Chapter 35 Stark
STARK
It happens in a heartbeat. One moment, Meryn is settling Lucien’s golden crown on top of her silver-white hair.
The next, she’s crumpled over, her stunning face slack.
My stomach plummets.
I leap out of my chair just as she falls and catch her drooping body. Her head hits my lap—but it came so close to smashing onto the stone floor.
Fuck. Hot panic seizes in my chest.
There’s a screech of chairs as both Venna and Noemi leap up, blades drawn. All the Astreonans look at us in offense.
My hands tighten roughly around Meryn’s limp arms.
She’s dead, my brain shouts at me. She’s dead, and it’s your fault. You couldn’t protect her, just like you couldn’t protect Noemi.
You let her die thinking you were a coward.
But—her body is still warm. And her chest moves up and down in slow, steady breaths.
“Cratos,” I reach out. “Is Anassa okay?”
He confirms that they’re both fine, and my tense muscles relax ever so slightly. This is exactly what happened when she first put on the Sturmfrost crown.
I start to breathe again. Thank fuck. I still have time.
Her words from when we crossed the border have been on incessant repeat in my head.
I know what I am. I know what I’m capable of. I’ve never shied away from my reputation because I’m proud of it. It was earned through the labored destruction of all the softest parts of myself.
And those words—What are you if not my equal?—have unraveled everything.
The idea of tainting her rule, of corrupting her ability to lead righteously, has haunted me. But… what if her darkness doesn’t need to be shunned, but tamed?
And what if I can help her tame it?
Lucien Brightbane smirks down at us. The terror this caused me has… amused him. My fists clench as I contemplate punching that expression clear out of his kingdom.
“She better not have so much as a fucking bruise on her body,” I hiss. “Or there will be consequences.”
He doesn’t even flinch. “Consequences, hmm? Yes, I’m sure you’re used to doling those out.
You’re famous here, too, you know, Alpha Stark.
Should there be consequences for all the tattoos you wear?
All the people of mine whose lives you’ve taken?
The one you just took after crossing my border, or how about the mass casualties you and the queen wrought before our ceasefire? ”
I scowl, and he dares to laugh.
“I suppose we can call that all in the fairness of war,” he drawls. “But I’m not afraid of you, if that’s what you’re hoping.”
“No,” I say, “I expect you’re not. But you should be afraid of her.” I incline my head toward Meryn. The red of her dress looks so much like the gruesome spill of blood. “You have no idea what she’s capable of, and I hope for your sake that you never find out.”
That’s a lie. I’d love to watch her explode his head.
Lucien’s lips press into a thin, calculating line as he looks more closely at Meryn—who chooses this moment to stir.
“Stark.” She swallows and tries to sit up, but I hold her firmly.
“You collapsed the moment you put on Lucien’s crown.” The words come out rote, a soldier reporting to his commander. But inside, I am burning. “Your body went rigid before crumpling to the floor. I caught you before your skull hit stone, but you have been unresponsive for several minutes.”
“I’m fine,” she tells me in a rush. She grabs my arm and squeezes tight. Hard so that it hurts. “Stark, I’m all right.”
My hand sifts through her hair, curling into a fist briefly, pulling a little. I knew she was okay almost immediately, and still—relief rushes through me in a wave.
“Get me up,” Meryn grumbles. “I look like an idiot down here.”
Guiding her upright, I wrap my calloused hand around hers and bring her with me as I stand. Her legs are slightly shaky.
Her hand stays in mine as I lead her back to her seat. Noemi and Venna watch us closely. Watching the Astreonans. Tension still hangs thick in the air.
Meryn’s fingers tremble slightly as she reaches up and pulls Lucien’s crown from her head. She turns to Lucien and then thuds his crown down on the table.
He just smirks in response.
One more fucking smug upturn of his mouth and I’m going to cut off his lips. He might not be afraid of me, but I bet this vain prick fears being hideous.
Lucien settles the crown back over his perfect white-blond head of hair. He sighs as he does it, as if it’s heavy.
“What was that bracelet in the vision?” Meryn asks. “The one Alistair was using on those people.”
I stiffen. “Bracelet?”
“Just like mine,” she responds grimly.
Lucien reaches up and rubs his crown with two fingers, just above his ear. Then he lets his arm fall limp into his lap.
“My brother has always been the most powerful Siphon I’ve ever encountered.
But,” he says with a weary sigh, “to explain, you first need to understand that all Siphons possess blood magic that allows us to create thralls, as I mentioned earlier. It’s not just a blood exchange; it binds the humans to us. ”
My gut twists. I knew they could turn humans, but this? Binding people to them?
Sick fucks.
“An exchange,” Meryn repeats placidly. “So two ways?”
“Yes, reciprocal drinking is involved—the Siphon of the human’s blood, and the human of the Siphon’s. Just a bit, not enough to turn them.”
I’m clenching my jaw so tight that my teeth start to ache.
Lucien continues. “The bond gives the Siphon a degree of control over the human. This is different from creating a mental illusion. It allows one to compel the human to do things. But it naturally has limits. The thrall connection requires regular renewal through fresh blood exchanges and weakens significantly with distance.”
He leans closer to Meryn. His body language is relaxed, but his eyes are intense. Any closer and I’m going to impel this whole fucking dinner table over.
“Most important,” he says, “the creation of a thrall traditionally requires consent from both parties.”
Meryn’s eyes narrow. “Sounds like a great deal for Siphons. What do humans get out of this supposedly consensual exchange?”
I’m wondering the same thing.
“Heightened senses,” he replied. “Not quite at the level of Siphon powers. But they’re able to move faster, see farther. Taste, smell, and hear better. Touch is particularly heightened, which has particular uses for humans.”
His smile takes on a pointed edge, and his meaning is very clear.
My eyes dart across the table to Noemi. She’s gone pale, revulsion written across her face. She’s clutching her dinner knife so tightly that her knuckles are going white. She’s as repulsed as I am, and I wish for once that we were in the same pack so I could check in on her.
“Understood,” Meryn says stiffly.
Lucien leans back again, his eyes growing slightly distant.
“Alistair discovered through experimentation that he could create a piece of jewelry that worked like a thrall bond but with none of the natural limits. These ‘thrall bracelets’ maintained their power indefinitely and allowed for complete control over a human’s mind regardless of distance.
And the humans received no benefits from it. ”
Meryn’s face instantly pales, and my blood runs cold. We both know what this means.
“The jewel at the center of each bracelet is created by mixing a human’s blood with a Siphon’s, but since the human doesn’t have to actively drink the Siphon’s blood to establish the connection, it enables nonconsensual bonds—as long as the Siphon can acquire the human’s blood, by any means, they can create a bracelet. ”
Meryn looks dizzy.
“Did he have your blood?” I demand, violence starting to hum to life in my veins.
“Tons of it,” she replies weakly. “He was always… caring for me. Wiping my blood up after fights or training. Tending to my wounds.”
It takes all my control not to race back to Cratos and return to Nocturna to hunt him down.
We’re going to invent new ways for Killian Valtiere to die.
Shadows start to stir around the edges of the room. Lucien’s eyes slide over to them and narrow, assessing.
“Now is not the time, princess,” I tell Meryn, trying to snap her out of it. Her power is thrilling, but the person she wants to harm isn’t here.
She takes a breath and the shadows abate, but she looks wrecked. “It was from the very start,” she whispers into the bond. “From the very beginning of our relationship.”
Lucien reaches for his glass. After a long sip, he continues, swirling the golden liquid.
“Of course, such magic was immediately outlawed throughout Astreona as an abomination—a fundamental violation of autonomy. But it didn’t matter to Alistair. He continued to create thrall bracelets in secret, eventually leading to his exile from the kingdom.”
Meryn seems entirely unable to speak.
“Do you know how to get them off?” I ask him tightly. “Is it possible?”
Lucien shakes his head. “Only the creator can remove them. If the wearer can get it off themselves, by any means, they die. It’s one of the many reasons they are outlawed.”
The corruption in our magic. The way he’s using Meryn’s shadows. It’s all going to stay until he’s dead.
Fuck.
At least he doesn’t seem to have any compulsion powers over her. If he had, surely he would’ve forced Meryn to come to him by now.
Meryn’s eyes go to her wrist and linger there.
I’m not the only one who sees it.
Lucien grabs her hand, face full of suspicion. In one swift move, he yanks up her sleeve, exposing the bracelet to the entire table.
An immediate shock wave rips through the room.
The Astreonans recoil, averting their eyes and darting away as if Meryn’s a plague victim and they don’t want to breathe her air. The only exception among the court is Elias, who glares at the bracelet on her wrist.
Noemi and Venna and I all shift closer to her.
A tense moment of silence follows, followed by a white blur.
And then there’s a blade at Meryn’s throat.