He wondered if she was even reading it all.

‘It’s not really about birth order, but proving you’re worthy enough to rule these days, it just feels like whoever is in the queen’s favour. Right now, it’s my older brother, Sabien.’

She nodded. ‘Do you want to be king?’

‘No.’

‘But, why?’ Her questions were endless. ‘What is the point of you being here if you don’t even want to be king?’

‘I was never meant to be born,’ he blurted. ‘My father wasn’t selected by the Moirai. I’m a bastard; everyone in Zakros knows it and despises my very existence. Mother encourages us to compete to prove ourselves, and I had spent most of my life doing the opposite. I self-sabotaged every task she gave me. Until one day, I realised that perhaps I did, in fact, want it. Not to rule but to be better than what I am.’

Bethan stared blankly, masking her feelings that were usually always planted on her face for the world to see.

‘Are your siblings better?’

‘There are five of them. It goes Josan, Isla, Sabien, then the twins Loren and Tayven,’ he told her, untucking his shirt. ‘The older ones, Josan and Isla, are pretty similar; I don’t know them very well because they are so much older. But they’re cold creatures and have a way of insulting you but mask it as a compliment.’

‘And you think they’re better than you?’ She laughed through her words.

‘No,’ he corrected, ‘but Sabien is the golden boy of the family. He is the spitting image of the queen. Everything a prince should be, charming and heroic. I always looked up to him but—we used to get along when we were children until he turned twenty-five; he visited the Moirai, came out different, I never knew what they told him, only my mother knew, and she told me to distance myself from him. He’s made it his life’s purpose to punish me ever since.’

‘Is it possible that the prophecy told him he wasn’t worthy of the throne?’

He tutted his head. ‘Maybe, apparently, the prophecies are vague and could mean anything.’

She hummed; Kellan hoped she would be done with her questions—

‘Are the Moirai supposed to be like oracles?’

He nodded.

‘Do witches have oracles?’ he asked.

‘Not particularly. We call them mystics; there’s no way of determining if they can tell the future. The mystics mainly use tarot cards and read star charts. Not real magic.’

A gust of wind caused the window to shudder, the glass rattling against the wooden pane. She jumped at the noise; colour grew on her cheeks, as if she was embarrassed by her body’s reaction.

She returned the subject to his family. ‘What are the twins like? I heard they are not much older than you.’

‘I have never met them,’ he said.

Pure horror plastered her face.

‘How can you not know your own siblings?’