Chapter 42
Forty-Two
Alliance
The doors of the Obsidian Court throne room burst open under the Commander’s shadows, the sound rolling through the vast chamber like distant thunder.
The Commander looped my arm through his as he escorted me inside, and the moment we touched the onyx tiles, the room shifted.
Silence cracked like ice. All eyes turned.
Solas, Caelum, Cerilla, and Riven walked in behind us like four shadows of power. Each of them radiated their own kind of danger.
Riven sauntered with a lazy arrogance, Cerilla seethed cold fury, Solas looked ready to tear out throats, and Caelum watched everyone like they were already dead.
The Mortals were already assembled, and Fae soldiers lined the walls like sentinels waiting to kill.
My father stood at the front with his arms crossed against his broad chest and an expression as hard as I remembered.
The priest stood beside him, blond hair slicked back, handsome face disguising the brutality of a torturer.
The moment his eyes flicked to me, my body betrayed me.
Cold terror locked my muscles in place. My skin burned as if his hands were still crawling over me, as if I could still feel his blade sinking unforgivingly into the flesh of my back.
His presence crushed the air from my lungs, a bruise on the world that made it hard to breathe.
I wished I had stabbed his face, to make it as physically ugly as he was on the inside.
The Commander’s arm tightened around mine, the hatred radiating through the bond matching mine in its depths. The priest would regret surviving me after I let the Commander have him.
Instead of cowering, a slow smile traced my lips. Not the practiced mask my father liked, no. A vicious smile that promised pain.
Aldric stood behind him, looking like a dishevelled version of the polished brother I had known. His face relaxed when he saw me, as if he were able to take his first full breath in weeks.
Next to him was viscount Barden and the Iron Guards.
Dreya’s eyes stayed trained straight ahead, as though she was refusing to look at me. But the moment her eyes landed on Riven, her fists clenched at her side.
The throne room itself was vast and impossibly beautiful.
Midnight stone had been polished to a mirror shine, and silver veins ran through the floor like frozen lightning.
Above us, obsidian pillars spiralled upward, painted with stars and florals.
Streams of sunlight poured through the high, arched windows and skylights.
At the centre of it all stood the throne, a towering construct of black granite and carved shadow wood, rising like the spine of some ancient beast. Silver filigree wrapped its edges like constellations frozen mid-burst, and behind it, a star-shaped crest of polished obsidian fanned like a halo.
I went to take my place beside it. Unlike at Stonebriar, I would stand next to his throne with pride. The Commander placed a firm hand on my back, stopping me as he lowered his head towards my ear. “Take your seat, my love,” he whispered on the ghost of a breath.
The entire Mortal delegation stiffened as I sat on the throne.
The cold granite bit into my skin with a delightful chill.
The Commander leant casually against the massive armrest, crossing his corded forearms over his chest, shadows coiling around his boots like restless smoke, still sated from my blood.
He looked down at the Mortals as though deciding which one to kill first.
“Speak,” he growled, voice echoing through the chamber like a blade drawn from its sheath.
King Vaylor stepped forward, grey battle armour glinting beneath his red cloak, chin held high as if he wasn’t standing in front of the most powerful male in existence and a goddess. His eyes cut to me. Then to the Commander. Then back to me. For a moment, he was speechless.
“The alliance,” he finally said. “It must happen today.”
The Commander didn’t move, didn’t react.
“You do not make demands here, little king. Why the rush?” he asked flatly.
Vaylor lifted his hands in a practiced gesture of urgency.
“Because monsters are tearing through the Mortal Kingdom. My people are dying. Entire villages wiped out in a night. We need the alliance formed immediately. Even our castle is no longer safe. We need your protection.” The Commander scoffed, a low, vicious sound.
“You need protection?” he echoed. “My people are dying as well.” A hush fell.
He pushed away from the armrest, stepping forward slightly.
“In fact,” he continued, voice dripping poison, “the only chance any of us have for survival is weapons forged by your daughter’s magic.
It is her choice if you get any out of this deal, perhaps you should beg her. ”
Vaylor’s nostrils flared. Aldric shifted his weight, looking between us with a tight jaw, a silent conflict burning behind his eyes.
“This is no time for games, High Lord,” King Vaylor seethed, eyes as hard as steel.
The Commander’s shadows rose instantly, ready to strangle my father where he stood.
“Let him finish,” I murmured, laying a hand gently on the Commander’s forearm.
The shadows withdrew and Vaylor watched them wearily as he continued, voice dripping with grim authority. “If we do not unite, both our Kingdoms will fall. The threat grows with every hour. I will not have my people slaughtered because of your temper.”
The Commander barked out a laugh, a dangerous, unhinged sound.
“Then get on your knees and beg the goddess for her protection, or I will put you there permanently.”
King Vaylor spluttered, his face reddening with rage but he didn’t move.
The Commander leaned towards me, bowing his head to hide his lips. “Which one can I kill to prove a point?” he whispered, so only I could hear.
Down the bond came steady, controlled bloodlust begging to be set free. But I could feel him waiting for my approval.
The name spilled from my mouth before the thought had formed. “The viscount.”
I should have felt bad, but the viscount’s slimy words from the Ascension ball crawled through my head.
The Commander pushed off the edge of the throne and strode towards the Mortals. My father did well not to retreat, but a satisfied smirk tilted my lips when he flinched.
The Commander prowled straight to the viscount, his regal features twisting into fear as he raised his hands.
But the Commander didn’t slow. He slammed his fist into the viscount’s stomach so hard that he dropped to the floor and the air whooshed from his lungs.
The Commander drove his knee into Barden’s face, blood spraying from the impact.
Barden wheezed, making pathetic whimpering sounds.
The Commander drew a dagger from his belt and caught Barden’s face in his grip, fingers crushing his cheeks together as he forced his head up.
He ran the blade down his face, not hard enough to cut his skin, but enough to threaten. “See, when I am not listened to…” He pressed the blade into his skin and Barden cried out in pain. “I get a little violent.”
“You and the bitch can go to hell!” Barden spat, blood spraying with each word.
The Commander laughed, a dangerous chuckle that promised pain. “Haven’t you heard? Hell is already here.” He slammed the blade down, sinking it to the hilt through his eye with a wet, nauseating squelch. Barden’s body crumpled against the ground as the Commander ripped his knife free.
He paused in front of my father, towering over him to wipe the blood from his blade on the king’s cloak. I had never seen my father so angry, so humiliated and it was delicious.
“See, little king, I can unite the Kingdoms by force if I must. The only reason I do not take your throne with blood is because of Lyra. Because she wants to do it peacefully.” He leant down to look my father in the eye. “Beg for her mercy. Or die.”
Aldric was the first to drop to his knees. The others followed. Even Dreya knelt, obvious disdain oozing from her.
As if it were the most painful thing he had ever done, the King of the Mortal Kingdom knelt below me.
“The Mortal Kingdom begs you for your mercy and protection, Lyra.”
“Please,” Aldric said looking up at me first, then at the Commander. I wasn’t sure if the circles under his eyes were bruises, or from exhaustion. “This isn’t just politics. Not anymore. The creatures are multiplying; our Kingdom is infested.”
Before I Ascended, there were no monsters in the Mortal Kingdom. I didn’t understand why, and judging by the curiosity pulsing through the bond, neither did the Commander.
“Say plainly what you want,” the Commander demanded at Vaylor.
“I want the marriage finalized today, the alliance in effect immediately, Fae warriors to travel to the Mortal Kingdom as protection, and access to fresh produce,” he listed his demands.
The throne room erupted in whispers and outrage, but through it all, the Commander did not look away from me.
He was reading me through the bond, gauging my feelings while still respecting my wish to keep my mind untouched.
“You ask for much, little king,” he said softly. “You are fortunate I would give anything for your daughter. But she has the final say.”
“Lyra Meridian,” he said, dark and deliberate. “Will you marry me today?”
The room held its breath and the world narrowed to a single word humming beneath my skin.
Even now, he was offering me something I had never been given. Control.
“Yes.”
A small, private smile tugged at the Commander’s mouth as he looked at me in disbelief. Love and bittersweet joy surged down the bond in such a wave my breath hitched.
“Then it is done,” the Commander said to Vaylor.
“The alliance will be sealed with our vows when the moon rises.” He walked back to where I sat on the throne and perched on the armrest, shadows crawling to him from the corners of the room.
“Caelum, show the Mortals where they will be staying and ensure food is sent to their rooms.”
Caelum walked towards the door deliberately stepping over the viscount’s corpse.
My father stood, shooting one wary glance at me before looking down at my brother still kneeling against ground.
“Aldric—”
“No,” my brother snapped over the top of him as he rose to his feet, boots planting against the marble as if daring him to pull his leash.
Our father dragged a hand through his beard, his gaze raking over Aldric with detached fury. “Fine,” he spat, and left the room.
A trembling breath left my brother as he nodded once, a small, broken gesture that cracked something open inside me. My heart clenched painfully.
I moved before thought could catch up.
Aldric met me halfway, a choked sound breaking from him as he pulled me into his arms.
“You’re alive,” he whispered, squeezing me tighter as if to check. “Gods, you look so strong Lyra.”
Strong. Not beautiful. Not an object. Not broken.
I could feel the Commander’s curiosity pulsing through the bond, but he didn’t interrupt. I let go of Aldric, smoothing the wrinkles I had made in his pressed white shirt. Leave it to him to be able to travel and still not have one golden hair out of place.
His warm brown eyes took me in, filling with grief. “Lyra—”
“It’s okay, Al,” I reassured him with a soft smile. None of it was his fault, and in some ways, he was trapped in the same gilded cage that I had been.
“Come, there are people I want you to meet.” I grabbed his hand and turned towards the Commander. “This is my brother, Aldric.” My brother smiled wearily at the Commander, extending his hand. I didn’t miss the slight tremble in his movements as the Commander reached out to shake it.
“You did not protect her the way a brother should,” the Commander said darkly.
“A mistake I have made myself bleed for every day since she ran away. Scar for scar.” Aldric unbuttoned his shirt, turning his back to us and lowering it.
I gasped, hand fluttering to my mouth. Large scars ran along his back.
Some were puckered, and others were gashes that still oozed between fresh sutures.
“I paid the priest to carve my skin as he did yours.” Aldric redressed silently, grief and guilt written in the lines of his shoulders.
“Your scars do not absolve you.” The Commander’s voice cut deeper than any wound in his flesh.
Aldric closed his eyes in a pained acceptance. “I know,” he whispered. “But I would carve ten thousand more if it meant she hadn’t felt a single blade.”
Something inside me twisted sharply. I reached out, touching Aldric’s arm. “Hurting yourself will not change the past.” His gaze lifted, raw and vulnerable. “It’s now that counts.”
“They are going to try to steal you, Lyra. They think the monsters are the Gods punishing us for letting you live. They want to sacrifice you.”
A shiver slid down my spine. It was almost exactly what Riven had told us, but hearing my brother defy my father to tell me made it real.
“We already know,” Riven said in a singsong voice from where he leant against the wall.
“Well then, suppose I have just promised myself a death sentence for nothing.”
“Stay in Lumireth with me,” I said. The Commander nodded once in approval.
“I would love to,” Aldric said hesitantly, warmth shining in his eyes.
“Solas,” the Commander said, “get Prince Aldric settled in the southern wing and post a guard.” He turned back to me, his voice softening. “Come, Little Drownling. We have a wedding to prepare for.”