37. East
East
T rygg landed heavily on the shore, scattering rocks and dirt.
But, unlike me, he kept his footing, his momentum carrying him into a brisk walk toward us.
And as though it didn’t care what an absolute pile of shit we’d found ourselves in, my heart stuttered at the sight of him—at the feel of his presence as the connection between us tightened in a pleasant sensation.
You made it, I said.
You doubted me?
His playful tone did little to calm my raging nerves. I shook my head in response, not trusting my mental voice to remain strong. Corbyn gave me a pained, searching look. But then he turned his burning eyes on his prince.
“Nicely done back there, Arlbright,” Trygg said, coming to a stop next to his kinsman and clapping him on the shoulder. “Shattering the dome was a nice touch, though I didn’t peg you as having a flair for the dramatic.”
“It was merely convenient,” Corbyn ground out, shifting slightly so Trygg’s hand fell from his shoulder.
The prince huffed out a laugh before coming to my side, running a rough hand down the back of my arm. “Are you hurt?” he asked, concern leaking down the connection.
“No.” Apart from the incredible soreness in my muscles and the pain from my broken heart, of course. I’d been lucky to escape with my life, yet I suffered nothing more than a few bumps and bruises. I had the two dragons in front of me to thank for that.
Before I could even begin to express my gratitude, Corbyn interjected.
His eyes cut through the darkness like daggers, aimed at Trygg with heated precision.
“It’s a good thing you were there to alert me, wasn’t it?
” he asked, his voice strained. “I doubt the Thane ever imagined what the Jarlum would do.”
“No, he didn’t,” Trygg said, rolling his shoulders as he looked between us. “He came to me this morning at the gatehouse, told me when he realized what was happening he’d distracted the bastards long enough to let you get away. But that I should be ready to contact you in case things went badly.”
“Badly,” Corbyn repeated faintly. Something in his tone struck me, sending a slice of fear prickling down my neck. “Yes, I’d say things went very badly .”
I glanced between them, noting the tension in Corbyn’s shoulders and the fire in Trygg’s gaze. There was a roiling sort of anger coming from the bond, but I couldn’t understand why Trygg would be angry at Corbyn, of all people. He’d saved our necks back there.
I wished I could confer with the Shadow to gauge her reaction, but with Trygg connected to my mind, it wasn’t safe. There was only the faintest whisper of her confusion, matching my own.
“As you said,” Trygg continued tersely, not even looking my way, “it’s a good thing I was there.”
Corbyn inched a fraction closer, chest expanding with a deep breath. “Why is that again, Your Lesser Highness?” he growled, making my arms break out in gooseskin. “Were you also on trial?”
“Arlbright.” Trygg’s voice was laced with warning.
One which Corbyn promptly ignored. “Tell her the truth, Trygg.”
Fear sliced through me like a frozen knife. “What do you mean?” I breathed, eyes darting between them.
“Watch yourself.” Trygg stepped up to Corbyn’s slightly smaller frame. “You forget who you’re speaking to.”
I didn’t have time to demand an answer to my question.
Corbyn suddenly exploded in movement, his fist connecting with Trygg’s jaw in a sickening crack.
I cried out, watching wide-eyed as Trygg stumbled away from the wicked blow.
He lost his footing and fell back into the lapping water of the lake.
His wings flapped in the shallows furiously, flinging icy droplets all over the place, and water sprayed from his mouth as he shot to his feet.
“Tell her the truth or I will!” Corbyn roared, bucking like he would swing again.
“What the hell is going on!” My hands were shaking. Neither of them looked at me, locked in this secret struggle. They breathed heavily as they stared each other down like… like enemies.
Trygg was distracted enough that he’d withdrawn from the bond. The Shadow surged forward in his absence.
Asvoria, I don’t like this, she rasped. Prepare yourself to release me.
What?
You may have to fight one or both of them. Get ready.
I started to argue with her, but Trygg suddenly turned toward me, silver eyes shining like the moon. “Please,” he started slowly, “just listen.”
Fear melted into mind-numbing panic.
“Tell her,” Corbyn barked.
I shot him a pleading look. “Tell me what?”
Finally, Corbyn turned his copper-and-obsidian-flecked eyes on me. They were full of bottomless pain, so wide and deep it threatened to swallow me up. He opened his mouth to answer.
“Vor,” Trygg cut in, drawing my gaze. He was so disheveled, standing there dripping wet from head to toe with an ugly bruise blooming on his cheek. But his voice was unnervingly calm. “Please understand that I had little choice in the matter.”
“What—?”
“That’s horseshit,” Corbyn hissed through clenched teeth.
“You know nothing about it!” Trygg shot back.
White-hot anger rose from beneath my panic, setting the darkthread trembling. “Both of you, stop!” I shouted, positioning myself between them. “I don’t give two shits which one of you does it, but someone needs to explain what the hell is going on!”
A few moments of tense silence passed, all of us breathing heavily. It felt like a lifetime before anyone spoke.
“I lied.”
My head whipped toward Trygg. He said it so simply, it almost didn’t register.
But the Shadow bristled, tapping at my awareness enough to let it seep in.
Every instinct urged me to rage at those two small words.
Well, almost every instinct. Underneath the panic, the hurt, and the disbelief, there was the smallest kernel of cold resignation.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise at all. After all, how many times had I wondered at the truth behind the prince’s presence in the Citadel? I’d suspected him of treachery from the very beginning. So why did it hurt to have my suspicions confirmed?
A pointless question. I knew why.
The Shadow settled a bit as Trygg stood there stoically. My pulse slowed as well, tempered as that hollow validation spread through me.
I drew in a deep breath and pushed my shoulders back to appear steady. “About what?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level. There were so many things it could be—some more painful than others.
“I did not volunteer to be your Talon,” he said, his hands rising in a calming gesture.
I stayed quiet. He didn’t need to know that I was already aware the Council of Ancients sent him here on some secret errand. Slowly, he stepped forward, and Corbyn stiffened beside me.
“I was chosen,” he continued, coming to a halt an arm’s length away, “and given a task to complete by the Council. I know this may be hard for you to understand and believe, but it was not within my power to disobey them.” Corbyn released a scoff, drawing Trygg’s venomous gaze.
“It’s true,” he insisted. “You of all people should know how powerful they are, Corbyn.” At that, some of the tension between them dissipated.
But this wasn’t whatever conflict they were embroiled in.
“And what task did they give you?” I asked, bringing the prince’s attention back to me. “Were you sent to assassinate me?”
“No.”
“Then what?” I spat. “Are you a spy? Did you come to start a war? What did?—?”
“I was sent to seduce you,” he cut in, his voice ragged. His mouth was drawn into a frown, and his silver eyes shone with a look that made acid burn my throat.
Pity.
The air rushed out of me in a rough exhale, the force of it throwing me off balance. I staggered backwards, nearly running into Corbyn before he placed a steadying hand on my lower back.
“Seduce me,” I repeated numbly.
I was suddenly, forcefully reminded of every heated glance, every taunting jibe and flirtatious smile.
The way he’d almost laughed as he turned the cup in that damn ceremony.
His sultry words as he’d nearly kissed me in the library—every casual touch and weighted look after that.
The passionate insistence he’d displayed after the incident with the huathe .
How he’d claimed to care about my well-being and said he only wanted to protect me.
And I’d let him in. I’d kissed him and clung to him and… My cheeks burned with the memory of his head between my thighs, the aching pleasure I’d enjoyed more than I thought humanly possible.
I’d fallen straight into his trap, like the stupid, reckless little girl I’d always been.
A deranged laugh bubbled up in my chest. “Well,” I said through it, my throat hoarse, “you certainly performed your duty well, didn’t you?”
He flinched. “Vor?—”
“May I ask to what end, Your Lesser Highness?” My voice rose with my fury. “Did the Council think it would be funny to see the High Queen of Volmere brought to shame? Did they secretly hope my own people would try to execute me? If so, they certainly got their wish!”
A muscle feathered in Trygg’s jaw, his dark brows drawing together. “I don’t know.” Corbyn started to speak, but the prince cut him off quickly. “And that is the truth,” he snapped. “I was not privy to their reasoning, only given a goal to accomplish by whatever means necessary.”
He started to lean toward me, but my hands shot up to his chest, pushing him away.
“I’m sure they’ll be pleased with your performance,” I barked, shoving him again.
He stumbled back a step this time. A low buzz sounded in my ears.
“Will you be required to give a full report? I can imagine how thrilled the Council will be to hear that you put your forked tongue to good use!”