I have no memories of the king. All I've heard are the stories of his cruelty and that wicked, lopsided grin on his face. I've heard of the parades he holds in the capital square, parades leading to executions of prisoners locked away because of minor crimes. I've heard of his wife's beheading, a gentle queen who loved her people as she did her sons.

That lopsided grin doesn't reflect in his black eyes as he looks down at me and surveys us like pieces of meat. I see where the two princes' get their mass from, he's as large as they are—if not stronger. Renit shares his black hair with the king, not looking a day past thirty. Instead of short, the silky, straight strands flow to the king's broad chest with a gold crown ringing around the top of his head. Spiked, same as the throne.

I shiver. The room grows cold around me, especially as Silas hands off my chains to an ordinary guard and abandons me there, all alone. He bows to his father and takes his seat directly next to the king. The smaller throne must be for Renit then, next to the empty throne belonging to their mother.

At the same time the thought goes through my head, the young prince strides into the room and bows to the king before walking up the dais and taking a seat. Every move he makes is swift like he's been practicing rigidity his entire life. I can't imagine being that stiff.

The king looks at my parents. "Well, well, it's been a while since you've been here, hasn't it?" He asks.

"We mean you no trouble," my mother speaks. The calming force of our group and possibly the only one able to persuade the king to keep our heads. The next best option is Celestine but I look over at her to see she's completely frozen, staring at the floor. I nudge her with my elbow and all I receive is a slight shift in her stare.

"You've caused me more trouble than you realize. Taking my citizens, my land, and creating a village of your own. That seems like trouble to me." He looks to Renit for confirmation and the prince nods, solemn. Our eyes meet for a split second but he looks away again. To him, I am nothing.

My father clears his throat. "We understand our conducts weren't in your best interests but we wanted a better life for our daughters. They were young and with all the executions, we didn't—"

The king holds up a hand to stop him. If the king allowed it, my father could have spoken for hours. "I don't care about why you did the things you did, foolishly. It led back to me, didn't it?" His lips curl into a tooth-revealing smile and my breath catches in my throat at the sight of his fangs, sharpened to tips. I don't want to know what he does with those and I hope it's not another family tradition.

The black gouges are in their ears, all three of them, and the tattoos appear to be a common trend, as well. Peeking out from the sleeve of Silas's tunic are similar whorls of black ink compared to what I saw on Renit and his father. The tattoos on the king are more proudly displayed; the ink travels up his throat and stops at his sharp jawline.

"Everything leads back to me," the king muses. His eyes flash with delight and my arms go numb. It takes me a second to realize I've been clenching my fists the entire time. "How has life been in your little village since you stole it? Were the people satisfied?"

"They loved it," my mother responds carefully. "We were a family, and we built together. It was the most love I've ever felt in my life."

The king chuckles under his breath. "Even from your husband? The mortal witch? It's not often an immortal woman gives up a few precious years of hers to a mortal man. Normally, you women don't stoop so low." He scratches at the shadowing stubble on his chin, surveying her. "You are a beautiful immortal."

I clear my throat. Anything to take the focus away from my mother and what the king might want to do with her. "Your son didn't provide us with any information as to why we're here. We request that information now," I say with little conviction. My blood heats and I wonder if the power of the king is presenting itself or merely my own embarrassment.

"I instructed my son to keep his mouth shut, so he did his job, young witch." He sneers at me. "Like every witch, at least once in their lifetime, Renit has recently lost control over his power. He's a witch of storm, a power prone to an Outburst. Therefore, it became time we looked for a Grounding. I'm certain you can tell me where this is going, can't you, young witch?"

"My name is Roux," I snap.

"I'm aware." His growl is more animal than witch. But then again, most humans classify us as feral beasts, even though we live the same lives they do, just with more power. "You, Roux, are my son's Grounding. We need you to control his power when he cannot and help him through the Outbursts for the unforeseen future."

I let my eyes snap over to Silas and he's not watching me, nor is he watching his father. Instead, he's staring right at the floor between his boots. Celestine is doing the same.

"Surely, there are other witches with my daughter's skill set," my mother intercepts.

The king puckers his lips together and shakes his head. "No, we've scoured the kingdom, searching for anyone who might carry the power. We've checked every city, every village, all the while side-stepping your own because we're generous. It came to us one day, though, when we ran into a citizen of your happy little village and they gave us information that a witch of ground was the founder's daughter. Two weeks later and here we are, in the throne room." He displays a palm before him, gesturing around to the flags hanging from the ceiling and the large, stain-glass windows behind the dais of golden thrones.

Renit's throat bobs but he doesn't speak. He clutches his hands so tight onto the armrests of the throne and his nails are ready to break through the solid gold surface.

"We want the best for our daughter, we always have." My mother's voice doesn't wobble nor does she get on her knees to beg. The king looks at her like she should. "I don't believe she should spend her existence shackled to your son. She's young, barely eighteen, and I want her...to have those choices. I want her to live." Then, my mother actually gets on her knees and clasps her hands together. Everyone in the throne room stills, even the king. Although he looks too pleased with the sight of her. "Please, give my daughter her freedom and we will be on our way. We promise to leave Arego in shambles and start somewhere new."

The king pouts. "For a second, I was starting to believe you. But then again, you said you'll start somewhere new. Darling, look at me." The king leans forward in his throne and rests his forearms on his knees. "That's called stealing. You've done plenty of that." His voice is as cold as a frosted winter night.

My mother's eyes grow wide and her pleading comes fast, desperate. "We will relocate to another kingdom, we will rid you of your troubles." She looks from the king to me, frantically. But I can't do anything, none of us can as the titanium band holds my power in its cold grip.

"Actually, stay where you are. On your knees' that's a good place for you." The king smiles wickedly. "I suggest you get on your knees, as well." He looks to my father, who does as he's told.

My heart is racing. Why are they forced to get on their knees? What is happening?

The king beckons a guard closer. I can't read his lips nor can I hear the whispers. I turn to my father but remember he can't hear them either, the titanium band digging into his wrist doesn't allow it. I look to Silas and Renit for answers but both of their faces are blank as they wait out the next few moments.

Then, the guard in black and gold armor gestures to another with a large ax in his hands. I know where this is going. My blood runs cold as another guard shoves my father forward, to the space between the dais and our family, now brought to three.

"No, wait," I try but the rattling of chains drowns out my voice. The guard shoves my father to his knees once more.

"For years, you have disobeyed and used my land for your own. Again, you threaten to do the same once I've stopped you. Warning after warning and you didn't listen to me," the king barks. "For that, you will lose your head."

"No!" I scream and lunge forward but the guard holding my chains is too strong. Celestine hasn't moved the entire time, but she does now, screaming at the king.

She yanks on the chains, too, showing more fight than she has in years. This can't be happening. I can't lose my father when his mortal life is already so short. He deserves to live out his existence, not die because of me. What he did...to help innocent people avoid that death, is not a crime.

Not in my eyes and not in the eyes of many. Out of everyone in this room, he deserves to die the least.

The guard's arm wraps around my middle and lifts me off the ground. I kick and thrash but there's nothing I can do as my father tips his head forward. "No, please!" I cry. Tears flow down my cheeks as I attempt to throw back an elbow at the guard but miss, spinning wildly.

I don't care about Renit or Silas or the king himself. I want my father. I want him.

Celestine's screams ring in my ears and I can't breathe, I can't think, as they rupture through the room I'm so desperately trying to forget. This has to be a dream, it can't be real.

But there's nothing fake about the ax as the guard swings the blade over his head and carries the sharp tip down onto my father's neck.