Chapter 26
The fire in the hearth went out and plunged the room into almost complete darkness, not defining what time of day it was in the endless night.
My head pounded with residue from the toxins, lack of sleep, and the tears I let fall.
Heaviness sat on my chest, the memories of everything that happened not letting me rest for too long.
The moment Bj?rn shut the door, I stripped out of the gown and crawled into bed naked, hoping sleep would let me forget the fear, grief, and horror.
But in every dream, Onyx slipped in, watching the king slice my throat open with a smirk, along with a bright blue eye watching me, seeing right through my armor to the truth, the lies stacking around me, ready to tumble out.
What had happened to Brynden sent bile up my throat, the squelching sound still ringing like a nightmare in my head. A gift from my husband.
The realization I was married wouldn’t sink in.
Technically, I was now Queen of the Night Realm, but no one including myself would ever accept that.
The heavy moonstone on my finger was nothing more than a bragging right, a cage locking me in as one of his exotic pets.
A fraud in a foreign land, with the clock running out on my life.
“Even if everything is against you, you never give up. Only in your death will I accept your failure to fight, to do your duty, Wrennlyn.”
Fresh tears burned the back of my lids at my father’s words.
My father was brilliant—he wouldn’t have sent Brynden, who had no battle training, no negotiation skills, to bargain for me.
There had to be more. He wouldn’t let me go so easily.
Especially since he had to know the truth of what the seers foretold about the White Raven’s blood needing to be spilled.
Why would Father keep that from me? Leave me so vulnerable?
Brynden had to be a decoy, and Father had a bigger plan to rescue me. Maybe I just needed to hold strong, and believe King Stallard was coming to get me.
Coming for the White Raven.
A heavy snore penetrated the air, jerking my head to the side.
A candle still flickered by the bedside, glowing over Munch’s outline.
Stretched out on the pillow next to me, his stomach protruding with every breath.
The blanket he used as a midnight snack was clutched in his good hand, his nub lying on his belly, his mouth open wide, fangs poking out.
I curled on my side, facing him, watching my friend sleep. Reaching out, I brushed at the fine hairs sticking out of his head. A soft twitter came from him, and he smacked his lips.
Could I take him with me when my father rescued me? Would he like the Day Realm? I wouldn’t just leave him behind after everything we had gone through.
Lying there, I started to drift off, the barriers I was keeping up mollifying the harsh memories.
The soft sheets grazing the aches in my body I was ignoring, the throb between my legs that pulsed with my heartbeat, allowing the dreamlike imagery to flood back, the deep hum of his voice vibrating against me.
“Come on my tongue, kanin.”
Sweat dotted my forehead and I squeezed my thighs together, the pulse painful.
“Now return to your husband, knowing you let his guard—a lowly thrall—tongue-fuck you without hesitation.”
The finality in his words, the disgust in his expression, turned heat to chagrin.
Not able to sit still, I climbed off the large bed, my skin itching to crawl off my bones.
The stained white dress lay in a heap on the floor, blood spattered over it as though the White Raven had been shot down by an arrow, her na?vety and innocence hemorrhaging on the ground.
Panic gripped my senses, stealing my air, and I stumbled into the lavatory.
A mirror reflected the girl staring back—pale skin, silvery-blue eyes, and long white hair, her skin dried with flakes of blood.
No longer just Brynden’s blood, but everyone who had died because of me.
The trail of bodies left in my wake. Their voices crying out, their life draining from their eyes.
And Sarina’s voice was the loudest.
You failed me. You failed me. You failed me. The chant looped in my head.
“I know.” A sob worked up my throat, my hands gripping my head as her voice grew louder.
It should have been you.
“I know.” I gasped for air. “I’m so sorry.”
This is all your fault. I would still be alive and happy if it wasn’t for you.
It was my fault, and every day I caused more harm and death. How many more died that I didn’t even know, to protect the White Raven?
I couldn’t catch my breath, my guilt dragging me to the depths of despair. The only thing I understood was that I wanted it to end. The weight I had carried since I was a child, the responsibility I bore.
My legs wobbled under me, my vision blurring. I gripped onto the bathtub, sitting on the rim. Dark thoughts coiled in my mind, and I stared at the water, still filling the metal drum from my bath earlier that evening.
Even if my father came, by our laws and customs, he had no right to me anymore. I was King Helvig’s wife, his property until my death, which would be only a handful of months away.
You failed me. You failed me. You failed me. The voice was no longer Sarina’s, but my father’s, his disappointment and anger sneering at me.
“I know,” I whispered. I was never someone who felt defeated or wanted to give up, but I couldn’t fight the quicksand pulling me down. The guilt which consumed me like a drug, hauling me down. I had no power over it. “I am so, so sorry I disappointed you.”
It wasn’t the fact I was kidnapped—as though I could somehow have stopped it—but the corruption of my character, my integrity, that my father would find the most offensive.
“Why did you lie to me?” I whispered. Hopelessness swallowed me, pulling me down into despair.
I was going to die soon anyway. Why not do it under my own terms?
Blackness bled into my vision, and I felt myself let go, falling into the tub, sinking under the water.
My lungs spasmed for air, but I dove deeper into the darkness, searching for peace, to finally be free.
To fly with Huginn and Muninn.
It should have been my fate the day I was born.
A high-pitched sound drew me from the serenity of my death, a tiny arm flapping through the rippling waves of water. Huge dark eyes stared at me with frantic concern from the rim of the tub. Munch twittered, tears building up behind his lids.
I was failing even him.
Fight, Wren! What are you doing? Yet I closed my eyes, feeling my brain slow, the will to fight leaving my body. Somewhere in my gut I knew it was wrong, this was taking the cowardly way, but I just wanted all the lies and pain to stop.
Peace brushed my fingertips, the promise of serenity just in reach when pain shocked my senses.
Fire scorched down my neck, exploding over my chest in searing hot pain.
Wrath and fear come to life. A hand wrapped around my shoulders, yanking me up from the bottom.
Air stung at my face and burned down my airways, as water spewed up my throat.
Coughing and sputtering, I wheezed in and out, my lashes fluttering open.
“Breathe,” Onyx demanded, my body doing his bidding. “Again.”
I took in shaky breaths, hacking up more water, Munch twittering loudly next to me.
“I said again.”
Coughing, I sucked in cool air until my muscles started to sag against the tub. Onyx’s cold black eyes pierced mine, fury rolling off him along with the heavy stench of alcohol.
“Hva. Faen?” What the fuck? He seethed in and out, every syllable sparking through his teeth. “What were you doing?”
My body quaked with cold, but heat pumped down my neck and through my chest like embers.
“Answer me!” he rumbled, his eyes flashing.
My heart bashed against my ribs at his touch, making me feel dizzy, yet oddly centered. As though I had found my footing again, that whoever that girl was who had given up, it wasn’t me.
“I-I donn’t kkn-ow,” I croaked. Something felt off, like I wasn’t in my right mind before.
“You don’t know?” he spat. “I come in to find you at the bottom of your tub and you give me I don’t know?”
“Why do you care anyway?” My throat raw. “Why are you even here?” Emotion sputtered without my consent. “You knew what would happen tonight, didn’t you? That he had the wedding planned?”
“Yes.”
“And Brynden?”
“You think I give a fuck about that fitte? I would’ve happily been the one to stab him through.” He spat, causing Munch to click in louder bursts. “Now why were you trying to drown yourself?”
“You’re scaring him,” I whispered.
“Scaring him?” He choked on a humorless laugh, his hands gripping my biceps as he lifted me out of the water.
His gaze moved over me, his throat bobbing as he took in my dripping, naked figure, my wet strands cascading down like a sheer curtain. A nerve in his cheek twitched. A growl caught in his throat, his focus drawing back up to my face, his lids narrowing.
“I didn’t consider you someone who would take the cowardly way out.”
“Fuck you,” I replied defensively. “You aren’t the one married off to a psychopath who will force your legs open so he can breed you before he kills you.”
“You don’t think I know what it’s like to suffer under his hand?
” His fingers slid over my tattoos, forcing a gasp from my lips.
He yanked me in, my wet body soaking the tunic and trousers he’d changed into.
“To be stripped, humiliated, and beaten by him? Though that is the way of a king. Including yours.”
He let me go for a moment, and I wobbled on weak legs. He ripped off his shirt. Hatred and resentment locked his muscles.
“See these?” He pointed to deep red scars on his torso, twisting around to his back. “And these. They are from your father.”
“My father’s general.” General Backe was my father’s right-hand man and oversaw the prisoners. He dealt out their punishment and duties.
“No.” He stepped back into me. “By King Stallard himself.”