Interlude – King Magnus Aaberg, The White Bear, Protector of Winter’s Realm
Interlude
KING MAGNUS AABERG, THE WHITE BEAR, PROTECTOR OF WINTER’S REALM
The throne sat cold beneath him, as frigid as many of the gazes in the crowd—of which the king noted every single one.
Enemies of my house will be punished.
The Courting Festival, the pain in the arse it was becoming, had once seemed so brilliant.
A way to not only form marriage alliances that would benefit House Aaberg for many turns to come, but to discover where the Ice Scepter might be hiding.
Of the Hallows the king knew existed—all lost to him—the Scepter, with its ability to influence the magic of the realm, was the most important.
The one he might actually be able to get his hands on too.
The lord or lady who stole the Hallow and kept it in their possession for all these turns would, in theory, be more powerful than the rest. And if said lord or lady were smart, they’d bring it before the Crown Drassil for a blessing.
But the king had people watching the holy tree, and no one had approached the Drassil.
No one Head of House seemed far more powerful than the rest either.
Well, no one save for the king himself. Fitting, really, after all his positioning and training to be the strongest in the land.
He’d worked too hard, schemed and fought mercilessly, to sit upon the Throne of Winter, and he had to believe that if the Ice Scepter thief was at court, he’d find them.
Then he’d take the Hallow he desired most of the three, the only one seen since the Rebellion, and use it to meet his ends.
King Magnus’s fingers curled around the throne’s armrest, frost creeping over the royal blue velvet. “Where are they?”
Behind, a Clawsguard cleared his throat. “The ship arrived an hour ago, Majesty. They should be here at any moment.”
How long did it take to leave a boat? To walk through his city and bring news from the Blood Court?
Magnus huffed. Skies above, Lord Sten Armenil always took his bleeding time and time was not a luxury the king felt he had much of.
With Red Assassins terrorizing Avaldenn, and his son and the whore who’d caused this whole mess missing, King Magnus wanted answers now.
He was about to demand more information from his Clawsguard, but remembered the person behind him was not Lars, his favored guard of many turns.
Now dead, but faithful to the end. No, this guard was new and not of the same caliber as Lars, and likely did not have more information to give.
Since Lars died in the rebellion’s massacre at the Royal Theater, the king had gone through two other Clawsguards, both not up to his standards.
These failings displeased the king to no end.
“I could go check, Father.” Saga leaned forward in her throne, a smaller version of his own.
She and Rhistel had answered his summons, both sitting dutifully to his left. On his right, however, Queen Inga’s throne remained empty.
Magnus exhaled a long, frustrated breath. Perhaps no one had found Inga. Or more likely, someone spoke to her, and she’d whispered to them, made them believe they’d never found her. Frustrating as it was, his queen only did his bidding when she wished.
Or when he pressed and dangled her secret over her head, which he knew better than to do often.
“The docks might be busy?” His sweet daughter leaned forward a touch more, ready to leave, though King Magnus did not believe it was purely to help.
Since yesterday, Saga’s friend Sayyida had been absent from court.
He suspected his youngest wished to look for the troublemaking Virtoris wench at the harbor.
“No need,” King Magnus replied as an entourage wearing the light gray cloaks and wolf broaches of House Armenil entered. One carried a small chest. “They’ve finally shown up.” He pointed to the base of the stairs leading up to the thrones, eyes scanning the guards and then behind.
Lord Sten Armenil, the red-haired, plodding Lord of the North, was not among them.
“Where is your liege lord?” King Magnus barked before the knights serving the great, noble house of the far north reached the dais.
The soldiers exchanged glances, their faces masks. However, the tightness in their shoulders told a different story. Something had happened. Had Sten Armenil stopped the ship at his castle on the peninsula and told them to continue on?
King Magnus’s jaw tightened. May Odan help Sten if he did. I will not stand for him leaving court without my permission.
“My king.” One soldier came to a stop below the king’s throne. “Lord Armenil is not with us.”
He glared, and did not miss when many in the crowd took a half-step back. “Return to your ship and retrieve him.”
“I did not speak clearly, Your Grace.” The soldier unhooked the latch on the box. He lifted the lid, and the king drew back.
Lord Armenil’s head, eyes flat, stared at Magnus.
“What happened?” Magnus growled, his gaze flicking briefly to the crowd and landing on the Armenil clan.
The pale family of redheads shoulder-to-shoulder with those of House Balik, all brown of skin and hair—a contrast if there ever was one.
So far, none in the crowd had spotted the head in the box.
Things were about to go very wrong, and the king wished that he’d not called so many witnesses.
These were people he’d wanted to be present when Lord Armenil relayed word from the Blood Court.
He’d been so sure that the king and queen of all vampires would demand Neve’s head on a platter, to which he’d simply have to give in, or risk all-out war.
Then he could proceed with his plan to dismiss the murderous Lord Triam from Frostveil with his soon-to-be-bride, Marit Armenil.
She’d be a cautionary tale, and no one would dare go behind the king’s back again.
“We reached the Vampire Court and attained an audience with Queen Narcissa.” The soldier’s face paled at the mere mention of the queen in the neighboring kingdom.
“Lord Armenil stated the facts, as you wished for him to. He told them that their prince died at the hands of a fae. That it had been a matter of self-defense.”
The soldier inhaled before continuing. “The queen was angry but allowed Lord Armenil to continue. That changed when a vampire ship captain arrived. He told her the one who killed him was a member of your house. Then she demanded immediate retribution because, well, the vampire queen’s temper might have been thinner than normal. ”
“How so?”
“She was in mourning.”
He arched an eyebrow. “For Prince Gervais?”
Prince Gervais had been of Narcissa’s bloodline, but vampires did not typically mourn. Not unless their mate or maker died, and only the former was a prolonged period.
“No, Majesty. King Vladistrica was killed shortly after Prince Gervais sailed west. Many other nobles too. By vampire tradition, the queen is in mourning for six moons, but I think she was bloodthirsty, hence she accepted us. Upon hearing what he had to say, she claimed she wanted revenge, and that Lord Armenil was close enough to the throne for her—for now. She took his head then and there, Majesty.” He gave a single nod to the box, the implication now clear for all those who could not see what was in it before.
The king caught the moment Lady Orla Armenil fell to the ground, Marit and another red-haired brat he could not be bothered to recall the name of, moved to help the Lady of the North. The king looked at his hands, as if sorry for the loss.
But he did not see Sten Armenil’s death as a loss. Rather, an opportunity to further his own power, which he needed to do for this act on the part of the vampires also brought new threats.
“You said for now,” the king said, returning his attention to the soldier. Neve was one thing, but did the queen mean his children? His queen?
“As the assassins have not done the job she required of them, she seeks Princess Neve’s blood next. Personally wanted to drink from the princess..”
If only Narcissa had come here, I’d have offered the female’s blood up from the vein.
“Will she call back the Red Assassins still lurking in Avaldenn and the surrounding areas?” the king asked.
The guard looked away briefly before shaking his head.
So the queen would keep her hired killers here just to terrorize the fae of Winter.
To make King Magnus’s life more difficult.
His jaw worked from side to side. The Queen of Vampires left him no choice.
He would have to increase the presence of soldiers in the city and incentivize them to find the bloodsuckers and kill them.
Everyone leaned forward to hear the king’s next words, the mark of unflinching power.
“I see that Lord Armenil was not effective in protecting my family. Nor my people.” The words were true, even if he did not like to think of that silver-haired female as his family.
“I understand that we now sit on the brink of war with the vampires due to his inaptitude.”
The direwolf-loving soldier blinked. “My king, he—”
“I do not remember telling you that you may speak again.” Magnus stood. “Take that box to Lady Armenil.”
He stomped down the stairs. The crowd parted a bit more for him, allowing him a wide passage. The Lady of House Armenil was still wailing. His lips curled in disgust. She was a weak female who only furthered his belief that their house needed to be replaced with a stronger family.
If I had the Scepter, this would be far easier.
No one stopped the king as he left the throne room. Heavy footsteps assured him that two Clawsguards were behind him, ready to defend, to fight, should he need their swords, magic, and bodies. He would not. He needed time to think and a soft cunt to sink himself into.