Chapter 22
Wife.
That word chimed in my ears, banging in my chest.
“Wha—what?” A hot chill flushed and shivered my body, my mouth struggling to speak, my gaze darting to Onyx.
His jaw firm, he stared off into the distance, his eyes not meeting mine.
He had known the whole time what the king’s plans were.
My stomach opened up like a sinkhole, pulling my heart into the black void.
“What are you talking about?”
King Helvig tilted his head, staring at me as if I was a fascinating specimen.
“What did you think I wanted you for, my beautiful dove?” From up close I could tell he was near my father’s age, silver hair threading at his temple, a few distinguished wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, yet still jarringly beautiful.
“Us marrying will unite our territories and bring harmony once again to the people.”
“You mean your people,” I spat. “You think marrying me gives you the power to lead this entire realm?”
“It does. Who has you, has the power.” He gripped my chin gently, but I felt even more unsettled by his action. “At least until you serve your purpose. Within a year’s time, your blood will be sacrificed, watering the dirt of the Dusk Realm at the site of the Battle of Blood, breaking our curse.”
“What?” I croaked out, stepping away from his touch. “Sacrifice my blood?”
The king blinked at me like I confused him, then let out a maniacal laugh.
“Your father never told you the full story of your own destiny?” He shook his head, amused.
“Of course Vorian didn’t. That man keeps everything close to his chest. Everything is a secret to be used against someone.
He is so utterly dull and uptight.” The way he talked about my father was familiar, like he knew him well.
“But to leave you so unprepared like this . . . how cruel.” He tapped his fingers to his lips, a smile playing on his mouth like this was a fun game.
“I guess it’s up to me to tell my betrothed. ”
My teeth gritted, my shoulders pressing back, fighting against the panic wanting to bend me over.
“The day this realm was divided, the blood that was spilt burned the life out of this land. The runes cast over the dying earth foretold the one born of death and sacrifice.”
“Born of death and sacrifice?” I managed to utter.
“A queen giving her life for her child’s survival? Such power and magic in that kind of love.”
My head wagged, my throat closing in.
The king brushed his fingers over my cheek. “Her beauty and power so potent, she would mend the warring nations and heal us with the sacrifice of her blood. Trading her life to restore what was taken.”
“You’re lying.” My mind stumbled back to the night in Blackwater, how the audience at the puppet show cheered on, chanting.
“You have magical blood, I hear. Powerful enough to heal the dying land!”
“Kill her! Kill her!”
“No.” My head shook, spearing a glance back at Onyx.
His arms folded, his gaze on the ground, but something in his demeanor spoke truth of the king’s claim.
“My father would have told me,” I countered.
“Father had the story woven into tapestries hanging in the hall, the foretelling of the White Raven’s glory, how on her nineteenth birthday she would stand by his side, heal the world and bring order to .
. .” My thoughts stumbled along with my mouth.
“Bring order and power to him. He just left out the part you had to die,” The Night King finished for me. “How convenient.”
My lips pinned together, my father’s lies stacking higher and higher, though I still felt he did it for good reasons. He had to. To protect the White Raven.
“How did you think you would heal the lands?”
“I-I . . .” My cheeks flamed with embarrassment, how easily I accepted my father’s words. How my whole kingdom took what he said as truth. The stories woven into rugs and written on parchment must be fact.
“What you study in books makes you know the things in them. History is written by the winners to make themselves the heroes, not about the truth.”
“Why do you think he always hid you from me, dove?”
“Don’t call me that,” I seethed. The nickname made me want to scour my skin, brush it off me like it was grime. “My father hid me to protect me from the likes of you.”
Gavric smirked. “He wanted all the power for himself.” His thumb brushing off the filth from our trek here.
“Vorian understands: Whoever has the White Raven—holds all the power.” His hand grazed over my bottom lip.
I swear I heard a rumble from behind, a prickle along my neck. “That is why we will be married soon.”
“Why bother marrying me if you’re just going to kill me?” I snipped, my fear lashing out in anger.
“My perfect dove. I’m not going to kill you right now.
To fully heal the land, we must venture to where it all began.
The place where blood was spilled on the battlefield.
And it is where your blood must be sacrificed.
Everything aligns. On the winter solstice, the day you turn nineteen, on the one hundred and ninety-ninth year after the Battle of Blood. ”
“It took me much longer to obtain you. I was hoping to have you months ago, I wanted an heir by now. Solidifying my right to the realm’s throne.
” He ran a hand over my stomach. “Not that I won’t make sure you’re mine in every other way.
” In our raven form, it only took a month to incubate our offspring, but since we lost our magic, our pregnancies were more like a bat’s gestation, taking seven to eight months to carry a child to term.
King Helvig’s fingers trailed up, yanking off my cloak, his hungry gaze stopping on my chest. He went utterly still.
“What is this?” He indicated the ink marks running down my neck, landing on the one at the base of my throat, the one with diamond symbols.
His brown eyes lost all light. Wrath bloomed through his cheeks, exploding over his face. His voice thundering in the room, splintering my eardrums.
“What the fuck is this?” He ripped off my cloak, tossing it to the ground. His focus snapped to Onyx. “What. Did. You. Do?” Fury radiated like a smoldering fire, warning us of its power still to destroy. “You marked her?”
“I had no choice, my liege,” Onyx replied woodenly.
“No choice?” He sputtered. “You dare mark what is mine?!” He stomped over to the Night Hunter, slapping him hard across the face, the sound echoing off the walls. “You insolent fool! You challenge my right to her?”
“No, sire.”
“Are you sure?” He pressed up to Onyx, staring up at him, a strange energy billowing from the king, like he enjoyed his anger. “Did you mark her as yours in other ways too, shield? Put your dick inside her?”
Onyx stood still, his gaze over the king’s head, the nerve in his jaw bouncing, his jaw clenching.
“Answer me!”
“No, my liege.” His teeth gritted out every word.
“But you wanted to.” He moved in closer. “I can tell.”
“She was taken by a trafficking flock, I had to—”
“Get on your knees!” the Night King cut Onyx off, snapping his fingers at his thralls by the throne.
One instantly leaped up, grabbing something next to his chair and rushing to him.
The king laid his palm out while the thrall placed an object into it.
His knuckles cracked as he wrapped his fingers around the handle.
Acid pooled in the back of my throat, seeing the long leather tails coming off the shaft of the whip.
He waited until Onyx slowly dropped to the ground, staring blankly into the distance, reaching automatically for his tunic, pulling it off like he knew this routine.
“That’s right.” The king’s chest went up and down, taking in Onyx’s physique. “You know I hate to do this. But you make me punish you.”
My eyes tracked over Onyx, taking in all the old scars covering his body, my brain putting the pieces together.
He did know this routine. The scars were not battle wounds but from his own king.
The whip cracked in the air with foreboding, a warning kiss, tasting the air. The king snapped it again, the second lash rupturing over Onyx’s skin, cutting across an old scar along his chest. His body jerked at the impact, his jaw clenching, but only a small grunt escaped.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Brynn lean forward, but Renyx quickly grabbed her wrist, his head shaking subtly. She stopped, knowing she couldn’t intercede, but turned away as another splinter sliced over Onyx’s torso.
“You must be punished for your disrespect. I can’t have anyone thinking they can just take what is mine and get away with it!” the king stressed. “You make me do this to you.”
Crack.
Onyx’s teeth bared, a heavy grunt escaping his lips.
Crack.
He tried to hold strong against every lash, though his body drooped lower each time, saliva spitting from his lips, blood dripping from his wounds onto the black and white tile floor.
Crack.
My head spun with nausea, vomit pooling in my gut. His frame started to tremble and sway, his grunts of agony coming out louder.
Crack.
“Stop!” I screamed, moving for him before my mind registered my action. “Please, stop!”
Bj?rn jumped for me, blocking me before I could get between Onyx and the whip.
The king reared at my voice, pulling back, blinking at me with shock. The room went silent, tension weaving fearfully through the air.
“You think you can interfere with how I discipline my soldiers?” King Helvig’s tone was neutral but vibrated with danger.
He strolled for me, the whip trailing blood over the floor as it dragged behind him.
He stopped, his boots hitting my toes, his eyes going between mine. “You dare interrupt your king?”
“You’re not my king.”
He stared for a long time, and I waited for the strike to come, the same type of punishment my father deemed necessary when I challenged or embarrassed him in public.
However, Gavric tipped his head back, a full laugh rebounding off the ceiling, startling me.