a woman,” my father bites out. “She cannot be Crowned,” he continues, and his words slice me open, flaying me with the anger-filled command, “I won’t allow it.”

“It’s not up to you,” I tell him. “If I want to be at that table, if I want to wear the mark of the Sovereign, I’ll do it. One way or another.” I keep my voice low, it’s a promise, a vow. I’ve made up my mind, and nobody, not some old custom, will stop me from being beside Ares as he rules the brotherhood with Etienne, Tarian, and Philipe.

“Your daughter is very strong,” Philipe remarks from beside me, his gaze locked on my father’s. “She’ll probably take us all down. She will become a Crown.” A chuckle rumbles in his throat, the sound is almost comforting because it reminds me of him, of Ares.

“Over my dead body,” Dad mutters. “Dahlia, think about this,” he pleads. “This isn’t the life I wanted for you. That’s why I left Tynewood.”

“You may not have wanted this life for me, Dad, but I’m in it.” Stepping closer to the cell, I watch him hobble toward me. He looks nothing like the man I grew up with. The long dark beard covers half his face, the black marks of soot and dirt cover what I recall was his once perfect, angular cheekbones. And his eyes have lost their happiness. “I can’t run from something. I’m not you.”

He stares at me for a long while before he acquiesces. “You’re a good girl.” The words fall from his lips, but before the last word has calmed my heartbeat, my dad’s hands shoot through the bars, gripping my neck and pulling me closer, causing my breath to stifle.

“Dad—”

“You will die before you become a Crown.” The dark edge to his voice scares me, and his grip tightens until I see stars behind my eyelids. I’m fighting for breath in one second, and in the next, a gunshot rings through the air. The bullet sends my father tumbling backward, falling in a slump on the floor.