Interlude – Lord Luccan Riis, House of the Ice Spider #2
“Princess Saga is no longer any of your concern,” the king interrupted. “From this day forward, my daughter is betrothed to Lord Roar Lisika.”
“My king,” Vidar’s voice broke as he spoke. “I understand your wishes. Might I take my leave?”
The king released him, and to no one’s shock at all, Lady Fayeth Virtoris stomped out of the throne room after her son and heir.
No one stopped her. A smart choice. The Lady of Ships looked ready to call her formidable armada to war.
Poor Njal had to remain behind, his brown cheeks red as the king took his throne again.
Luccan expected to be dismissed, but instead, the king waved away those standing before him, directing them back into the crowd.
“Now that the Courting Festival business is done for the day,” King Magnus said, “Clawsguards, show in the criminals.”
“Duran,” he whispered as the door to the throne room opened, and knights shoved his friend inside.
The dwarf, a part of the cabal and l?rling at the House of Wisdom, caught Luccan’s eyes, shook his head so minutely that Luccan was sure most missed the gesture. Duran’s misshapen hands were bound by manacles and shackles ringed his ankles with just enough chain between them so that he could walk.
Luccan hadn’t talked to Duran since that night in the Warmsnap Tavern. The night Vale had gotten drunk because Neve had been acting indifferent towards him. Duran had seemed odd that night. But a criminal? There had to be a mistake.
Deciding not to return to the back where his brothers waited, Luccan slipped into the front of the crowd, determined to hear what was said about Duran Urgi, hoping that the dwarf’s father, a Master Smith working at the castle, was not present to watch.
A soldier shoved Duran toward the base of the thrones, where the dwarf knelt, and looked up at the king. Wisely, he said nothing.
“Duran Urgi, is it?” King Magnus asked.
As if Duran had not grown up playing with Vale in the castle yard and the dwarf’s father did not make the best zuprian steel weapons in all of Avaldenn. Of which, the king owned plenty.
“It is, my king.” Duran bowed his head.
“You’ve been caught brewing Liar’s Salvation. Do you deny it?”
“I—no, my king.” The words sounded strangled coming out of Duran’s throat.
“You brewed it for Princess Neve, did you not?”
Murmurs washed through the room.
“I did.”
Bleeding skies. Why didn’t Vale mention this?
“A clear admission. That’s all I required,” the king said, then with a wave of his hand, he spoke to his guards. “Take this male to the dungeons. Lock him up.”
Duran cried out, but he was small and quickly carried from the room. Before the doors shut behind, King Magnus waved a hand at the guards at the door. They motioned outside, and a moment later, another unforeseen event occurred.
A vampire—chained and sedated, judging by how he moved—shuffled into the room with an escort of ten guards. The red rose choked with thorns on the vampire’s chest declared him as a Red Assassin, and the crowd acted accordingly. Many pushed back.
“Do not move. He will not harm you.” King Magnus stood again and, from beneath his thick cloak, the White Bear pulled out a stake and descended the steps leading to the thrones.
“This parasitic creature, and more like him, have haunted our city—our kingdom—long enough. But I wonder, do you all understand why the vampires are here?”
No one answered, the silence deafening, and likely exactly what the king wanted.
“The deaths of so many fae by vampire hands is Princess Neve’s fault.” King Magnus did not raise his voice as he closed in on the bloodsucker and yet it carried throughout the cavernous room. “They’re here for her, and if I could find her, I’d give her over to save you all.”
Sharp gasps arose. Neve was beloved by many, but Luccan was not sure that love would last long after today. That she’d been drinking Liar’s Salvation was bad enough, but to be the reason vampires ran about the city, killing fae? No one would excuse that.
“You may think me cruel,” King Magnus played to the crowd as he stopped before the vampire. He twirled the stake in his hand. The vampire was so drugged that the creature stared at the king, unseeing, unthinking, not caring that his death stood before him.
“But you do not know the real Princess Neve. Not as I do. Lord Roar has returned and told me much of the princess—you’ll remember they were engaged before she ensnared my son? Well, the princess told Lord Roar who she is. Her true name.”
Like a flash, the king raised the stake and struck. Sounds of surprise erupted from the crowd as the vampire fell to the ground, dead, soon to turn to ash.
King Magnus turned back to his people. “Princess Neve has been hiding her true self, her past. Her lineage of cruelty, some might say madness.”
Luccan’s heart hammered in his chest. No! How did he learn the truth? How had Roar?
“Princess Neve is none other than the daughter of the Cruel and Cold King, Harald Falk. She is Isolde Falk, and, I believe, the reason the rebels continue attacking our cities, towns, and villages!” The king’s voice rose and in response, panic, fear, and a million other emotions crossed the faces in the room.
Luccan caught Saga burst into fresh tears, saw Prince Rhistel smirk, saw Queen Inga remain frozen, ever an unreadable mask on her face.
“Princess Isolde Falk is the reason the vampires are in our kingdom. Why they’re hunting and killing and drinking fae blood.
” The king repeated his previous claims as he tossed the stake to the ground.
“She is a liar and a menace in all ways. She has stolen slaves from Lord Roar and, he believes, will try to convince the rest to fight for her! I have already sent notices to the countryside, sent flyers into towns and villages. They are being put up in cities as we speak.” King Magnus huffed out a long breath and thick frost crawled over the floor from where he stood.
People increased their distance, frightened, and rightfully so, by their king’s magic.
“So I say this to you all. If you have information on the pretender, Isolde Falk, the Slave Queen, and you bring it forth, you will be rewarded.”
Without another word, he stomped out of the throne room.
The fae in the room, all noble, remained still, stunned, but Luccan was already scanning the crowd, searching for his father.
He found him a moment later, his great height approaching the thrones. Luccan rushed to intercept him and grabbed his father by the hand.
“No mention of them here,” Leyv Riis warned, low enough for others not to hear.
“I wasn’t going to, but Father, can you free Duran?”
Lord Riis’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “I’m not sure.”
“Please, try. Bring him to safety, and I’ll hide him. He’s a friend.”
Lord Riis shot a glance to the thrones where the princess bawled, Prince Rhistel still lounged as if nothing at all had happened, and Queen Inga remained still as a statue.
“I’ll do my best, Luccan. Now,” he ducked his head, moved his lips to Luccan’s ear, “leave Frostveil. Go home and take your brothers. Say nothing to anyone who is not our blood. Do you understand?”
“Understood.” Luccan bowed his head.
He left his father, and barely noticed when Queen Inga descended the throne and spoke to the Lord of Tongues. The throne room was almost empty, save for Luccan’s brothers, who remained by the back wall, waiting for him.
“Thantrel, Arie, we need to leave right away.”
Night fell. The moon rose. The fae of Avaldenn quieted.
And still the Riis brothers waited for word from their father. The king’s spymaster had told his sons to leave Frostveil Castle, to return to Luccan’s home in Lordling Land, but Leyv Riis had not done the same.
Luccan hoped that was a good sign for Duran, though it was likely the king had kept his father in meetings all day. King Magnus must believe the Lord of Tongues and his intricate network of informants were crucial to finding Neve.
Little did the king know that Lord Riis had helped to get both Neve and Vale out of the city. He’d housed them, fed them, and allowed Neve the precious time to work through her past.
Vale too, Luccan supposed. He wondered how Vale was fairing with Neve. It was clear the Warrior Bear was in love with the female.
Luccan shook his head. Vale had been stormy when he learned the news that he and Neve were related by Falk blood, but then, somehow, they’d worked things out.
Luccan didn’t understand it and had asked his father if it had anything to do with the spymaster’s private meeting with Vale.
Lord Riis had only said that if Vale wished for Luccan to hear what they’d spoken of, he’d tell Luccan directly. That had been that.
“Any word?” Arie entered the sitting room.
“None. Are you taking a break from studying?”
“In a way.” Arie cleared his throat. “I was doing a bit more research on Neve’s family.”
“Do I have many books on them?”
“No. I took the gateway to the castle and brought more books back.”
Their family castle in Bitra, a city in the east of Winter’s Realm, had once belonged to House Skau—Neve’s mother’s house. Luccan wondered if the texts their father had on hand were from that time too.
“What did you find?”
“Not much that I had not already read,” Arie said. “Though there was one matter pertaining to—”
“Luccan! Arie! Thantrel!” Their father’s voice boomed from the front of the home and the brothers leapt to their feet and ran to meet him.
When Luccan swept into the foyer, he exhaled. Duran stood there, dirty and pulling a rough spun hood down to reveal his face. The trembling dwarf’s strawberry blond hair flew every which way.
“You’re safe.” Luccan went to his friend and laid a careful hand on his back, hoping to calm Duran. “Thank the Fates.”
“Thanks to you and your father,” Duran whispered, his voice raspy.
Luccan heard Thantrel enter the foyer. For once, the youngest Riis said nothing, just joined the family and studied Duran for any sign of injury.