Emelia dove too deeply into the darkest aspects of her Sacred Stone power and allegedly received additional abilities from a Draemonium, a malevolent god who governs the Abyss.
Unlike the Guardians of old, Sigvid will protect his Keeper, his Queen, with his life.
Simply put, Emilia needed to be eliminated, even if her children didn’t deserve their fate.
His cold eyes flick to Samson.
“The Manchineels disowned the children they had with Queen Emelia.” Avina’s voice is unusually cool. “Your family scourged her name from the archives, her paintings pruned, and statues toppled. You would have me believe the men who obliterated her from history would track her remaining line?”
Samson coughs up something foul that globs to the floor. “Emelia was the most powerful sorceress of all time. If her children revolted against us, we would be no match.”
And the truth comes out. The Manchineels feared retaliation from the Redwood line for putting down Emelia—despicable cowards.
She slaps Samson across the face so hard his eyes roll back into his head. “You lie. My mother was a lady of lower birth-”
“Your mother was Uncle Urien’s favorite mistress.”
Avina visibly recoils, clutching her mouth as if she may vomit.
“Your father’s first fiancé fell in love with Uncle. They effectively swapped bed buddies.” Samson snorts. “Have you ever wondered why your mother died in childbirth? Because so did Urien’s wife when she bore Rendel. Your father couldn’t bear the woman he loved dead at our hands. In retribution, he had the midwife abandon Viktoria out of spite.”
“You lie!” She slaps him again.
“Why else would Rendel have married a Ridge bitch? You’re the damned prophecy, Avina!”
And now they arrive at the heart of it. The reality Sigvid’s parents explained in great detail not long after his seventeenth nameday. Avina’s importance to Treland—a reality Sigvid has happily disregarded in both his violence and sexual interest.
It doesn't matter if she is a Bloodstone and a Redwood. She is still a mortal woman.
Grim examines Avina as ifseidrpermeates the air around her. “The heir of Redwood will deliver,” he says as though he memorized the prophecy since his childhood. “A child whose line shall live forever. Uniter of all, she whose blood strengthens them all.”
Samson nods, resting his head on his upper arm. “Rendel seized the match with Avina, no matter how many thought him a terrible King. The other Manchineels and I had prepared to take him out if Thordsson had not done the deed. After all, we needed that cunt’s womb to unite the damn country under Timber's command. Once we conquered Salt, that is.” He shakes his head. “None of us could have guessed she would turn into a bloody slut for some Salt warrior.”
Sigvid has half a mind to rip every one of Samson’s nails from underhis skin for that comment alone. He makes a show of approaching the dangling man when he catches sight of Avina. Her alabaster skin pales to a snow white.
“This is why everyone wishes to marry me.” Her words are barely a whisper, yet he hears them like she has wailed them in his ears. “Because of my blood. I am both Redwood and Bloodstone.” Her hands raise to her waist, palm up. She twists them with an expression that suggests she loathes their existence.
“Did you honestly think it was for anything else?” Samson sneers. “You're fat and unspecial. Why do you think the Salt Princes have you here? Hmm? Because they enjoy your company?” Samson barks a laugh. “They need you for one of them to become King of Treland. Although I wonder who will get there first.” He wheezes into a chortle.
Sigvid watches her clutch the Ridge stone with a shaky hand. “I have finished my questions.” She says thickly and then pushes out of the cabin.
Fuck. How could I have known she was ignorant of her damn ancestry? And how the fuck did I not realize the damn importance of that marriage accord between her and a Salt prince?
He prepares to follow her out when Samson’s voice tugs him back.
“Alright, Thordsson. What do you and your henchman want?” Samson has the gall to taunt him.
Sigvid rounds slowly to snarl at the bound man who dares to hurt his girl. He does not speak, only stalking across the room. He has been waiting for this moment since their return from Timber when he noticed his ugly ring.
Sigvid rifles through Samson’s clothes until he finds the ring with an elaborate brown stone. Without careful consideration, he deduces precisely what type of rock the Manchineels embedded in the white gold band—an indestructible petrified piece of wood.
“What do you have?” Samson twists his body, struggling to see Sigvid.
“Grim,” he tosses the ring to his Drengr. “What do you think of that hideous piece of shit?” He sneers, enjoying the color draining from Samson as he wrongly assumes the Prince of Salt to be an uneducated barbarian.
Grim holds the ring up, examining the stone and band. “If it’s not worth anything, perhaps we destroy it?”
Sigvid’s smile widens, revealing his teeth. “Wonderful suggestion.”
