Chapter 7
Seren
Amahle looked up expectantly as I sank down beside her in the gathering space for the council meeting. I wouldn’t have long, as soon I’d have to stand before the platform for judgment. Fortunately, my best friend had been waiting for me in the front row.
I released a slow breath, filling my lungs with the sweet pine-scented air.
After days confined to my tent, claustrophobia had set in, and the light filtering through the high treetops, the rich aromas of meats roasting over open flames, and the hum of trade at the center of the encampment were a welcome reprieve.
So was Amahle. Ciaran had been my only visitor these past few days, but he’d at least brought messages from her and my family. One of the advantages of being literate in our tribe.
“How was it?” Amahle asked me. “Once you woke him?”
“I’m not sure.” At first, Rykr had seemed cautious but willing to listen. But that look he’d given me when he realized how closely we were linked—that was pure hatred.
Not that I’d have reacted any better.
“Does he seem decent? For a Lirien?”
“Define decent? That depends on what you value most in a man.”
Amahle grinned. “Fair point. Lucky for you, he’s decent to look at. And if he’s indecent in the right ways, you might be very lucky. Could’ve done worse and happened upon a cave troll instead.” She poked me in the ribs. “Though I doubt you’d have taken that blood oath if he had been a troll.”
“He’s a fucking Lirien.” I brushed off the comment about Rykr’s good looks. Yes, he was handsome. Ridiculously so. I wasn’t about to admit those looks had tempted me to stay my hand in killing him before the vuk attacked.
But that’s not why I took the oath.
An oath I was quickly starting to regret.
Not only that, but I’d also experienced the monstrous ways of Liriens firsthand. Why take Esme? Was she even alive or had they already killed her? The questions haunted me, awake and in my dreams.
Amahle studied me. “But you knew that when you saved him. Do you think we can trust him?”
Him. Rykr. My husband. I shuddered.
“If it weren’t for the fact that killing me would kill him, I wouldn’t put it past him. I don’t know if he’s so devoted to Lirien to commit suicide just to rid the world of one Viori, but turning my back to him might be terrifying.”
My mother had been right. I’d bound myself to a man I knew nothing about and now that he was awake, the reality was hitting me hard. But I owed him. He’d saved my life.
Still, my limited knowledge of the oath worried me. Hopefully my mother would know more. “Do you know where Tara is? You passed along my message, right?”
Amahle nodded, scanning the gathering crowd. “I haven’t seen her, though. I saw your mother on the way in. But your father and Madoc still haven’t returned.”
I gritted my teeth. What was taking Father and Madoc so long to find Esme?
Each day that passed without their return only fueled my worries.
They would have helped me today, too. Of course, if I had stayed home like Father wanted, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
Would he be angry with me when he found out?
All my hopes hinged on Tara. She should be here by now.
A deeper fear unfurled inside me. What if she didn’t want to be here? Facing my family after what I’d done would be difficult—I’d put them all under scrutiny. They’d already been worried about betrayal from someone in our encampment after Esme. My actions made everything worse.
If I’d had doubts about the oath when I took it, they were nothing compared to what I felt now. The changing color of my hair and eyes had been the least of it. The changes I felt were more significant. The spell book said nothing about what this bond would do to me.
If Rykr angered the council, he could get us both executed.
Please, please don’t be that stubborn.
Amahle’s dark brown eyes reflected understanding.
“Tara will be here. And if your Lirien doesn’t agree to your marriage, we can always tie him up and make him realize the error of his ways.
” She set her arm around my shoulders. “If you find any other handsome Liriens in the woods, maybe teach me your oath before you kill them, too. The pool of eligible men around here is becoming damned near incestuous. I don’t want to switch tribes just to find a man. ”
She wouldn’t need to. Tall, black-skinned, and beautiful, she was descended from a legendary Doban scribe. She’d rejected all offers that had come her way, though.
I covered my face with my hands. “Much as I agree with you, I apparently have terrible taste in men. First Seth. Now a Lirien.”
As though I’d summoned him, Seth entered the clearing, Darya trailing behind him. The din of the gathered crowd faded into silence. I averted my gaze.
The clearing, nestled at the heart of the encampment, was our version of a town square. Every major decision affecting the tribe was made here, ensuring that nearly everyone would bear witness. I’d never been on this side of the gathering, though—awaiting my own judgment.
The seating—a rough circle of felled logs—ensured I’d be visible to all.
“Are you sure Tara is coming?” I asked Amahle, my voice low.
Her lips pursed slightly, then her jaw set. Only my proximity to her made it possible to see the mist that fogged her dark eyes, making them suddenly grey. When she blinked, a hint of fatigue crept into her face. “She’s not here yet, but she’s close.”
I hugged her, my worries ebbing. “Thank you.” I wouldn’t ask her for more—her spirit gliding ability drained her quickly, and it was wrong to take advantage of her gift. And Tara is coming.
I squared my shoulders and took my place before the wooden platform, clasping my hands behind my back to mask the clamminess of my palms. As the other members of the council took their seats, I tried to pretend my life didn’t depend on a hot-tempered Lirien who saw me as his captor.
Ciaran had done me a favor by insisting on guarding Rykr himself ensuring he made it here unharmed. What happens after that … is up to Rykr and Seth. Two men I can’t trust.
I hated being this vulnerable.
The row of candidates sitting together tugged at my heart—Esme should be there. Ciaran’s younger sister, Moira, caught my eye and offered a small wave, her smile quick but warm. She was Esme’s friend.
Gods, I miss her.
But I hate the Liriens more for taking her.
I lifted my chin as Soroush began the meeting, his voice so paper-thin that it barely carried over the crowd. He might help me, as he obviously knew about the oath. But he hadn’t looked at me once.
He gestured to Seth, who stood. “The council calls forth the matter of Seren Ragnall and the Lirien she brought into our encampment three days ago.”
Attentive silence followed, and all eyes were focused on me. Everyone already knew what had happened—stories traveled fast here. This would feed the gossip mill for months.
“Allow the Lirien to approach the council.” Soroush waved a leathery hand forward.
Ciaran led Rykr down the main aisle, Vangar guards behind them.
Rykr had been striking with his golden hair, but the dark hair he had now suited him even more.
Despite the irons binding his wrists and ankles, Rykr carried himself like a man who’d allowed himself to be bound, not one who had been forced.
Even in chains, he radiated strength—his broad shoulders set firm, his stance unwavering, as if daring anyone to challenge him.
The crowd noticed him, too. A hum of murmurs arose, particularly among the women, craning their necks for a better view of him.
Ciaran halted when Rykr was beside me, inclining his head toward Seth before retreating to sit beside Amahle. Rykr had been furious with me after being bound, so I wasn’t surprised that he wouldn’t look at me now.
Seth approached, his eyes sweeping over Rykr with distaste. “What’s your name, Lirien?”
Rykr shifted his weight and surveyed the gathering space, a muscle in his forearm flexing.
“Rykr Westhaven.”
“And where are you from?”
“Pendara.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Really?” Rykr’s broad shoulders flexed back, a flicker of annoyance in his face. “I’m Sealed. Unless you don’t trust your own eyes, your question is pointless.”
Seth’s expression darkened further.
I cringed. Gods, he’s arrogant. I stepped closer to Rykr, lowering my voice so only he could hear. “Don’t antagonize him. Keep a level head, or we’ll both die today.”
Seth studied Rykr, his eyes sharp with unspoken challenge. I knew that look. He’d take advantage of Rykr’s temper if he could. “What were you doing in the Dreadwood?”
“Hunting vuks.” Rykr didn’t bother to look back at Seth as he answered.
Liar. When he’d woken, he’d asked about the “wolf creature”—which meant he didn’t even know what a vuk was. Not that I would give him away.
Seth’s incredulous scoff made me hold my breath. “Seems like a foolhardy mission, considering they’re immortal and impossible to kill.”
“Maybe for you.” Rykr’s eyes flicked back to Seth, lazily.
Dammit, Rykr.
I set my hands on my hips. “Immortal doesn’t mean they can’t die, Seth. If that were true, the entire foundation of our faith would crumble. Valtheron, Gaelric, and Lysia? They were all immortal gods, and they died at the end of the Third Age, saving us all.”
A murmur rippled through the gathering.
“You’ll wait until you’re addressed, Seren. Unrestricted commentary makes for chaotic council meetings.” But he couldn’t ignore my point. “For an immortal to die, it usually involves being killed by a god or a weapon of the gods.”
“Or decapitation and dark magic,” Olivia said from the council’s seats. Her tone was clipped, but the fact that she’d spoken up at all made me hopeful. She wasn’t on my side—but she wasn’t entirely on Seth’s either.
Seth cast her a withering glance before turning back to Rykr. “Did you use any of those means to kill this vuk? Because that would be relevant.”
“No.” Rykr’s arrogance dripped, cold and flat.