25. The Sharing of Mead #2
Trygg’s black diamond wings gathered into two lofty mountains, shooting up high over his shoulders as he folded them in.
The fire part of the ritual response was more metaphorical, of course, but there was still that spark in his eyes.
It sent a jolt through my chest, plucking lightly at the darkthread.
I drew in a deep breath, keeping my face calm. “Kneel.”
He dropped to one knee, swinging his scabbard back so it didn’t catch on the floor. Corbyn remained standing behind him, coal-black gaze fixed on me intently. A memory crept up unexpectedly, of when he’d made his own oath to the Crown fifteen years ago.
I’d been utterly fascinated with the bright color of his wings then, so different from Grantis’s wood-brown color.
The Talon he’d come to replace—Zimus, I think was his name—I remembered being a muddy, dull yellow.
But Corbyn… He sparkled like the jewels in Mother’s necklaces. I’d been enthralled by him back then.
And though we’d been through a few trials recently, I had to admit, I was still enthralled by him. By both of them.
Whenever they were near, my attention went to them, whether I wanted it to or not.
And after my conversation with Trygg about his family, I wanted to know more about the dragons on the whole.
Their strangeness was alluring to me. And…
yes, handsome to look at, though Corbyn was slightly more severe than Trygg’s rugged charm.
Damn you, Shadow. Why’d she have to bring this up at all, especially now?
I will never apologize for speaking the truth, she quipped.
“Speak your oaths,” Corbyn said quietly, drawing my attention back to the task at hand. As the senior Talon of the two, he did not have a large role in the ceremony, except as the official witness representing AEldin.
Trygg’s gaze hardened as he stared up at me, jaw flexing. His deep voice resonated in the domed chamber, sending a shiver down my spine.
“I, Bentein Imarth Kendyn Trygg, swear on my honor as a dragon of AEldin… and on my word as a royal son of House Dyvur, to uphold the laws of the Drakon Treaty.”
Intrigue flared in my mind. That was an interesting addition. It never applied before, but I hadn’t expected him to reference his royal lineage in his oaths.
He continued, “I promise to diligently perform the duties of a Talon bound to the crown of Volmere. To guard against any danger, and to protect you, even unto death.”
I drew in a sharp breath, and the Shadow perked up in interest.
Those were not the right words.
“If I should ever betray my oaths,” he said, his voice cutting through my surprise, “it will be the responsibility of my brother-in-arms, Corbyn Quindio Pendess Arlbright of House Vadis, with the full authority of the Council of Ancients, to mete out justice as he sees fit.
I swear to faithfully uphold this duty, as is also given me by the Council.
“With my life, I pledge myself to House Erling for the duration of twenty years, or until I draw my last breath, whichever precedes the other. I give you, Queen Asvoria Falk, First of Her Name, my claws, my wings, my fangs, and my fire.”
Another small misstep in the wording of the oath. Had he really forgotten? I couldn’t imagine Corbyn wouldn’t let him know through their mental link, but Trygg’s confidence never faltered.
‘… to protect you , even unto death. ’
‘I pledge myself to House Erling…’
That wasn’t right. He was supposed to say, ‘…to protect the crown …’ and ‘I pledge my service to House Erling…’ What was he thinking? I doubted I was the only one to notice the mistake.
My heart fluttered like a bird in a cage as I said, “Rise, and approach the throne.” I had to keep going with the ceremony—pretend everything was fine. Maybe no one heard, or at least wasn’t familiar with the wording.
Trygg stood in one fluid motion, ascending the steps of the dais as I rose from my throne.
Lenn moved behind me to the liveried servant at the far end of the platform.
He retrieved the golden goblet from the platter in the servant’s hands and returned to stand beside the throne.
I turned to take the cup, catching the heated look in his eyes.
Do you think Lenn realizes Trygg misspoke?
Of course he does, the Shadow said darkly.
I grasped the jeweled stem of the goblet, avoiding Lenn’s eyes.
When I turned back, Trygg loomed over me, his wings casting long shadows over us like a glittering cocoon.
His gaze traveled down my face and neck, making me shiver.
Maybe the kohl marks were too much—drew too much attention.
Blood rose to my cheeks, and my scar tingled as his eyes rested on the puckered line.
Something tweaked in my chest, a feather-light touch that stroked the darkthread and set it trembling. At least it wasn’t dragging my feet forward this time. That would be more humiliation than I could possibly bear.
Slowly, I raised the gilded cup between us, trying to keep my voice steady as I looked him in the eye. “With the sharing of this mead”—I raised the goblet to my lips, taking a small sip—“your oaths are sealed, Bentein Trygg.” His name rolled off my tongue easily, sweetened by the honey drink.
The goblet shook as I extended the cup toward him. Why was I so nervous? I’d been this close to him before, and in much scarcer states of dress. This was a hollow ceremony. An affirmation of his loyalty to the treaty between Volmere and AEldin, nothing more.
But that wasn’t exactly true. The way he’d changed the wording of the oaths… It charged the space between us like lightning. He hadn’t pledged himself to the service of the treaty or the duties of the position.
He’d pledged himself to me.
Trygg reached out, brushing my fingers as he took the proffered cup and raised it, twisting as he went. He turned the goblet slowly until the place where my lips had touched rested against his mouth. Tipping it back, he took a long drink. It was an effort to keep the shock from my face.
That was definitely not how that was supposed to go. The cup was not to be turned. Not during this ceremony, anyways. That was only for… For a wedding.
What the fuck was he doing? Did he know what it meant?
His mouth curled in amusement, that mischievous glint in his gaze sparking brighter. “And so they are sealed,” he said, handing the cup back to me.
I couldn’t breathe. Gods, I hoped nobody else saw what he’d done.
When I took the goblet back, our fingers touched once more, and a spike of heat ran up my arm. My heart jumped at the sensation as I drew back, quickly handing the goblet off to Lenn. The darkthread shuddered from the contact, an occurrence that was becoming far too frequent.
I had to regain my composure. The ceremony wasn’t over yet.
Clearing my throat quietly, I said, “I name you Talon of the queen. Go, and perform your duty well.”
He bowed, keeping his eyes on me. It was like he’d seen into my mind and heard exactly what the Shadow and I had discussed.
All his actions seemed carefully tailored to draw a response out of me, responses that I had little control over.
That same, innate sense that drew me to him at the wall dragged against me now, searing through my chest as I watched him descend the steps of the dais and rejoin his kinsman.
I raised my arms, preparing for the final phrase of the ceremony. If only my pulse would slow down so I could spit the damn words out and be done with this whole affair. It took an agonizingly long moment for me to muster the strength.
“I mark you all as witnesses to Talon Trygg’s oaths,” I said, addressing the small crowd.
My eyes glossed over them, only pausing when I caught sight of Lukas standing behind his mother.
The trembling rage on his face was enough to send a jolt of fear coursing through me. He saw exactly what Trygg had done.
I dropped my arms and forced myself to look away. It was over. The crowd chattered amongst themselves once more, breaking apart from their two long lines down the length of the room. Releasing a heavy breath, I shuddered under the invisible weight settling in my chest.
The Shadow brushed up against my consciousness softly. That was… intense.
A gross understatement, I muttered back as I descended the steps, dark skirts dragging behind me. What should I do? Of all the emotions battling for dominance in my head, uncertainty bested them all.
I doubt speaking to him about it would yield any satisfying answers, she said. He might be goading you into confrontation. We cannot ignore that this may all be part of a plot put forth by the Council.
I passed by the dragons, and they turned to follow. Lenn fell into step behind them, the same displeasure as before chiseled on his weathered face. I sensed a lecture coming, one I was not looking forward to.
You think they sent him here to… what? Seduce me?
It’s a distinct possibility, she mused. You must remain on your guard, Asvoria. Especially considering ? —
If you say I find him attractive one more time, Fenya help me, I will scream. We exited into the hall, and I made a quick turn for the corridor leading to my chambers, hurrying across the stone floor as swiftly as was appropriate.
Lot of good that will do you, she laughed, shuddering in that strange way of hers. You’ll only convince everyone you’ve gone completely mad.
I sighed, trying to ignore the cacophonous clanking of the armor-clad dragons behind me. Some days I feel I have gone mad. These Shifters are going to be the death of me, one way or another.
Dark thoughts, young one. She fluttered lightly. The situation may not be so dire. I only mean to suggest you stay alert to any hints of danger, that’s all.
Oh, I am alert, I assured her, fighting the urge to look at the dragons as I opened my door. And confused, and angry, and terrified, and ? —
“I have a few things to attend to,” Lenn said, cutting through my mental ramblings. I turned, distracted by the glittering pairs of wings at either side of him. “Some coordinating to do with the Lendr. I’ll bring you a report after supper.”
I nodded. “Thank you, Lenn. Will you arrange for the Hersir to attend to me in the morning?” I asked, gaining a quizzical look from all three of the men standing before me. My gaze shifted between the two dragons. “I’d like for both of you to rest tomorrow, after the day we’ve all had.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Lenn huffed out, inclining his head before turning back toward the entrance hall. I was sure there would still be a lecture later, especially after Trygg’s display in the throne room. But at least I’d been granted a temporary stay.
“That’s very kind of you, my lady,” Trygg said, arching an eyebrow at me.
Heat flooded my face, along with a tingling awareness. Damn the Shadow to the seven hells for ever bringing this up. “Well, don’t get too comfortable,” I shot back, my irritation getting the better of me. I looked over at Corbyn. “We will be leaving in a few days.”
“To go where?” Corbyn asked, his dark gaze narrowing.
So much had happened in a few short days, and I’d been wrestling with the question all day.
My city had been attacked by an unprecedented force of myrkva.
The danger was growing out of hand all across Volmere.
But I couldn’t put aside the writings in the book Lady Estrid had shown me.
The myrkva were connected to the north and this Gremfylk somehow.
My mother thought the same, and she’d ended up dead.
It couldn’t be a coincidence. The huathe was tied up in all of this as well.
If I could track him down, I had a feeling it would provide a solution to the myrkva problem too.
At this point, it was a risk I had to take.
Not just for my pride, but for my people as well.
My resolve solidified as I drew in a deep breath.
The thread tied to Lukas—the one that kept me here—was gone.
I felt its absence like a healing scar. But as much as I cared for Lukas, I was not heartbroken.
Perhaps that said more about me than it did about him, but my affections had been steadily waning for some time now.
It was time to forge my own path ahead, regardless of what Lenn or any of the other Jarlum might think.
And as addle-brained as these dragons made me, I needed them.
“We make for the north,” I answered. “It’s high time we track down this huathe and make him answer for his crimes.”