Chapter 22
Richard swung his sword, arcing it towards the pale column of Galdran’s throat, every instinct screaming to kill, kill, kill—
Galdran caught the blade an inch from his neck, pinching the flat of the steel between two fingers.
“Ah-ah.” He clicked his tongue, golden eyes dancing. “Careful where you swing, beloved.”
A shiver crept up Richard’s spine. He had forgotten the elf’s cruel beauty. The sharp cheekbones, the pointed ears jutting through whitish-blond hair, the luminescent skin. He had also forgotten the way his own heart thundered, and his knees trembled.
Galdran released the sword and adjusted his emerald robes. They pooled to the floor, the silver stitchwork of leaves and vines shimmering under the light. From angular, wing-shaped shoulder guards, a gauzy cape flowed.
“I advise you to keep your blade down, Lumethain,” Galdran said. “You would not wish me to lose my concentration, lest I stop their hearts as well as their limbs.”
Richard’s sword dropped as he took in the terrible silence surrounding him. Slowly, he swivelled. His stomach rolled, and for an instant, the urge to vomit rose too sharply. But he clenched his jaw and took in a deep breath.
Every soul in the Great Hall stood frozen.
The duke Richard had shoved past was mid-stumble, a leg lifted, arms splayed. The baroness who’d been fleeing had her mouth open in a soundless scream. Servants, soldiers, diplomats, musicians—hundreds of bodies locked in place.
But their eyes moved.
Pupils darted, rolled, and flicked in all directions.
A serving girl’s lashes fluttered wet in quick, panicked blinks.
At the far right wall was Kaelen. His eyes were narrowed, tracking Richard with a desperate strain.
He held an arm outstretched against Corwin’s chest. Briony clung to Corwin’s waist, and by them, Elara glared daggers at Galdran.
Richard sheathed his sword. “Blood magic?”
Galdran laughed, folding his hands behind his back and rocking back on his heels.
“Is that what Ardenians call it? We call it the Bind. One of my many gifts.” Galdran strolled through the frozen crowd. He passed a serving girl, peered at her tray of pastries and selected a slice of custard pie.
“Delightful,” he said, chewing. “Your kitchens are inspired, but the filling is grainy, and the bottom a touch unbaked. You must inform them to lower the oven temperature.”
Richard sneered. “What do you want, Galdran?”
The elf stopped before Dianara, who stood by the main doors. Unlike the others, Dianara’s fingers were moving, their eyes blazing purple.
Galdran hummed. “Your Chief Mage resists my Bind too well. It would be better for them to sleep.”
Richard’s breath hitched. “Do not—”
Vines erupted from the marble floor, cracking tiles and whipping up Dianara’s legs and torso. The mage slammed against the doorpost. Their head struck wood with a sickening crack, and they collapsed limp, staff clattering away.
Richard blinked, and Galdran was in front of him.
“Have you missed me?” Galdran asked.
Richard eyed the unicorn heart slung around the elf’s neck. It glowed white, the heart of a First Creature, granting Galdran the power to appear and reappear where he pleased.
How beautiful the creature must have been before it fell.
“I ask again.” Richard was sickeningly aware of how little control he held.
Galdran would not harm the Frostheimers or the Naradeshi—their kingdoms were not his quarry, and injuring foreign dignitaries would invite wars on too many fronts.
But the Ardenians were pieces on a board Galdran already considered his. “What do you want?”
Galdran pouted, then broke into a grin. He spun on his heel—the cape fanning in a glittering arc. “Come now, can I not visit? Can I not see my future kin?” He sauntered towards Elara, and studied her face. “Your sister is beautiful, beloved. She does so take after you.”
Richard’s nails bit into his palms. He ached to lunge, to shield, but rushing at the elf would change nothing. “Get away from her.”
Galdran drifted past Elara to Corwin. The boy’s pupils shuddered, flicking between Galdran and Richard.
“This one resembles a softer version of you.” Galdran tapped Corwin’s cheek and chuckled at Richard’s warning growl. “But there is a rashness about him. Oh—” He noticed Briony, who had half her face hidden behind Corwin’s back. “Your little one. What secrets she hides. How prettily she draws.”
Richard’s blood ran cold. “Was it you who sent the witches?”
Galdran shrugged. “They are simple creatures. Loyal to those who promise their coven a greater power.”
“Why?”
Galdran ignored him in favour of smirking at Kaelen. The knight’s glare burned, his jaw clamped tight. He looked as though he might shatter the hold through fury alone.
“My, my. This one despises me.” Galdran trailed a finger along the knight’s shoulder. “But that is not all, is it? No.” Galdran bent to meet Kaelen’s eyes and smiled knowingly. “All this time? Even now? How inconvenient.”
Richard’s fists tightened. He needed to distract, do anything it took to get Galdran away from those who belonged to him. “I tire of your dawdling. Get to the point.”
Galdran gave a long, theatrical exhale as he turned back to Richard. “Do you truly feel nothing on seeing me, Lumethain?”
A dozen snarling responses clawed at Richard’s throat, but he swallowed them all. “You have come through the veil for a reason.”
Galdran moved to Lord Malgrin by the platform. The old man was shielding himself with a chair.
“Between us, Lord Chancellor?” Galdran cupped his mouth and whispered loudly. “Your king does not particularly like you.”
“I said, get to the point,” Richard bit out.
Galdran raised both hands in mock surrender and turned to address the room at large.
“Since your king has been too shy to share, allow me.” He flourished an elaborate bow.
“I, King Galdran of Gloamvarn, have graciously proposed marriage to your Sun King. I have offered him the honour of becoming my consort, ruling at my side as my people settle in Ardenia. All of us, together.” He spread his arms. “One kingdom and one people, blessed by the great gods.”
Richard caught the shock that flashed through Malgrin’s eyes, through the eyes of most in the hall.
“Your king has thus far refused, and I regret to say should his refusal persist, all of Ardenia will burn, and every man, woman and child flayed alive.” Galdran tutted and wagged a finger at Richard. “You should not hide matters from your council, beloved. They only mean to help.”
Richard glowered. He scrambled for a solution to this mess, but his mind felt sluggish, slow and numb, and his hands would not stop trembling.
He cannot remain. Richard clung to the fact. The elf could not step past the veil for long, despite the unicorn’s heart.
Galdran’s gaze had stopped on the woman behind Elara.
“Oh.” He gave a mock gasp, and in a flicker of light, appeared before Penelope. She was stuck in the motion of reaching for Elara’s arm.
Galdran chuckled. “The Estaran princess.” He glanced at Richard. “How very generous of you, Sun King. Did you really never tell your blood who killed your parents? Do any in your kingdom know?”
Richard’s stomach sank. He opened his mouth—to barter, to plead—but the playful glint in Galdran’s eyes made him shut it again. There was no point. This had been Galdran’s intent all along.
In another flash of light, Galdran flitted to the body of the dead witch. He crouched and pulled something from the woman’s coat pocket. The parchment was worn and bloodied, and with a hum, Galdran flickered back to stand before Elara.
He brushed blood from the parchment.
“Shall I? Yes, I rather think I shall.” Holding the letter up, he began to read.
“King Marius, I am no fool. Trolls do not ordinarily encroach from the Sylari Realm. For them to attack within Ardenia’s Maranbog was unusual in the extreme.
For them to target my parents was even more so.
Think you I have no swords? Think you I hold no means to track the trolls’ chief hiding in my southern villages.
Impaled on my blade and choking on his blood, he confessed to your payment. ”
Richard’s legs threatened to buckle beneath him. He gazed at his feet, too afraid to lift his eyes.
“It was bitterness, perhaps,” Galdran continued, “that led you to commit such an act. Grief for your departed eldest son, and resentment that the King and Queen of Ardenia still held theirs. I shall keep this matter to myself, for I will not compound one grief with another. I do not want war, Marius. But know this. Harm one of mine again, and I shall let the same flames that wreathed my parents’ pyres feast upon your skin. ”
The hall spun. Not only his siblings. All had heard it now.
Richard forced himself to look up and found Dain by the rear window. The man’s eyes bulged, red-rimmed and furious.
“Truly, beloved.” Galdran tucked the letter into Corwin’s corset. “You carry too much alone.”
“Are you quite finished?” Richard said quietly. “Or would you prefer my journal entries next?”
In a blink, Galdran stood before Richard, his hand seizing Richard’s jaw hard, thumb pressing into one cheek and fingers digging into the other. The playful mask was gone, and something ancient and wrathful stared back.
“You should have care with how you address your Lumethaid,” Galdran murmured. “Or perhaps you do not see how merciful I have been. How merciful I am being.” His lips grazed Richard’s ear. “Shall I demonstrate? On your knight, perhaps.”
With glowing eyes, he stepped back.
Glass shattered inward from the window behind Kaelen.
Gnarled vines, bristling with large thorns, whipped towards Kaelen.
One coiled around Kaelen’s right leg from ankle to thigh.
Thorns bit deep, and blood bloomed in dark flowers across the trousers’ cloth.
A second vine lashed around Kaelen’s torso, pinning his arms to his chest. The third curled around his neck.