Chapter 31
Chapter
Thirty-One
THE COMMANDER
T he Sky Summit was as eerie as I remembered in my nightmares.
As soon as we exited the passage, Nadya and Geryll stony-faced, trembling, and trying to hide it, I gave them both a reassuring squeeze, and lowered my hands from their shoulders.
The two of them made me proud as they shuffled to the side, sticking close to the exit and the plan. They crossed their hands in front of their chests, standing tall like any Solkar’s Reach warrior worth their blades.
I averted my gaze from them, lest anyone notice the warmth in my eyes. If the Northern Clans knew how much I cared about Nadya and Geryll, they’d be in danger.
Everything and everyone I loved was.
I rolled my neck to shake off the nausea from seeing the Warden again, my blood now warming his bowels.
I hadn’t taken his warning lightly.
If this was a trap, I wouldn’t walk into it like a frightened man.
Ignoring a Sky Summit meeting, even one I called for, would be cause for battle.
Leaving was impossible.
Staying might get me killed.
But I would be the only one to die.
So I took a determined step forward, whether to my grave or not, I didn’t yet know.
In theory, any gathering in the Sky Summit took place under the rules of parley. You said what you had to and nobody got maimed.
But the Northern Clans had always had a knack for bending the rules and then pretending they’d never been there in the first place; The Clan Council had probably taken some pointers from them.
For a moment, The Huntress’ green eyes flashed in my mind, as if beckoning me back to Solkar’s Reach.
But she’d never respect a coward. I wouldn’t, either.
I clenched my jaw and shielded that image deep in my mind. A righteous essence like hers didn’t deserve to be tarnished in such a place.
The vortex of clouds swirled above us, caging the entire space from Solkar’s honorable gaze.
There would be no honor here today.
A circular stone wall caged us on all sides, the only light allowed from the heavens flooding a circle in the center of the space, delineated from the edges by a ring of salt and blood which had petrified in the long years since its creation.
Three figures already waited inside it, each more fearsome than the last.
My biggest enemies in this world and the next.
My so-called relatives.
The three leaders of the Northern Clans stood side by side instead of dispersing within the ring, as was tradition. A common front against me, the one who’d turned his back on tradition and blood .
The right side had been taken by Lioran Tideborne, who wore his Brinewall leathers stamped with grey fishscales.
He wore a cloak with a train that ended in spikes, like the tails of the sea monsters that still lived in legends.
His dark boots and gloves bore the marks of dried salt on them, a clear sign of his rule over the coast.
The same boots and gloves which had no scuffs, creases, or any trace of a hard day’s labour.
On the left stood Edrin Malrow, who must have ransacked whatever riches the Dustmarks still had to gild himself in a dark velvet robe hemmed with gold sewn in the pattern of wheat, which looked to be fraying at the elbows.
He kept his hook nose high and head tilted back–probably to hide the bald spot slowly eating at his scalp, despite the many silver rings and trinkets he’d weaved into his long hair and beard.
And in the middle, the most dangerous of them all.
Beren Greycrest.
The Ashrift leader.
My dear uncle.
Ever since I could remember, he’d looked like a jolly old man, cheeks still ruddy despite his age, white beard fluffed up to emphasize his easy smile.
Unlike the other two, he wore a simple leather uniform with mountain peaks stitched on his lapels.
Nothing gaudy, nothing to take away from that face who’d tricked thousands of men.
He hid the murderous maniac within him well.
“The wayward nephew has finally arrived.” Beren opened his arms wide as I stepped into the light, as if summoning me for a hug.
His smile didn’t reach his dark eyes. It never had and never would.
I planted my feet right next to the salt ring, just enough to officially start this sham of a parley. I wouldn’t draw nearer to them for anything in this world.
“Uncle,” I said simply, crossing my wrists behind my back.
“Such a cold greeting, Ry.” He lowered his arms and forced his brows to furrow. I had to give it to him, Beren had always mimicked disappointment well. “One of these days, you’ll truly break my heart with the way you avoid your own family.”
The only two real emotions that thrived in that heartless body of his were greed and violence.
“Must be all the ice in Solkar’s Reach finally getting to me,” I said. “I’m glad you all came today.”
“As if we had a choice.” Edrin snorted through that large nose of his.
His voice had gotten more brittle over the years.
Judging from the pallor in his sunken cheeks, he’d get five, maybe six full moons of life–and he’d probably spend all of them drinking himself away, as he’d done all his life.
“Those two have no place here. Lost children have no right to the Sky Summit.”
He narrowed those beady eyes at Nadya and Geryll.
“They are not lost children anymore and you will not address them as such.” My steady voice echoed around us. “Mistresses also shouldn’t be present, yet I see Sorana right there.”
The redhead, who had been leaning lazily against the sacred walls as if they were mere rocks, snapped to attention. All of the leaders’ underlings waited in the shadowy edges, same as Nadya and Geryll, but I felt the loathing radiating off them.
“Sorana will be my wife soon,” Edrin said with more pride than a cheater should ever have. “She will be family.”
I arched my brows. “Don’t you already have a wife?”
Deya, Doya, whatever that poor woman’s name was.
“Not for long.” Edrin gave an oily smirk that displayed all his yellowed, rotten teeth, and looked at me like it was some great big gag and victory that he was about to murder his wife, and that I should partake in the joke.
My only reaction was a sneer–and a hand twitch behind my back, signaling to Nadya and Geryll that should I not come out of here alive, they needed to inform the warriors to go and save the woman.
Tonight. Before she became another ghost.
Nadya’s cough signaled they’d received the warning.
Beren felt the disgust and shift in me and tried to soften it with a smirk. “Come now, best not to talk about personal affairs. We’re here to discuss business, yes?”
“I don’t see what we need to discuss further on the matter,” Lioran said.
He’d always had an affected, nasally tone that he, for some godsdamned reason, wanted to emphasize each moment he got.
The man loved the sound of his own voice.
And his face. And anything about him; probably even the crooked fingers he hid underneath those gloves.
“We decided on the deal three years ago. Before your nephew here decided to turn his back on eons of tradition, collaboration, and community to pledge his allegiance to that blasted Blood Brotherhood. I guess having Brothers, Sisters, and an overlord who calls himself The Dragon is much preferable to duty and–”
“Lioran, we’ve been over this too many times to count.” I cut in, otherwise we would have passed the hour with his monologue alone. “Whatever ancestors we might have had in common died long ago, the same way your misplaced affront should have.”
Lioran blistered, pursing his lips. He could sulk all he wanted, as long as he did it quietly .
“Not all of them,” Beren smiled. “We’re related by blood. Direct blood.”
He always liked to remind me that some of the blood which fueled him was coursing through my veins as well.
The second I’d gotten my Blood Brotherhood powers–and I’d recovered from the shock and pain of the ritual–I’d tried to find the drops that tied me to Beren and rid myself of them. It had been impossible.
Not even magic could sever that ungodly tie that felt like a noose which tightened with each passing year.
“Barely,” I said. “My father was your step-brother.”
Beren shrugged, the peaks on his uniform shaking. When the monster moved, the world trembled. “Same father, different mothers, but I grew up with Miharel. It was the way back then.”
“From what I’m hearing–” I jerked my chin at Edrin. “–it’s still the way.”
“Can’t fight matters of the heart.” Beren chuckled. “Now, nephew, why did you call us here? You made it sound very urgent.”
It was.
Sylvester, may the gods bless his wings and beak, had returned last night, in record time, as if he wanted to show me he was in excellent shape.
The letter from Zandyr had been short and straightforward.
Desecrating the crater’s edge was a crime. The Blood Brotherhood army would march to my aid against the Northern Clans if the issue couldn’t be contained.
I appreciated the support, but with a looming war with the Serpents, the Blood Brotherhood couldn’t afford to spare a single soldier.
Even if it could, my mother had taught me that negotiation, a smile, or a well-spoken threat could save countless lives.
Here I was, in the place she’d hated as much as I, keeping her memory alive.
“Who dared smear blood on my crater?” I asked without a preamble.
Beasts didn’t understand logic and kindness.
The three of them remained silent.
So, most likely, all of them were in on it.
“I see,” I said. “You do know the repercussions for breaching my territory.”
More silence, this time brimming with a tension that wasn’t there a moment ago.
“Are you threatening us?” Lioran sneered.
“Yes.”
Edrin spit on the ground. “Miharel should have kept his seed in his balls.”
Beren raised a hand quickly, like brandishing a whip, and silenced him. The cheeriness had chilled on his face.
“Those are harsh words and harsher accusations," he said. “All of us signed the same treaty.”
“Then you know the consequences,” I said.
“Yes. Enough to not risk them.”
“Then who could have tried to desecrate Solkar’s Reach? Who could have known about the blood ritual?”
Not very well, either, but I wasn’t going to tell them about that.
I didn’t know where they’d heard the nugget of truth about blood, but they’d been desperate enough to try it.
The only thing I wasn’t sure about was why.
Perhaps the Northern Clans had sensed danger in the air. Maybe they’d heard of the upcoming war and decided to try their luck when the Blood Brotherhood was already stretched thin.
But that answer, as predictable as it was, didn’t satisfy me.
“Perhaps you can ask those Protectorate members who traipsed all over your realm not long ago,” Beren said.
Fuck.
They were keeping a closer watch on me than I’d imagined–or an outsider was feeding them information.
The Northern Clans didn’t have enough well-trained spies to best mine.
“The Protectorate has no need for what Solkar’s Reach has to offer,” I said.
“Are you sure?” Beren’s brows rose. “I heard different.”
“You hear a lot of things.”
He inclined his head. “Not information I believe enough to pass on. Rumors are a terrible thing, aren’t they?”
“You should know, someone has been spreading so many about me and my people in your Clans. How many children have I supposedly killed and devoured this month? Eighteen?”
Beren chuckled. “I can’t control what some mad people do in their spare time.”
“Of course. Luckily, I can.” I squared my shoulders. I’d had enough of them to last me an entire lifetime. “I’ll make this simple. If you spill another drop of blood near Solkar’s Reach, the deal is void.”
A ripple passed through the three of them. Lioran and Edrin shared a surprised glance.
But Beren’s gaze didn’t stray away from me as it steeled.
“Miharel would have never allowed this,” Lioran said. “He cared about his history and liaisons.”
From the tales people still whispered back in Solkar’s Reach, he’d liked liaisons enough to break my mother’s heart mere weeks before he’d died. “My father was only a Starhollow through marriage. I inherited my mother’s claim on Solkar’s Reach, not his.”
“Such disrespect for your elder.” Lioran curled his top lip.
“He was Beren’s brother for more years than he ever was my father.”
The man had only left behind a name, not a legacy, and certainly no warm memories.
“Careful, Commander .” Beren’s voice lowered, even as his smile widened; it shook at the edges, though, the anger seeping out. “Don’t spit on your past. It has a way of taking revenge when you least expect it.”
There it was.
Beren’s true face was starting to show.
That’s what he did.
Threatened with a smile and then rejoiced when you backed away from him.
“Now who’s throwing around threats?” I asked.
“We do what we must when we’re forced to.” Beren shrugged; the mountains trembled. “We had a deal. A deal which you aren’t fulfilling.”
“I am.” Every single day, no matter how much I hated it.
Or hated myself for having to resort to it.
But it had been the only way to sever my people from the Northern Clans without sparring a single life.
Without war destroying us all.
And I carried that shameful burden every waking moment.
For the first time, a genuine flash of surprise dared to cross Beren’s face, followed by ugly glee. “You don’t know.”
I sensed the danger in the air. “Know what?”
“My dear nephew.” Beren’s smirk grew and sharpened, like he was getting ready to sink his fangs into me.
He stepped forward, as if drawn by my surprise and apprehension and feeding off them.
“Your precious crater is bleeding dry.”
His glee turned monstrous, grin stretching his face.
“We’re not getting our share.”
His eyes turned into voids darker than the Warden’s.
“And I heard some say the problem started when that Huntress of yours arrived.”