“Jarl Calder Avardsson,” the only one seated atop a horse, addresses them, causing Aura to hiss at his side.
Isabel Kilton sits side-saddle in a long velvet gown of the deepest crimson. Her dark brown hair, free of dye, is woven in a braid atop her head. She looks identical to the Queen’s girls.
Without further explanation, he knows who occupies his throne and released his prisoner.
“Queen Lavinia requests you and your companion join her in the longhouse.” Isabel’s smug smile elicits an intensely feral and violent reaction in him.
Her words activate the palace soldiers at her side, who point their spears at them.
It was only a matter of time before Lavinia’s spies sold them out. He thought they at least had enough time to reach Makt’s Temple before fighting off the Skalor Army.
“Move, Iss Drengr.” A guard nudges him in the chest with the tip of the spear.
Ice crystallizes along the ground and creeps toward the boots of her soldiers.
“Now, now, Jarl Avardsson,” Isabel purrs, “Lavinia ordered the execution of anyone who harmed even a single hair on one of her peaceful soldiers or handmaidens.”
He ignores the Manchineel bitch. Dark satisfaction twists over his lips, knowing her days are numbered thanks to his gift. With a tight grip on the Princess’ upper arm–silently conveying to play along–he guides her inside the longhouse.
Once they can gather their companions, they can flee to theWicked Wyvern.
Inside, Nightwall Keep bursts with soldiers consuming his food and drinking his mead. At the end of a long table sit Gunni and Edmund. Both clutch a drinking horn, although neither partakes in the merriment.
Thora and Argnier are nowhere to be seen.
Much of the town must be inside their homes, with only a few lords filling the spare tables.
How sad that it took the Princesses of Treland and a Gothi to invade his space to fully realize the minuscule amount of loyalty he has in his Hold.
After he took control of the lawlessness from the untimely demise of his predecessor, many resented him, primarily because of his atrocity at Chillbury. His attempts at a responsive demeanor were met with difficulty.
His entire damned situation in Kaldrgataness is a result of that bitch of a Queen and her manipulation of him.
As he faces off against his mother yet again, he cannot contain his bitter indignation at the situation she has contrived so that he will agree to be Makt’s vessel.
Aura tugs on his tunic. When he leans down to her level, she whispers, “Why don’t we run?”
Great question.
As much as he hates Skalor and would do anything to abdicate his throne, he feels bound to the Hold. After Chillbury and the endless issues, he feels obligated as Jarl to sink with the ship.
“She would kill everyone in Kaldrgataness just to make a point.” He pulls Aura so close she is forced to grip his tunic. “Manipulation is Lavinia’s favorite tool. Do not allow her to get inside your head.” He warns.
In the blackest pit of his heart, he has a nudging instinct that a time will come when that wretched woman will seize Aura, and he will be powerless to intervene.
Another guard appears, attempting to tug the Princess away. Calder cocks his arm to punch when Aura wraps her hands around hisfist.
“They will kill our friends!” Her wide eyes plead with him to stand down.
“That is no way to treat my Royal Guards, Calder.”
His stomach churns at the grating sound of his mother’s voice. That familiar uncertainty accompanying her presence grips his lungs, making it difficult to breathe.
Despite knowing he was about to enter her company, the existential dread of the actions that typically follow her steps leaves him feeling unusually cold.
Lavinia slinks out beside his throne. “Join me at the hearth. The air is quite nippy in your hold, my son.” She grins to herself as if sharing in a private jest. “I reserved a table up front. Just for you and your…pleasure slave.” She waves a hand over the empty one closest to the dais.
He stops at the edge of the raised platform, firmly keeping Aura pressed against him with one arm. The Queen’s guards continue to herd them toward the dais. He is overtly aware that their weapons threaten the one person he will die for.
