“Corral a bunch of women in a room and they’re bound to start plotting. And can you blame them? They’re sharing quarters with corpses. I’d start talking to ghosts, too.” Greyv tipped his tankard to his lips, taking a long swig. “Though that Oracle might say too much, you ask me. And the Speaker… well, she could do better with her lips.”
Every Vaich was assigned a Speaker upon their ascension to the throne; a liaison between Rhyd-hal and the Augeri. Historically, Speakers had been court diviners—heralds of the calamitous and the mundane. Skyre had been granted a young priestess by the name of Hirí, though Medhin had warned him not to let her youthful innocence deceive.
“She’s an exemplary talent,” the Sun Matron had told him. “They say she was inducted into the Nytherim at only thirteen. She’s a prodigy, and that makes her dangerous.”
Hirí had first been given to Lach’Dun, though; had only occupied the position for two years before the old Vaich was slated for death. She was beautiful and had tempted half of Rhyd-hal before the first sunfall of his reign. But he didn’t need a fortune teller—he was destined to live forever. And so he’d been quick to send her away to retrieve hisqueen. Now they had both returned, and he was exceedingly—
“… fucked.”
“What?” Skyre bleated.
“I said you’ll be fucked if you let this get away. This mangy tree dog is not your equal. You’re better off cutting his throat and being done with it.” Greyv waved an attendant over, miming for more ale. “If people start getting ideas—”
“They’ve already got ideas! They heard the prophecy on Aghmuir, and I cannae bring him all this way just to kill him in his bed. Everyone will ken I’m the one who did it!”
It’d be folly to undermine the Nytherim so openly. It was grim enough his reign had begun with uncertainty—to sever the moon goddess’ prophecy would be inviting dark omens.
“Alright, so his throat is off-limits, but his pride isnae,” said Greyv. “You said you saw him naked. If his cock was small, that’s worth telling. And if it wisnae, tell it, anyway.”
Itwassmall, but saying so wasn’t going to do him any good.
Skyre scoffed. “You’re useless.”
Greyv chuckled. “And to think, not four weeks ago was the best day of your life.”
Ithadbeen.
Since he was a child, he’d held a million promises in his hand. It never occurred to him they wouldn’t come true. He’d longed for the outside world; for the field and the grandeur. All those years spent waiting—biding his time in Righnach’Dúir, sating himself on illusions of glory. Now the links were breaking, weakening the chain that held his hope.
“I thought I would prove myself on a stage of grass and blood,” muttered Skyre. “Instead, I fight paltry battles of scandal.”
Hearing his shift in tone, Greyv softened. “It will come, Skyre. Your place is here, with that crown on your head and that brand on your chest. Centuries willnae be undone by one woman’s blathering.Youare the last Vaich. These fortune tellers have simply made a mistake.”
Night churned outside the window, desperate to come in. No matter how hard the fire worked, even a king’s hearth could not hold back the dark.
“Then, am I also a mistake?” Skyre asked.
Greyv sighed. “Every Vaich has been foretold—prophesied before birth. The moon witches had their purpose, and that purpose is spent. The Oracle just means to stay relevant. This queenordealis political nonsense. Petty rumblings from pettier heads. They are thunder, and we are the fury.”
Skyre smiled. He remembered the words from their boyhood, playing in the grove. When they would make believe themselves great warriors, bathed in their enemy’s blood.
Greyv’s hand perched on his shoulder. “Fifteen long years we waited. Dinnae let some fool doubt have its way with you. Have you nae always kent what you wanted?”
He had. And it was there at his fingertips; threatened, but no less sure. “Aye,” he said, glancing at his amber signet.
Greyv grinned. “Now I’m curious to see this man who’s come to uproot it all.”
A thousand years and never had a king of Cullach questioned his place. Challengers had come, but never with authority. The Vaichs were named by gods. And now… now there were two.
No, Skyre reminded himself, there was onlyoneVaich.
Chapter seven
The Court of Sun
The druid awoke with a gasp.
His skin was mired in sweat, his nightgown damp with it. Even as his eyes pooled with sunlight, the storm stained his mind. He had once again envisioned himself upon the shore with the sea teasing his toes. And now he could hear it, beating against the bow of the cliff.
