Chapter 7
Revna
Threads erupted from every body in the vicinity—S?ren’s brighter, thicker, more visible than all the others. I felt my awareness stretch further, too. I could sense everyone in the room. If there was blood, there was a connection.
Mother’s lullaby screamed in my ears. So did the voice of the magic, in words that were not words but feelings.
Look at her, it hissed. I couldn’t blink, and when my vision centered on Kryllian’s leader once more, she was frozen.
Her pupils darted back and forth, her body under my deadly thrall.
She dares to make demands for her entertainment instead of for anyone’s good.
She dares to speak down to you. She treats you like a child.
Like Father did. She makes you look weak.
A breath hissed out from between my teeth.
I knew what came next—pulling on her threads until they snapped like her neck.
Only with her lifeless body on the floor would we be able to make real progress.
Otherwise, the threat of looming war would sow unrest in Bhorglid until the Lurae started a coup and attempted to overthrow me.
I was the savior of the Nilurae. Even if my people didn’t want me—they would have me. And allowing the queen to live after betraying her promise of a treaty so quickly would be a stain on Bhorglid’s white snow.
Snow that was stained red enough already.
Kill her, my Lurae cooed, and the idea sounded so satisfying. The song in my ears accelerated to the tempo of my captives’ heartbeats, which grew faster with every passing second.
Before I could pull the string, a hand landed on my shoulder. “Your Highness.”
I wanted to scream at the audacity. To call me by my title when once we’d been—
Nothing, my Lurae screamed. The words choked me. You were nothing to him.
“Before you continue,” S?ren said, “you might want to take a look around you.”
The suggestion was so reasonable that I obeyed without thinking, twisting over my shoulder to cast my eyes over the scene. And I saw what I’d missed in the throes of my rage.
Around me, every person in the ballroom stood frozen, incapable of movement.
The queen and her guards…and the partygoers.
Even my friends. Astrid and Freja were still as stone, Freja’s hand wrapped around Astrid’s wrist. Volkan was mid-step, facing the dais.
Even Arne was motionless, his eyes wide with fear.
Only S?ren and I remained in motion.
No. I stumbled back, away from the queen. My breaths came in ragged gasps. No, no. Not again. Not the people I love.
Fearful eyes flickered between me and the scholar at my side. I tried to pull back only the strings grasping the innocent, but the effort was far too monumental.
Sweat broke out across my forehead. I could let them all go or cut every lifeline together. There was no in between.
For a moment, I considered it.
The thought of leaving this room as the only one standing filled me with a sickening sense of relief.
There would be no Kryllian queen to press her boot to my throat and force me to obey.
No threat of Freja discovering what I’d done to Halvar and abandoning me.
Volkan would no longer look at me with eyes full of disappointment and regret.
I would abandon the throne, in that case. And then…no Lurae to persuade of my worthiness. No Nilurae to act as if I’d been corrupted when I had no choice in my magic. I could leave this place and walk away. Step into the unfamiliar forests of a foreign country and never return.
It would be far easier than the alternative.
When S?ren stepped close, the warmth of his breath brushing against my ear, I felt a single tear slide down my cheek.
“Princess,” he whispered, so softly I knew no one else was privy to his words.
“This battle cannot be won by a single show of power. It may feel like your Lurae is offering the simple solution, but it’s not.
Your magic is trying to control you. Show it your strength. ”
My hands, fingers splayed and palms stretched out in front of me, shook with the effort of holding back.
One of the noblemen closest to me jerked unwillingly, and a surge of panic made my heart stutter.
Fear radiated through the air, filling the space like an impenetrable fog.
The haunting lullaby wove in and out, like my Lurae had taken on a life of its own and was wandering around the space, observing its work.
“I can’t.” The words pushed through my gritted teeth. One wrong move and every neck in the room would snap.
“Start by forcing your jaw to relax.” S?ren’s voice was quiet, but it held no trace of the false smile he’d given earlier.
When I glanced at him, my eyes wide, he tilted his head slightly, his gray eyes serious.
“Relaxing won’t make you lose control. Tightening your hold on your Lurae will be your downfall. Now relax, Princess.”
I didn’t trust him. Didn’t even want anything to do with him. But his advice was the only thing available to me now, so I obliged. When I opened my mouth wide and inhaled a deep, steadying breath, then circled my aching jaw, the lullaby ticked down its intensity by a notch.
S?ren noticed. “Good. Now the rest of your face.” A few moments later, “Now your shoulders.”
We continued in that manner for what felt like an hour—S?ren instructing me to relax a part of my body slightly and me obeying. There was no room left for the shame I knew would flood me later. Right now there was only relief. I’d managed not to kill anyone yet.
When I relaxed my toes, the threads disintegrated. It reminded me of Erik’s bones—charred into ash by Bjorn’s bright, burning fire.
Despite being free now, the entire room remained motionless for a single moment. Then, like a simultaneous release of breath, everyone moved.
The guests ran for the doors, filing out and casting fearful glances back over their shoulders.
My friends—Volkan, Freja, Astrid—only stared at me, stunned.
They made no move to come to my side as the partygoers fled.
Arne’s expression of disgust reminded me of Halvar’s, when the tavern keeper had called me a liar on the morning of my coronation. It was like a knife to the heart.
“S?ren.”
The queen’s voice echoed with her footsteps as she approached, and it was like the scholar had been doused with cold water—he stepped away from my side faster than I imagined was possible.
For the briefest moment, I wondered if her Lurae was mind control.
I dismissed the thought quickly. If she was truly that powerful, she could have deposed my father and put me on the throne without even bothering with the Bloodshed Trials.
Something ugly rose beneath my rib cage. My lips curled back from my teeth when I said, “Your demands have gone too far, Your Highness.”
The queen didn’t even blink. “And yet I am not the one who put helpless civilians in danger tonight.”
If my magic had not been depleted already, I would have killed her then. I rubbed my thumb over the hilt of my sword as I considered doing it the simpler way.
She continued, “I presume you’ve made your decision regarding my offer.”
I thought of every subtle threat she’d levied at me over the past day.
Of the way she’d toyed with us and left me in suspense, wondering if tomorrow would bring peace or war again.
Of how she’d learned about my relationship with the Hellbringer and chosen to use it against me, to not only give a wound but rub salt in it.
She enjoyed making me squirm, of that I had no doubt.
But her purpose had been accomplished. After today, I knew exactly what kind of manipulation she was capable of. The woman was as honed as a blade, a sharper predator than even the Hellbringer. If we went to war again, if my people were left at her mercy again…
Nothing would remain when she was through.
“I accept your offer.” My voice was dull, as beaten as I felt. For a moment, I wished for the cold of my home. Few things grew in Bhorglid. Few things would grow in my heart. Only weakness lived there. “I will train with your scholar.”
“Excellent. S?ren will return with you in the morning. And I will travel to Bhorglid in three weeks’ time, at which point we will discuss the treaty once more.”
She walked away, S?ren following. The silence reigned absolute. Everyone was gone. Including my friends.
I stood alone in the solitude my hands had wrought and wondered if it was worth living another day.