Chapter 26 Seren
Seren
A cold bead of sweat traced down the back of my neck, every sense hyperaware of the scene unfolding before me. The crowded throne room shifted and swayed with hushed, muffled whispers cocooning us. We were not welcome.
A chilly breeze swept in through the open windows, carrying with it the scent of snow, and the heavy curtains lining the stone walls rustled.
It offered little comfort against the stifling weight of countless eyes fixed on us.
Beneath it all lingered the cloying perfume of the gathered elite—an ever-present reminder of the luxury they enjoyed, a world far removed from the brutality of the Dreadwood.
My heartbeat pounded.
Rykr stood tall, defiant, in the middle of the room. Refusing to bend the knee.
“Kneel, Westhaven,” Darya hissed.
“Rykr, please.” What the hell was he thinking? This wasn’t the time for stubborn pride.
Rykr’s eyes narrowed. “I thought the Viori had no kings. I didn’t leave one tyrant to bow to another.”
“Lord Haldron was elected as our leader,” Seth snapped beside me.
Haldron left the throne and crossed the room toward us. “Rise,” he said, his voice as brisk as his pace.
He stopped before us, gaze fixed on Rykr.
Thankfully, Rykr kept his eyes averted. “The rumors are true then. Waldren Seth Azad’s tribe harbors a Sealed Lirien.
Given the descriptions I’ve received, I expected someone more …
extraordinary. This is the man who caused such disorder? This savage, beaten, arrogant man?”
Seth stiffened, redness creeping into his face. “My lord, he may not be able to kneel because of injuries he sustained yesterday. If you could but allow us to explain—”
Haldron silenced Seth with nothing more than a pointed glance, the weight of his authority palpable.
“Do you truly believe, Waldren Azad,” he said, voice cold and cutting, “that I remain ignorant of the events in my own territory? That this … aberration of our laws slipped into Emberstone unnoticed? No council hands down a Skorn sentence without my knowledge.” His words carried quiet menace. “We’ve been waiting for you for days.”
The cool fingers of fear wrapped themselves around my throat. Haldron knew? His reach and spies must be everywhere.
Haldron’s attention turned toward me. “Seren Ragnall.” Stepping closer, he took my chin into his hand, lifting my face, his gaze surprisingly intense. This wasn’t just a frank, unforgiving appraisal—but something more. A display of dominance. His power to do with any of us as he pleased.
A hushed note of admiration curled through his voice. “Exquisite.”
My gaze faltered. What?
Just like his inspection, it disarmed me. “Thank you, my lord.” I bowed my head.
“You’re nearly the spitting image of your mother at your age, though your eyes are something else entirely. They remind me …” He didn’t finish the thought, his face clouding, as though lost to a memory.
Then he blinked. “Brogan always had to fight Lucia’s admirers away. And there were many—including me.” He smiled.
I barely avoided gagging in disgust. My father had never spoken of any interaction with Haldron in their youth. Neither of my parents had.
Yet somewhere inside this intimidating man, there had to be someone reasonable—who’d freed my father to go after Esme.
Haldron clucked his tongue, his thumb and forefinger brushing against my chin with deliberate, unnerving gentleness. My skin crawled beneath his touch—not just fear but the suffocating awareness of powerlessness beneath his scrutiny. “I hear you’ve inherited Lucia’s famed spellcraft prowess.”
I fought to steady my breath. Every response felt like walking a razor’s edge.
“The Oath of Bryndis. Clever. An ancient oath—one most of us have never even heard of—that is difficult to dispute. You must care a great deal for this Lirien, to place your life at risk in this manner.”
If he’d heard so much already, then he must know I’d done it out of desperation, not love. Every word out of my mouth could be scrutinized and judged—used against me or to prove that I was a liar.
“I owed him a life debt, as he saved me from a vuk. Killing him would have brought a curse on me.” The words felt like a tangle on my tongue. Even the illusion of confidence receded as I stared at the Viori leader.
I’d never met him before. Most in our tribe would have considered it an honor. But I hadn’t been invited to court, I’d been dragged here for judgment.
“Another ancient curse—the Pendaran life debt.” Haldron raised a thick, silver and blond eyebrow.
“It seems your parents have taught you all they know. Still, tying your soul to a Lirien to save his life smacks of selfish desperation, I must admit. And it does beg the question of why he was in the forest … or how your paths happened to collide.”
More ominously, Haldron added in a low voice, “Then again, only one other Sealed man has ever left Lirien. And who would that be, Seren?”
His challenging tone made my resolve strengthen. Haldron meant to intimidate me before I even had a chance to speak a word. Paint us both as villains.
“My father,” I said, lifting my chin toward Haldron.
“And while that is an intriguing coincidence, that has nothing to do with the fact that I claimed this man with an ancient oath that makes him my spouse and soulmate. It cannot be broken. To reject the legitimacy of my claim would be to invite chaos into our ranks, undermining the very foundation of our people.”
Haldron leaned forward, his blue-green eyes—so unnervingly familiar—fixed on mine.
I tore my eyes away. “An oath made in desperation cannot bind us. You used it to save yourself, not for the good of the Viori. Tell me, Seren, why should we allow you the chance at the Skorn trial? Why shouldn’t we strike you and this Lirien down right now? ”
I didn’t flinch. “Desperation doesn’t invalidate the oath’s power. The gods do not grant such oaths lightly, and they do not allow them to be invoked falsely. The Oath of Bryndis is ancient, yes, but ancient oaths cannot be ignored simply because they are inconvenient.”
I couldn’t afford to appear meek, nor could I come off as too bold. Every word mattered now. I glanced toward the gathered court, appealing to their fears and doubt.
“This isn’t about my survival. The Liriens bind the gifts granted to us by the gods themselves. The Bloodbinding is a defiance of divine will. But the Oath of Bryndis was also given to us by a goddess. So was the Pendaran life debt.”
Then my eyes narrowed at Haldron. “You claim to want to do the will of the gods. Any Ibarran scholar can tell you this oath makes this man mine to claim. Our lives—our very souls—are bound. I am his. And he is mine. If I am Viori, then so is he.”
Haldron shook his head slowly. “And what’s to stop other Viori from twisting ancient laws against us?”
A member of Haldron’s council—a thick, corpulent man—spoke from the dais.
“The Oath of Bryndis has not been invoked in living memory. The texts that she speaks of are locked away in restricted areas of our repository, my lord. The chances of it being repeated are slim. But that still does nothing to foster trust in this Lirien.”
I seized the moment, my pulse thundering in my ears.
“You don’t have to trust him. Trust me.” The words left my mouth faster than I could second-guess them.
I forced myself to hold Haldron’s gaze, fighting the tremor that threatened to creep into my voice.
“Trust that I acted not out of fear, but faith in the divine will of our gods and the oaths—and curses—they gave us. If we discard those declarations from the gods, we are no better than the Liriens who support the Bloodbinding.”
A cold silence followed, and for a heartbeat, I worried. Had I said too much?
Time stretched unbearably, every second like a death knell. Haldron’s expression remained unreadable, but I caught the faintest flicker of doubt in the faces around us.
Seth stepped forward, his voice steady. “Seren acted not for herself alone but for the sake of our people’s laws.
That is why our council chose to leave her fate to the gods through the Skorn trial.
What’s more, skinwraiths attacked our tribe yesterday.
The Lirien single-handedly saved us all.
I owe him my life. What remains of our tribe does as well. We’ve come to seek refuge.”
Seth? The man who’d sworn he wouldn’t help me? I struggled to keep my jaw from falling slack as the room gasped collectively.
Haldron’s face colored. “Skinwraiths?” He stalked toward Rykr. “How did you defeat them?” His question was stated as a demand.
Rykr kept his gaze averted. “I froze them in a blast of ice, then crumbled it.”
“Clever. A clever couple.” Haldron studied Rykr for a moment longer, his eyes flicking toward his hair. “Though I can’t say I’ve ever heard of a Pendaran with the ability to wield ice.”
Worry hummed inside me, stemming from the bond. “The oath that bonded us transferred some of my abilities to him,” I cut in sharply.
“I see.” Haldron’s lips formed a hard line.
He turned slowly, his eyes sweeping across the gathered councilors, as if weighing their reactions before speaking. “The Oath of Bryndis is not a matter to be taken lightly,” he said at last. “Seren Ragnall has invoked it, and by our laws, we are bound to respect it.
“The Lirien will be allowed to remain among us, under the protection of Seren’s oath. Both shall be admitted into the Skorn trial.” He turned away.
“My lord—” I said sharply, my voice strong now. “When the Skorn trial was established, those sentenced were given the chance to cleanse and purify themselves before the gods. I request my husband be freed from his irons and granted this clemency—as was the tradition for centuries.”
A hush came over the watching crowd.
Haldron paused mid-step. After a moment, he swiveled toward me. “As I said, you’re a clever woman, Seren Ragnall.”
“We are nothing without our traditions, my lord.”
Please let this work. Both of us needed rest before the trial.
As the room held its breath, a gentle smile played at Haldron’s lips.
“Very well. If the Lirien has been as heroic as Waldren Azad claims, his irons can be removed as he heals and cleanses his soul before the gods. But understand this, Seren. If he betrays us, the consequences will be yours to bear. The gods will decide your fate at the trial in two days. You must present yourself at the gates of the keep at sunset.”
Solric above. Had it worked? He was letting us walk out of here—free—until the Skorn?
Some of the tension in my shoulders eased. “Yes, my lord. Are we free to go anywhere in Emberstone we wish?”
An intrigued look crossed his features. “Of course.”
“Aren’t you concerned they’ll try to escape, my lord?” one of his councilors said.
“They won’t. No one escapes Emberstone without me knowing about it.”
Something about this felt … too easy. I didn’t dare look back at Rykr.
“You are all dismissed from my presence,” Haldron declared, but his sharp gaze lingered on me. “In the meantime, I’ll send scouts to Waldren Azad’s tribe to investigate this skinwraith raid. If they have invaded the Dreadwood, it may be a sign of dark and forbidden magic that must be rooted out.”
His tone made a prickle of unease stir in my chest. Though maybe it wasn’t my suspicion and worry I was feeling. I caught Rykr’s eye, and through our bond, his distrust shone clearly.
“Can our tribe claim refuge here, my lord?” Seth asked, wariness on his face. “Our homes were destroyed—over seventy of our people slain, with many more wounded. It will take some time for us to reassemble in a new encampment, and our people are scared and tired.”
Haldron’s face softened. “Of course, Waldren Azad. The gates of Emberstone are always open to our most destitute. We will give you lodging in the House of the Veil for the next month.” Then he made his way back toward the dais, the conversation over.
With that, the room rustled to life once again. The onlookers resumed normal levels of conversation.
I stepped closer to Rykr as the guards unshackled his wrists. He rolled his shoulder, flexing his fingers. “Great,” he murmured, his voice hard. “If you can trust anything that would-be king of yours says.”
I swallowed hard. “We should go.”
Rykr leaned closer toward me, his lips at my ear. “I’d advise you to get me a sword as soon as possible, Seren.” Rykr’s voice was low, edged with barely concealed hatred. “That man won’t think twice about stabbing us in the back when the crowd isn’t watching.”
Through our bond, I felt the searing anger that burned within him, but beneath it lay something more—deep, consuming unease. Rykr didn’t trust easily, and in this moment, neither did I. Haldron’s kindness felt more like a trap waiting to be sprung.
I didn’t know what or why I felt this way—maybe it was the intensity of Rykr’s feelings clouding my own—but he was right: we needed to be careful.