But now, if Alastir had his way, that plan could never become a reality.

“What he did with Spessa’s End was impressive, but it’s not enough,” Alastir stated, his voice flat. “Even if we were able to reclaim more land, it wouldn’t be enough. King Valyn and I want to see Solis pay, not only for our personal losses but for what the Ascended have done to many of our kind.”

“That’s understandable.” Realizing what Ian could have become was hard enough. But Tawny, too—my friend who was so kind and full of life and love? If they’d turned her into an Ascended as Duchess Teerman claimed, it would be hard for me not to want to see Solis burn. “So, you’re not a supporter of Casteel’s plan. You want blood, but more importantly, you want the influence to get what you want. And you see that power slipping through your fingers even though I haven’t made a single claim to the Crown.”

“It doesn’t matter if you want the Crown or not. So long as you live, it’s yours. It is your birthright, and the wolven will ensure that it becomes yours,” he said, speaking of his people as if he were no longer one of them. And maybe he didn’t feel like he was. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. “Just like it was Casteel’s. It doesn’t matter if you detest the responsibility as much as the Prince does.”

“Casteel doesn’t detest responsibility. I’m sure he has done more for the people of Atlantia in his lifetime than you’ve done since you broke your oath to Malec,” I shot back, infuriated. “He just—”

“Refuses to believe his brother is a lost cause, and therefore, refuses to assume the responsibility of the throne—what would’ve been in the best interest of Atlantia.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “So, it is up to me to do what’s best for the kingdom.”

“You?” I laughed. “You want what is best for yourself. Your motivations aren’t altruistic. You’re no different than anyone else who’s hungry for power and vengeance. And you know what?”

“What?” he barked as his façade of calm began to crack.

“This plan of yours will fail.”

“You think so?”

I nodded. “And you won’t survive this. If not by my hand, then by Casteel’s. He’s going to kill you. And he won’t tear your heart from your chest. That will be too quick and painless. He’ll make your death hurt.”

“I’ve done nothing that I’m not willing to accept the consequences for,” he replied, lifting his chin. “If death is my fate, so be it. Atlantia will still be safe from you.”

His words would’ve unsettled me if I hadn’t seen the way his mouth tightened or how he swallowed. I smiled then, just like I had when I’d stared down Duke Teerman.

Alastir rose suddenly. “My plan might fail. That is possible. I would be foolish not to take that into consideration. And I have.” He stared down at me. “But if it fails, you will not be free again, Penellaphe. I would rather see a war among my people than have the crown sit upon your head, and you unleashed upon Atlantia.”