The Broken Kingdoms of Osvolta (Kingdoms of Osvolta #1)

2. The Perfect Weapon

Chapter two

The Perfect Weapon

O rnate mahogany doors swung open. The golden handles crashed into the grey stone walls as Asta Maleen, Queen of Torrelin, stalked into the dining hall of High Tower Castle. The papers in her hand crushed beneath the weight of her anger induced grip.

“You never should have indulged her with those ridiculous daggers.” She raged, ice-blue eyes fierce as they zeroed in on her husband, the king, sat at the head of the table. His golden hair, turning white with age, glimmered under the light of the morning sun, grip tightening on the utensils in his hands as Asta spoke. He didn’t even spare her a glance as she strode across the room to him. Leaving her seething as he lazily returned his utensils to the table. Her foot tapping as he patted at his mouth with a silk napkin.

“Lower your tone, dear wife,” King Emerson warned. “It is unbecoming of a lady of your stature to screech to the heavens.”

Asta only glared at him as she spoke. “Your daughter has defied our orders. Again.”

“ Our daughter, Asta. She is as much yours as she is mine.”

“That girl is no daughter of mine,” she spat. “She’s a beast. Wild, untameable.”

King Emerson sat back in his plush velvet chair; hands folded before him as he regarded his wife. “Then she is exactly what we trained her to be.”

“She’s little more than a dangerous liability.” Asta cried, words choking in her throat as she fought to control her tone under the king’s gaze that burned as though he’d encased her in flame. Only the doors opening across the room broke his hold as his gaze flicked to his son, Prince Killian, as he sauntered in, tossing an apple between his hands.

“What’s dear old sister done this time?” The prince laughed as he bit into the apple’s shining green flesh. Both king and queen watched as their eldest child took a seat at the table between them. He crossed one leg over the other, taking a second bite of the apple; its juices coating his thin lips as his gaze flitted between his parents.

“Your sister,” Asta stated, turning back to King Emerson now, “has disobeyed orders once again. Dispatching the latest prisoner with a slice to the throat instead of her magic.”

“And?” Killian shrugged, glancing at his father. “At least she still killed him. I’d say she’s still under your control enough to keep killing them without question. What does it matter how she did it?”

Asta sighed, rubbing at her eyes as she placed the crumpled letter from Luxenal Mine on the table. “It matters because we didn’t spend years transforming her into the perfect weapon, training her magic to be useful, for her to slash their throats and end it quickly.”

“Last I heard, she still uses it. Tortures information out of them before killing them quickly. Mercy, I suppose,” Killian said, taking another bite of his apple, the edges browning slightly now.

“The man is dead, Asta,” Emerson agreed. “What more do you want?”

“I want what we trained her to be. The sword in our hand, at our beck and call. Something has changed. She’s been away too long and forgotten who’s in charge.”

“You worry too much, Mother.” Killian smiled, tossing his half-eaten apple on to the table as he stood to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Solveig is still desperately loyal. If she weren’t, you’d be short an executioner. You wanted a weapon, someone to carry the stain of your enemies’ blood for you. Bring Solveig back to Marrelin City now and you risk tainting us alongside her.” His gaze flew to his father’s, then, “People will talk. The deaths haven’t stopped, not amongst the rabble. How many has it been this year? Fifty?”

King Emerson nodded, the only sign that he had been listening at all.

“You’re already being scrutinised by the court for their heirs being born with weakened powers. Do you want the stain of the executioner princess lingering, too? It’s best to keep Solveig out of sight and mind.”

The king thought for a second before ringing the bell next to his breakfast tray. Within seconds, a harried servant raced into the room. Emerson beckoned him closer, whispering so neither Asta nor Killian could hear, before waving them off to fetch what he had requested.

“Have a message delivered to Luxenal that Solveig is to return within the next month.” Emerson ordered, turning to his son again. “After she has dealt with this.”

The servant practically ran back into the room, a file clutched in his hands. He placed it on the table before the three royals, bowing shakily as he exited the room.

Killian’s eyes gleamed as they darted to the file. “Another job?” he asked, brow quirked with interest.

“This one is personal to Solveig.”

Killian reached across the table to flip the file open. A wide smile cut across his face as he read the name of the prisoner.

“Tensions are high at Luxenal. You could cause more than one death with this one.” His gaze lifted to meet his fathers, “or is that your intention?”

Asta paled as she too caught sight of the identity of the prisoner. “You’ll risk everything we’ve built over this.”

“You wanted to know if Solveig remains loyal to us, my dear.” Emerson shrugged., “What better way than this?”