He stepped forward and put out a firm hand to stop Haniel from getting any closer as he turned back to Alanna and tried to give her a reassuring look. “You don’t have to do this, Lanni. We’ll find another way.”
Haniel looked at him with kind eyes and patted his arm. “I won’t hurt her or embarrass her, I promise. We’ll stay here the whole time—whatever it is.”
Val looked across at Alanna, uncertain, and they all stood, locked in place, staring at each other. He didn’t care what reassurances Haniel gave, he was not going to stand back and allow her to be hurt ever again.
“It’s okay, Val. I want to do this.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “I’ve needed to do it for some time, don’t you think?”
He watched her for a moment, until he was certain that she meant what she was saying, and then he dropped his arm and let the healer go.
But before Haniel could take another step forward, Ballanor was there, face almost purple with outrage as he blocked him from Alanna. “I forbid this! No one is touching my wife.”
A cold haze of dread settled onto his shoulders as Val took in the look on Ballanor’s face and realized the truth. The king had been watching the interaction, just as Val had—and had reached the same conclusion.
Ballanor would never accept this. If it was announced to the world that he had never managed to consummate his marriage after all this time, he would be a laughingstock, universally discredited. Seen as weak. As a failure. His long campaign to prove his superiority over his father would crumble as the whispers turned against him.
By the confused look on Dornar’s face, Ballanor hadn’t even told him the full truth, despite their twisted arrangement.
“If you touch her,” Ballanor threatened in a rough voice, “then I will accept your war between the kingdom and the Nephilim. I will turn the full force of my arrayed armies away from the north and onto your temples. The healers, the justices, the musicians and the farmers that you love so much—all of them will burn as I raze your entire culture to the ground.”
Haniel paused, eyes flickering toward Ramiel.
The two men held a long, silent look. For hundreds of years there had been a truce between the Nephilim and the crown. Kings and queens working together with the justices and the healers, treating each other with respect and avoiding the kind of conflict that would tear their country apart.
Val couldn’t let them risk it—which meant there would be no annulment—but he couldn’t let Ballanor and Dornar take Alanna either. He turned and spread his wings, standing tall before the soldiers and the Clibanarii, the Hawks and the king.
He gave himself a moment to be very clear inside his mind that Alanna was still a virgin. His next words had to be completely certain. Then he raised his voice to be sure that every single person there could hear him. “I swear that the queen is innocent of any wrongdoing and that I did not seduce her.”
“Truth,” Ramiel muttered.
Val dipped his chin toward the Supreme Justice, trying not to show his relief before continuing. “Nonetheless, I will not stand by and leave her with the man who has beaten her, systematically undermined her, and tried to execute her with no trial, despite her innocence. The queen must be allowed to divorce the king.”
Val rolled his shoulders back, letting his wings flare. “I invoke my right for judgment by the gods—I challenge King Ballanor to trial by combat.”
He cast his eyes slowly across the crowd. “By tradition and by law, he must allow us to decide this by combat. Or,” Val added, knowing it would tip the balance, “he can cry craven.”
Ballanor took a furious step forward, but Dornar leaned in beside him, frantically whispering, and the king paused. And then a slow smile spread over his face, and even Ramiel and Haniel frowned at his satisfied look.
“I accept,” Ballanor agreed. “Ten o’clock tomorrow, in the Nephilim tournament fields, if they’ll adjudicate. Dornar is my second.”
“I will oversee it myself,” Ramiel agreed. “To first blood,” he added, looking at Val. “We can’t sanction regicide. Queen Alanna’s right to divorce is on trial here, not the king, do you understand? Any other accusations need to be formally brought to the courts at a different time.”
“First blood,” Val agreed. He turned to face Ballanor. “If I win, then you divorce Alanna and let us go.”
“Fine. And if I win, then Alanna returns to the palace as my queen. Without you.”
Val gritted his teeth. Whatever other flaws he had, Ballanor had trained for years with the best swordsmen in the kingdom. And he hadn’t recently been brought almost to his death by torture and fever. But he didn’t have the depth of motivation or the years of hard service behind him that Val had.
It could go either way.
He turned to Alanna and took her ice-cold hand in his. “You’re the one who will be most affected by this. It has to be up to you.”
Her eyes were wide pools of green as she stared up at him, her cropped hair curling as it dried around her pale face in a way that made her look young and innocent. “I trust you.”
Still holding her hand, he turned to Ballanor and the assembled ranks. “We accept your terms.”
Ramiel was still frowning as he nodded his recognition and faced the king. “As defendant, you choose the weapon.”
“Swords,” the king said immediately, and Val nodded his agreement.
