6
Thor
My blood ran cold. The truth was obvious now. Every gruesome bit.
“It was you,” I said, kneeling before my mother. From my position, I could also see my father, only a few feet beyond. I could no longer hear his ragged breathing, no longer see his crest rising. He was dead.
My mother had killed him.
But that death, the poison she’d drunk, wasn’t meant for her mate, my father.
It had been for Faith.
I glanced up at my mate, my body filled with horror at the shock of this. My father, dead. My mother, a traitor to the queen, to the throne, to my mate.
To me. She’d betrayed us all in a relentless pursuit of power. And for what? Did my father not provide enough for her? All these years, all the business deals I had overseen, the wealth and properties and armies. None of it matter
