“Perhaps you should.”
His fists tightened and he longed to close the space between them, but held fast to his frail, crumbling ground. “I leave at dawn.”
Jor scoffed, but said nothing further and did not wait to be dismissed. He swept out of the room, followed by Nacht and then Greyv, who stopped at his shoulder. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but by the Strider’s light, I hope you know what the fuck you’re doing.”
Greyv went off, leaving Skyre alone with the man most accustomed to cleaning his messes. Whose silence, he knew, was no friend of his.
The king pressed his papery tongue to the roof of his mouth. He hadn’t forgotten the last time he’d been accosted. When he’d beaten Korv near half to death, Rask had come looking as if he might have done the same to him. If it had been ten years prior, there would have been no question. But Skyre was Vaich now and even his mentor could not put hands on him. Though his words had spared him none of the violence.
Now he stood unmoving.
“Athair…” Skyre whispered.
“Seems you’ve grown a tender heart. God help us all.”
“It isnae heart, but duty,” said Skyre.
Rask’s face reddened. “Duty? Is that what you call this?”
“You always told me a man should keep his promises. And I have to keep my word.”
“Your word? To a woodsingr? And what of your promises to your men? This route was worked out and agreed upon by them. Now you tell me you’ve been making arrangements behind their backs?”
“That’s not how it is.”
“That’s exactly the way it is!” Rask stormed forwards, teeth clenched. “You’re drinking from a poison, boy. And it’s leading you afoul.”
“You’ve been talking to Máta.”
“You dinnae worry who I’ve been talking to. If there’s a rot in my crop, I’ll cut it out at the source—you can be sure of that.”
The anger Skyre had so carefully battened down was now boiling beneath the surface. He was an animal, boxed in by iron jaws. There was no place he could step that wouldn’t leave him bleeding.
“Then I’ll remind you I am not your son. But Iamyour king, whether you agree with my choices or not. Ever since I took the throne, I’ve been tethered at the wrists—at my godsdamned throat!” Skyre hissed. “It’s as if we’ve all forgotten who holds the power here. I willnae be their prop, and neither yours. I’ve made up my mind and I’ll be at fire’s feet before I’m cowed away.”
Rask’s eyes narrowed and his jaw worked. “You’re stubborn, that's what you are.”
“Aye. You’ve always told me so.”
“You’d walk into traps with your head held high. Well, so be it. You’re a man now and I cannae stop your mind from makin’. But you’ll be sawin’ your own bone off at the knee. I willnae be there to do it for you.”
With that, Rask went off, leaving the Vaich with nothing but his word and his want.
Chapter forty-six
The Call
“Iwouldn’t make a meal of those.”
His name was Onath.
They often played in the green together, hiding amongst the branches and brush. That morning was no different. Young Cerys glanced up at him from a patch of brightly colored flowers.
“You’ll be dead before sun up.” Onath smiled, making his emerald eyes sparkle. “Poisonous. You can tell by those yellow markings. Though the leaves make a sleeping potion that’ll bring even Old Arbor down.”
“And how would you know that?”
The older boy laughed. “I’ve kept busy waiting for you to come up!”
