Chapter 39 #2
“I can’t,” he said simply.
Rage flared—hot, sharp, immediate. My shadows surged, twitching toward him before I yanked them back. “Won’t, you mean.”
“I mean can’t,” he said. “There are rules, Rydian. Even for me.”
“You’re a god. You make the rules.”
“That was before. We tore this realm apart once, fighting over who got to move you all like pieces on a board. The Fates won that round. We ceded ground to keep the realm from collapsing entirely.” He spread his hands.
“I cannot unmake the treaty between us and them—not even if I wanted to. To do so would likely destroy this world. I can only craft my own bargains around it.”
It wasn’t the answer I wanted.
But there was something in it I hadn’t heard the first time I stood before him all those years ago.
Limits.
“You’re saying,” I said slowly, “that you don’t control this. Not fully.”
A shadow of irritation crossed his face. “Careful.”
“No,” I said, stepping in until we were almost chest to chest. My shadows curled around my boots like loyal dogs.
“You marked Aurelia. Branded her with your power. You locked my court up as leverage so you’d have a blade to point at her enemies.
You made my life a weapon. And all this time, I thought you were the one holding the other end of that leash.
” I searched his eyes. “But you’re not, are you?
Not really. You’re tied up in this as tightly as I am. ”
Lightning flashed faintly in his gaze.
“Watch your tone, mortal prince,” he murmured.
“Or what?” I asked, voice low. “You’ll kill me? Then you lose your blade entirely. Then you’d have to trust the Fates to save your daughter, and we both know how that ends.”
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.
Then Ire laughed.
It wasn’t a pleasant sound. But it wasn’t furious, either. More… grudging.
“There it is,” he said. “The defiance I remember. The stubborn determination I chose you for in the first place.”
Despite his laughter, there was a sharpness in his gaze now. A stillness to the air between us. And a power so great, it made my bones tremble. Like he wanted me to remember I stood before a Furiosity rather than a mortal.
I hadn’t forgotten, but for good measure, I wisely kept my mouth shut.
His gaze swept over me again, slower this time.
“You’re right about one thing,” he said.
“My brothers and I are more bound than I want to be. The accords limit how overtly we can meddle. I cannot storm Heliconia’s camp and drag her to Hel by her hair, tempting as that might be.
I cannot snuff her like a candle. I cannot walk into Autumn and rip the Harvest throne from under that pretty boy brother of yours.
” His mouth curved even as his words jolted me with surprise.
“And I cannot unmake the terms of your vow without unraveling the careful balance that keeps this realm from tearing itself apart.”
“Then why answer my summons tonight?” I asked, irritated and impatient with this useless meeting. “Why come at all?”
“Because,” he said simply, “you offered me your life for hers before you even knew her name. I was curious how you’d live with that.”
I met his gaze. “And?”
“You didn’t disappoint,” he said. “You seldom do. Which is why I’ll give you this much.” He leaned in slightly. “Heliconia seeks the magic that sleeps within your brother’s throne. And if she gets it, she will be more powerful than any mortal in Menryth.”
“The Harvest throne contains magic?”
He inclined his head.
“She drained Winter’s,” I realized. “The Ice Throne is where she’s been drinking from all these years. Where she recovered her strength after what she did to Summer.”
His gaze flicked to the trees, as if he could see through the mountains and into the north.
“She stole power from the throne, yes. And from other places where the old magic pooled when we stepped back. That power was meant to hold the realm together in our absence. She uses it to crack the seams instead.”
“And Autumn is next,” I said.
“Callan is a convenient key,” Ire said.
My stomach turned. “That’s why he came to us in the north.”
“Even broken lines feel the pull of the current,” he said.
I stared past Ire, into the dark, seeing Grey Oak Keep in my mind. The Harvest Throne sitting silent—but not empty.
“She already tasted what lies in Concordia. She will want more. All of them, if she can reach them. You’ve seen what happens when one falls.”
Summer.
Aurelia’s kingdom, cursed and asleep.
Winter, drained and dead.
“If she drains Harvest too…” I didn’t finish the sentence.
“You won’t have a realm left to save,” Ire said. “Only a graveyard of frozen, empty thrones and the bones of fae who once knelt before them.”
A muscle ticked in my jaw. “You telling me this is your way of helping?”
“My way of reminding you,” he said, “You’re not as unimportant as you might think to the fate of the realm. Aurelia can wield enough power to turn an army to ash, but she cannot stand in every city at once. She cannot guard every throne.”
“And I’m what in this scenario?” I asked. “Her errand boy?”
His gaze burned. “You are the blade she can’t afford to be.
The one who goes where she can’t, does what she shouldn’t.
” He nodded east, in the direction of Grey Oak.
“If you want to protect her, Shadow Prince, you will stand between Heliconia and that throne. Whether it kills you is beside the point.”
“Not to her,” I said quietly.
His expression softened again, that same not-comforting way.
“You think she would thank me for undoing your vow?” he said.
“She would not. She would waste years trying to spare you both fate’s cruelty.
Time you don’t have.” He spread his hands.
“Better a blade that knows its edge than one constantly trying to dull itself.”
“I’m not going to spend whatever time I have left waiting for some preordained moment to die,” I said. “If the Fates want me, they can come and pry me out of Aurelia’s hands.”
His mouth quirked. “That would make for an awkward meeting, don’t you think?”
I ignored that, buttoning my shirt over the dried blood still caked on my ribs. “You said you can’t undo the vow. Fine. That doesn’t mean I have to accept how it ends.”
“Meaning?” he asked.
“Meaning I’m done imagining myself in a grave,” I said.
“If the Fates try to claim her, I’ll be there.
I’ll make the choice then. But until that moment, I am not your sacrificial pawn.
I’m her general. Her ally. Her equal. I’ll bleed for her.
Kill for her. And if I must, I’ll die for her.
But it will be my decision. Not yours. Not theirs. ”
Silence stretched.
Shadows coiled tighter around my boots, drawn by the iron in my voice. For once, the god of Hel didn’t snap at me for my disrespect.
Finally, he said, “You mortals are always so dramatic.”
“Comes from growing up in your shadow,” I said.
He huffed a laugh. “Very well. I can’t unmake what you swore. But I won’t push you toward it either. I’ve seen too many heroes run headlong into their deaths because they thought it made them worthy.” His gaze sharpened. “Don’t be that stupid.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I said dryly.
“Good.” He stepped back, the clearing seeming to grow deeper around him. “Then go to Grey Oak. Play politics with your half-brother. Protect the throne he’s too arrogant to fear properly. And when Aurelia arrives—and she will—try not to provoke Heliconia before you’re both ready to face her.”
I froze. “Aurelia’s going to Grey Oak?”
He gave me a look that said I was being slow. “Where else would she go, once she learned what you just did? You think she’ll let Heliconia take another throne without trying to stop it?”
The thought of her marching into Grey Oak alone—of her furyfire sparking too hot to be contained, of Heliconia turning the Ice Throne’s power on her—made something inside me twist.
I looked back at Ire, unsure whether to thank him or curse him for his part in all this. The light around him dimmed, his shape already blurring at the edges.
“Rydian,” he added.
I stiffened. “What?”
“When the moment comes,” he said softly, “and the Fates offer you the trade you asked for… remember this night. Remember that it is your choice. Not theirs. Not mine. Not even hers.”
Then he was gone.
Night rushed back in, too loud, too real.
I took a breath. Then another. My hand shook when I touched my side; the cut had stopped bleeding, sealed over by whatever lingering warmth Ire’s presence had left in my veins.
The Emerald Forest watched as I walked back through its shadows, more awake than I’d been in days. My purpose felt like a blade newly sharpened—clear, bright, lethal. Grey Oak waited. Callan and his desperate grasp of a powerful throne. Heliconia with her cruelty and stolen magic.
Somewhere in the dark between us, Aurelia was marching toward them both. So, I picked up my sword and marched toward them all.