Chapter 42 #2
Everything about this makes me uneasy. The weird magic, Desmond’s silence, knowing there’s a dead king inside that slab of stone. I retreat one step down the dais. “Come on, let’s go find that thing you’re looking for.”
I bump into Finnian and flinch. He steadies me, and then squints at the sarcophagus. “What’s the likelihood that the king is a rather cranky draugr?” he asks.
“Fifty-fifty,” Desmond muses.
Finnian considers the odds with an uncharacteristically grim frown. “I give it eighty-twenty. But maybe that’s a bit too generous. Ninety-ten.”
I’m terrified to know the answer, but I have to know. “Why do you ask?”
Finnian winces. “Because I don’t suppose he’ll like being woken up.”
Oh, gods. They can’t. They shouldn’t! I surge up the steps and grab Desmond’s arm, yanking him back. “You can’t open it!”
He startles, then grimaces with a resignation that worries me. “I have to.”
“No, you don’t.” There are too many emotions welling up inside of me. Fear, so strong that it’s breaking free of the confinement I’ve shoved it in. Dread. Urgency. I tug his hand again. “What if a necromancer turned Olin into a draugr wight? Even you may not be strong enough to defeat him.”
Desmond’s jaw sets like he wants to argue.
“And what about your beliefs?” I’m so desperate to convince him that I feel like I’m begging.
Something awful is inside the coffin, and after all the draugr we’ve faced, he should know better than to open it.
Aren’t our lives more important than his curiosity?
“The dead should be left alone, remember? Is everything you’ve told me a lie? ”
He tenses like I’ve slapped him. “I—”
“If he won’t open it, then I will,” Auri calls out. She strides up the dais, past Finnian as he nervously watches us, and she lifts her chin. “I have no such qualms regarding our mission.”
“Maybe King Olin’s just a rotted corpse now,” Finnian says, fidgeting with his gloves. “We’ll take a quick peek and put the lid back on, and no one will be the wiser.”
Desmond doesn’t look convinced. “Olin’s ghost isn’t here, which suggests his spirit is still tethered to his body.”
“Or his ghost is just somewhere else, like the afterlife,” Auri says. “What use is there in debating it? Let’s get it over with.”
Every instinct tells me to run now. “You’ll all die if you wake him up.”
“We’re not here for Olin.” Desmond watches me as if afraid of how I’ll react. “We need something that was buried with him.”
I remember his old book, his translation scrawled above the text.
Where the one-eyed sleeps
So does the arrow that reaps
“Is King Olin one-eyed?” I ask him.
Desmond nods, but it’s slow and solemn.
“Then you want the arrow buried with him. Why? What’s special about it?”
“Desmond,” Auri warns, “think about what you’re saying.”
He frowns, hesitating, then sighs. “It’s said to be enchanted. It always kills in one strike, no matter if it pierces your hand or your throat. Not even wards can stop it.”
Why would they want a thing like that? Then my blood runs cold. They want to kill something with it. Or someone.
“Who’s the target?” Before they can answer, I realize how obvious it is.
It’s always been right in front of me, but I was too blinded by my own goals to see it.
Rune’s words at Norwynhald ring in my ears.
Any eldest heir is counting the days until mommy or daddy dearest drops dead.
That’s why Desmond met with Eldon in the inn.
“You’d start a war if you kill Avedor’s queen. I thought you wanted peace!” I clench my hands, furiously hoping that Desmond will deny everything I fear. His kingdom can’t handle more bloodshed, and I’m afraid of what war will do to my home.
My family already struggles when the queen raises the tithes.
I can’t imagine how much worse our lives would get if the kingdom commandeered our crops to feed their troops, our homes to house them.
Tithes would rise to fund the armories, to pay the soldiers.
So many families would ask their sons and daughters to enlist, some of them barely older than children.
His gaze is regretful. “Prince Eldon agreed to emancipate the Hollowlands in exchange for Queen Orla’s throne. He’ll withdraw all of Avedor’s troops. He’ll prevent retaliation against any fae who break their vows of servitude. And worship of Danu will be allowed again in Avedor.”
My stomach turns. It’s far from the battle that I fear he’s planning, but it still doesn’t sit right with me. “So you’ll hand the arrow over to Eldon and let him murder his own mother?”
“No.” He’s silent for a beat. He swallows. “It has to be me.”
I don’t understand. I know Desmond would do anything to free the Hollowlands, but this is Eldon’s plot, not his. “Why you?”
Finnian and Auri frown at each other, unsettlingly silent.
“It’s my duty to my people.” Desmond’s eyes shine with regret, like his decision tore him apart until there was nothing left to do but submit to it.
Oh, gods. He’s acting like he won’t survive their plan. He’s always put everyone above himself, and worse, he’s reconciled with it. The horror of it lodges in my throat and stabs right through my heart.
“You’re letting him go through with this?” I snap at Auri. I thought she cared about him.
She lowers her head. Then she swears, running her hand through her braids. “Desmond, I told you to unwind your insufferable sexual tension, not spill your guts out to her. Now she’s a liability.”
“She deserved to know,” Desmond argues, his hands fisting.
I shake my head. They’re acting like this has been their goal all along. They’ve laughed with me and fought beside me, all the while knowing our quest would lead to Desmond’s death. My voice breaks. “You can’t sacrifice yourself. I thought you wanted to see the world!”
I thought he might want to be with me.
Desmond breaks our gaze, his jaw tightening. “I do. But my people matter more.”
He can’t lie. He means every word. I don’t know what to say.
Whenever I pleaded with him to be honest with me, this was far from the secrets I had in mind.
If I had known everything before I made the vow with him, before we entered Olin’s barrow, would I still have come with them?
Would I have turned them into the guards? Tried to stop them?
“I can’t let you do this. Don’t open that coffin,” I beg him. If I let him get that arrow, I let him march to his grave.
“You can’t stop us,” Auri says, her voice cracking. “We need the arrow.”
I grab Desmond’s hand. I pull him down the steps of the dais. Tears sting my eyes when he plants his feet, not letting me move him.
He swallows, avoiding my gaze as if he can’t bear to see the hurt in my eyes. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you in the beginning. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Then a strange magic grips me, just like when Auri made me eat the jam.
“Leave,” Desmond orders, his voice strangely melodic. “Wait for us in the other chamber.”
My knees weaken as an urge to obey washes over me, but it dissolves just as quickly. I clutch where the rowan berry necklace is hidden underneath my clothes.
He tried to ensorcell me. There’s no other explanation for that feeling. My breath catches in my throat as I back away from them. What did I tell myself when we met? That you can’t ever trust a fae.
I’ve been a fool. Why did I let my defenses fall? I let him touch me, beguiling me with sweet nothings. Words that I was an idiot to let worm into my heart.
“How dare you glamour me?” I seethe.
Finnian winces. Auri stiffens beside him.
Desmond has the gall to look stricken. He squeezes my hand. “Cynthia, what we’re about to do could be dangerous. I couldn’t let you—”
“Shut up!” I yell at him, wrenching my hand out of his. “You made me think I could trust you!”
He flinches as if I’ve slapped him. The color drains from his face. His lips part, but no words come. For one terrible moment, he looks like I’ve broken something inside him.
My mouth runs dry. When I muster the will to speak, my voice is hard and cold.
“I’ll help you kill the draugr wight. Then you’ll each carry as much loot as you can hold, take it back to the carriage, and I’m leaving with it all for home.
If you do that for me, I won’t breathe a word about your plans to anyone. You can even make me swear on it.”
If they want to kill Avedor’s queen to free their kingdom, I’ll let them. Yet if Desmond is so determined to sacrifice himself that he’s willing to glamour me. . . How could I stay with them? How could I go back to the guild and pretend everything’s okay? It already hurts so damn much.
“No,” Desmond says. I’m about to laugh, incredulous that the demand is too much for him. Then he exhales a shaky breath. His whole body shudders beneath the weight of what he’s done. “I won’t make you swear on it. You’ve done nothing to break my trust, and I give you my own word.”
I don’t give him the satisfaction of a nod. Not even a yes. He tried to glamour me. He lied to me. He used me. I stare at him with a numbness that spreads through my body. “Then let’s get this over with.”