Chapter 2
Revna
As was the case every time I saw Halvar during the past three weeks, I repeated the truth over and over in my head. I could not afford to forget, to let my guard slip. Not now, when everything was held together so fragilely, determined to break if I so much as considered it.
Halvar is dead. I am the one who killed him.
The words became a chorus, accompanying the contented hum of my magic, sated now with blood.
I continued the refrain unceasingly as our small party made the trek back to the castle, leaving the Sharpened Axe—and the scene of my crime—behind.
The conversation was heavy, as usual. Once we’d left the city behind and begun walking up the mountain path, Halvar—the impostor, the fake, the fraud—spoke.
“I don’t know that the Nilurae will be content for much longer.
They aren’t feeling the results of any of the changes that have been made so far.
” His eyes turned to me, an apology written in them.
“They are frustrated about the army returning despite there being no official treaty signed yet. Most Nilurae would have preferred to leave them up there to freeze for as long as possible before allowing them back home.”
Volkan adjusted his hold on Astrid, who had an arm looped over the prince’s shoulders. Freja, who was interpreting the conversation for Astrid, piped up, signing while she spoke aloud. “Have you told them about the plans for the festival?”
Before the war began, Bhorglid had celebrated the arrival of spring with a festival each year.
There were food and games and dancing late into the night.
Of course, the Nilurae had never been allowed to participate except to sell goods and provide services.
When Freja had realized the usual time of the festival would arrive a few weeks after we traveled to Kryllian to sign the treaty, she suggested we hold the celebration again.
This time, everyone would be part of the enjoyment.
I’d agreed, though my memory of doing so was fuzzy.
It was only a few days after the Trials.
My scars had still been scabs, were still radiating pain and itching like mad so soon after the infliction of the wounds.
And I’d finally noticed that the song of my powers echoed in my ears almost constantly.
The festival quickly became Freja’s pet project. She spent all her free time working on it. And why not? It would increase morale, at the very least.
Halvar rubbed a hand along the back of his neck and grimaced as he walked. “You know I have. But the festival is three weeks away. We need something to tide them over now.”
“Invite a key Nilurae with influence in the community to attend the signing in Kryllian with us tomorrow,” Volkan suggested.
“Another witness that we’re doing what’s best for all the people.
They won’t have any duties, they’ll simply be there to observe.
They can bring back a report of the event that the Nilurae trust. Hopefully that will ease the tensions enough until the festival. ”
“Sure. I’ll come up with a few names,” Halvar said.
Who? I wondered. Because you don’t know the Nilurae the way Halvar truly did. Will the person you choose raise suspicion in Freja? In the other Nilurae whose good graces I so desperately need?
I rubbed my temple, a poor attempt to relieve the headache blooming there.
The thought of bringing a stranger with us to Kryllian, an unfamiliar place where we’d be negotiating with a foreign ruler, grated.
But no one here was looking to me for an opinion—rightfully so, after the spectacle we’d left behind us.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I know it doesn’t seem like we’re doing much, but giving the Nilurae equality is my highest priority. It’s like balancing on the edge of a blade—the moment I step too far in one direction, I risk a coup from the other party involved.”
Halvar shrugged, and his voice sent a shudder through me. “There are two fundamentally opposed groups of people here. The solution to this will not come overnight.”
“But it would come far quicker if you were willing to find a tutor,” Volkan said. I locked eyes with the prince, whose face held no humor or sympathy. Only exhaustion and frustration were left there. “You must learn how to use your Lurae before it grows more volatile.”
Shame flooded my cheeks, the heat a telltale sign of the red on my face. The feral, uncontrollable gift lurking just beneath the surface skittered, and I tensed, trying to keep from jolting.
I still wasn’t used to the many sensations of magic living inside me.
At first, it had been merely the hum of song in my ears, a tune no others could hear.
Hypnotic, it called to me, finally snapping into place after I won the Trials.
The music carried the thump of heartbeats to my fingers, stretching invisible threads from me to the lifeblood of everyone nearby.
It gave me the courage to kill my father, and then my mother after him. When the Hellbringer had dared to watch me sleep as I recovered, it granted the opportunity to prove myself his equal. And for a moment, I felt like everything I wanted was finally possible.
But only for a moment.
“Give her time.” Freja’s voice snapped me back to the scene before me, but staring at Halvar, whose eyes remained firmly on the path in front of him, made my pulse rise to my throat, my breaths shortening as if a vise were clamped there.
“Most Lurae have had their entire lives to master their magic by the time they’re Revna’s age.
She’s had three weeks. You’re not being fair, Volkan. ”
The prince’s hands curled. “Not being fair? Do you think the unrest will dissolve itself? That the Lurae and Nilurae will spontaneously decide to get along? We do not have the luxury of time, Freja. And if she does not get her Lurae under control”—Volkan’s voice shook with barely suppressed anger—“then fairness will be the least of our problems.”
We stepped into the courtyard. Volkan beckoned Freja, handing Astrid over to her. Then, without another word, he stormed into the castle. The door slammed against its hinges.
This is my fault. The realization struck me, not for the first time. I am destroying us all.
Freja laid her free hand on my shoulder. “Let’s focus on getting the treaty signed. Once that’s done, we can take care of the rest.”
I nodded, unable to respond. She supported Astrid, helping the teleporter ease her way into the castle. She had nowhere else to stay, so Freja had offered to clear the empty bedroom next to the one she occupied for the teleporter.
And then only myself and a ghost remained.
When I closed the door to my father’s office behind me, my head throbbed. The only benefit of losing my control with the assassin was that now the song was quiet. Resting in the back of my mind, preparing to return with more vengeance than before.
My shoulders slumped.
But even the weight of the day’s events wasn’t heavy enough to numb the arrow to the heart of Halvar’s voice behind me. “I can’t do this anymore, Rev.”
I turned to face Jac as the transformation melted away, leaving my only surviving brother hunched over the desk, Halvar’s too-big clothing hanging from his lanky frame.
“Just a few more days,” I begged, my voice low. Even now, the thought of telling Freja the truth made me nauseous. How did I confess to my best friend that I’d killed the closest thing we both had to a father?
I couldn’t. So when Jac had returned to Bhorglid less than twenty-four hours after my coronation, I’d asked him to help me with the impossible.
My older brother had taken pity on me. I knew he regretted it now.
“A few more days might not be possible,” Jac replied, arms crossed.
He kept scratching at his chin, like the ghost of the beard was impossible to ignore.
“My Lurae has limits. The Nilurae have endless concerns about your rule, and they bring them to me at every hour of the day. I can’t even afford to drop my shifting while I sleep. ”
“So come to Kryllian with us. You can sleep in my room and I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed.
Claim you aren’t feeling good and you’ll even be able to rest during the day.
” I pushed down the uncertainty threatening to drown me, the surety of my mistakes.
Was there a single negative emotion I hadn’t felt in its fullest since the Trials?
I was beginning to doubt it. “Things must begin to settle before I tell anyone the truth. Halvar is—you are essential to this transition of power. We can’t do it without you. ”
Jac’s expression was exhaustion and blatant pity. I wanted to punch him, force him to stop looking at me like that. “Revna. You don’t know whether you can do it without Halvar because you haven’t tried. It might be possible, but if this charade continues, then we will never know.”
I swallowed the harsh words threatening to escape me. I did know. Jac was foolish if he believed admitting the loss of the Nilurae’s most outspoken leader was a good idea. He assumed I was asking this of him only to assuage my own guilt, to hide my wrongdoings from my friend.
No. I was the only one who could see both sides of this conflict. The only one who knew how influential Halvar was to ensuring the Nilurae supported my rule.
He continued. “I have to stay in the city. Everyone knows how close you and Halvar are. If he’s the Nilurae sent to observe the treaty proceedings, then they won’t believe anything I bring back.”
“Who will you send then?” I asked, dreading any answer. “It will be ten times harder to put on a mask of indifference in front of a stranger if the negotiations begin to go wrong. And if there’s a fight of any kind, that leaves an innocent Nilurae vulnerable. What if we can’t protect them?”
“I’ll figure something out,” Jac said, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers. The nails were short, to the quick, and ragged. He chewed his nails only when he was incredibly stressed, and a spear of guilt lodged in my chest.
With a shake of my head and a sigh, I steeled my expression, my emotions, and my thoughts. “We will return from Kryllian with a signed treaty by the end of the week. Can you hold out until then?”
His mouth twisted. I didn’t need Frode’s Lurae to see what he was thinking. He wanted to say no.
There was only one solution.
I allowed my shoulders to slump, the true weight of the day’s events—and the overexertion of my magic—easy to slip into. “I’m sorry, Jac. Everything has been so overwhelming since the Trials…I was nearly assassinated today. I don’t know what I would do if…”
My voice trailed off, and I let out a shuddering sigh. It was a performance in some ways, but the words rang true. It was part of what made it so effective.
The other part was knowing how Jac felt about what had happened at the Trials.
I was the one who had pushed him to desert, told him to disguise himself and run away to Faste.
But he carried all the guilt of leaving me behind after we’d agreed to be allies in the arena.
I’d overheard him and Volkan exchanging a whispered conversation about it shortly after Jac’s return—the prince was the only one who knew what I had done to Halvar, and what my brother was doing to hide the damage.
Using my knowledge against him in this way probably made me a monster. But I already was one anyway.
Jac groaned, and I risked a glance at him. My brother had put his face in his hands and was muttering something under his breath. I made out “fucking fuck” before he straightened with a deep breath and stepped up to grip both of my biceps.
“Sign the treaty, and then this is over. Promise me.”
I nodded. “Of course. The moment the ink dries and Astrid teleports us back, we’ll end this.”
He released me and stepped back, rubbing at his eyes.
I watched as the shift took over him slowly.
His arms became broader, his hair lengthened and curled slightly at the ends, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were now accompanied by crow’s-feet.
Jac shook out some of the tiredness from his limbs and forced a smile.
“I’ll head back to the tavern then. There will be someone to join your party waiting for you in the courtyard tomorrow morning.”
He left, closing the office door behind him, and I sank into my father’s chair, the heaviness of the day’s events serving as a reminder of just how much bloodshed had been required to take the crown in the first place.