30. Divine Unity
Divine Unity
S unlight poured through the window of the morning room and pooled on the carpeted floor. Last night’s cold still clung to my bones, freezing me in place. I stared at the light, unable to tear my gaze away through the relentless blizzard of my thoughts.
There was last night, and the weight of what I’d done to my…
to that monster. There was the dream, which was more of a fantasy than anything else, and then Trygg’s acknowledgment of the connection between us.
There were the final preparations for this evening’s Feast of Jól, and the High Priestess’s surprise arrival this morning for the occasion.
Not to mention the ever-present rage that my mother’s killer still roamed free.
What are you thinking? the Shadow asked, undulating gently along the tattered edges of my mind.
Shouldn’t you already know? The question came out harsher than I intended. I’m sorry, I amended softly, I don’t… There’s so much going on, and I’m trying to make sense of it. What happened with my father last night, and with Trygg…
What happened with your father was a long time coming, Asvoria.
And you made the right choice. She fell quiet for a few, tense moments, rippling with anger.
I tried for years to convince Petra that Emund was a vile man.
But your mother… She tried her best to keep everyone appeased.
I’m not sure she ever really understood what that might cost.
It’s done now, I muttered, my shoulders sagging. He won’t hurt anyone else. After this business with the huathe is over, I’ll call for a trial.
She feathered softly against my mind, smoothing out some of the raggedness. I’m very proud of you, Asvoria. You are stronger than you know.
My eyes snapped up as the sound of the door opening sliced through my melancholy. Lenn’s broad form lumbered into the room, draped in his usual attire of bearskin and worn leather. From the look on his face, I knew.
“So, you’ve heard?” I tried to blend some humor into the question, but it came out strained.
Lenn stopped before me, placing a hand on the breakfast table. “Aye,” he rumbled. “The details are a bit fuzzy, but Johanna informed me this morning. What happened, Vor?”
I recounted the horrifying scene in the garden, skipping over the parts about the memory of my baby brother and the way I’d let Corbyn hold me to keep from breaking. There was only so much I could admit to the old man. After my explanation was done, he loosed a long breath.
“It’s a dangerous game,” he said darkly, “letting Emund Stendahl live. You’re sure you don’t want me to take care of it?”
It was the same thought that had circled through the shattered ice of my thoughts all day, whispering into the cracks between them. But things had to be done a certain way.
“If you do that, Lenn,” I warned, “we are no better than him.”
He took a step forward, dropping to a knee. “I understand, skatten min. ” His massive, rough hand stroked my hair from my face. “But hear me when I say: I will not let him escape justice with his life.”
I recognized it for the promise it was. No matter the consequences, Lenn would see my father’s head separated from his body. The thought unnerved me, but my Thane would never be swayed. He knew better than almost anyone what a monster my father was.
With trembling fingers, I reached for his other hand, curling it into my own like a lifeline. The Shadow seemed to curl around me as well, pressing in like a gentle embrace.
Lenn looked at our entwined fingers and his face softened. “What is it, Vor?”
“There’s so much,” I whispered, fighting back a fresh wave of emotion. After last night, I’d thought my tears were spent.
“I know,” he soothed, “and if there’s something weighing on you, you can talk to me about it.” He paused a moment, and I could see him working through the tangled web of his thoughts. “About the oath-taking cer?—”
“It was a mistake,” I cut in, fear of my own transparency lacing the words. “He… Talon Trygg didn’t know what he was doing. I’ve already reprimanded him for it.”
A wry smile played at his thin mouth. “Oh, I don’t doubt that,” he murmured. “But I saw you too, Vor… I see you.”
A tremor ran through me as understanding crept in. There was no condemnation in his tone, but neither was there acceptance. It was only sympathy I found in his eyes.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said. “It… it’s not simple.
” Even now, I felt that anchor in me, holding firm as I thought of Trygg.
There was a bond there, though I didn’t know where it came from, nor what it truly meant in the grand scope of things.
But I knew in my heart that it would not be easily broken.
At that realization, an even more frightening thought materialized.
I did not want it to break.
“These things never are,” Lenn replied, squeezing my fingers where they still curled around his.
“My heart breaks for you—for what you must be going through, but…” He looked down at our hands, shadows entering his gaze.
“I must urge you to exercise extreme caution, Vor. There is an expectation with them.”
“I know,” I said.
He shook his head. “Though the truth of relations with them is murky, there’s an expectation of appearance when it comes to the dragons,” he continued, looking into my eyes again.
“An appearance of indifference—even dislike, or downright hatred. I know you have moved past your prejudices of Arlbright. But you can’t show anything beyond a quiet resignation to their presence.
Do you understand what I’m saying?” He shook my hands gently, a weighty emphasis to his tone.
I bit my trembling lip. “I understand.”
It was as Kadia the Seventh wrote in her journals.
The acceptance that turned to friendship, and the friendship that blossomed into more.
She’d kept it all a secret. Though we were at peace with AEldin, they weren’t exactly our allies.
Some still viewed them as our enemies. Her fear of backlash was apparent in the journal entries.
That same fear settled in me now, sinking like a lead weight in my chest.
The Shadow radiated her agreement, tinged with sadness.
“Perhaps it’s better,” I sighed, “that I remain alone.”
“You won’t be alone forever.” He squeezed my hand and chucked me under the chin. “And besides, you’ll always have me.”
That brought a smile to my face. I looked into his sea-blue eyes, affection washing over me.
“Thank you, Lenn,” I breathed. I had to change the subject before I started crying again.
“Is everything ready for our departure in the morning?” Even after everything, we still had a job to do in the north.
I wouldn’t delay our journey for my father’s misgivings.
“Of course,” he replied, rising to his feet and pressing a gentle kiss to my brow. “Lady Estrid may wish to accompany us. Do you want me to talk to her?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head, “I’ll speak to her tonight.” I wanted to ask her more about her note anyways.
“Very well,” he said, turning to go.
I stared after him, breathing heavily to keep the well of emotion at bay. But he stopped at the door with his palm resting on the handle. A battle raged on his face, wrestling with some decision.
He lifted his gaze, desperate, immeasurable pain in the storm-tossed sea of his eyes. “I know,” he muttered, “what it feels like, skatten min. It gets easier… or maybe you just get used to it, but this pain will fade. I promise.”
With that, he was gone, and the realization settled over me like a blanket. Something maybe I’d always known, but never fully grasped. Now I saw it—saw him —and another jagged piece of my heart flaked off into the well of my sadness. For what he’d endured… and what he’d lost.
Dusk turned to night, and the revelers made their way to the banquet hall long before I ever arrived.
I didn’t care that they’d started the celebrations without me, except when the entire hall fell silent at my delayed arrival.
As I stood in the entrance, the milling crowd parted, turning to stare.
Their eyes settled on me heavily, striking a pang of irrational fear in my chest.
This was my court. These were my people. What did I have to fear from them?
The quivering of the darkthread was my answer, as was the presence of the dragon prince behind me.
I couldn’t ignore either of those things.
Not with the anchor slung between us, a force dead-set on making me look at him at every available opportunity.
If any of these people ever suspected—ever knew—what had shifted between us…
Swallowing down my nervousness, I strode into the banquet hall, Lenn and the two dragons following at a distance.
They had to hang back a few feet to account for the ridiculous train of the dress I wore, which Mother specially ordered months ago.
She’d been so excited for the Feast, it felt wrong not to wear it in her honor.
Just like the special night-sky dress of hers I’d worn to greet the dragon delegation, this gown exuded extravagance.
Garnet-colored silk made up the bodice and skirt, shining brilliantly under the candle-lit chandeliers.
Black lace, studded with diamonds, draped elegantly over the bodice, splitting at the waist to fall to the floor and leaving a triangle of the red silk visible.
The long sleeves and high neckline were black velvet, and the train was edged in black and silver tulle, dragging at least three feet behind me.
It was heavy, and not at all the style that I preferred—I usually opted for slimmer skirts that hugged the generous curve of my hips.
But it was hers. And, along with the crown perched atop my snow-white hair, it was a way for me to remember her.