35. Torn Thread #3
And for the first time since I’d been brought to the throne room, it struck me as odd that Trygg was here at all.
The Jarlum couldn’t question him on his involvement, not without representation from his own kind.
Even if they could have, they didn’t need to look into his mind to prove Lukas’s claims. My memories were enough to condemn me. So why bring him?
Vilke turned to face Anja, her calm mask slipping back into place. “Are you saying this happened before the queen’s assassination?”
Anja gave a slight nod. “I believe so,” she replied. “She appeared as she did before her mother’s death.”
What?
“No,” I forced out, biting on the word. None of this was true. Why was she lying?
“And they were discussing plans to…” Vilke paused only momentarily, swallowing hard and turning her stony gaze on me. “Plans to murder Queen Petra?”
“Yes,” Freya Anja breathed.
“Vilke!” Lenn shouted, making me flinch. “You can’t actually believe this!”
Her blade-sharp gaze landed on him. “You would know better than most, Thane Reijason. Look at her with your own power. Is Freya Anja lying?”
“I know she is,” he growled, hands trembling from the force of his clenching. “I saw the creature myself last night, dead at the queen’s hands. That thing came back to finish the job and she fought against him. Both her Talons were there. They can tell you!”
“The dragons cannot be questioned,” Vilke shot back, leaning forward in her chair. “And besides, their testimony would be worthless. Clearly”—she threw a pointed gaze at Trygg—“the queen is in league with them.”
“Horseshit!” Lenn jerked away from the Hersir, startling them. “The girl made a mistake, that’s all. You can’t seriously think she conspired with the Shifters to murder her own mother!”
Vilke leveled a cold glare at me, holding her ground even as Lenn attempted to approach the table. The Hersir hauled him back violently.
“I would believe anything of someone who stoops so low as to take monsters to their bed,” Vilke seethed.
My breath fled from my lungs. This couldn’t be happening. Didn’t they see Anja was lying? None of this made sense!
Slowly, Vilke stood from her chair, rising to meet Lenn’s threatening glare with one equally as calm. “And anyone who supports that person is clearly in league with them as well.”
The Hersir trying to contain him tightened their hold. One of them—Paivi, I thought—struck his knee with the butt of her spear in a brutal blow. Letting out a pained cry, Lenn dropped to the marble floor a few paces away from me.
Dread plummeted through my chest, sinking to my stomach. Without realizing, I found myself trying to crawl across the floor, reaching toward Lenn in vain. But my elbow gave out. I lay prone against the cool slate, blinking back tears.
…Vor…sto…this…a tra… The Shadow’s voice came in stuttering gasps, like fretful pounding against a wall. Whatever had a hold of my mind seemed to be wearing off. Her presence was strengthening, and the darkthread began to pulse.
Do something, a strange, faint voice whispered.
My chest ached so fiercely I thought my body might crack open. “No,” I called, extending my arm toward Lenn. Out of the corner of my eye, Trygg was pulling against the Hersir holding him back. His gaze flew wildly between me and Vilke.
And through it all, Lukas stood there at the corner of the table, smiling in amusement with his arms crossed over his chest. Relaxed. Like he was watching a friendly wrestling match.
Vilke drew up to her full height, gazing at everyone gathered in the throne room. Her face was as placid as a mountain lake. “It is clear to me,” she began, voice ringing through the hall, “that we have all been deceived.”
Hushed murmurs of agreement swept through the crowd, suffocating me. I could only imagine what a pitiful sight I was, sprawled across the floor, accused of the unthinkable and unable to refute the claims.
“Queen Asvoria has lied to us,” she continued, walking down the length of the table. She passed her son, coming to a stop before Lenn where he knelt beneath the dome. “Her Thane wishes us to believe she’s innocent, but the proof has already been presented. Memories do not lie.”
“No,” Lenn growled threateningly, “but people do.”
“Then who are we to believe?” Vilke gestured behind her.
“The honored Jarla of Clan Kjaer?” She glared back at me, still struggling to my hands and knees.
“A young woman who consorts with our enemies?” Finally, she set her scathing gaze on Lenn.
“Or the bastard son of a whore that rose to prominence because he fucked the right person?” This last question she said so quietly I doubted any of those lined against the walls could hear.
But the hidden truth of her words froze my blood to ice.
She knew.
Asvoria… The Shadow again, louder and closer than before. Some of the fog had cleared. Whatever drug held me in its grasp, it was loosening. A few more minutes and I’d be free.
Though my arms still shook, I found they held my weight now. “Stop this,” I breathed, panting with the effort of pushing into a crawl.
Vilke threw her head back and squared her strong shoulders.
The earth beneath us shuddered. “Brothers and sisters,” she began, “too long have we lived under the stranglehold of those more powerful than we, all because we never understood where that dark power came from. It frightened us, knowing what the women of House Erling could do.” More murmurs of agreement rustled about the room.
“But they kept us safe from our enemies, and that was enough for us to give them a crown—to give them control. Tell me… If their power is so great, why would Fenya not include it with her original gift? Why do the Falk women, and no others, hold dominion over death and commune with dark spirits?”
Run… you have to… The unbridled panic in the Shadow’s voice was palpable, but the darkthread did not respond when I reached toward its power. It fluttered like a banner in the wind, slipping beyond my grasp.
The muttering in the room grew louder, emboldening Vilke. “And now,” she continued, “we find an Erling queen has taken a dragon to her bed. Allowed him to plant his seed in the center of Volmere’s power—the one thing that has kept us safe from the dragons these thousand years.”
I opened my mouth to scream—to defend myself the only way I could. But as I went to force the air through my throat, it was not my voice that rang through the dome.
“No!” Trygg roared. “You’re a liar!” Weak tendrils of flame sputtered from his mouth, fading into nothingness before going more than a few inches. Had they weakened him too?
Vilke didn’t so much as glance his way. “Hear how the monster defends her,” she hissed.
“Two nations that have never fostered anything more than cold, reluctant acceptance, yet he rages. Further proof of her scheming. They planned this, the queen and the dragons of AEldin. They let us all believe in a nameless, faceless enemy on the run, while they tore us apart from the inside out.”
“Vilke,” Lenn groaned, half anger and half agony. Blood splattered on the floor beneath his knee, the sight sending a painful spike of fear through my chest.
She continued on, heedless of the protest. “I, for one, will no longer fall prey to the fear of my forebears. The people of Volmere are strong!” Vilke shot an angry glare at me and Trygg in turn. “We do not need to rely on the intimidation or protection of demons any longer.”
Suddenly, shouts of affirmation rang throughout the throne room. I gritted my teeth against the roaring cacophony.
“Traitor!”
“Death to the queen!”
“Murderer!”
“With the emergency powers granted me by the law,” Vilke called above them, “for conspiring with Shifters to murder Queen Petra, I hereby find Asvoria Falk guilty of high treason and regicide by proxy, and sentence her to death.”
“No!” Lenn’s scream sounded like some wounded animal, nothing close to human. Another bellowing, wordless shout joined his… Trygg.
I couldn’t even form thoughts, let alone words. This couldn’t be real. Vilke, the woman who’d guided me with her wisdom. Anja, who always told the truth, no matter how painful. Ingvar, who said not a word in my defense. And Lukas, the boy I’d thought I loved.
They’d turned against me.
Why?
I looked at Lukas, betrayal opening a hollow pit in my chest. But every trace of triumph had disappeared from his face. He looked away, toward his mother, something like shock tarnishing his features.
Asvoria! the Shadow’s voice pierced through my mind like a bell, clear and resonant. I dragged a shuddering breath through my lungs.
“And for aiding and abetting this heinous act,” Vilke said, “I hereby find Lenn Reijason guilty of high treason, and sentence him to death as well.”
Lenn flailed wildly against the hands holding him to his knees as Vilke crouched before him. He stilled as she leaned in, whispering something in his ear.
His shoulders shook as he turned to look at me, eyes wide with fear. But it was not fear for himself that I found in the ocean of his gaze. No, even now, with his life dangling on a string before him, his only thought was of me and my safety. And I saw the love there, shining beneath it all.
The love of my father.
“No,” I whispered, pulling weakly against the Hersir.
Lenn smiled sadly, a thousand words conveyed in that one look. And then turned to Trygg. “Now!”
Vilke snapped her head toward the dragon prince, rising to her feet with cold fury.
There were people still shouting, calling for my death, screeching for Lenn to lose his head.
A pained look passed over Trygg’s face and I felt a sharp tug in my gut.
Icy fury. Iron-clad determination. Sparkling hope.
Asvoria, can you reach the darkthread? the Shadow screamed. It was the strongest she’d sounded since I’d left my room.
But I couldn’t. Even if the immobilizing effects had worn off, I couldn’t feel anything beyond Trygg’s raging sea of emotions crashing through me.
The darkthread might as well not even exist. Vilke looked back at me, horrified understanding dawning in her eyes.
With a speed I didn’t know she possessed, she drew a knife from her belt and leapt around Lenn, aiming toward me.
Time slowed to a crawl. Vilke started to cross the distance between us, the knife held up by her head.
The torchlight reflecting off the floor and the pillars gave her an otherworldly glow, painting her like some avenging Valkyrie.
It was not to be a life of confinement like my grandmother for me. This was it. The end.
I’m about to die.
The realization soured in my stomach, even as newfound energy spiked through me.
My fingers twitched in response and my legs jerked, sending me sprawling backward.
If I could just break free of this drugged state, I could attempt escape.
But there wasn’t any time. My body still refused to obey me.
Vilke would be within arm’s reach in a few seconds.
I’m sorry, I said to the Shadow.
Asvoria, no. She thrashed, trying desperately to pull against the darkthread. But she was still too weak. And my spirit was crushed.
A blood curdling scream rang out, halting Vilke’s steps and drawing her attention away. The torchlight dimmed, stripping away the gilding surrounding her. Wait, no… Not the torches. They still burned bright, throwing shafts of light across the room.
A shadow fell over the dais, spreading out over the floor until it covered us all. I raised my head to stare up at the dome. I should have seen stars and the night sky wheeling above—moonlight pouring in. But I saw only glittering ruby scales, outstretched wings, and curling black talons.
With a deafening roar, Corbyn smashed through the dome, raining sparkling shards of glass down upon us.