Chapter 11 #2
My breath hitched. The thought of my father—of his history with Lirien, of the king who’d put a bounty on his head—settled like a stone in my chest. And now that threat was all too real. For all I knew, the spy who’d captured Esme had dragged Father back to Suomelin now, too.
Instead, I said, “My mother tells me the repositories in Suomelin are so filled with books you can barely see the ceilings.”
“That’s a slight exaggeration, but yes, the repositories are vast. But I take it you can’t go there?”
“None of the Viori are allowed to leave. If we do, we’re treated as Liriens if we return. But my family isn’t welcome in Lirien anyway. If any of us—” I’d said too much.
Rykr has no intention of staying here.
Not that it mattered now. What my father had always feared had happened. Someone had found him. Tried to manipulate him.
We reached the stall where my mother and Tara were already setting out wares.
Mother’s sharp gaze swept over me before flicking to Rykr, her worry barely concealed. Why do I feel like she’s not telling me everything about the oath?
Or maybe she just hates that I bound myself to a Lirien.
“You’re walking upright,” Mother said to Rykr, astonishment in her voice.
“Apparently, your salves work better than most. Thank you. The pain is manageable.” He offered a polite smile.
“Well, that’s lucky for you. How is the happy couple this morning?” Tara teased. “Thanks to you two, I spent most of the night washing our cart—it still smells like death. I can’t get the stench out of my hands.”
Rykr stiffened beside me. “Thank you for your help yesterday, Tara. And for getting my sword.”
“I’m sorry Seth took it before I could return it to you.” Tara made a face. “Just so you know, I saw him wearing it today. I’d suggest both of you try to look the other way.”
Seth didn’t just want Rykr gone, he wanted him humiliated first. He wanted us humiliated. Every move he made felt like a calculated insult, daring us to strike back.
The muscles in Rykr’s arms went taut. “He’s parading around with it? What an—”
“Watch your tongue,” Mother clucked softly, nodding toward people near us, setting up their stalls. “We have enough trouble without you stirring up more.”
I could practically see the retort forming on the tip of Rykr’s tongue. Then he caught my eye and something in his expression softened. “What can I do to help you here?”
Tara nodded toward a crate of jarred honey. “Set those out on that table.” She gestured to where she’d started to set out pelts. “The market opens soon.”
As Rykr moved over there, irons clinking, my sister’s eyes lingered on him.
“I’ll help you,” Mother said, her voice flat. She probably didn’t trust him to do it right.
When Rykr was out of earshot, Tara leaned in. “He doesn’t look like a flogged and wounded man ... or a satiated one,” she hissed.
“For gods’ sake, Tara.”
She raised a brow. “People will talk. Besides, I thought you wanted to convince everyone he’s your lover?”
“He has healing powers. And he’s leaving as soon as we can break the bond, so that’s not happening. We don’t have a genuine marriage.” Seeing her skepticism, I faltered. Tara hated Liriens. Why was she pushing this? “He’s a fucking Lirien, Tara.”
“I don’t care if he’s a shapeshifter. If you don’t consummate that marriage, it’s not valid—even with your oath. You’re giving Seth another chance to attack you both. Just get it over with for your own protection. Who knows, you might enjoy it.”
“I’m not that desperate, thanks.” Not to mention that Mother warned me that sex would only deepen the bond.
Tara’s tone was light, but her eyes weren’t. I knew that look. Beneath her bravado, she was worried. Scared. She hated Liriens, but she hated the thought of losing someone else she loved more.
She has a right to be afraid. Tara rarely talked about her feelings, but Madoc being gone had to be weighing on her. And she was furious about Esme.
“This marriage is keeping him alive. And Mother said if he dies, you’ll die too, Seren—and that there will be visible signs you’ve consummated the thing.
That blood oath was reckless. Binding souls is a lot more serious than taking vows.
Trust me, if it was only his life on the line, I wouldn’t care.
But I can’t lose another sibling. Not over something as trivial as meaningless sex.
And yes, he’s a Lirien, but he’s also protected you.
Twice. A hot and clearly virile man who can’t hurt you without hurting himself—and who seems honorable—what’s the big deal? ”
Visible signs? I didn’t show my worry and gave her a hard look. “Even if I agreed to it, I’m not the only one involved.”
Tara rolled her eyes. “He’s a man … I’m sure he won’t object. Give him some wine if it helps. For that matter, drink some yourself. You look like you could use a good roll in the hay.”
“It’s not that simple,” I said. And it wasn’t. Not for me.
I hadn’t had sex since Seth—a fact I wasn’t going to admit to Tara.
Even though the opportunity had been there, something had always stopped me.
The idea of it made me feel sick to my stomach, a lingering shame that made me shudder when I remembered that last night with Seth.
Of being in his arms, whispering my love to him.
What a stupid fool I was.
The distant sound of bells stopped our conversation short. The market was beginning.
I stepped out from the stall, shading my eyes from the glare. We only used this open field for the market, and I was used to the shade of the forest. Once, I’d found the openness refreshing. But after the last month, I felt exposed.
This was one of the prettier encampments our tribe had settled. Beyond the field, the snow-capped mountains hazed in the distance. Streams flourished here, and we never lacked fresh water. We’d even found a hot spring where I occasionally went for a private bath, even in the winter.
A part of me wondered if we hadn’t left this place because people were tired of moving. Maybe they wanted to stay settled somewhere beautiful, like this.
The bells from the main square continued to chime. Then came a strange hubbub—people running, cheering, beating drums, and chanting.
Tara and I exchanged a look.
What in Nyxva?
People near our stall had noticed, too. Everyone peered toward the tree line, where a group approached from the forest, hauling a cart. The celebrating throng surrounded them.
A group of Vangar warriors.
Rykr approached me. “Is everyone normally so rowdy this early?”
“No, something’s happened.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I-I don’t know.” The cart rolled out of the woods, revealing a gruesome sight: a dead man, stripped naked and disemboweled, lashed to an X-shaped cross. His head lolled with each jolt of the cart.
Rykr’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. Then his body went rigid.
As the Vangar warrior drew closer, Seth emerged from behind them, moving to the forefront. He settled the boisterous group, then shouted, “King Magnus and his sons are dead—the direct royal Lirien bloodline has been destroyed.”
A deafening whoop rose through the people, shrieks of happiness and drumbeats so loud they rattled through me.
But then something else tore at me.
Pain. Deep, searing pain.
I gasped, clutching my chest as though invisible fingers had wrapped around my ribs and squeezed. My balance wavered, and I grasped Rykr’s arm, steadying myself against the onslaught of emotions. What is happening?
I should have felt joy. This was a victory. And yet, all I could feel was despair.
I turned toward Rykr, my heart pounding as though it might burst.
Rykr’s fists clenched at his sides. His face betrayed nothing, but his eyes burned with fury, and the bond between us surged with his seething anger. A flicker of grief pulsed then, so fleeing I almost missed it.
Oh gods. Rykr.
He wanted more than to draw blood. He wanted revenge.
I wanted to believe it was just the bond making me feel his rage.
But part of me knew better. His fury wasn’t just his, it was ours, shared through the connection tying us together.
The bond made it harder to tell where his anger ended and mine began.
My body trembled, my hands gripped my sides as I tried to hold on to myself—to something that was just me.
Seth held up his hands again, waiting as the Viori settled.
“The king and his sons were all murdered on the same day, at the same hour. Vangar mounted their heads on pikes outside the Golden City for all to witness—all except one, whom our Vangar caught in Pendara. I present to you, Prince Calix Warrick.” He gestured to the man in the cart. “Tonight, we celebrate!”
The raucous clamor was even louder than before.
But inside me—inside my soul—agony splintered. Was this coming from Rykr? Why? What is this feeling?
My mouth went dry as I stared at the dead prince. His lifeless eyes, his face frozen with shock and pain—as though his death had been torment.
Then I lost the contents of my stomach in the grass.