“Darcke.” I tried to turn, but his sword cut into my shoulder, and he wasn’t budging.
“Put down your sword, Elvara, and no one will get hurt.” His breath was still too hot, too distracting, and I didn’t like the way he was pronouncing my name.
“He deserves to die for what he did to you,” I said slowly. “He tied you to him. He forced you to do all these things.”
“No, he didn’t.” Darcke nudged my back with his knee. “The sword.”
“I would listen to him.” The king stared from me to Darcke and back again.
I shook my head. I didn’t understand. Every person was watching our deadlock, swords and axes raised, waiting for the outcome of whatever this was. Of whateverwewere.
“Why?” I asked when an ache started in my head.
“Because of my people,” Darcke said. “Because of every person in our realm who has been hurt because of your people.”
I was caged between his blade and his chest, and every breath he took pressed the sharp edge harder against my skin.
“I thought they were my people too,” I whispered.
Darcke loosened a breath against my hair. “They are. But so is the man before you.”
“So?” I turned my eyes down when the king sought them. “The ones killing your men behind us are also my people, and you don’t seem too bothered by them dying.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why?—”
“I told you they were using you,” my mother spat, and I could only imagine from her tone how furious she looked. “I told you, you were a pawn!”
A bitter taste coated the inside of my mouth.
“Tell me that isn’t true,” I said. “Tell me she’s lying.”
This time Darcke remained silent out of his own will.
“It’s my fault,” the king said. “You can let her go, A’lian.”
Darcke’s sword went nowhere. “No. Not until she lowers hers.”
“A’lian—”
“No, Gustief. I will not have her kill you before she knows.”
“What are you talking about!” I screamed, the sound echoing off the doors ahead. “Tell me what the fuck you’re talking about!”
My heart beat a frantic rhythm, and the urge to give in to the tears flaming behind my eyes was so strong Darcke’s sword nicked my shoulder as I swayed from it.
“Fucking Hel!” For a second, the cool blade left my skin, and I thought Darcke would be the one to end the king. But instead metal screamed, and so did something else—something ancient and old that could have only been spelled from the shaman—as Darcke broke the chain holding together the king’s cloak.
As it fell to the ground, the air stilled for a second. Then a shudder went through the king. His golden hair blew around his face as his eyes shifted, the hazel spinning before the gold bled away, leaving him with a familiar moss-colored gaze.
I stumbled a step back, my sword clattering to the ground.
“Who are…” I turned to the other heirs—to the chiefs—and everyone looked as shocked as I was. Everyone apart from my mother. Seindra Sweengard stormed forward, and no one stopped her, not until Darcke spun his blade on her instead, forcing her to halt.
“Gods, Gustief, you’re one for fucking dramatics, aren’t you?” she hissed.
My hand flew to my heart when the king’s green eyes rolled upward. “Are you… are…”
