Chapter 12
Rykr
“Come with me. Both of you. Now.” Tara grabbed Seren’s elbow, dragging her away from the stall.
For someone who claimed to hate Lirien, Seren looked just as shaken as I was.
Worse, actually. She’d thrown up.
But I wanted to kill every person in sight.
Lucia rushed behind us.
I didn’t register her words. My mind bubbled with raw, searing thoughts, my heart pounding.
Dead.
My father. Dead.
My brothers. Gone.
The men who had raised me, who had shaped my world—murdered.
How? And why? Gods, why?
The litany repeated, over and over, never inching closer to becoming a reality I could accept.
And—Dalric. Stripped and brutalized, his corpse trussed up like a trophy. My friend, whose only crime had been his loyalty.
I should be rotting in his place.
The attackers thought they’d killed me.
Fear gripped me.
Seth had only mentioned my brothers and father. What happened to Malin? My sister’s horror must be unimaginable. My brother’s wives and their children—had they been threatened? None of my nephews were of age, but they were still in line for the throne.
I needed to leave immediately and go back to Ederyn, but I was trapped in the Dreadwood with the family of the man who’d killed my mother.
Tara stopped behind the stall, her face dark. “Clean yourself up, Seren.” She handed her sister a handkerchief. “And you”—she turned to me—”no one will believe you want to be Viori if you don’t wipe that look of hatred off your face.”
“For gods’ sake, Tara, show some sympathy,” Seren snapped, her tear-streaked face hardening. “How would you feel if the Viori leadership was suddenly gone? If Father or Madoc were displayed like his prince?”
Why is she crying?
She hated Lirien. And my family.
Tara gave her a look of horrified shock.
“Do you even hear what you’re saying?” She pointed back toward the crowd.
“That prince out there? You know what his nickname was? ‘The Scourge of the Viori.’ Know why? Because he torched an entire Viori encampment three years ago after hunting down a group of Viori boys who were playing near the border.”
I stiffened, my blood burning with fury. “As I recall, it wasn’t quite as innocent as you’re claiming. Those boys, as you call them, kidnapped a young Doban child and tortured him for their own amusement.”
“So, the response is to start a fire that ruined dozens of lives? That’s not justice.
” Tara narrowed her eyes. “And it has no bearing on you right now anyway. You already have a target on your back. Every ounce of your efforts should be spent showing everyone you hate Lirien, too. That you want to be one of us.”
“I don’t want to join the fucking Viori,” I snapped. “If I could, I’d kill every last one of you barbarians.”
Barely able to breathe, I stalked past them into the tall grass until my knees buckled, and I stumbled onto my shins. The irons rattled as I covered my face.
I couldn’t think about Malin. That was too close to torment.
How can they all be dead?
How was it possible I’d never hear their voices ever again?
Erik, Gunnar, Bjorn, Evander, Torsten, Hector.
All. Gone.
I’d been cut off from them during my two-year exile.
And now …
Gods.
And then there was the other grim realization. I was the true heir.
I had no desire for a throne. I didn’t want to be king. I’d spent a lifetime watching power corrode, politics rot people from the inside out—no one remained unscathed. Even my brothers compromised their ideals in favor of weak stances that “kept the peace.”
How could I even be king? Without my father to remove my Seal, was I bound to it forever? What was the law? Or was I free to bend it to my will now, as my father had?
Not that any of it mattered.
Because I don’t want to be king.
I was the youngest. Not like Erik, who’d spent his whole life preparing for the role. By the time I’d been born, no one had given more than a passing thought to the possibility of me being heir.
An icy wind cut through the trees, wrapping me in its desolate, cruel grip. My eyes stung, my jaw clenched so hard that my teeth ached.
Or I could just let them think they’d killed me. Disappear forever. No one would ever know.
No one has to know the truth.
Whatever twist of fate had brought me here, to these savages, to a woman who’d bound herself in sacred blood magic to me—the tempting voice in my head threaded doubt and confusion into my resolve.
No. I can’t.
If the Viori had murdered my brothers, it had taken precise, strategic planning.
They must have had help, too, from within Lirien.
Traitors who might kill me the second I returned to Ederyn.
Traitors who were likely threatening everything I’d come from.
These savages had murdered my family and Dalric.
Like it or not, I had to return. I couldn’t abandon Ederyn to chaos—especially not if Malin or any of my other family had survived. They needed a king. And whether I wanted it or not, I was the only one left.
But what was I supposed to do?
A dagger landed in the grass beside me, burying itself into the soft earth.
Tara approached, her expression wary. “Right. So, you’re suitably distracted. You didn’t even hear it coming toward you.” She paused and sat beside me.
Maybe she is the evil twin.
Seren’s older sister shared her features, but stood taller, was more muscular. Where Seren’s beauty was delicate, inherited from her mother, Tara carried herself differently—sharp, direct, as if she took after someone else entirely.
“Respectfully, Tara, you can fuck off. Unless you can get me back to Lirien, I don’t need your advice.” I had bigger concerns than anything Tara was worried about.
She grinned. “If you think I’m here to be your friend, then you’ve got me confused with my sister.
” She pulled the dagger out of the ground and handed it to me.
“The only thing I care about is my sister, understood? As it so happens, thanks to that oath she took—which you seem grateful for, by the way—that means keeping you alive. Now get up and start acting like her husband who wants to join our people, instead of sulking over royals who never knew you existed.”
I hadn’t expected sympathy, but her bluntness was almost refreshing.
She didn’t know and couldn’t care less that I’d just been served the most devastating news of my life. I wanted to burn the world down and she wanted me to lick my wounds and go play the ridiculous game keeping me alive.
Yet … what choice do I have?
Without a plan—hell, without someone to trust—I was as good as dead. If anyone learned who I really was, and if I didn’t break the bond with Seren, she’d be a constant threat to my life.
For now, I was stuck here.
I scowled, then tucked the dagger into the side of my boot. “Fine. But don’t expect me to celebrate.” Somehow, I’d retrieve Dalric’s body. My friend deserved a proper burial.
“That’s fair.” She gestured toward the dagger. “I’ll get you a sheath later today. Seren didn’t arm you?”
I shook my head.
“I’ll handle it. She’s had a lot on her mind … Or didn’t trust you enough. I’ll ask her.” She stood, glowering at me. “Oh, and one more thing—”
“What’s that?”
“Word travels fast. People are already whispering about whether that bond’s real.
Seth will use any excuse to call it fake.
If he finds out you two haven’t consummated the marriage, he’ll twist it against you.
Either fix it or make sure no one finds out.
Personally, I’d pick the first. My mother seems to think there will be signs that …
erm, your bond … is deepening. Others in the tribe familiar with Ibarran magic might expect that, too. And Seth is watching.”
Really?
Never once had a protective sister encouraged me to bed their sibling. I’d experienced the opposite more than once—Dalric had forbidden me from even talking to his sister. The thought of consummating this marriage made me feel like a stud horse.
But if Seth turned the tribe against us, we wouldn’t last a day. Not unless I found a way to gain their trust—or at least keep them from stabbing me in my sleep.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I lied.
“Good. Since you look better, tomorrow we start training for the Skorn. I gave you the day off today because you were impaired, but you and Seren can join my squadron tomorrow for drills.”
I raised my brows. Did she really think she could teach me something? Or did she know Seren was the weakest link but wouldn’t disparage her sister? “I look forward to it.”
I dragged myself up as she walked back to the stall. Seren and her mother had already returned. Beyond them, the Viori continued celebrating, jeering at the oxcart carrying the body of my friend.
My head pounded, a thousand thoughts assailing me at once.
I needed to block the images swimming in my mind of my family, Malin, my home. Of Dalric. Does Thorne know?
This was going to be the longest day of my life.
At least my secrets were buried deep. For now, that would keep me safe.
I gritted my teeth and Seren pivoted her head toward me, then looked away.
“Don’t look at him.”
Her voice?
No. That was impossible. Just grief playing tricks on my mind. But her reaction … it had mirrored mine too closely, as if she felt it with me. Not physically, but emotionally. The thought gnawed at me, refusing to let go.
I furrowed my brow.
The bond had me questioning the limits of what was possible. She’d felt my pain yesterday. Now this?
A strange instinct simmered inside me. Her visceral reaction told me we were sharing more than I’d expected. More than I wanted.
The godsdamned bond was growing stronger, but how?
No. She was a Ragnall, and I would never trust a Ragnall.
What if she could hear my thoughts, too?
Oh fuck.
If she learned who I really was … I wouldn’t just be trapped. I’d be dead.
Whether or not this bond was broken, I knew one thing—come nightfall, I was leaving.