His hand has already half-risen, but at her words, he stops. He grinds his jaw, his eyes flicking from my face back to hers. Then with a muttered curse, he lets his hand fall heavily to his side.
Little is known about the gods. We have their titles and their dominions. We know they are immortal, but not indestructible. The Culling ended all their lives…well, perhaps notallof them. But even if Taliesin is right about me—and I don’t want to bet my life that he is—a severed neck seems like a fatal kind of wound. Something perhaps not even a god can survive.
“That’s a good boy,” she murmurs at him.
Anger prickles my skin.
I dart a glance around, searching for the other guards. “Where’s Osian?”
Seren laughs softly. “We knew you might come after the harp. Did you really think we’d leave someone here who’s forced to answer your every question?”
“That’s fine. He answered a whole fucking lot at the river,” I snarl back.
“Enough,” she snaps into my ear. “Now you’re going to stand aside and allow us to take the scrolls.”
I swallow, and the steel bites at my throat. “Never.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing, Angharad,” she says in that convincing voice she’s used on me a hundred times. “Whoever controls the harp has the ability to harness the magic of the stars. Surelyeven youdon’t want that kind of power to fall into the wrong hands.” She leans even closer, her breath hot against my neck. “Like the people who kill innocent civilians every Culling Day.”
Rhian barks a harsh laugh. “We never did such a thing, you fucking liar.”
I clench my jaw against Seren’s words. I know she’s just trying to get into my mind and manipulate me the way she always has. Even so, my eyes flick to Gethin. Can I trust him with this much power? Can I trustanyone?
Seren digs her fingernails into my shoulder. “We need this, Swynwraig. The human armies will be upon our shores within weeks. The power of the stars will give us the strength to defeat them. The Kingdom of Gwalia will be safe once and for all.”
Pain lances through my heart. Her words speak to me more than I want to admit. The arrival of the human armies might be a lie. But if they aren’t, we don’t have the army to fight them. All I can do is trust the people who have become like a family to me. Arealfamily, not the fake one I’ve left behind, where lies are dressed up as love.
“I’m no longer a Swynwraig,” I whisper. “And I will not bow down to you.”
Seren’s fingernails dig deeper into my shoulder as she raises her voice and shouts, “Guards!”
The remaining Rhyfelwyr pour into the Observatory. Three rush up the steps while the other four emerge from hidden compartments behind the maps. One moves for the harp. Another grabs Arianell around the middle, while the other two close ranks around their leader.
Taliesin raises his hand against those charging up the stairs. The blade at my throat nicks my skin, and a shooting pain goes through me.
“I will cut her neck, Taliesin Wynn,” Seren commands in a hollow voice. “Step away from the stairwell.”
Taliesin’s body vibrates with barely contained rage. Even so, he backs away from the steps while the guards fill the room. One grips a crown of iron in her hands.
“Kneel,” the guard snaps at Taliesin.
A low sound hums in the back of his throat. “I kneel to no one.”
“You will kneel to us,” Seren warns, “or your precious Swynwraig will—”
“She’s not a fucking Swynwraig,” he snarls, that ancient darkness rippling across his face. “She’s a god. And if anyone’s going to kneel, it will be you. Fall to your knees. Kiss her feet. Or the next breath you take will be your last.”
My lips curve into a smile at the fury burning in his eyes.
Seren looses a harsh laugh. Taliesin’s rant caught her off guard, and that’s all I need. Before I can think it through—before I can talk myself out of it—I spin to face her and seize her throat.
Marwolaeth,” I say too quietly for anyone else to hear. And then, “Anadl einioes.”
She shudders, her eyes going dark and light all at once. And this time, it feels as easy as taking a breath.
Before she can speak, I murmur, even more softly, “Tell no one what I’ve done to you. Order the Rhyfelwyr to leave. Say you’ll take care of the rest.”
“Remove your hands from the High Swynwraig’s throat,” one of the guards behind me calls out. “Don’t make me fight you, Angharad.”
