Chapter Five #6
“A fae and a faeriken? There was no life for them outside of Lumenfell. All that awaited them was pain and struggle. The gratitude of the faeman that turned into love, would morph again, becoming resentment and hate.” His grip tightened on my thigh.
“She did not believe me. Convinced their love was true, she ran off with him in the night.
“It’s possible she did get to live her blissful, fairy-tale life for a short time. I’ll never know for certain,” he said, “because Gorban Salman murdered her a year after they fled.”
I froze. “What? Did you just say Salman?”
“That’s right.” His voice was a low, dangerous hiss.
“That man was your father. He loved Raelina.
He was desperate to be with her. That was until your grandparents announced they refused to give the throne to their daughter, and would instead bestow it on the man who wed her.
They decided it should be the hero who survived the cursed lands, and faced me and lived to tell about it.
“They didn’t know he was already married. More so, that he was married in a ceremony like this one—bound by runic magic and blessed by the goddess Meya.”
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. If I could’ve done either, I would’ve run screaming. Something was happening, and it was not good.
“Divorce cannot end a marriage such as that”—he smiled—“or a marriage such as this. He was ineligible to marry the princess, become king of one of the wealthiest nations in Elva, or hold more power in his pinky than the strongest fae in the land. All because of Raelina.”
“No,” I whispered. “Please.”
“So he made a terrible, brutal choice to slaughter the wife no one knew about. No one but me.”
“Who... Who was she to you?”
His eyes flashed. “She was everything. Our last hope. My last chance. And he took her and threw her away like she was nothing.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “That’s why you wanted to humiliate him by leaving me at the altar.”
“No, little bird,” he said, surprising me. “My subject was quite wrong on that score. I never intended to leave you at the altar.” His glare pinned me through. “I was going to slaughter you on the altar.”
Noise, breath, people, everything. It all stopped.
“I was going to slaughter his precious heir—famed beauty of the east—right in front of him while he stood helpless to stop it. But then...” Alisdair moved up to my shoulder, covering me with ink as promises I couldn’t name spelled out on him.
“You trumpeted my vow before the whole of the Lyrican court—swearing our marriage would end in death.”
“Why?”
Did I speak? My ears were roaring. My lips were numb. I couldn’t be sure they moved.
“Why did you change my mind?” He wasn’t drawing anymore. His fingers were gliding over my body, but leaving no ink behind them. He was simply exploring me—
His new possession.
“Because I saw in that moment that you hate him as much as I.” Laughter rolled out of his chest. “Not only do you hate him, but you openly and blatantly defy him—destroying his bid for Lyrica’s peace and your subjugation—it was you who tried to kill me in front of him.
It was then you and I came up with a much better plan.
“Killing you would solve nothing. If the hatred between you and your father is mutual, he would care for you passing only long enough to shed fake tears at your funeral,” he dropped. “No, if I was to truly hurt him, how much better would it be... to keep you?”
His words reached me from far away.
“To corrupt you. To make you mine in every way—including becoming the natural successor of the Lyrican throne.”
“What?” I whispered. “But—but you can’t—”
“No, you can’t,” he barked. “A woman cannot take the throne, so in the case of your parents, it passed to an outsider. Your father threw you away so easily because despite only having one child with your mother, he has half a dozen bastards out there, waiting for the day one is tapped to rule.”
I choked, eyes bulging. The surprise wasn’t mine. Seemed Emiana didn’t know about these half-siblings.
“Or I should say, he used to have half a dozen bastards out there.” A slow smile stretched his lips. “Do forgive me for having to put you to sleep so many times during our return home. I couldn’t have you interfering in their ends.”
“Their ends?” I cried. “Are you saying you killed them?”
“A mere precaution. We don’t want anyone with a legitimate claim to threaten my ascension to the throne.”
“Stop saying we!” Or at least, I tried to scream it. Panic had such a stranglehold on my throat, nothing but a hoarse rasp could get out.
“Naturally, when I signed the treaty, I relinquished any claim to Lyrica and swore it on Meya’s name, but then, you, my dear one, broke that treaty.
” He caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers.
“Your rights remain intact, and through this ceremony—binding us as one—your rights are my rights. The throne denied you, will be mine.”
My body came alive. I shoved his hand off. “You bastard.”
He growled, lips peeling back. “You believe you hate me, little bird? I assure you the feeling is decidedly mutual. You are nothing. Less than nothing. Just another sniveling, insipid, pampered child who thinks if you scream and shout loud enough, you’ll get your way, but a marriage doesn’t require love, and a partnership doesn’t beg respect.
“Thanks to you, I will take away everything your father truly loves. His wealth, his land, his honors, his throne. You will watch the man who threw you away reduced to nothing. All that he greedily gobbled on Raelina’s sacrifice will vanish into vapor, and right as I plunge my sword into his chest, he’ll know the reason why. ”
He stepped back, beholding me with something akin to pride. “I told you, my queen. I answered this question already. I made you mine because you and I will stand atop the world, claiming the faelands for our own, and crushing the beast who spawned you under foot.”
I gaped at him, body shaking. “What is wrong with you? Why do you keep saying we? You can’t possibly believe I’ll allow any of this to happen.”
“Oh?” Alisdair said, cocking a brow. “You think you’re going to stop me?”
“Of course!”
“Then, you’ve decided to stay.”
“I—” I cut off, jaw clenching. Oh no.
I agreed to this with the promise of fleeing from him. A promise I burned on his skin. I either stayed and fought to save all of Lyrica, or I ran to save my family.
“You wanted this,” I hissed. “You tricked me!”
His expression was flat. Bored even. “I did not. There can be no tricks in the cauldron. I offered you what you truly want—to leave—and named what I truly want—for you to stay. From this point on, we will fight for our wish. But I say to you, my queen”—flicking off me, he nodded at Aeris—“I intend to win.”
“Wait! No!”
Aeris and Bradach tipped the basins over our heads, shocking my system with a blast of freezing cold. Even colder than the elements.
The white magic rushed down my body like water, washing away ink like it was never there, and leaving only the runes behind. I gasped as the cauldron of ink went ghostly white.
“In honor of the gift your sword through the chest has given me,” Alisdair said, wrenching my head up. “I shall give you a gift. A head start.”
I stared at him, eyes unfocused and shivering in a vat of my greatest mistake. What...? What was... going on?
“Nine minutes fifty-one. Nine minutes fifty—”
“Run,” Aeris hissed. “The magic takes hold at daybreak. My queen, you have to run!”
I hefted over the rim and hit the ground before she finished her sentence. Snatching up a cloak, I blew past Bradach and darted into the trees.
There was nowhere else for me to run. Castle Riagin was home to Shadowsoul and a maze to me. He knew all its twists, turns, and secrets—what hope did I have of losing him in there? My only chance was the woods. All I had to do was elude him until daybreak. I could do that.
I will do it!
Stupidly, and unwittingly, I promised before Meya and under the threat of magic to act as his true wife and queen for all the days I remained at his side. Now I knew exactly what he wanted his wife and queen to do.
I raced through brush and reaching branches, collecting bruises—opening cuts on my cheeks.
I ran faster.
I cared not what happened to King Salman.
Just like he cared not what happened to me or those of us living in the Galley.
Pleas to him for more food, help, wages, and protection were met with more taxes—tightening the noose of poverty further.
What did I care if Alisdair avenged a wrong it sounded like should be avenged?
Salman was a particular kind of loathsome monster to murder his wife and the woman who gave up everything to protect, care, and be with him—all so he could be king of Lyrica.
Let the two rivals battle it out and kill each other in the process, but what Shadowsoul wouldn’t do is take us all down with him—plunging all of Elva into this frozen, rocky hell.
The terrible irony was that if the true Emiana had known what Shadowsoul wanted to do to her father, she’d never have run from him.
Run.
Frozen stumps that used to be my feet pounded the snow, leaving a trail that was quickly swept away by swirling winds. No moon. No stars. No light.
Darkness wrapped around the trees, blanketed the snow, and smothered my vision.
I could barely see two feet in front of me, and the further I left the glittering town behind, the closer the shadows moved in.
If I’d been thinking, I’d have snatched a torch, clothes, shoes—anything to get me through the night!
No, sense said. Torchlight would be easily tracked in his darkness. Fetching clothes and shoes would’ve wasted my scant head start.
I had minutes to get away from a rich, overindulged king who stopped relying on his body and physical strength long ago, and now did everything by magic.
He’d never be able to catch up with me, especially—
I slid to a stop, sucking in deep, freezing lungfuls.
—if I’m clever.