Chapter 73
The king closed the distance between us and sized me up. “What did you just fucking say?”
“Galen Myrchorn,” I repeated, head high.
Aegir shoved a palm into his brother’s chest, resetting the distance between us.
I grazed Aegir’s elbow. “He was the sacrifice,” I whispered.
“I’m so sorry, but it was him who died in my stead.
He is the reason why I’m still here.” My eyes searched for Aegir’s.
I knew I had to tell him eventually, but this was certainly not the way I imagined doing it.
Aegir understood what my words meant. He gave me a small, tight nod, then glanced at his brother.
“Are you implying that Galen is a—You knew about this?” Ryvar’s gaze met Aegir’s. His questions told me he was unaware that his cousin’s shifting ability was not limited to wolf. Galen was a powerful shifter—a full shifter, one who died in the form of a ten-year-old girl.
Now I remembered Galen telling me stories about the feared full shifters. About how they—and those who hid their nature—were all hunted down. Forgotten over the years. Well, not all. Emika’s mother survived, and through the veins of her unborn girl ran the blood of full shifters.
“I suspected it,” Aegir replied. “Why else would they have hunted down Aunt Emika’s father? And how many other Demi-Fae shifters do you know?”
Ryvar stared at his brother, trust nowhere in sight. “Did you mention Galen to her before?”
“Are you fucking serious right now?” Aegir snapped.
“You have, haven’t you?”
The stubborn king pointed his finger at my face and seethed, “I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing, but you’d—”
Aegir grabbed hold of his brother’s finger. Snap. The king winced, yanking his hand free.
“You broke my fucking finger!”
“Does it hurt?” Aegir asked flatly, knowing very well that his brother’s finger was whole and healed. “Don’t point fingers at her, and stop insinuating that she’s a liar.”
I was down here, fighting for Marshen, yet somehow I got so lost in arguing that I had forgotten he even existed until he spoke.
“She’s telling the truth. I saw it with my own eyes. She’s a Water Wielder.”
Ryvar looked my way. “How is it possible that everyone else’s powers are gone, yet two people claim to have witnessed your wielding?”
“I’m not sure.” Half truth, half lie.
“And I asked you to wield water and you didn’t.”
“I’m still figuring it out. I haven’t mastered it yet, but once I do, I’ll show you.
I promise.” Then I took two steps closer to the king, gaze locked.
“Think about it—what if I manifest my powers and let all of them see? What would your people think of you, wrongfully executing a man who had indeed upheld his end of the bargain? I thought I heard you say you had an example to set.” I liked how the tone of my voice came out persuasive and assertive. The king closed in another step.
“Well, if you must know, I’m the type of man who has to see to believe.
But I’m also very kind and generous”—again, I couldn’t disagree with him more—“and so I’m going to revoke his execution order and count on the day I see you wield.
” The king had barely ended the sentence before Aegir snatched the cell’s key from Ryvar’s waist. The king’s gaze remained fixed on mine.
“Think of it as the soulbinding gift for you and my brother.”
I nodded. “Thank—”
The king lifted his palm so very close to my face, then shushed me with a pap.
“But”—I should have known there was going to be a but—“I still believe that he should be punished for his actions.” He looked towards Marshen and hissed, “You disobeyed my direct orders and were a second away from sullying my innocent cousin.” His voice turned into a misty roar. “Who was not yet of age!”
I imagined King Ryvar using his Strongman force to flog Marshen’s back with one of his dangling whips as punishment, but instead he said, “As your king, I decide on your whereabouts. Marshen Deucane, you will not be executed, but you are not allowed to set foot anywhere on my Land or anywhere near Blanca. Now get the fuck out of Silch.”
Whatever little colour Marshen’s face had drained completely. I remembered what he had once told me. I don’t want to die either…but I want to return home more.
“You can’t change what Boreas has chosen for us. She’s of age now, you cannot control—”
“Don’t bring him into this! And yes, I can. I dare you to disobey me. I wish for you to disobey me. I would have good reason to chop off your head then.”
Always his fucking nightmare.
Marshen was a hair’s breadth from lunging at Ryvar, but I reached for his elbow.
“Kneel,” I hissed at him.
“What?”
“You said you’d do anything for her and I know it’s the truth, so kneel.”
The sight of Marshen kneeling before me gave me mixed emotions. It felt empowering, yet the way I had complete control over him settled somewhat bitterly in my stomach.
“Marshen Deucane, do you swear it on your soul to always respect and protect me, the Queen of Ilma, my people, and my Land?”
“I swear it,” he said, confirming it with a firm nod.
“You dare defect from your king? The god you so much love?” Ryvar spat.
“My god? Never. You, with pleasure.”
“Then I bind these words from your soul to mine, for I know you tell the truth.” I gave Marshen a small nod and a subtle smile. “Get up, Marshen, you are now under my care.”
“You cannot just do that,” Ryvar protested.
“With the oath of tears, I just did.”
“I didn’t see you put his tears in your mouth—the oath doesn’t count,” Ryvar commented flatly.
What a big baby.
“I already have.” And as I turned myself around to face the king, I felt a tiny tug pulling at my soul.
A minuscule trickle of a bond that stretched from myself to Marshen and made its way back to me.
The king’s eyes darted from mine to my necklace, and they widened as he witnessed its blue stone shimmering.
Once the glitter muted and the pendant returned to its original colour, the tug ebbed, but I knew that the bond between Marshen and me remained.
I turned towards Marshen and said, “As my sworn and bound, you may go wherever I say you go, and I—”
The king cut me off. “You only have that right over nobility so—”
I cut him off right back, my words directed at Marshen. “Oh, and I almost forgot, you are now the royal advisor of the Queen of Ilma, and you go wherever I go.”
The king’s golden skin reddened.
I went into that prison cell with one goal in mind—I would not come out of it unless Marshen was at my side.
Today, I will not lose. No, today I am queen, and today, I win.
“I guess the shit show’s finally over,” Ryvar grumbled. Then he looked at his brother and flatly said, “The glittering necklace and glowing blue eyes convince me. I’ll set up a meeting with the others; they need to hear about this first thing.”
“Others?” I asked.
“You’ll meet them soon enough. In fact, tomorrow evening sounds great, doesn’t it? We’ll have dinner together. Don’t be late.”
“Don’t forget to prepare a chair for him,” I derided, pointing my palm towards Marshen. “He sits beside me just as your brother will.” If I were to get into some meeting with people I didn’t know, I would go on my own terms.
“You twist the knife and you give me seating orders.” He looked towards his brother, who I could see was suppressing a smirk. “What a lovely woman you have found for yourself.”
“Only the best,” Aegir murmured, giving me one of those knee-wobbling winks.
King Ryvar snatched one of the hanging lanterns and nodded at me. “Welcome to the world of the living, Queen Briartide.” Then he marched straight up the stairs.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Delia—I mean, Queen Elara,” Marshen said.
“You don’t have to thank me. No, actually, you can thank me by not getting yourself into any trouble. I know that you desperately want to see her, but don’t you dare do anything stupid, all right? I promise you that I will take you to her myself.”
“Men cannot enter the Ice Temple, so I don’t have much of a choice.” Thank the gods.
“Let’s go find the Queen of Ilma’s royal advisor a nice room, shall we? And then head back to ours,” Aegir said, looking my way.
Ours.