CHAPTER 55
While Kindra had planned to see Jasper before she did anything else the next day, King Leofric had different plans.
When she’d awoken that morning, Cerulle had delivered the news that Jasper was awake and asking for her. Within an hour, she was being rolled down the castle halls in a wheeled chair. She didn’t feel as unsteady as she had yesterday, but Sala and her mother had been insistent that she continue to rest as much as possible.
But halfway to Jasper’s rooms, the king intercepted them.
“Princess Kindra,” he greeted her. He’d looked as though he’d seen better days; but then again, everyone in the castle did. While before, the atmosphere had been fraught with tension, now there was a haunted, terrified air wherever she went, every person she passed wearing the same grief-stricken, stunned expression.
Kindra did her best to hide her dread, bowing her head. “Your Majesty.”
“I’m glad to see you are recovering.” He sounded like he meant it; she knew better than to take his desire for her well-being as compassion. “I assume you are on your way to see Prince Jasper?”
She nodded. “Yes. I was told he is awake and asking for me.”
The king nodded. “Yes. But he will understand if I divert your attention for a moment.” Her displeasure must have shown briefly on her face, for he said, “Just a brief conversation.” He didn’t wait for an answer. He jerked his head at Cerulle. “I will escort her from here.” The Windspinner bowed and left without so much as a glance at Kindra, but she didn’t miss the stiffness in her shoulders as she walked away .
King Leofric came behind her and took hold of the handles of her chair, pushing her forward. They didn’t speak.
He wheeled her down the hall, taking a left turn where he should’ve taken a right and leading her instead to a stone balcony that overlooked the front of the castle. It was empty, save for a lone statue and a few benches.
The snow that had fallen the morning of her wedding was starting to melt, leaving the landscape gray and muddy. The air was crisp; she called some of her magic up to just under her skin, warming her.Much to her relief, it felt less sluggish and weak than it did yesterday.
The king pushed her over to the edge of the balcony. For a brief, paranoid moment, she wondered if he planned to toss her over—just kill her right then and there and get it over with.
But he did no such thing. Rather, he came to stand beside her, overlooking his kingdom. Before them, the city of Wendrith sprawled, smoke billowing up into the air from chimneys.
Kindra broke the silence. “How is Queen Cordilya?”
“She has still not awoken,” the king replied stiffly. “The Healers are not sure why she has continued to sleep.” It was clearly causing him a great amount of distress, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly as he spoke.
“I hope she wakes up soon,” she said, and he merely grunted in response.
Another taut silence stretched between them.
When Leofric finally spoke, he said, “Breyenth, Laoruwen and Pryllia have officially declared war against Alverin.” His voice was flat, as if he were simply reporting the weather.
Kindra nodded, not surprised. “I take it they were responsible for the attack at the ball?”
“Surprisingly, they claim they had no part in the planning or execution of it. But they made it very clear in their joint declaration that they fully support any and all attempts to achieve justice . They intend to slaughter us. They’ve made that much clear.” Now, his voice grew bitter, mocking. “I suppose you have more empathy for them than I do.”
She risked looking up at him and found he was still gazing outward. “I never claimed to have any empathy for them,” she said. “Only that I could understand how history might have led them to this point.”
“Is that not empathy, Princess?”
“I would say it’s less empathy and more logic, Your Majesty,” she replied with a bit more bite than she intended. “It has nothing to do with my loyalty towards Alverin.”
She could’ve sworn the king’s body flared with heat at the retort. “You are God-blessed,” he said, changing the subject.
“Yes.” No use in denying it.
“It was quite the feat, what you accomplished when you called upon Scaldor. So many Shadowmasters, gone in moments.” He cast a sideways glance at her. “It would be a boon to have in battle.”
Kindra understood very plainly what this conversation was then. “Your Majesty, the cost of using such power—”
“Yes, yes, I know. It exhausts you; it can drive you to madness—I read those journals, too. Many more times than you have.” At Kindra’s blink, he continued, now facing her fully. “Did you think I was a fool, bringing up Queen Scalya to you, alluding to the fact that I believed you to be like her?” He laughed, as if amused that she’d think him so indiscreet. “You may curl your lip at how I treat my son, but I’ve always paid attention. I knew he’d tried to access those journals many times, being the scholar he is. I knew he’d point you in that direction, and I knew you would go. I knew you’d figure that you could use my name to get access to them, because nobody would dare go against one of my requests.”
He leaned down so he was eye-to-eye with her, face merely inches away. Kindra resisted the urge to shrink down in her chair. She hated how helpless she was.
“So, I ask you, Kindra, are you daring to go against one of my requests?”
“You want me to fight for you,” she breathed. “You want me to risk my life on the battlefield?” Desperately, she asked, “What about the curse?”
“Why would I focus on a hypothetical magical child when I have a God-blessed Firefury right now?” The king scoffed, like he found the very notion ridiculous. “A child is necessary to continue the bloodline, but it would be an offense to the gods—to Scaldor—if I let you waste away producing children instead of using you to your full potential.”
“Which is to be your weapon.” Kindra managed to shake her head. “Your Majesty, it’s not as if I can call upon this power on a whim. It’s up to Scaldor. I cannot make demands of a god. Even you should know that.”
“Oh, I do. I’ve been screaming at them my whole life and they’ve never listened. But in bringing you to me... perhaps they’ve finally tossed me a bone.” He smiled, and Kindra’s stomach turned.
“What if I am killed before I can produce an heir?” How horrifying, to now be using one of the ideas she used to hate the most as a way to avoid a far worse fate.
“You will not be killed, dear girl. You are too gifted for that, even without Scaldor’s power blasting through you. And I am not an idiot—I would not send you to every front line. You will be used sparingly, only when the people need to see you the most. So, you don’t have to worry about that.” His smile vanished. “Unless you let foolishness take the lead. And then, well.” He clicked his tongue. “I cannot save you.”
Because I will be the one who kills you. She heard the unspoken threat loud and clear.
She also knew quite plainly what this was: the king was making a quick move to exert control over her. He was making his authority known: God-blessed or not, she still had to bow to him.
But that was how it was always going to be. She’d known for a while: she would obey, bending until she finally snapped, and even then, the alternative was not to outright refuse, it was to simply flee.
“When would you have me go?” she asked, and he grinned in earnest now, pleased that she’d relented.
“Oh, it will be months yet. We’ll let them expend their energy in their initial assault. They’ll be aggressive in their attack strategy—they’ve no choice but to be if they want a chance at defeating us. But it will wear their armies out, especially during the winter. And then you will walk onto the field, call upon your god, and burn them to ash. And even if he decides not to show up, you will still deliver a devastating blow. Soon, just your presence alone will be enough to stoke terror and sway battles in our favor.”
She hated him; hated how she was being backed even further into this cage, forced to become some murderous weapon she never wanted to be .
Leofric stood back up to his full height. “Scaldor abandoned us long ago. I’ll never understand why he did not save us from that curse—what is some mortal girl’s power against that of a god?” He shook his head, turning once again to survey his kingdom. “Everything we did, we did in his name. His image. But it was not enough for him.” He looked down his nose at her. “But for whatever reason, he has decided to gift you with an ability he once reserved for this family. One that you are now a part of. So, you will do your duty, as Scalya did, and you will defend this kingdom in its time of need.”
There was no question. No promise of consequences—that was unnecessary, for she already knew them.
So she turned out to face the horizon. “Yes, Your Majesty.” She hated how tired and defeated she sounded.
The king went behind her again and began wheeling her inside. “I’m glad we had this talk, Princess Kindra.” At her silence, he said, “And do not be mistaken—I am immensely grateful for your actions during the attack. You saved many lives. That act will not be forgotten.”
He pushed her down the halls until they reached Jasper’s rooms. He handed her chair to Tomas, who was posted outside the doors.
“My apologies to my son for keeping him waiting. It was of utmost importance that Kindra and I speak.” Before he left, Leofric met her gaze one last time. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Kindra read the warning there.
Tomas grabbed hold of her chair as the king vanished around the corner. The guard noted her weary expression. “Are you all right, Your Highness?” His eyes flicked briefly to where the king had been.
Kindra swallowed. “Who is, right now?” She offered him a weak smile. “I’d just like to see Jasper, please.”
Tomas studied her, and then nodded. Before he opened the doors, he said softly, “You stopped an assassin from running me clean through with a blade at the attack. Thank you. Your power—it’s extraordinary. A true gift.”
“So I’ve been told,” she sighed as he wheeled her into Jasper’s chambers.