Chapter 41 Meryn
MERYN
Will you accept him?” His calm voice covers a dark storm within.
I rear back with the limited strength I have. “No!”
His jaw clenches underneath his dark stubble.
“If I were thinking like the Sovereign Alpha—” His voice catches, and I think again that emotion is brewing under the surface for him, thoughts about Siegrid’s death he’s not sure how to voice yet.
“If I were a better Sovereign Alpha, I would tell you you should do it. You should marry someone politically meaningful, especially if it would save our country.”
Stark’s eyes meet mine, and now I’m the one who can’t breathe because there’s so much written in his gaze.
The weight of last night’s words linger between us. He did want that for me at one point—to be with someone he thought better fit the image of a queen. I thought we moved beyond that.
Is he going to reject me again?
“But?” The word comes out of me as a whisper.
“I’d damn every last soul to stay by your side, Meryn.”
My cheeks heat, and something in my chest breaks open wide. I reach up to his face and draw a finger down his jaw, then kiss him gently. He responds with hunger, his tongue licking into my mouth like he needs to taste every part of me.
Eventually, I pull away, resting my forehead against his.
“Well, thankfully for the citizens of Nocturna, you don’t have to make that decision.
I can’t do it. Even if I wanted to, which I don’t.
The foresight showed me that if we get married, it would still end the same way: Killian wins and everyone I love is dead. ”
Stark’s posture changes, ever so slightly, as he takes in how serious I am.
“Did you figure out the path forward?” he asks gruffly.
I shake my head, confused. “I had three visions, but only one seemed viable… And I couldn’t understand it. You, Noemi, Venna, and I were at some ancient tower near a sea with our direwolves. Does that make sense at all to you?”
I don’t mention the body I saw. It might not come to pass…
Stark squints his dark eyes in thought. “A tower? No.”
“Me neither. But I do think Lucien is right about one thing,” I continue. “Whatever Killian is doing now, it’s something different from before. He can’t be thinking of invading Astreona, not with his depleted forces. There must be something else going on.”
Stark nods, caressing my side. The comfortable, possessive gesture lights a fire in my belly that I fight to ignore.
“Stark… I need you to stay out of my bed tonight.” Alarm sparks in his eyes as I continue. “I need to go into that dreamworld and confront him. It’s the only way.”
He bows his head, takes a deep, angry breath. “I hate the idea of leaving you alone with him.”
“I know,” I say quietly. This can’t be easy for my fierce protector. “But we need to know what he’s planning, and if he’ll give me a hint, it’s worth the discomfort. Don’t wake me, even if I seem distressed.”
Stark’s jaw twitches. “You can’t ask that of me.”
“Fine.” I breathe out, frustrated but grateful. “I trust your judgment. Just give me enough time to see what I can get out of him. Let me make the risk worth it.”
He eventually agrees, and night arrives too fast, my dread about this evening making the hours move quickly. After washing and saying good night to Saela, I head slowly into my room, my feet dragging, every part of me protesting what I’m about to do.
Stark has positioned himself in a chair by the window, a hair’s breadth from Anassa’s sleeping position on the floor. Not that she’s asleep; she’s as alert as Stark is.
Two dangerous predators, ready to go in for the kill.
My guardians, united in my defense.
It’s the first time I’ll be sleeping without Stark within arm’s length since he started helping me with these dreams. Even when we were barely talking on the road here, he stayed by my side.
The emptiness of the bed echoes the dread in my mind as I slip between the light sheets, all that’s required in this strange, warm country.
Through the darkness of the room, I can sense Stark’s eyes on me intently, like heat from a flame. His posture is alert, ready, despite the late hour.
Smoothing the sheets over me, I close my eyes, letting myself relax into the pillows.
I wasn’t sure if I could allow myself to sleep, knowing what I’m about to face.
In the end, it’s not a matter of willpower; after two full days of wakefulness and the trauma of witnessing Siegrid’s death from behind her eyes, I’m utterly exhausted.
I fall into darkness.
Then I’m wrapped in that shadow landscape once more. The darkness seems more substantial, somehow, than the last time I was here.
A dark chuckle is the only warning I receive before Killian emerges from the twisting shadows.
His face and body are as beautiful as ever, but now the sight only makes me want to retch.
“Has my kitten finally come out to play?” His voice is gentle, his gaze a lover’s tender caress. “Where have you been, beloved?”
I stand stock-still, quickly strategizing. I came in here ready for a throw-down confrontation. But Killian has launched immediately back into this sad-boy manipulator schtick.
He’s trying to play me. Or maybe he’s buying tickets to his own show. It’s hard to tell with him.
One thing’s for certain, though: If I come at him swinging, he will respond in kind. So, as much as it twists my stomach, I need to handle this differently than I planned.
“I’ve been trying to reach you,” I lie, the words making my mouth taste sour. “For weeks. Stark’s been doing something. He’s been keeping us apart. But he’s so busy right now, with everything that happened at the border—he couldn’t stop me tonight. Are you okay?”
My voice is urgent and concerned, but he doesn’t quite trust it.
“Am I to believe you were sitting around, worrying about me?” he purrs.
I step toward him, forcing my facade into something pleading and weak.
“Of course I was worried. You were right, Killian. About everything. I’m in over my head and don’t know how to lead, and now I’m stuck in Astreona, a hostage.
You and Alistair are so much more powerful—the border skirmish proved it.
I need you. Please. Please forgive me. I-I’m scared. ”
Tears spring to my eyes, and I know he’ll read whatever he wants out of them. It’s like popping a blister, saying these things to him.
Killian steps closer, too, cautious optimism written across his handsome, devious face.
“What happened?” I ask. “Why did you attack the Bonded troops and take the border?”
He reaches out a hand toward my face. I steel myself for his touch, hoping that by pantomiming intimacy I might get him to reveal more than he intends. I track the motion of his hand with my gaze, like watching a snake as it coils to strike.
As he reaches for me, something glints, shining even in this consuming darkness. I narrow my eyes, trying to make it out, and then lose focus as I register his next words.
“That was all Alistair,” he says quietly, stroking my cheek. I desperately want to turn and bite his hand like Anassa would. “Personally, I don’t think there’s such a need for bloodshed. But he wanted to punish those who were loyal to you. And he wanted to send a message to his brother.”
“A message?”
“He wants Lucien to know that he’ll never be defeated. And he wants to keep you both out of Nocturna while he… searches.”
I blink. That’s new. “For what?”
Killian ignores my question, his arm sliding down from my face to wrap around my waist. I shudder, but then lean against him, hoping it seems like a shudder of passion, of love.
“Do you see it now, kitten? I am not the problem. Alistair and Lucien are the ones destroying our world. But together, you and I can defeat them. You can help me get rid of Alistair and his brother, and then I can rule both nations with you at my side.”
Egotistical dickhead.
Instead of telling him what I really think, I say, “How? Alistair is so powerful. Lucien, too. How could we ever hope to defeat them?”
He pulls his hand away from my waist, and I almost sigh in relief. But then he holds it up toward my face, and I stop breathing entirely.
He’s wearing the Mother Priestess’s signet ring.
Killian has a Goddess Tear.
“What is that?” I ask dumbly, although I know, I know.
He straightens in pride, his smirk growing. “It’s from the Faceless Goddess. And it has incredible powers.”
My head is spinning. Saela was right. “What kind of powers?”
Killian draws back with a flicker of suspicion. “I’m not sure I should tell you that, beloved. You’ve been hard to reach for so long. I’ll show you the powers when I see you in person again.”
Rapid calculations pass through my brain. He’s right to be distrustful, of course. So I need to give him something. If he got that ring from the Mother Priestess, she’s surely told him how my necklace is another Tear. But he may not know…
“Lucien has one, too.”
“I know,” Killian says, uninterested. “His crown.”
“No,” I say more urgently. “He has a necklace, just like I do. If it has magic like your ring does, maybe I can figure out what it does. Bring it to you.”
Finally, the suspicion abates, and a small smile grows across his face.
“Okay, kitten. This one provokes worship, just like a god would. It’s how Alistair and I turned so many to our side—its powers go beyond Siphon mind control, without the usual limitations of blood magic.
He thinks there are more out there. He wants to find them so he finally has an advantage over his brother. ”
“And what do you want to do?” I ask breathlessly.
“I want to find them and use them against Alistair and Lucien. It’s the only way, I think. What’s stronger than an ancient Siphon? The power of a god.”
He’s right.
And he has a head start.
Fuck.
“Tell me what to do,” I say needily. “How can I help you?”
He strokes my cheek again, drawing closer. Ugh, I recognize the softening look in his eye. He’s going to try to kiss me soon.
“You always did like it when I told you how to behave, didn’t you, my good girl?”
Foul.
These kinds of words sound so right coming out of Stark’s mouth, when I know we’re in an equitable power exchange. When I’m a willing participant in the dynamic.
Killian just wants me to lack any agency or choice—in all parts of my life.
Unable to say anything, I just nod.
He better hurry the fuck up. The shadows are starting to stir at the edges of this realm, and I’m not sure how much longer I can pretend.
“Stay put where you are, as awful as it may be. Try to convince Lucien that you’re on his side, and when the time is right and I’ve found more Tears, I’ll summon you. I’m not yet sure how many more remain. You’ll need to bring his crown and necklace, of course.”
“Of course,” I mumble. Then, inspiration striking, I lift my wrist and the engagement bracelet on it. “And this? Lucien’s told me about these. Thrall bracelets. Are you… am I… a thrall? Are you able to compel me?”
Killian takes a sharp breath. “No, Meryn. No, of course not. I want you to have autonomy. I want you to choose me. After I found out about the thrall bracelets, I worked closely with Alistair to develop a new one for you to target your powers, not your mind.”
The way his brain works is appalling, plain and simple.
Wanted me to have autonomy. Does he seriously fucking believe himself?
The scary thing is, I think he does.
“Why?” I ask, a bit of my edge creeping into my tone. “Why use a thrall bracelet at all?”
“So we could be equals, kitten.” His voice is a slow purr as he steps even closer, his chest to mine. My body tingles with the wrongness of it. “How could we be together if we didn’t share your power?”
And once again, I’m thinking of Stark. Who I have to beg to use my power. Who helps me use the darkness inside me instead of yanking it away for himself. Who never takes from me.
My true equal in every way.
Killian leans his head toward me, finally coming in for that horrible kiss I’ve been dreading, but I take a step back.
“Stark’s coming now. I can feel it,” I lie. “Hopefully, I can come back here soon.”
Then I let go of all the anger and pain this conversation has provoked inside me. The shadows start to swirl violently. The dark tendrils are almost alive, stroking against my face, my neck, curling like fingers. I shudder and shut my eyes.
There’s no immediate escape, though. It’s never easy to get out of here. It’s like I’m drowning in the shadows, being consumed by them.
Raising my hands, I steel my mind, giving a forceful push.
Please, please let me out of this place.
Something in the darkness seems to hear my pleas, because I’m whipped into a vortex and then there’s silence.
I open my eyes with a gasp.
Hours have apparently passed; it’s morning, light coming in through the high arched windows and painting the room in a jarring gold. Stark sees me awaken and runs to my side.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “What happened?”
“He has the fifth Goddess Tear, the one the Mother Priestess wore,” I tell Stark, my voice shaking. “And he’s looking for others. There are more of them.”