Chapter 4 #2
“What is happening here?” Saga pressed on as Kassandr interpreted for his family. A man with ordinary hearing might think her unaffected, but he heard the racing of her heart, the quickness of her breaths.
“Deceivers must be punished,” spat Oleg, “and this man’s deceptions are deeper than the ocean.”
“Saga Volsik,” said the high prince blandly. “I have wanted to meet you for many days now.”
Kass interpreted for Saga. Her breaths were shallowing, and though he could not see her, Kass could hear the gentle tapping of her fingers against her palms. Inwardly, he smiled, glad to have taught her this useful trick. “I cannot—” Saga protested, and she made to leave again.
Kassandr’s heart gave a heavy lurch, but his keen hearing picked up on the moment she paused in the doorway with a breath of resignation. “I will meet with you once he’s freed.”
“You are not in a position to argue, girl,” warned his father after Kassandr interpreted.
Protect, hissed his beast, now reduced to a needy, restless creature.
Kassandr had ordered Rov to follow Saga, and knew his friend would be lurking beyond the doorway, yet he did not like the thought of Saga facing his father and Oleg alone. He yanked against his restraints, the iron rings clanking in the quiet room.
The silence stretched on, and he prayed to all the seasonal gods that she found that fire she’d shown Kassandr on so many occasions. As the high prince let out a long-suffering sigh, Kass’s smile spread. His Saga was so brave. So fierce. She’d needed no prayers from him.
“Release my son,” ordered the high prince.
Kresimir scowled as he freed Kassandr’s hands from the leather restraints, no doubt irritated he’d been robbed of the pleasure of drawing out the beast. Kass’s knees buckled, and he landed hard on all fours, hair falling over his sweat-slicked brow.
After several deep breaths, he pushed to his feet, then limped to a wooden bench set before the dais.
Perched in the seat to his father’s right, Saga Volsik was clearly uneasy.
Her fingertips tapped furiously, her complexion wan.
This…was not ideal. A moment of doubt struck Kassandr. Had he pushed too much, too soon?
But time was a luxury he did not have. And as Saga’s eyes met his, her uncertainty quickly morphed into a scowl.
Good. There were the embers of her fire.
Her gaze drifted to his father, and Kassandr tried to see him through her eyes.
With his impressive height and broad shoulders, the high prince still cut an imposing figure.
But his once-dark hair was now shaggy and gray, and he increasingly relied on his walking staff.
To Kassandr’s dismay, the lines around his father’s eyes were deeper than before he’d stowed away on that íseldur-bound ship.
Oleg had their father’s dark hair and green eyes, but lacked his height.
Instead, he took after his mother’s shorter, more stocky line.
Oleg wasted no time in calling for an íseldurian interpreter, lest Kassandr mistranslate anything Saga said.
The pulse at the base of Saga’s throat told Kass she was deeply uncomfortable, yet thankfully currently not in the grips of her panic.
He wished he’d been better able to prepare her for this moment—because what he needed right now was Saga Volsik, rightful queen of íseldur.
The moment Oleg’s ruddy-faced interpreter entered the room, the high prince wasted no time in addressing Saga.
He pulled a piece of parchment from his jacket and unfolded it carefully.
“The Urkans think we joined your attempt to murder King Ivar,” he said in a deceptively calm voice.
Perhaps he, too, had noticed Saga’s nerves—the way she flinched when the interpreter’s words reached her ears.
“They have ordered we send you to them. Tell me, what do you think of this?”
“It was not my intention,” his Saga replied stonily. “I-I am sorry it looks that way.” She shot an icy glare at Kassandr.
“I won’t apologize for bringing you to safety,” Kassandr told her in íseldurian, ignoring his father’s scowl as his words were interpreted. “But Winterwing, I need you to tell him what Ivar will do.”
Saga’s pulse thrummed faster, her fingers resuming their taps. “I f-fear that is bad news, Sire. If Ivar believes you tried to kill him—” She swallowed, her gaze darting to Kass then quickly away. “—the Urkans will be honor-bound to seek revenge.”
Kassandr’s chest warmed as the interpreter conveyed this in Zagadkian. This was what his father needed to hear. Zagadka needed to ready themselves for war.
“Father,” said Oleg, eyeing Saga with clear disdain. “How do we trust in her words? She is a stranger.”
Kassandr’s beast opened one eye and growled as Saga’s shoulders tensed. He wished to shelter her—wished she need not expose herself like this—but she must understand what was at stake.
Saga met Oleg’s gaze, resigned. “Your fate was sealed the moment you stole me,” she replied. “Though I know Zagadka played no part in the explosion, if Ivar believes it, he will come for you.”
Oleg pushed to his feet, taking a threatening step forward. “We did not steal you.” He gestured at Kass. “It was this fool of a man who does not think with his head!”
As Saga recoiled, Kassandr’s beast grew lethally quiet.
“Perhaps we should not return her to íseldur!” Oleg shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.
“Perhaps we should enact justice on King Ivar’s behalf!
String her from the walls! When the Urkans come, they will see where we stand.
A tribute in grains and silver will appease them. Keep peace in our lands.”
If Kassandr hadn’t just spent two hours using all of his will to hold his beast at bay, perhaps he’d have been able to prevent what happened next.
Oleg took another step nearer to Saga, and Kassandr’s beast erupted with pure primal rage that caught him by surprise. Tattoos struck forth, claws bursting from his knuckles. Sharp spines broke the skin along his back. The beast took hold of Kassandr, and he lost himself to the frenzy.
As Kassandr lunged at Oleg, Saga leaped to her feet with a scream that only heightened his beast’s anger.
In an instant, Oleg shifted into his gray lupine form, absorbing his brother’s bulk and rolling them across the dais.
His father shot to his feet, shouting in anger, but it was all in vain.
Oleg would have her killed, would string her from the walls.
Dodging a powerful lashing paw, Kass buried his fangs in his brother’s shoulder.
Oleg howled and the taste of copper flooded Kass’s mouth.
Kill, snarled his beast, jaw clamping harder as he shook the wolf. Protect. Kill!
Claws raked across Kass’s chest, but the pain was nothing compared with the ever-present burn of his back. Kass and Oleg raged on, rolling across the floor. Kass heard his father’s furious bellow, but it was so distant from the need to destroy Oleg.
Time grew slippery when Kass was in a frenzy, but at some point, Kresimir produced the snare.
It wrapped around his throat and tightened until he could not breathe.
Kresimir yanked on the pole, heaving Kass away from Oleg.
Incensed, his beast lunged against the snare, jaws snapping.
He needed to finish what he’d started. Needed to show Oleg he could not touch her.
“Enough!” bellowed the high prince, but there was a distinct note of victory in his voice.
Immediately, Kassandr was filled with the shame of having lost control, before Saga, of all people. His gaze roamed, finding her backed into the darkest corner of the red room, eyes wide and fingers tapping furiously.
You’ve frightened her, he thought in despair.
His beast whimpered, ceasing its fight at once. Slowly, Kass’s humanity grew stronger, at last seizing control from the creature. With a shudder, he shifted back into human form, uncaring that his breeches were torn and barely hanging from him.
“You think with the wrong body part, brother,” Oleg growled, his eyes yellow with the remnants of his wolf form. “And your actions will doom us.”
Kass swallowed against the snare’s sharp bite at his throat.
“Kassandr,” snapped his father, displaying his full, towering height. “Your actions have dishonored me. Oleg is right—you have brought danger to the kingdom. You will go to the golden oak and make an offering to the four gods.”
Panic filled Kassandr’s chest. The golden oak was three days’ travel each way. In any other circumstance, he would not argue against his father’s decree, but this meant leaving Saga in Kovograd.
“But, Father—”
The high prince held up a hand and turned to Saga.
Kassandr was glad to see she’d emerged from the shadows, that the pulse in her throat had calmed ever so slightly.
Still, he did not like the fear in her eyes as she glanced his way.
Today had gone all wrong, and Kassandr knew he was to blame.
He’d pushed her too hard. Had lost control, and in doing so, had only fed her fears.
“You, Lady Saga,” his father was saying, “will write a letter to King Ivar, accepting full responsibility for the attempt on his life. And you will assure him Zagadka played no part in it.”
Kassandr’s heart felt heavy as iron as the interpreter relayed his father’s words to Saga. He tried to find solace in the fact that the high prince had not agreed with all of Oleg’s plan, yet he could not help his disappointment that Saga had not convinced his father to raise arms.
Saga could not hold the high prince’s gaze as she answered in íseldurian. “I will do it. But I ask you, Sire—no—” Her voice wavered, and she shook her head. “—I beg of you. Please, I must return to íseldur. My sister is in danger. I must help her.”
“After you write the letter,” said the high prince, “we will discuss it.” And with that, the high prince strode from the room.
As he watched his father leave, Kassandr’s chest grew tight with worry.
He could not bring Saga with him to the golden oak—not with her struggles with the outdoors. But how could he leave her in Kovograd?
As though summoned by Kass’s thoughts, his half brother laid a hand on his shoulder.
Kass glared into those yellow-tinged eyes.
“Do not worry, brother,” said Oleg. “I will look out for the Lady Saga in your absence.”