Chapter 2 – Neve
NEVE
Atravel-worn, yet somehow still regal, Princess Saga stood between Lord Riis and Arie. The rebels who had traveled with Arie to retrieve his father congregated around them, plus ten others. Presumably the additional fae had been on guard around the town while the rest received a debriefing.
“What’s Saga doing here?” Luccan whispered.
“Lord Leyv Riis and Princess Saga Aaberg,” announced Bac, one of Thyra’s most trusted advisors.
For the second time in ten minutes, the room erupted. Fae rushed the doors, and my heart rate spiked.
“Stop!” I grabbed onto someone’s wrist as they joined the tide. They didn’t spare me a glance before yanking free.
“Princess Neve?” Astril, the eldest of the pale, raven-haired vampire sisters and part of my Valkyrja, came to stand next to me while her sisters hovered behind.
“Shall we protect them?” Astril arched an eyebrow, the suggestion clear.
“Oh!” It hadn’t occurred to me to do anything but interject. “Yes! They’re friends. Don’t let them come to harm.”
The vampires surged forward, and thanks to the great speed of their magical order, they reached the spymaster of Winter’s Realm and the princess before anyone else. They drew their swords, pointed the deadly metal at the rebels.
“The spymaster and princess are guests of Princess Neve,” Astril stated. “An attack on them is as good as an attack on the Falk royal line.”
Sure, I’d go with that.
“That’s the king’s spymaster!” Someone yelled, unrestrained fury in their voice. “He needs to be locked up!”
“We need to question them both!” Another voice added.
I cut a glance at Bac, a bastard son of Lord Balik’s deceased brother.
He looked so much like the rest of the Balik family, brown of skin, gold of eye and wing, with lustrous, golden-brown hair.
He’d gone with Arie to assess the Lord of Tongues, and Lord Riis was here, so I assumed Bac hadn’t found him to be untrustworthy. Why wasn’t he speaking up?
Vale shoved through the crowd, pulling me along with him. It was good that the rebels had met unarmed, else we’d be in a larger predicament. As it was, the hardest part of closing the distance between us and the doors was getting people to move.
The pink-haired, petite princess smiled at me when I stopped before her. “We didn’t mean to garner so much attention.”
“Oh, please,” I laughed dryly. “That’s kind of your style.”
“Enough with the joking.” Thyra surged around me and Vale. “We had Arie go to collect the spymaster, but I still want Lord Riis questioned.”
“Thyra!”
“He is the king’s Lord of Tongues, Neve,” my sister retorted, her tone flat and tired and hard. “Raised to a lordship by Magnus and therefore indebted, even if he does have a relationship to some fae that we trust, that is suspect.”
Lord Riis was father to Thantrel, my sister’s own mate, Luccan, and Arie. And though only a few fae and one half-dragon knew it, Lord Riis was also Vale’s father.
“Why is the princess here, Bac?” Thyra’s narrowed gaze took in my friend.
“You can ask me.” Saga’s hand landed on her slight hip. “I’m standing right in front of you.”
Thyra snorted. “As if I could miss that hair.”
“Would you like my colorist’s name?” Saga asked, unbothered.
“No. As I said, I’d like to know why you’re here and not relaxing up in some plush castle tower eating sweets.”
“Enough.” Vale growled. “They’ll tell us if we give them a bit of breathing space.”
My sister waved her hand in a circular motion, and the rebels took a few collective paces back. The Lord of Tongues stepped forward, filling some of that space.
“I’m Lord Leyv Riis. I’ve journeyed here, in this time of crisis and upheaval, to be with my sons and show my true allegiance.”
“And the princess?” Thyra asked.
“Her mother asked me to accompany and protect her. I promised that I would.”
The capitol was getting too dangerous for Saga? My stomach churned. Nearly everyone in Winter’s Realm loved Saga Aaberg, and for good reason. She was charming and warm and fun.
“If I find out that you’re not being entirely truthful, or you’re somehow still working for the king, I’ll gut you.” Thyra laid a casual hand on the dagger strapped to her thigh. “I cannot have an Aaberg loyalist in my company.”
“I no longer call Magnus Aaberg my king.” Lord Riis looked at me and Vale, and something made me raise my hand.
Saga gasped loudly, and while the spymaster stayed quiet, his keen gaze caught on my soulmate marked fingers. When Vale mimicked my action, Lord Riis dropped to one knee.
The High Lord of the Sacred Eight stared up at us, gaze resolute. “If you, the last surviving members of House Falk will have me, I wish to pledge my house to yours. My sword and my army as well. I will pledge to the new Queen of Winter’s Realm.”
I sucked in a breath as first shock, then gratitude roared through me. A High Lord was making a stand, showing the realm that he would side with Vale and his mate. Throat tightening, I pivoted to my sister and found my initial shock was reflected in her ice-blue eyes when she met my gaze.
“I trust him,” I said softly. “I wish to accept, and you know as well as I that we need the army.”
That same trust did not flow from my twin, but she nodded, her every line having shifted from protector to leader. A leader who understood that ruling meant she would have to accept help from others, particularly when danger knocked at her door.
“My sister and I have not yet decided who will wear the Crown of Winter’s Realm at the end of this war, but our House will accept your oath.” Thyra’s chin lifted. “Say the ancient words then, Lord Leyv Riis.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
Thyra cut a glance at me. “Use the Blade to begin the ritual.”
She nodded to the sword hanging at my side. Sassa’s Blade, a Hallow of the realm dating back to the Unification. I’d found the legendary blade in the bowels of Frostveil Castle. The bite of its zuprian steel and the secrets hidden inside had saved my life on more than one occasion.
I swallowed, cleared my throat, and my sister leaned closer.
“One shoulder, then the other, and finally the head. No words from you, and he will recite the oath,” Thyra whispered in my ear, correctly guessing that I didn’t know what to do in this scenario. Thyra had grown up as a commoner in our homeland, and was more familiar with the rituals of the fae.
I pulled the sword, touched the flat edge to the spymaster’s shoulder, then the other, and finally, pressed the metal against the crown of Lord Riis’s head. I’d no sooner lowered the tip to the ground when the spymaster spoke.
“By blood and bone, by frigid wind and winter’s touch, I bind my fate to those of House Falk.
Let my sword sing in your name. My magic weave your victories.
My kin and those sworn to me will heed your call as we would commands from the dead gods themselves.
From this night until the final dawn, when the roots of the last Drassil wither and the final lürhorn is blown, I will stand as your sworn shield and spear.
Your flaming arrow in the darkest of nights.
Whatever you may need from me is yours. May the dead gods bear witness, and may Winter’s Realm reject me should I break this oath. ”
A soft breath left my lips as Lord Riis stood. He faced us, awaited our word.
“House Falk accepts your allegiance, Lord Riis,” Thyra said. “And we swear to protect you, to aid you, to be loyal to you in times of ease and times of trouble.”
“Princesses.” Lord Riis bowed, and with that motion those in his family followed.
My chest tightened as I recognized the end of the ritual and the start of something new.