Against silence, we weave the song.
~ From the lost Amaranthine Verses
THE KISS I’D TAKEN from him in the pool had been wrong, a moment of desolation and hopeless temptation. I’d been uncertain, afraid. Arguably, we were in worse straits now, and yet this kiss…
There was a sweetness that had nothing to do with the heady wines available to a prince of the realm, and an urgent hunger that was nothing like the demons he fought. This was purely him, Aric. Because while he was a complicated weaving of all that he’d been through, he was not just the threads—light and dark—that created him, but someone beyond that too.
He’d told me he’d never kissed before, and while I’d believed him at the time, he was obviously a clever learner, which I supposed he needed to be to have survived as he had. His mouth traced mine with ever greater assurance, his tongue sweeping the seam of my lips so that I parted to him. The kiss went on and on, like a dinzah dream but real, so real, the rush of my blood and the spark of stars behind my closed eyes promising me all the pleasures.
I clung to him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, and he grasped my knee to pull one leg over his lap. I hadn’t been teasing when I said that I noticed the hard bulge of his muscles when he’d been moving rocks. Though I was a negligible weight compared to that, I felt him bulge again, lower down. My own hunger ached in me, wanting to reach out and grasp his burgeoning flesh, take what pleasure was offered and share in return. But…this was not the time or place, was it?
“What else do we have?” he whispered against my lips.
Once again, I’d spoken without thinking, common enough for me and yet a worry nonetheless. What would happen if I told him something truly secret?
“I’m a greedy thief,” I reminded him. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“You are more than that, Feinan. I saw that when you brandished the animdao blade at me here not so long ago, with your back to the pyre flames and your hair wild like a soft crown of light.” He pulled me closer until I straddled him, the hard press of his erection striking a moan from me. “We could wish for more, or at least for a bath, or we can take what’s right here, right now.”
Oh, he was so good at this for someone who’d never stolen and never been seduced. He knew the words and the touches. Part of me blared a warning, that this was a demon’s lure, but the dragon wasn’t here, just him, speaking to me, touching me, tempting me with this moment.
It should’ve been an absurd thing, or maybe a tragic one, our fumbling in this fallen lookout, stealing a moment of pleasure and release. I kicked out of my trousers and freed his erection with a sincere sound of delight that made him blush, and he ducked his head to kiss me with even more passion. My head spun as if we were flying as he placed me above him, and it was a wicked delight to tower over him for once. I stroked him through my hidden folds, showing him the softness and heat that was missing elsewhere in our lives right now.
Bracing my hands on the crumbling stone behind him, I took the length of him slowly within me, moaning at the delicious sensation, sweeter than any berry, more intoxicating than any wine. He groaned, his head falling back against the rock with a hollow thunk that made me giggle. The inadvertent motion settled me on his thick length to the hilt.
This time, he growled, a sound as atavistic and dangerous as any I’d heard from beast or demon. Only it thrilled me. Probably that was very wrong, but I was a nobody and he was the Dragon Prince, so who was going to tell us what was right in these impossible times?
I switched my hands from the wall to his shoulders, stronger than the crumbling stone, and hot beneath my palms. Grinding on the hard flesh of his erection, I sank my fingers deep into the muscles of his biceps. His hands ran down my flanks, settling an equally unyielding grasp on my bare backside, holding me fast, lifting me and dropping me again in a rhythm that sent sparks whirling through me in every auric color.
His grip was too strong, his breath sawing with need, his hips bucking unsteadily under me. But I didn’t care. It felt like more than I’d ever known, ever believed I might have. That first kiss, naked from the pool, I’d told him I wanted to forget, but this I wanted to remember forever. A prince of the realm, even a dreadmarked one, could’ve had anyone he wanted, and he’d chosen me. Of course I’d never forget.
I quickened the pace to match his frantic thrusts and reveled in the ferocity of his hold, clenching my inner muscles to make him gasp in surprise and need. “Since this is your first time, I’ll let you go first,” I told him through gritted teeth.
“Go?” He gasped. “No, I want to stay right here, with you…”
I laughed again, pulling him even deeper within so that we both groaned. “I mean take your pleasure first.”
“What kind of thief gives up the treasure?”
“One who fully intends to take it back three-fold,” I teased.
“Only three-fold?”
“I’ll take more next time.”
“Next time? What if I don’t survive this time?”
“It’ll give you a reason to fight harder.”
“I didn’t mean survive the demons, I mean survive you.” His hands sprang open, just for a moment, then settled again, framing my face as he stared up at me. His icy eyes were wide and silver with wonder. I felt like the king’s little blade drawing sparks from the mighty sword. I would make him burn.
I bent down to kiss him, thrusting my tongue past his parted lips to tangle with his, our hot breath mingling in the sound of our panting whispers, swallowed by the broken stone and a glimpse of the white sky above. As if that touch had thrown fuel onto his fire, he found a pounding rhythm, stroking all through me, jolting a hungry keen from my throat that made him growl again in possessive pleasure. His flesh swelled within me, an ecstatic piercing, and I shuddered around him as he groaned and pulsed upward into my intimate cavern.
And to my shock, my own release was only a heartbeat behind him, clenching tight as if I were about to fall—or he was. The convulsions rippled through me as I held on tight. He buried himself in my swollen flesh, teasing aftershocks of rapture from my trembling body. I arched back, gasping, and when I jackknifed forward again, he captured my lips in an unending kiss.
Limbs entwined, heartbeats synchronized, we slumped to the rough, broken floor of the old watchtower. With a touch more tender than any he’d used so far, Aric wrapped us both in his cloak. We huddled together as our breathing and his erection softened.
“We should go back,” I whispered. “Someone will be looking for us.”
“Yes, soon. But rest for a moment, while we can.” His arms tightened around me. “Feinan…”
“Aric.” I tightened my own grip. “This is enough.”
I thought he would crush all the air out of me, but the ferocity of his embrace felt so good. I ducked my nose under the edge of his jaw and brushed my lips very lightly against the place where his pulse still throbbed, and he shivered.
“What is this?” he murmured. “Not a blessing, not a devouring. Like both, but only ours.”
“A stolen moment. And perhaps all the more valuable because of it.” I kissed him again on the mouth. “Now close your eyes. I’m sure the shrieking will wake us when we’re needed.”
His silent chuckle rattled us, his breath gusting in my wayward hair—a crown of light, indeed—as he rested his chin against my forehead.
It wasn’t shrieking that roused me but crying.
The sound of broken, anguished weeping leaked through the stones like winter rain. Aric shuddered, and I glanced up in worry. But his scarred eyes were dry.
He looked down at me, his embrace tightening again.
“I thought it was you,” I whispered, hugging him back.
“Only where no one can hear.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then rose smoothly to his feet, lifting me with him and fastening the cloak tight around my throat. “This is probably not a better sign than shrieking.”
Poking my toes around in search of my trousers and boots, I shook my head in agreement. We left the meager shelter of the ruin. Though he didn’t touch me again, his looming presence was like a second cloak, heavy and protective.
While we were “resting”, more of the slow conveyances had straggled into Velderrey, plus a few of the fastest chariots had returned on their second trip retrieving the stragglers on their trek across the plain. For a moment, an unfamiliar pang of guilt twisted in me for not helping—but as we passed, even the most shocked and exhausted escapees flinched away from the Dragon Prince, and I remembered why he’d been exiled in the first place.
I glanced at him sidelong, but he didn’t react to their fear, just strode forward with his focus on one of the wagons.
It was like the cask wagon Lisel had led in, except instead of carrying much-needed supplies, it was laden with more nobles and others from the lightkeep. Some were being carefully guided down the ramp at the back—the sides were too high to clamber over—while others were just slumped where they’d been crushed within.
As we approached, one of the yaxen collapsed in its traces, dragging its neighbor to the ground. The burden beasts lowed over the wailing, and I jumped forward along with several others to disentangle the depleted animals. I’d told Aric I wasn’t good with beasts, but I could do this much at least.
By the time we’d freed all the yaxen—the crumpled one was obviously going to be supper—the wagon had been mostly cleared except for a few people standing in the box. Aric’s dark head was bowed above the others, so I hopped up to join him.
Lisel was there, and for a moment I was surprised she hadn’t come to assist with the yaxen. But then I saw why they were lingering.
The marshal was laid flat on one of the narrow benches that should have been holding supplies. He was a big man so he didn’t quite fit, but likely he’d been wedged in place by all the other bodies. And he was so still.
The marshal was dead.
Lisel stared down, her face blank. Then she swayed like the doomed yaxen.
I jumped forward to put my arm around her back, and to my gratitude, Aric took her other side since she’d inherited her father’s impressive stature, even if that was all she’d gotten from him.
I squeezed her. “Oh, Lisel. I’m so sorry…”
“Claeve. It was Claeve who struck him down,” a cracked voice offered.
It took me a long moment to recognize the speaker. “Imbril?” With a quick glance at Aric to make sure he had Lisel, I twisted to the far corner where the lor was huddled. “Are you hurt?”
He shook his head, then nodded, then just stared at the marshal. “Not like…”
Letting that go for now, I crouched beside him. “What happened?”
“The demons were at the walls. I saw them crawling up the stones.” Shivering, he wrapped his arms around himself. The fine gray silkha robe he’d donned in his penitence wasn’t nearly thick enough for the winter winds of Velderrey. “The king rode out—” He jerked straighter, eyes widening in panic. “Where is King Mikhalthe?”
“He’s here,” I soothed. “And he’s untouched.”
Imbril nodded, his gaze unfocused with shock. “I was in the haloric tower, and I saw the king and the marshal separated by the flood of demons swarming the outer bailey. I saw Claeve in their midst, scarlet in the black. He commanded them. The demons…flowed at his gesture, rushing and gibbering.” He shivered again. “They swarmed the marshal’s fighters, and when Vreas rode to the front, Claeve was waiting for him. They fought…”
“My father earned his title through his strength and strategy,” Lisel said, straightening abruptly. She yanked her arm out of Aric’s supporting hold. “He could not fall to one man.”
“One man and an army of demons,” I corrected.
After an assessing look, Aric took a step away from Lisel. “Seems Claeve knew the lightkeep’s defenses and its strongest fighters.”
I blinked. “Not the king?”
“Mikhalthe is more than just a fighter,” Aric said. “He has a different value.” He glanced away. “I fear the demons aren’t the worst we face.”
Before I could ask for clarification—although why I wanted to know how things were worse, I wasn’t sure—Dyania raced up the ramp into the wagon. “I just heard. Lisel…” She went to our friend and embraced her.
Taller though she was, Lisel bent to hide her blue eyes against the lady’s braids, and the rest of us looked away to give them that moment.
“Where is Kalima?” I asked Imbril quietly. “We were told you were with her.”
He slumped even deeper into his corner. “I was, at first. She’d left me in the temple to pray”—he glanced at me, eyes sunken, and I wondered if the prayers might’ve included a few more bruises—“but she came back just before the alarms. She told me the other lors were fleeing the High Keep, and that I should join them. But I thought…” He swiped one shaky hand across his eyes, as if trying to clear his vision—or make sense of his memory. “Of course I wanted to stay and fight for our home, for the Living Lands, as I knew the rest of you would be doing.” He glanced up at us, his gaze uncertain. “I didn’t realize everyone had already left.”
I bit my lip, unsure what to say. The stuffy little lor had thought to become a mighty warrior because of the rest of us? But none of us have been able to do anything. “You were brave to want to try,” I told him, uncertainty making my voice sound faint, not a usual problem of mine.
He gave me a wry look. “Names aren’t listed in history books for trying.” The hint of amusement faded. “And now I will never be a noted historian either, since I am telling this all out of order.” He let out a shuddering breath. “But there are other reasons for naming. I fear the numinlor has lied to us.”
I straightened in shock, as did Dyania and Lisel across the empty wagon.
Aric just narrowed his eyes. “Tell us.” The command was even colder than the winter wind.
Imbril shook his head even as he answered, as if he couldn’t believe his own words. “When I said I would stay, she told me we only had one chance to save the Living Lands. I knew she didn’t mean you”—he glanced at Aric—“or the king, so of course I was hopeful… And maybe curious too. I followed her to the forbidden halls of the haloric tower, and she took me to a locked room with a foul pool.” When I made inadvertent little sound, he paused to gaze at me inquiringly, but went on when I shook my head. “Kalima already has luminarci.”
Even Aric looked askance at this unexpected news, and I let out a startled oath. “What? But I found nothing beyond the locked doors.” In that instant, I realized… “Those three columns with the chains.” I quickly described the forbidden haloric hall, empty except for the filthy pool, or so I’d thought at the time. “Those were luminarci?”
“As she told me.” Imbril exhaled a broken breath. “After standing in Ormonde’s library and telling us that those stories meant nothing.”
Remembering the nacreous glow within the crystalline columns I’d thought was captured sunlight, my heart sank like a stone dropped in that nasty stagnant water. I’d been standing alone amidst distilled auras, of how many I didn’t even know.
Like a secret Devouring.
“I was right there at the haloric pool—and I missed it. I thought a luminarca would be something I could take.” Groaning in dismay, I wrapped both hands around the back of my neck. “I am a terrible thief. I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault, Fei,” Dyania soothed. “And even if you’d known, you couldn’t have pocketed three crystal pillars. But why did Kalima keep it from us? Or not us, maybe, but the king. If we were all looking for another way that didn’t include the Dragon Prince, why would she hide it away?”
Imbril clenched his hands in front of his heart: not a prayerful stance, a defensive one. “I…asked that, then she struck me again, said we didn’t have time for my upstart arrogance.”
I gritted my teeth. I might’ve had my frustrations with the fussy little lor, but a liar like Kalima did not have that right. “What did you do? Did you hit her back?”
He slanted a look at me, managing to still look disapproving despite his dishevelment and devastation. “No. I ran away.”
I gave him a sympathetic nod, and Dyania, who still had her arms around Lisel, let out the tiniest, most delicate snort.
“I thought I should find you,” he said, glancing among us. “But by then, it was all chaos. From the promenade terrace, I saw Claeve at the inner gate. So I kept running.” He wrapped his arms even tighter around himself, leaving indelible wrinkles in the sanctified silkha of his robe.
I pitied the righteous little lor and myself and the rest of us. It was one thing to know that my betters had never cared for my plight in the alleys of Sevaare. To find out that the holiest one in the Living Lands had kept us all in the dark was a wretched shock. “Maybe…” I tried to strengthen my voice when it shook like my knees. “Maybe she had a reason not to share with us. Maybe she has a trick up those white sleeves, a way to use the luminarci against Claeve and his demons.”
Seemingly unmoved by the numinlor’s perfidy, Aric shook his head. “This must be why Claeve wanted the High Keep. Somehow he has been aiming the horde, perhaps as I do with the dragon, but if the luminarci in the white tower are as significant as you say…” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, as if this were all an ancient tale we’d found in some dusty scrolls. “I could never match that, not even with a Devouring.”
Despite the impassivity of his tone, I gazed at him, troubled. “The dragon is mightier than any number of demons,” I objected. “You’ve fought waves of the horde so many times and won. You could face Claeve and defeat him.”
Aric didn’t look back at me. “With no way to call the dragon? No way to control her? The auric leash from old Feasts is all but gone. I have nothing left.”
I clenched my fists. “The numinlor vows to protect our auras just as the king protects our lightkeeps. Why did Kalima say the auguries had called for a Devouring if not to empower you?”
Imbril bowed his bare head toward his upraised knees, not quite collapsing. “What if she never truly intended to allow the Devouring to continue? Not for the dragon anyway.” He raised his eyes to the prince, made almost bold in his resignation. “The horde attack in Velderrey unbalanced the auras for a Devouring, but the auras of the Chosen could’ve still been added to the luminarci.” His wandering gaze fixed on Dyania. “Along with your attendants and any others Kalima chose, since the distillation would’ve cleansed any impurities.”
We were all silent until Lisel, in a grief-cracked voice, asked, “If the prince has lost the dragon, and the numinlor herself has no faith left, what chance do we have?”
Dyania straightened, tossing back her braids, which were looking a bit frayed without Zik’s smoothing fingers. “The rest of the haloria is here.” She nodded decisively at Imbril. “Gather them. Tell them what you told us. And then choose another numinlor.”
From his huddle in the corner, Imbril stammered, “But…why would they listen to me? I sat at the very end of the haloria.”
Standing closer to the rumpled lor, the prince reached down a hand. “The end becomes the start when you change direction.”
Imbril stared at the outstretched offering like it was a sword of five edges, then he let out a breath and allowed the prince to pull him to his feet. Despite the exhaustion that dulled his eyes with smudged shadows, the lor did not sway, whether to obey the lady or avoid leaning on the dreadmarked prince maybe didn’t matter.
“You don’t need a sword to fight for the Living Lands,” Aric said. “Take the haloria in hand, and I will tell the king about Kalima.”
Imbril’s anxious expression only tightened, setting the fraught lines deeper in his brow beneath the bleached fringe of his hair. “I will do what I can with the others, but I fear…I fear some of them would have chosen to follow Kalima.”
“We need to know that too.” Aric waved him along.
But as Imbril passed me, I grabbed his arm. “Wait. There’s blood on your robe. You said you weren’t hurt.”
He looked down at his side, smeared with a hue like the rust that weakened a blade. His hand hovered over the stain, but to my surprise, he didn’t panic. “It’s not mine.” He turned his hands over in front of him, studying the marks there. “At least I don’t think it is.” Without waiting for a response, he stepped down from the wagon box and strode away in search of his fellow lors.
Lisel glanced one last time at her father. “My brother would have taken up his sword. Ah, this hurts.” She turned away, letting go of Dyania. “I need to find his other captains.” She followed Imbril.
Ani started after her, biting her lip, eyes worried. She glanced at me. “Will you go with Prince Aric to the king?”
I nodded. “And you with Lisel. For all the good it will do. But we’ll find each other later.”
She reached for my hand and squeezed it before hurrying after our hartier.
Aric was standing over the marshal’s body, and though I wanted to be gone from here, I sidled up beside him. “Such a terrible loss for Lisel and for the rest of the Living Lands.”
“And perhaps a terrifying gain for Claeve.” He spread one hand above the corpse, his wintry eyes churning with shadows. “There’s no blood on Vreas. He wasn’t killed by a sword. His aura was stripped from him, unbroken and pristine.”
I shivered. “That is terrible, but… The demons have taken other auras.”
“A rampaging demon rips an aura to shreds, consuming most of the energy, scattering some.” He glanced at me. “If Claeve controlled the consumption of the marshal’s aura as I used to during a Feast for the dragon, there may be demons that’ve taken on some of Vreas’s strength and strategy.”
I blanched. “You told me demons twist people they touch, corrupting them. Are you saying demons take our abilities, our memories, all of that, when they take a life? That they become us?”
He shook his head. “Not quite like that. But what lingers in an aura that isn’t simply torn to pieces empowers a demon in ways that mere scraps don’t. That’s why the pure auras of Chosen Ones let me control the dragon. She is colored by and reflects the spirits of the Chosen Ones, their goodness, their willingness to sacrifice for others. Those spirits let me bend her and bind her to fight for us.”
Swallowing hard, I continued, “So if Claeve took Vreas’s aura, the demons he fed would reflect the marshal’s spirit.”
“He was a bold, purposeful warrior, an inspiration to his fighters, and loyal to his lord to the death,” Aric confirmed. “Also a master of battle with instinctive skill and decades of experience. Now that may be used against us.”
I grimaced. “Doesn’t it seem unfair that the one trick we had against them—the dragon—they stole to use against us?”
He didn’t quite smile at me. “Tell me, little thief, what are the rules of stealing?”
“Same as the rules of war and seduction, I suppose, or anytime there is hunger.”
We stared at each other a moment, both of us knowing how we’d been starved. And if we’d seized the briefest taste of pleasure, would that memory be a blessing or a curse?
Though the building the king had chosen for his shelter had once been among the largest in Velderrey, it had not aged well, the fallen stones letting through the faint but ceaseless whine of the wind. A couple of palace servants, slumped wearily and confused, as if leaving the palace had stripped their identity, watched blankly as we passed. To my surprise, Mikhalthe was alone in the cavernous space, his sword—which should’ve been good and sharp by now—laid bare on a length of raw silkha in front of him. He put his hand on the hilt when we approached, but otherwise didn’t look up.
Aric stopped when we were still more than a blades-length away. “You already heard,” he said flatly.
When the king glanced up with narrowed eyes, I wondered that Aric didn’t clarify, but something in Mikhalthe’s brooding expression reminded me they were brothers, after all. They knew each other in ways others never could even if that the bond had been torn apart a long time ago.
“Which is worse?” His voice shook almost imperceptibly. “Losing the throne? Losing an old friend? Losing faith?”
“It can all be bad,” Aric said.
The king sat back with a curse. “Blade to bone, brother, I can always trust you to remind me of the dark.”
I glared at the king of the Living Lands. “None of this is Aric’s fault. He’s done everything demanded of him, everything forced on him, never wavering—”
“Silence, child,” the king snapped. “You’ve spoken enough over your betters.”
“My betters?” I snorted. “Heyo, we seem to be all in the same haunted hovel together.”
Aric laughed. “Don’t bother, Mikah. She won’t be silenced or stopped.” He slanted a glance at me. “For which we should be alternately aghast and grateful.”
I narrowed my eyes at him too, not sure of his intent. “I can be silent and still when the moment requires. But sometimes only screaming and stabbing makes sense.”
Aric gazed at me solemnly. “True enough.”
The king glanced between us, his lip half curled in an annoyed snarl. “Is this a wooing, here, in the ruins of a fallen lightkeep?” He shook his head, his golden hair falling around him in waves like the grains that had once graced the Widening Leas. “This is neither the time nor place.”
“Also true,” Aric said with a perversely cheerful grin. “Not to worry though as we skipped the courting and went straight for the consummation.”
“But there are no vows between us,” I assured the king, whose jaw was hanging agape. “So you won’t be granting a nobody a place in your palace—if you still had a palace.”
“I think he has more immediate concerns,” Aric mused. “Or perhaps not.”
“You shouldn’t torment your brother when he has lost his throne, one of his advisors, and his faith,” I murmured.
“Perhaps he should value more what remains,” Aric said implacably, staring at his brother.
The two men glared at each other over the sword. “Enough,” the king growled.
“So Feinan tells me too,” Aric said. “And yet I still want more.”
The king rubbed both hands over his face. “With Vreas and Kalima gone, I’m clearly weakened.” He dropped his hands to his lap, empty palms clasped together. “The horde isn’t the only one who wants to see me fall.”
Aric nodded. “I’ve heard and seen,” he said quietly. “Sometimes I’ve walked among them, unknown, after flights with the dragon or back here in the lightkeep, and I hear them wanting more. But is there anyone better to rule the Living Lands?”
The king stared at him. “I could have you beheaded for asking. That is treason.”
“It’s just a question,” Aric countered. “And a review of our available resources, since they seem vanishingly few to me.”
After a tense heartbeat, Mikhalthe sagged back. “There are always cousins and even more distant relatives with a claim to the Radiant Throne. Not to mention those who’ve spent the last few hundred years grumbling about the Lyrac Accords.” He grimaced. “More power to them if they can snatch it back.”
“You have some possibilities before that,” Aric said. “After all, you don’t yet have a consort.”
The king’s moody eyes flared wide and snapped to me. “Certainly you’re not suggesting—”
I jerked back in horror. “What? Certainly not!”
Aric lifted an eyebrow. “Someone with more of an army, I’d suggest.”
I lifted my chin. “I can bring you at least half of the alleys of Sevaare,” I informed them haughtily. I hesitated, then added, “Maybe more, after a trip to your treasury.”
Though that little smile played around his lips, Aric shook his head. “They’ll need to be already trained, preferably with their own swords, considering that our treasury and our armory are currently in the hands of the enemy.”
The king tilted his head. “It may come to that though. We may need all the people of the Living Lands to fight alongside us, with weapons and blessings both.”
Of course I’d meant it half in jest, but once he said it, I swallowed hard. I’d had my times of resentment against the higher-ups who never seemed to have a care for those like me, but I had to admit, I’d never bothered my head about the fate of the kingdom, so maybe our mutual antipathy was earned, unlike their inherited wealth and my purloined coin. But any such ill will could last no longer.
“Maru Deep,” I blurted. “They have an array of eligible offspring who would sometimes come to mingle with Sevaare’s scions. And I’ve heard tell they’ve aspirations beyond the sea.”
Aric gazed at me. “You don’t suggest your own lady as queen?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Lady Dyania was Chosen for reason. She has the skill and spirit to rule the Living Lands. But…it seems to me that ruling the kingdom consumes as much as commanding the dragon.” I grimaced. “I would not wish that upon her. And I hope you find one to make the sacrifice with a willing heart, not tricked or coerced.”
They both stared at me. Then the king shook his head. “You have a clear sight and wisdom, child.” His gaze slipped slightly to his brother. “At least in some cases.” He slouched backward. “I cannot believe I am taking courtship advice from you two.”
“You would’ve taken it from your advisors and the haloria,” Aric pointed out. “At least you can be sure we have only the good of the Living Lands in our hearts when we marry you off.”
The king looked down at the naked sword. “And that is its own sort of trick and coercion.”
I rolled my eyes. “With all the dancing and wintryberry cordial you can suck down,” I reminded him. But then I relented. I could’ve had all the ale I wanted if I’d stayed with the innkeeper, and I’d chosen my freedom instead, hadn’t I? “From the stories I heard in the market square, the daughters and sons of Maru Deep are beautiful and shrewd and trained to rule, but you can ask Lady Dyania for her impressions.”
The king sighed and traced one finger above the broadest width of the blade, right beyond the hilt, his skin not quite touching the naked blade. “This sword has been defending the Living Lands since the Great Gorging when Ormonde sought it from the Rokynd,” he said. “It has been dulled and even broken, yet every time it is forged anew, always with these words etched here to remind its wielder of our vow.”
Aric looked away as he recited, “The point, the edge, the weight. Let the bearer’s be the blood.”
I glanced between them. “So the first king of all lightkeeps of the Living Lands commissioned a sword to be wielded by his bloodright descendants forever. Somewhat better than being borne by a demon dragon, I suppose.”
“Ormonde was the only one to do both, but that was the age of heroes.” Aric sighed. “Still, as much as we glorify him, the precepts for ruling a kingdom should be written down elsewhere than the base of one sword.”
Mikhalthe snorted. “It’s been written down in more books than anyone could read, shuffled away into haloric closets and the like. If we don’t lose everything to the horde, it’ll be as much luck as anything.”
I wrinkled my nose but decided not to hold forth with my thoughts on luck. I was pleased when Aric scoffed for me. “Claeve hasn’t relied on luck. He didn’t rely on fairness or faith either, just more fighters. So send those riders, brother, and collect the king’s due. We’ve fought for our whole lives, you and I, and we’ve no reason to think ourselves beaten yet.”
As inspirational speeches went, it lacked Dyania’s gentle determination or even Kalima’s threat of damnation, but the king straightened, so maybe Aric knew at least that part of his half-brother better than the rest.
The king looked at me. “The daughters and sons of Maru Deep, you say? Uniting the mountains and the sea… Has a nice sort of ring to it.”
I doubted that would mean anything to the horde, but if it made the path more palatable to the king, all the better.
As the two men hashed out a few messages to be carried by the riders, I paced restlessly.
Our first day of exile was coming to an end, and soon it would be night when the nobles and the people of the lightkeep would want lights and food, at least something to drink. When I mentioned that to the king and the prince before me, they blinked, and I had to hold back a scornful snort. As if perilous battles or poetic ballads would matter if all the people were dead of hunger and fear.
I shook my head. “I’m going to go find the palace steward. See if I can help there. An innkeeper in Sevaare once taught me how to stretch a pot of water, three tubers, and a pinch of salt to feed a drunken throng, so I guess I’ll see what I remember from those days.”
Aric closed the distance to me, taking my shoulder in a tight grip. “Watch yourself. Claeve of the crimson cloak didn’t send the horde after us immediately, but there’s nothing to say he won’t. And an attack from without might not even be as much of a threat as the desperation within.”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “I’ve stretched hope farther than I’ve stretched yams. I’ll see if I can do some of that too.”
As if his disbelieving brother the king wasn’t right there, he crashed his mouth down over mine, the kiss as hungry as an exiled prince and more satisfying than any wintryberry cordial. “I’ll find you later,” he whispered, staring down at me, and though I couldn’t see past the dragon scars across his eyes, I tasted his vow, wild and sweet.
“You watch out for lesser noble daughters desperate for a husband,” I warned him. “The kingdom is full of dangers.”
He smiled. “Go, before you speak some other impossible nonsense.”
I curled my lips inward, as if I could hold onto his kiss. Because I didn’t fool myself. Just as the king would make sacrifices in this battle, so too would the prince, and even I. Whether the dragon took him or a princess or some other threat, I knew better than to trust the dream where I had someone at my side.
As the shadows gathered in the fallen lightkeep of our exile, I walked out and didn’t look back.