The Werma turns keen eyes to Marcello. “You nearly died as a baby, but somehow your mother’s frantic last plea for your safety, even while she suffered the most gruesome fate imaginable, was heard.”
He flinches a bit at that. His nonchalant act slipping.
“You did not die then, you did not die today, nor have you ever died,” she continues.
“That’s a fairly obvious assumption,” he replies with a snort.
“Nor will you ever die.” This causes him to pause.
“The world is still listening to that mother’s dying plea spoken over you. I doubt even age could touch you. But there is a price to be paid for such an unnatural existence in the form of a punishment for those that do not listen to something that even death bows to. Those who dare to try to harm you will suffer the same fate as those first warriors who tried to claim your innocent young life. They suffer a death curse and die.”
“How is that even possible?” Marcello demands. “Immortality? Death curses? A dying woman’s plea being heard?”
“All things are possible,” the Werma declares. “There are no gods, boy. Who is there to uphold the natural order? You?”
“You’re mad,” he says.
“And yet…” I hold up my wrist showing the Valknut. “Visions never lie.”
The men who tried to kill Marcello, they could not touch him, and then they choked on that inky dark liquid that clogged their veins.
“So, I’m a dead woman then?” I ask, bowing my head. If I had known that I would only be told what the Valknut already said, I never would have bothered to come up here. I’d have spent whatever hours I have left in some actual pleasant company.
“Indeed, you are… that is unless you wed.”
Chapter Twelve
The Wedding Vows
Ichokeontheair as I attempt to inhale. Marcello’s eyebrows shoot up so high that they disappear into his hairline.
“Who is the lucky fellow?” he asks in what I do believe to be a snide manner.
Behind me I hear Tira snort out a short laugh.
She knows that I have no intention of ever marrying. If I have a husband and the dead gods forbid, someday a family, I will not run the risk of becoming like my mother and abandoning them. I will not continue this cycle.
With news of an impending death, marriage was the last thing on my mind. I need to make certain that everyone I am leaving behind will be all right without me, not add a new person to the list.
The Werma points a gnarled finger at Marcello. “You dense boy, it’s you.”
Marcello jerks his head back, his mouth twisting as he brings his hands to his chest. “My lady, I believe that your daughter would sooner kill me than marry me. Actually, Iknowthat’s the case since the whole reason any of us are here is because she already did try to kill me.”
I fold my arms. “The captive has a point. I’m not marrying anyone, let alone him.”
“Unless you wish to die a swift and painful death, then you will do what I say.” The Werma shakes her head, muttering, “for once in your life,” under her breath.
“Ahem,” Marcello raises his fist to his face. “I am an autonomous individual myself.”
“You are our captive, you will do as we say,” the Werma hisses sliding him a withering glare.
“You cannot force me to do anything of the sort against my will.” Marcello arches his brow. “Upon pain of death, although if you are to be believed that won’t actually be a problem.”
“What about upon pain of torture?” Tira asks, sidling closer, the firelight casting half her face in shadows making her look fearsome with the paint smeared across her lip.
“Tira,” I say under my breath. “What are you doing?”
“I’m defending my shield sister.” She juts her chin and although her face is hard and her voice steady, I see fear reflected in her eyes. “I don’t intend to lose you. Least of all over anImperial.”
