“Because I was afraid that you would choose to remain there, with them, with your people, and I couldn’t come here alone. And then you suggested the idea to travel north, so I just went along with it. You didn’t force me here, Delia, I came willingly, carrying that knowledge. I’m sorry, but for what it’s worth, I did try to get us to Aegir first.”
He was defenceless, hands bound at his back, and he looked at me with nothing but pleading in his eyes, yet I still slapped him right across his face. I hit him so hard my palm stung and prickled.
I just stared at him with pursed lips and a death glare—unsure what to even believe anymore.
Am I all the time being lied to—by everyone? Manipulated by everyone?
King Ryvar rumbled a low laugh, and I shifted my piercing gaze towards him. My breath heaved. The king smiled at me. “Careful, or I might ask you to be his executioner come Sunday.”
The king squared his shoulders before facing Marshen.
“Marshen Deucane, you are going to be executed whether she believes you or not, becauseIknow that she is not an Ilman. I’m not some gullible fool. You forget, the people of Ilma are all powerless. Law is law, and a bargain is only as good if it is met.” His voice came out so powerful, it echoed through the throne room.
Despite having the deepest urge to cut off Marshen’s tongue with a serrated knife, I hated the king’s heartless words and lack of compassion with even more passion.
If I wasn’t sure of anything, I was certain that Marshen did not deserve to die. And to die from the hands of the man bearing twin swords—just like in his nightmare, when he screamed Blanca’s name.
At that very moment I no longer cared. I snapped and snarled at the King of Ice, “He went searching for the people youso very gladly sent him to fetch and he found them! Remove his execution order and go free those people now!”
A servant ordering around a king.
But for this afternoon, I had to pretend. I had to pretend to be brave, for Marshen, for Alma and her people.
King Ryvar gave me a blood-chilling scowl, then growled, “Just because my brother decided to bite down on your neck, it doesnotgiveyouthe right to givemeorders.”
Now. I would do it now.
I reached into my right pocket, my fingers meeting the velvety box…but then—
“Yes it does.”
Then my heart shattered into the tiniest pieces, like pulverised glass scattering into powdered fumes. I was furious at my body. So fucking furious for betraying me so easily at the sound of his voice.Aegir.
CHAPTER 67
My head snapped past Marshen, instantly meeting Aegir’s haunting gaze. My heart drummed so hard, I was afraid it would give up on me. My knees wobbled just in time with my quivering lips, my hands trembled, and my eyes watered. Oh! And what else? It wouldn’t have been complete if we didn’t start having a little trouble breathing, would it?
My lungs squeezed into a tight fist. The room felt too small, too hot. I—I needed to get away—away from him. I couldn’t handle Marshen’s death sentence, the abandonment of the people of Ilma, and on top of that,him. No, not him. That, I couldn’t handle.
Aegir made to approach, but I took a few steps back towards the alcove, my palms raised before me, towards them, towards him, a gesture that conveyed—stay away. I rested a palm against the wall and took small but steady steps along the elongated alcove.
Each step felt like a mercy, as once beyond the heating wards, the air’s temperature plummeted. My lungs were grateful for delivering them the crisp air that they desperately craved.
I wasn’t sure if he neared; I couldn’t bring myself to look behind me. I just kept walking.
Through prickling eyes, I took in the rocky ground before me that wound along scattered ice dunes. And very far away, along the icy horizon, was the tundra. The immense white mountainswere covered in enraged, thick grey clouds—they appeared as indignant as I felt.
I took one long breath in and shakily let it out. The wind blew harder, sending a much-appreciated cool to my face—it whipped fiercely at my loose braid.
I started off with a march that gradually turned into an unmoored run. Snow crunched beneath my feet as I followed the rocky terrain, and I unknowingly planned to run for as long as my lungs and legs would let me. I was an adult, in my twenties, yet my overwhelming emotions made me act like I was no more than a scared little girl. But I swore it was either my mind or my body telling me to run in the frigid air.
I was uncertain if it was footsteps that I heard coming near, but I soon confirmed it when he called out my name.
“Cordelia! Wait!”
I kept running.
“Wait! Don’t run over there. It’s not safe.”
