by Marie Medina
****
Ryden looked to Owen as the elders debated in hushed but heated tones. He’d been readying himself for the task of fighting Harald, but now it didn’t matter. His gaze moved to the head on the ground, which everyone else was ignoring. Does anyone even care? He searched the crowd for Harald’s family, and it worried him when he didn’t immediately see the former leader’s wife or son.
He kept looking, and he eventually spotted them. Jensen pulled his braided hair over his shoulder and raised the hood of his cloak as he glanced around. He locked eyes with Ryden a moment and gave the slightest of nods. Then he turned to his mother and whispered something. She raised her chin defiantly and waved him off. Jensen stared at her for a few seconds and then moved off with a frown on his face.
Ryden watched him go a few moments before turning back to the elders. He didn’t know if Jensen was leaving or preparing for something, but he couldn’t worry about that now. “Unless there’s an obvious reason to stop, I see no point in this debate. I’ll fight him,” Ryden said. “Settle this.”
“You heard him,” Rafe said to the others. “All this talk is pointless. We are not a clan of clucking hens—we’re warriors.”
Doron said, “Better to let the fight proceed than let the crowd get whipped up.”
Mikel looked to Grim and Gideon, who nodded. “Very well,” Mikel said. “Begin when the bell tolls again.”
Mikel knelt and picked up Harald’s head without saying anything, and then they all left Fendal and Ryden standing a couple of feet apart, their swords ready.
“Harald didn’t have to die,” Ryden said moments later as he watched Harald’s head being put into a cloth bag. He adjusted his stance as he looked back to Fendal.
Fendal sneered at him. “Says the man who was about to fight him to the death.”
“So sure I was going to kill him? Even I wasn’t entirely sure I would or could,” Ryden said.
“Exactly why you should not be our leader!” Fendal said.
The bell tolled, and Fendal launched at him. Ryden moved to the side and spun back to face him, their swords clashing three times in quick succession before he pushed Fendal back.
“We shouldn’t be killing each other right now, you damned fool!” Ryden said before charging the other man.
Fendal swung high and nicked Ryden’s shoulder, slicing through his shirt and leaving a deep cut. He cursed himself for wearing the white shirt. Owen would see the blood and begin to worry. He wanted to look to his mate but didn’t dare. Ryden swung low and caught Fendal just above his boot, and he did his best to angle up and injure his knee. Blood gushed, and Fendal cursed. But he still seemed steady on his feet.
“I’m not going to kill him, you know,” Fendal said.
Ryden knew he meant Owen and refused to reply, hoping Fendal’s need to brag would make him slip up.
Fendal went on. “I’m going to breed him. Disposable soldiers for the wars to come.” He grinned as he circled Ryden. “I’m sure Rafe will enjoy helping me.”
Ryden charged again, swinging three times before landing a blow on Fendal’s arm. The backwards motion proved that he had injured Fendal’s knee.
“They’re weak, Ryden. You could have had so much if you’d remained loyal,” Fendal said.
Ryden adjusted his grip and circled Fendal, who glared at him now.
“You think you’re so much better than all of us because of your parents,” Fendal said. He dashed around Ryden quickly, managing to grab the end of his long braid and then cutting nearly a foot of hair off. He grinned and threw it in Ryden’s face. “Your mother was a whore. Almost any man over fifty could be your real father.” He grinned. “Including me.”
Ryden saw red as whispers from his childhood flooded his memories. He swung hard over and over again, missing every time as Fendal backed up and laughed at him.
“Found your weak spot, I see,” Fendal said. “Her weak spot was my cock in her mouth while—”
Ryden silenced him by slamming the hilt of his sword into Fendal’s face. Blood gushed from his nose as he screamed, and Ryden kicked him to the ground. When Fendal tried to rise, Ryden kicked his sword away and planted the tip of his in Fendal’s shoulder, driving it home to the other man was pinned to the ground.
He told himself he should abandon his plan of sparing his opponent. He would have to be a fool to let this man live. But he thought of Owen and his pack, of all the other fae in the world, and of the members of his dying clan. He glanced up, and before long he locked eyes with Tasia, who watched him carefully but gave nothing away.
Ryden turned to the elders. “He’s defeated, but I won’t kill him. We’ve had enough of killing!”
Whispers went up around the arena, but the elders hesitated outside the circle. Ryden stepped back and held up his hands. Fendal tried to free himself, but his hands slipped in his own blood, the blade cutting his palms and fingers and only making things worse.
The elders all came forward with grave looks on their faces. Mikel led the way, but Rafe pushed past him.
“Can’t do even one damned thing right, can you?” Rafe said. He withdrew the sword, causing Fendal to cry out, and then looked around at all of them.
Gideon raised his hand, but then he froze. Ryden stepped forward because he realized the elders hadn’t broke the circle of sand and lifted the enchantment. “Break the circle!” Ryden said, waving his arms to the sidelines.
But it didn’t happen in time, and he wasn’t fast enough. Rafe buried the sword in Fendal’s neck, twisting it before lunging toward Ryden.
“Enough!” Mikel said, making a fist and then hurling a ball of light at Rafe.
Rafe crumpled to the ground just as Tasia ran up to the group, a knife in her hand. Mikel held both hands up to her and said, “Please. No more blood. He is under arrest, and you will join him if you try to take your own revenge.”
She stared him down a moment, but then she nodded and sheathed her knife back in her boot. Her gaze went to Ryden. “I didn’t want to watch you kill my father, but it would’ve been simpler if you had.”
Ryden advanced toward her. “But my mercy let Rafe show his true colors.”
She actually snorted at him and shook her head. “As if any one of us thought him loyal or honorable. He got his spot on the council of elders through blackmail.”
Mikel cleared his throat. “The people must be told something. Now.”
Ryden looked around at everyone talking and milling about. “We all meet in the great hall in half an hour. Anyone who sheds blood is to be arrested, and anyone who does not show up will have no say in what comes next.” He nodded to Rafe. “Chain him and bring him with us. Gag him as well before he wakes.”
Mikel made the announcement, and Ryden strode toward his mate. Tasia moved at his side. “I’ll support you as long as Rafe is executed.”
“I promised my mate there would be no more executions.”
Tasia grabbed his arm. “You plan to leave your worst enemy alive?”
He shook her off. “Go to the great hall. Whether I become clan leader or not, I will not start this part of my life with deals made behind my people’s backs.” He quickened his pace and bounded up to where Owen stood clutching at Vadik’s sleeve.
“What are the chances we can run away and let them settle this on their own?” Owen said as he practically stumbled into Ryden’s arms.
“I wouldn’t be the man you love if I did that,” Ryden said.
“I do love you,” Owen said softly.
“And I love you,” Ryden said, bringing Owen up for a kiss.
Owen barely kissed him back and then stared at him after their lips parted. He’d never seen his mate quite this stunned. “You fucking tell me that when we have to go spend the gods only know how many hours debating the mess that just happened?” Owen said.
“I couldn’t wait another moment, little one,” he said, stroking Owen’s cheek. “Forgive me?”
“For this, or every damned insane th
ing since we met?”
“All of it.”
Owen looked at the others and then back at Ryden. “Nothing to forgive. Let’s go see what we’re facing.”
Ryden kept his arm around Owen as the fae king’s guards surrounded them. “What do you sense, Your Majesty?”
Asmund said, “I’ve tried to be discreet, but what I’m getting from most is determination.”
“Determination?”
“Yes. To survive.” Asmund met his gaze. “I hope you’ve given your future plans some thought. This may be your one chance to see them fulfilled.”
Ryden nodded but said nothing as he squeezed Owen’s hand. With his mate at his side, he hoped he would find the right words much sooner this time.
Chapter Eight
Owen sat beside Ryden. Gregor had been sent home by the elders, but Asmund and Vadik had been allowed to stay and now sat on his other side. Owen hoped it was a good sign that no one had objected to him staying. Ryden had said their bond wasn’t official yet in the eyes of the clan, but it seemed no one was going to question his right to be here. Even if he was only being allowed to stay because others wanted to avoid more conflict, Owen was glad he was able to remain at his mate’s side. With Fendal dead and Rafe unconscious, at least no one was glaring at him. Tasia seemed watchful, and Owen wondered how much she’d known about her father’s plans.
Everyone sat whispering as the four remaining elders discussed something in the corner. But everyone grew quiet and stared when a handsome blond man entered the room with several men following behind him. Tasia walked up to him and said something, bowing her head.
Ryden leaned over. “That’s Jensen, Harald’s son. Tasia is probably paying her respects.”
“Her father murdered his father. How can she even look at him? Approach him so calmly?”
“It would be cowardly not to formally pay her respects, and it would be dishonorable for him to deny her the chance to do so.” Ryden patted his leg. “We’re used to it, little one, and the bonds we feel to our parents aren’t always affectionate.”
“Could she be apologizing? She came and talked to Asmund. Said some things that made me think she won’t work against you. She even gave the king a vague warning to be careful.”
“Did she?” Ryden asked. “Hmmm.”
Jensen approached Ryden, but the elders came back over before the two men could speak. Jensen nodded his head in acknowledgement and said, “Is there any chance I could be allowed to say something?”
“The question of who our clan leader is takes precedence,” one of the elders said.
“I agree, Mikel, and that is what I wish to speak of.” He presented a roll of paper to Mikel. “I’ve been scrambling the last half hour to get signatures. I believe humans refer to it as a petition, but I only wanted it as proof of who is with me.”
“With you? In what?” Mikel asked, examining the scroll.
“If my father had won, I was going to challenge him myself. All of the men and women who signed that agreed to support me.”
“You don’t need anyone’s support to challenge the clan leader,” another elder said.
“You do if you don’t plan on going through all the old bullshit,” Jensen said. “I planned to force him out of the position by having enough of our people behind me. As you can see, I have eighty signatures, and that’s not quite everyone. I had the outright support of nearly half the clan. But now our plans have changed. Fendal and Rafe were my two clearest enemies. The last hour has changed everything, and I’m more hopeful.”
“Are you asking Ryden to step aside, after confessing to basically conspiring against the established order?” Mikel asked. “We haven’t even decided if his defeat of Fendal should stand as a true victory.”
“That is what I’m asking for. We want him recognized as the victor here.” He looked at Ryden and Owen. “I don’t care who or what his mate is. He’ll serve us better as a leader than he ever did in any other capacity.”
“Nothing will ever be the same if we do that,” Mikel said. “Such a precedent could be dangerous.”
“Perhaps a clean slate is what we need,” Jensen said. “Over the last few months, I’ve heard many talking of seeking asylum, both in the fae court and elsewhere. We can’t afford to lose more of our people.”
Mikel and the other elders looked at each other.
“Vote on it,” Owen said, unable to stop himself. Every single person in the room looked at him, and he swallowed. It chilled him that a room with so many people in it could suddenly go so quiet. “Why not?” he said to the elders. “It sounds like following precedents might not always be the best way to govern. They depend on the people who were involved at one point in history. Can’t always be best for people living here and now. You got all these people here—ask them if they want Ryden. If they reject him as leader, then ask what they do want.”
“It’s a good idea,” Tasia said, causing everyone to turn to her now. “This chaos will swallow us up if we keep allowing a handful of men to decide what’s best. Rafe and my father were both elders, and they put themselves before all of us, even if they would claim otherwise. We can watch the old ways crumble, or we can make repairs that just might save the structure.”
The four elders whispered together, looking over at Ryden briefly and then to Asmund. Owen also looked at the fae king, who still appeared quite calm. He wished Asmund would say or do something, even though he knew the king didn’t have any authority here.
Mikel nodded and turned back to everyone. “Given what Jensen just told us, it seems we were on the verge of more than one revolution. A vote seems the best course. If anyone objects, speak now.” They waited, all of the people glancing at each other. Some whispers could be heard, but no one spoke up. “Very well then.” He looked to Asmund. “Your Majesty, since your mate has Fen blood, would you be willing to let us place a brief spell on him so he could count the votes? I don’t think we should waste time waiting for the summoning of a third party.”
“If he’s willing,” Asmund said, looking to Vadik.
The big warrior stood up. “Why not? Better than waiting for someone to take a swing at me next.”
A few muted laughs went up amongst the crowd, and Owen squeezed Ryden’s hand. “Did I do a good thing?” Owen asked.
“Depends. You ready to lead a clan?” Ryden asked.
Owen didn’t reply as he watched Mikel place his hands on Vadik’s forehead as everyone began talking amongst themselves again. Lead a clan? No. Help stop these people from ripping each other apart? He glanced to Tasia and then to Jensen, who gave him a brief smile. Oh yes.
****
One Hour Later
Ryden watched Vadik along with everyone else. The man presented a tally sheet to Mikel and said, “One hundred and seventy-four in favor, just like the first two times.”
Mikel nodded and smiled. “Thank you for your assistance. And patience.”
“Glad I could help bring you a little democracy,” Vadik said as he rose and returned to the king’s side. A few chuckles went up at the quip. Asmund gave him a stern look, but it soon softened.
Ryden touched Owen’s arm, which was looped around his. Asmund and Vadik seemed as dissimilar as he and Owen did, so watching the other two men gave him hope for the future. He felt the change in himself, and Owen certainly seemed willing to change for him. There would be a lot going on during this adjustment period, but perhaps working together would actually help them settle into this new life. He could only hope and try his best. He kept hold of Owen’s hand as he rose to face Mikel.
“Do you accept?” Mikel asked.
“Yes.”
Mikel looked around the room before glancing at Vadik. “And how long do men serve their people in the human world? I don’t think Ryden or his mate want him serving under the old rules.”
“Certainly not,” Ryden said, also looking to Vadik.
“Four to six years, usually. In the US, at least,” Vadik said.
&n
bsp; Ryden hesitated, thinking of how demanding his duties would be. “Two years? And then we see what everyone wants to do? That seems long enough to see how I’m doing and let people think about what they want.”
“Objections?” Mikel said.
People talked among themselves, but no one objected. Jensen, however, asked, “But if we want more than two years, are you willing?”
“Willing? Yes. But a lot can happen in two years, if these last few days are anything to go by,” Ryden said. “I’d say that’s one of many questions we need time to consider.”
Jensen bowed his head. “Agreed.”
“Very well then.” Mikel folded his hands before him. “And your first action? You mentioned something before, I think.”
He pulled Owen to his feet. “My plan was to make our vows official as my first action, but…” He squeezed Owen’s hand. “I think that can wait. I’m sure no one here doubts my devotion after all that has happened. We’ll make plans and do it properly, with a big celebration.” He turned to Owen and took his other hand as well. “My mate had a special request for my first action.” He looked around at everyone before he said, “I am no longer our clan’s executioner, and I will not appoint a new one. We’re done with that. No member of this clan will ever again have to fear being killed for displeasing the council or the clan leader.”
“But sometimes death is the only fitting punishment,” Tasia said, stepping forward. “I can only be partially in agreement with you here.”
“Do you speak in general, or in reference to Rafe?” Ryden asked.
“Both. I want justice for the death of the only family member I had left, and I want to know that laws will still be upheld,” she said.
“Then perhaps you should make a proposal to the council regarding when you think the death penalty justified.” He smiled, knowing he was about to shock her. “Or campaign for one of the two open council seats.”
Murmurs went up. No woman had ever served on the council of elders.
“Campaign? You aren’t simply going to appoint them?” she said.
