“You reneged on the marriage accord. Because you hated Sigvid?”
Ceowald sighs. “He was known throughout the land for the same level of barbarism he has always shown. I was intrigued when King Thrain came to me with a proposition.”
“To wed me to Timber first, assuage the people holding mixed opinions of the Redwood line, and then knock off Rendel in a war with the brutal prince. One where his brother, the King, would swoop in and unite the country.” All the pieces, from Samson’s confession to her suspicions, swirl together in her mind.
“Yes, child. I found myself quite taken with Thrain.”
“That is why you sought to overrule me on Sigvid. You wanted him to die in the Arena and for his brother to step in. You sent the letter to Thrain asking how to handle Sigvid. That’s why you commanded the Council send him there!”
Ceowald mutters, “Had you left well enough alone, Thrain would have courted you while he was out of the way. I have no doubt that had you not followed your obsession, we would not be in this unfortunate mess.”
She finds the thought of Thrain successfully courting her laughable. Glancing at Sigvid, a darkness crosses his features.
“Perhaps,” she focuses back on her father, “if you had shared your intentions from the beginning, we would not have ended in bloodshed. Why is it that you loathe me? Am I such a disappointing daughter? Why!” She shouts.
“Because they robbed me!” He matches her tone. “I loved Emblyn, my fiancé. Urien stole her from me.” He huffs, bearing his gaze on the ground. “When I learned Viktoria Redwood, the true heir of Treland, was kept as his mistress, I couldn’t resist. He couldn’t have my Emblyn and another bitch, let alone the one destined to unite the damn country. But Viktoria would never be my Emblyn, who died giving birth to Rendel. The son who should have beenmine!” His scream echoes across the fjord. “I turned away when Viktoria showed signs of complications with your birth. I turned away so Urien would know he lost her just as I lost Emblyn.”
“You killed my Mother because Emblyn stopped loving you?” She is sickened by his actions.
“No, no, you must know,” his tone shifts, and suddenly he is a pitiful creature begging her understanding of a crime she would never forgive him, “Emblyn loved me, but Urien manipulated her-”
“Just as you did my mother? Did she deserve to be caught between such vile creatures?” Avina spits on him. “What of me? What of my life? Did I deserve to be treated like rubbish?”
“Avina, I don’t know what to say. I sought vengeance for-”
“No!” Avina slaps him. His mouth gapes, and his eyes widen in shock. “You used my Mother in your petty dispute with Urien. It is with this final confession I make my judgment.” She stomps away from him.
“King Ceowald Bloodstone of the Ridge Province,” she shouts, “you are hereby charged with the murder of Queen Viktoria Redwood of the Ridge and rightful heir to the Timber Province and the country of Treland. I charge you with the death of King Thord Hilmirsson of the Salt Province and Guardian of the Sacred Stones.”
“Please, daughter-” he blubbers.
“As retribution for your crimes, I strip you of your titles. You will reside in the derelict Queen’s Chambers in the Sapphire Palace, where you will be left in solitude to rot with your ghosts. When youfinally succumb to malnourishment, I command your body to be burned and your ashes scattered to the sea.”
The ultimate debasement, denying him access to the Golden Citadel.
Avina does not relish the look of revulsion on her father’s features. Or the way he retches into the snow as his chest heaves with sobs.
She leans down so only he can hear, “Iam the heir of Redwood, Father. The Bloodstone line shall die withyou.”
55
SIGVID
February 1st, Year 1, 10th Era
The Holy Triangle, Treland
Sigvid paces impatiently with their fighters, ready and waiting to take out Thrain’s forces. They are held up by the last two people he could imagine taking issue with each other.
Raised voices weave out from Healer Svanlaug’s tent. He struggles to discern the words, feeling more unnerved that she and Avina have reason to interact outside the war, much less argue.
At last, Avina storms out of the tent entrance, fire flashing in her eyes, while the elderly Healer follows, gesturing to Sigvid for a word.
“After the battle.” He responds while Avina mounts her dappled mare at his side.
The Healer purses her lips into a thin line and mutters a prayer to the Briny God. “You must not permit Her Majesty to engage in today’s fight.”
“I have granted her request to battle while under the protection of her invisibility. No harm will befall her, Svanlaug.” He reassures the matronly woman who delivered Sigvid and Thrain into this world.
