Chapter 48
Forty-Eight
“Heirs! We protect each other,” Ivren screamed as we were attacked. “No one else!”
“Darcke,” I cried as a blade nearly slammed my own out of my hands. “Move!”
But my second didn’t even twitch as duels broke out around us.
I moved to stand before him, parrying every blow directed his way, and Torden took his back, kicking and punching as much as using his axe to keep the chiefs’ men off.
I didn’t mind Darcke’s fury this time, because it made my every strike more forceful—my every move more precise.
Our enemies were too many. Blood from the king’s men spilled atop the white pathway, running like deadly rivers down its sides.
Vero slipped on the crimson pools, barely surviving a strike from one of Ivren’s mother’s iron-bound.
Only because Ivren managed to get his blade in between did she keep her head attached to her body.
“You’re coming after us?” Ivren screamed. “We are your legacy!”
“Not if you stand between us and the king,” his mother shouted back. “You are no son of mine if you protect him.”
“We’re not protecting him,” Geord screamed. “We’re protecting one of our own.”
I couldn’t help but shoot him a look.
Geord grimaced as he ducked beneath a sword. “What’s to say”—he got a blade out of one of the men’s hands, kicking it down into the water rushing by our side—“that they don’t come for me next? I have no loyalties to these people.”
As I struck a man in the shoulder, finally getting him away from Darcke, an amused exhale left me. Geord’s motivations might be selfish, but he was right.
If they went for one of us, they might well take down all.
“Fuck, there are more coming!” Torden gestured to where dozens of men climbed up the sloping pathway. “Darcke, we need you to move! We can’t protect you and ourselves.”
I turned from where Borje and his men were being overrun, to where our parents were fighting the three warriors who’d been shielding the king, to Darcke.
“You won’t be able to move unless he tells you,” I whispered as his beautifully chiseled features remained still, only his eyes warning away.
“We can’t have that.” While Torden fought another man to keep him off my second, I lifted on my toes and pressed a hard kiss to Darcke’s lips. “Because my mother was right.”
His eyes flashed, and there was something bottomless—a pain I could barely fathom—spreading within him. He wanted to speak so badly it made me breathless.
“I’m going to save you.” I placed my hand over his cheek before I turned to his warrior. “I’m going to save him.”
“I’ll”—Torden groaned as he kicked off the man he’d just impaled on his sword—“keep them away as long as I can.”
“I’ll help!” Ivren shoved me out of the way as he took over to cover Darcke’s front.
“No, you won’t!” his mother screamed. “You will step away from him!”
“I will not,” Ivren replied simply as he fought off another attacker, sending him headfirst into the waves. “Go, Elvara!”
I ran, but it was impossible to miss Ivren’s mother’s call. “You will die if you try to protect them. They are not your blood, Ivren! I am.”
“She is my friend!” Ivren shouted as two men circled him. “I did this to keep her alive! I refuse to believe Lika would have wanted this, and I will not taint his memory by not protecting his sister!”
My blood rushed in my ears as I sprinted, jumping over swords that came for my gut and slicing up a man’s back when he spun to try to take me down.
There was only one man still standing before the king and the shaman, and he was busy sparring with what must have been one of Adrion’s father’s men, judging from the rune he’d drawn on his cheek.
I felt every heartbeat in my throat as I slipped around them.
The shaman didn’t cower. I wasn’t sure if it was because he couldn’t or because he wouldn’t, but either way, I bent my head in respect as I raised my sword. He deserved that much, even though he’d leashed Darcke on the king’s behalf—had forced him into that gilded noose.
“It’s him or you,” I said softly. “And I love him. I’ve fallen in love with him.”
I heard the shaman’s voice from the night of the choosing in my mind.
An entanglement built on desire compromises the bond’s integrity, and it may confuse you when you’re at your most vulnerable.
“You were wrong. He doesn’t confuse me,” I said. “He makes me better. He makes me stronger, even when I have no strength running through my veins.”
The shaman’s lips twitched.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
My sword fell, and I watched as the shaman’s head rolled into the water, painting it as pink as the aurora in the sky above us. His body crumpled to the ground with a thud that would forever echo in my mind, but relief flooded me.
Darcke was free.
The king laughed. An eerie, strange laugh that spilled over my skin like cold water.
Slowly, purposefully, I spun his way.
Remember who your enemy is. Blood dripped from my sword as I lifted it once more.
I cleared my throat when the king’s eyes found mine.
“You might not ultimately be responsible for everything that’s happened, but you are responsible for lives lost. Ottoh died because you let karls come after us.
I almost died because of the wars you should have stopped.
You erased the people of the man I loved—my people.
And you tied him to you, forcing him to do your bidding.
” I sucked my teeth. “I might not agree much with my mother, but I do believe that you should die.”
I gripped the sword with both hands, waiting for one heartbeat.
Kingslayer, they’d call me.
But was that worse than the other names I’d earned at the Hird?
Something cold slid against my throat, a sharp blade resting against my collarbone. For a second I thought it was a joke. Because I could feel Darcke behind me—I could breathe in his intoxicating scent. Then I realized…
“Did it not work?” I asked, my muscles quivering in pain. “Did killing the shaman not work?”
His voice trickled over my skin like warm summer rain. “It did.”
My laugh came a second too late. “Great. Then you can put down your sword.”
His lips tickled my ear. “Not until you put down yours.”
Darcke’s touch didn’t send a thrill through me like it used to. I swallowed when the battle behind us died down, when the world slowed as the king’s men, the heirs, the warriors, and even the chiefs turned our way.
“Darcke.” I tried to turn, but his sword cut into my shoulder, and he wasn’t budging.
“Put down your sword, Elvara, and no one will get hurt.” His breath was still too hot, too distracting, and I didn’t like the way he was pronouncing my name.
“He deserves to die for what he did to you,” I said slowly. “He tied you to him. He forced you to do all these things.”
“No, he didn’t.” Darcke nudged my back with his knee. “The sword.”
“I would listen to him.” The king stared from me to Darcke and back again.
I shook my head. I didn’t understand. Every person was watching our deadlock, swords and axes raised, waiting for the outcome of whatever this was. Of whatever we were.
“Why?” I asked when an ache started in my head.
“Because of my people,” Darcke said. “Because of every person in our realm who has been hurt because of your people.”
I was caged between his blade and his chest, and every breath he took pressed the sharp edge harder against my skin.
“I thought they were my people too,” I whispered.
Darcke loosened a breath against my hair. “They are. But so is the man before you.”
“So?” I turned my eyes down when the king sought them. “The ones killing your men behind us are also my people, and you don’t seem too bothered by them dying.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why—”
“I told you they were using you,” my mother spat, and I could only imagine from her tone how furious she looked. “I told you, you were a pawn!”
A bitter taste coated the inside of my mouth.
“Tell me that isn’t true,” I said. “Tell me she’s lying.”
This time Darcke remained silent out of his own will.
“It’s my fault,” the king said. “You can let her go, A’lian.”
Darcke’s sword went nowhere. “No. Not until she lowers hers.”
“A’lian—”
“No, Gustief. I will not have her kill you before she knows.”
“What are you talking about!” I screamed, the sound echoing off the doors ahead. “Tell me what the fuck you’re talking about!”
My heart beat a frantic rhythm, and the urge to give in to the tears flaming behind my eyes was so strong Darcke’s sword nicked my shoulder as I swayed from it.
“Fucking Hel!” For a second, the cool blade left my skin, and I thought Darcke would be the one to end the king.
But instead metal screamed, and so did something else—something ancient and old that could have only been spelled from the shaman—as Darcke broke the chain holding together the king’s cloak.
As it fell to the ground, the air stilled for a second. Then a shudder went through the king. His golden hair blew around his face as his eyes shifted, the hazel spinning before the gold bled away, leaving him with a familiar moss-colored gaze.
I stumbled a step back, my sword clattering to the ground.
“Who are…” I turned to the other heirs—to the chiefs—and everyone looked as shocked as I was. Everyone apart from my mother. Seindra Sweengard stormed forward, and no one stopped her, not until Darcke spun his blade on her instead, forcing her to halt.
“Gods, Gustief, you’re one for fucking dramatics, aren’t you?” she hissed.
My hand flew to my heart when the king’s green eyes rolled upward. “Are you… are…”
“He’s your uncle!” my mother spat. “Half uncle, to be exact. Like your father, the old king couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Your father was a bastard only allowed into the Hird because the old king indulged him. No one thought he’d actually become an heir.”
“Fritiof told you?” Gustief asked, and there was a sorrow in his tone I wasn’t sure anyone here had ever heard filling his voice before. “I wondered how you figured it out.”
“Once on a drunken night when he was feeling nostalgic. He regretted it ever since.” My mother crossed her arms over her chest, her own blade dangling from one hand. “He didn’t trust me.” She shook her head. “I was a jarl! He should have been on his knees before me.”
“He became an heir, Seindra,” the king said.
She tossed her hair backward. “So? He was still beneath me. I can’t believe I was forced to marry him. My parents should have known better. But alas… one makes the best of shitty situations.”
“What is all this, Seindra?” Ivren’s mother called. “Why have you not killed him yet?”
My mother clicked her tongue. “Because I needed you to hear this first.”
“Hear what?” Adrion’s father asked.
“That since our beloved king doesn’t have any, my children are the heirs to the throne. Twin queens,” she mused. “I think that should make for a powerful kingdom.”
My heart skipped a beat.
Darcke tried to pull me to him, but I shook off his arm, moving away from him and the king. Thoughts swirled in my mind—betrayal and grief and disbelief a tangled mess.
“Told you—” my mother started.
“Shut up,” I snarled. “Shut up!”
“You knew, didn’t you?” I asked Darcke and Gustief. “You knew what she was planning, so you needed me alive. You needed Lika dead and me alive so you could bend me to your will. The king figured out his solution to the problem with his enemies.”
More understanding than I wanted invaded my thoughts, each thought like a punch straight to the throat.
“You wanted me to make it through the Hird by myself,” I said, grinding out each syllable.
“So that when you revealed to our people who I was to you, I’d have earned their respect.
And since I am not Seindra Sweengard’s daughter but born to one of your enemies, you could show that Skagerik has changed, allowing someone with foreign blood in her veins onto the throne. ”
Ivren’s mouth hung ajar from where he stood beside Torden, but the latter winced when I pursed my lips. He’d known too. I could fucking see it in his face. Vero and Geord and Rakkel and Viljan were as clueless as the chiefs staring back at us.
“And you.” I spun to Darcke. “That’s why you hated me so much.
Because you couldn’t stand knowing a spoiled heir would not only be the queen of Skagerik but lead your nation as well.
Because that was the plan as well, wasn’t it?
That’s why you sent me all those memories.
So that I would rebuild your nation. Rule them both. ”
“There are more survivors out there,” Darcke said quietly.
“I had to do what I had to do for them. I tied myself to Gustief so my loyalties to him wouldn’t seem so strange after his people killed mine.
” He took a step toward me, but I recoiled so quickly I lost my balance.
“But then I got to know you! And I would be proud—”
“Don’t,” I snarled. “Don’t.”
Was that why he’d kissed me too? Why he’d been so hot and cold?
So that I would repopulate his beloved nation? I nearly gagged.
“We needed you, Elvara.” Gustief took a step toward me. “Darcke’s people are different from ours. If one of them has magic, they all do.”
I could almost hear my heart splinter.
“Great,” I said. “And what is your plan if the gods don’t give me a rune?”
Gustief and Darcke’s shared look was enough.
“You would have killed my whole family. My sisters are seven!” I screamed. “Seven!”
“They would have died anyway,” the king said. “Without your magic.”
My face went cold. “Did… did my father… Was he in on it?”
“He wanted you to live,” Darcke said. “He believed in you. He was coming back for you. But he knew Viljan would protect you if he couldn’t. That’s why he selected him all those years ago.”
“He was going to come back for me after he killed my brother? What is wrong with you people!” I didn’t care how high pitched my voice went.
I couldn’t fucking believe this. They’d all known. Every adult around me had known.
Darcke had known.
Memories from my entire life slammed into me. Viljan. Darcke. My father. Everything I thought I’d done, someone else had already dictated. No wonder I often wanted to sail away and leave everything and everyone behind.
I fucking should have.
“We couldn’t win without you.” Darcke’s face was gray, his gaze somewhere behind me, as if he couldn’t stand to see me like this. “You can claim more than one rune—more than one throne.”
“Look at me,” I hissed. “You at least owe me that. Look at me, you coward.”
“Elvara!” Ivren called behind me, and I spun to my friend.
He’d tried to protect me the whole time.
He’d known something was off with Darcke. He’d warned me.
As I met Ivren’s blue eyes, the world started spinning again. It was as if Darcke’s words had triggered something, because the chiefs and their men started sprinting.
And they were all coming for me this time.