And not just that, there were the countless lives Islinda had taken during the ongoing war to protect the Fae realm. Each kill had been justified—or so she told herself—but those deaths weren't her family. They weren't people she had grown up with, shared blood with.
But this? Killing one's own brothers, the women who had raised them, all for power? She couldn't reconcile it. She hated this "only the strongest rules" nonsense that seemed ingrained in creatures like the wraiths and Fae.
"Why marry so many wives knowing it would only end in chaos?"She asked with anger. "Why did your father put them through such a fate?"
Zal'therak's lips curved into a faint smile, though there was no humor in it. "Perhaps you are right, Islinda. My father was a fool, as were his fathers before him. But this is our way, and I will not apologize for doing what I had to do to survive. My mother needed me, and I needed to protect her. The rest… they would have destroyed us if I hadn't struck first."
