by Bec McMaster
"Show them the mark," Stellan insisted.
The pair of warriors tore the man's shirt down his arms, baring his back. He kicked and fought, but one of them simply captured him by the throat, and hauled him upright, so everyone in the court could see the tattoo on his back.
A crown encircling a scrolling R.
"For the true prince!" the drekling yelled, his eyes rolling with fear. Ylve turned and slammed a fist into his gut, and he went down on his knees, choking with pain.
Árdís's fingernails bit into her palms. This didn't happen often. Both the queen and Stellan dealt with such matters swiftly and harshly. But sometimes they decided they needed an object lesson.
Stellan stared down at the man on the floor. "This drekling has been found guilty of attempting to break into the prisons and rescue a prisoner—"
"He's your s—"
A hand slammed the drekling's face into the floor, and a gag was produced, cutting sharply into his lips.
Another warrior brought a brazier to the dais. The hiss of burning coals made Árdís flinch. There was a hot iron burning white-hot in the center of the coals.
"Such an act—as well as the tattoo—can only prove where Marek's loyalty lies. And it is not with this court," Stellan said, drawing the end of the brand from the coals. He advanced, taking the steps down from the dais slowly.
Marek's screams were muffled by the edge of the gag as Ylve and Balder flipped him onto his back.
"He is declared a traitor, and will earn a traitor's death. The bonfire is being prepared."
Árdís turned her face away as the hiss of burning flesh and muffled screams echoed. Heels drummed on the floor. The stink filled her nostrils. It was too much. She had turned away, pressing her hands to her lips, when Malin—her drekling handmaid—suddenly appeared, offering her a scented handkerchief.
Árdís curled it in her fist, her eyes meeting the haunted brown depths of her handmaid's. She didn't press the handkerchief to her face, shame flooding through her. She could barely bear the stink and the sound of it. What a jest. Marek was the one feeling the T burn right into the middle of his forehead.
"Take him away and prepare him for the execution tomorrow night," Stellan said, discarding the brand back in the coals.
Marek moaned through a raw throat, as if he simply had no voice left to scream. Or perhaps he'd passed out, there at the end. She hoped.
Árdís turned as the guards dragged him away. Malin's hand squeezed hers. But Árdís's gaze locked on her uncle, and she hated him in that moment, more than she'd ever hated anyone in her life.
But she did not dare speak.
None of them did. Not even Sirius, whose head turned toward her, their eyes locking for one long moment in which she wondered if he even cared.
Silence.
The entire court was rocked with silence.
The only sound was the dying screams that grew weaker the further the poor drekling was dragged from the throne room.
"Does anyone else wish to throw their allegiance to the Traitor Prince?" Stellan asked softly.
Nobody moved.
"We didn't think so," the queen mused, sliding to her feet with graceful elegance. She paused at her brother's side.
"It has been over a month since Magnus, our prince, our hope, was taken from us by the traitor, Rurik," the queen called. "I have heard the unrest at court, and the whispers. As much as Magnus would have wished for us to grieve for him...."
An absolute jest. Magnus had been a monster, and half the court knew it.
"...it is past time we set aside our mourning and looked to the future. To the shining light within our midst." Amadea held her hand out, a sidelong glance shifting to Árdís. "My dear sweet daughter."
Shock slammed through her. She wasn't prepared for this. Marek's punishment had thrown her off-balance.
It was rare she was required to mount the dais. Árdís hesitated a fraction too long, and saw the faint lines around her mother's mouth tighten.
"Get up here," Amadea hissed in her mind.
Gathering her skirts, she somehow made it to her mother's side, sliding her hand into the dreki queen's. Over a hundred faces stared back at her, and not a single one of them smiled. The dreki warriors who served her mother and Stellan simply stared, and the others looked at her with hollow eyes.
The fate of the drekling had broken them.
"And the greatest of us all, the Blackfrost."
Sirius's head turned just as sharply.
Their eyes met for a second before Árdís looked away. He pushed away from the wall, moving with slow, careful steps, his face devoid of all emotion.
Did he support his father in this?
Had he known what was coming?
"It is the dearest hope of myself and my brother to join our two bloodlines and present a unified court." Amadea drew their hands together, and Árdís found her palm resting upon Sirius's.
What was going on here? She hadn't protested the betrothal too hard, knowing whichever way she looked, her back was in a corner. With both of her brother's fleeing the court, she was the only heir, but she'd never hold such a position without a strong male behind her—the way Stellan backed the queen.
But it had been over a year.
Neither the queen nor her uncle Stellan had pushed this, beyond the odd mutter, and Sirius never breathed a word about the betrothal.
It had loomed over her, and yet protected her from the attentions of other dreki. Both threat and savior. Her heart began to pound as she realized what her mother intended.
"Let us bring in the equinox with a celebration." Amadea's voice rang through the enormous cavern. "Tomorrow night, I shall watch as my beloved daughter takes the Blackfrost as a mate, and I can officially announce him as my heir."
Árdís's breath sucked through her. Tomorrow night?
She didn't realize she'd flinched until Sirius's fingers laced through hers, forcing their hands together.
"Don't," he whispered on a thought-thread.
Cheers rang out among her mother's warriors, and hands clapped together. The rest of the hall was silent. Some of her father's remaining coterie of dreki exchanged glances. The drekling didn't move. It all seemed so distant. Árdís's world was narrowing in around her, caging her within their false cheer. The laces on her dress seemed to pull tighter. She couldn't breathe.
"If you'll excuse me," Árdís said, unable to stay there a second longer. Gathering her skirts, she fled the dais.
"You selfish little bitch." Skirts stalked after her, a menacing swish that told her she couldn't flee. "Do you think this is a game? Do you think you can defy me like that in front of the entire court, and I shall merely turn the other cheek?"
Árdís spun around, her heart beating wildly behind the cage of her ribs as the queen stalked toward her. "How could you do that? Right after.... You could have warned me."
The queen's smile was thin. "You've had a year to grow used to the idea."
"He's not my choice!"
"Do you think your father was my choice?"
Movement flashed. Her ears rang as the slap drove her sideways. Árdís caught herself on the wall, and looked up. Defiance was unwise. Her mother was dangerous, and had long proved she held no sense of loyalty toward her own children.
But Haakon's kiss blazed across her mouth, and Árdís's dreki writhed within her, as if it had woken from a long slumber to find the world burning around it.
Or perhaps the kiss had woken her.
The heart of her. The real her.
How much of herself could she bury? How much of her soul could she cage, before it was too late? No dreki should ever have its wings clipped.
No dreki should live in fear, the way the court did.
Deep inside her lurked a secret fury that boiled up, as if someone had set a match to oil. She rounded on her mother, and it no longer mattered if this was dangerous or unwise, or could possibly get her killed.
A line had been crossed.
"I will not do this," she whispered hoarsely. "You ask too much of me—"
Amadea lashed out, and Árdís went to her knees as a whip of burning Chaos magic lashed around her throat. It choked the breath out of her, searing through her nerves. She screamed, pain obliterating every thought, on and on, until she didn't think she could bear it any longer, and the noose finally vanished.
When she came to, she was on her hands and knees on the floor. Spit dribbled from her lips. Snot bubbled from her nose. She was surprised her head was still attached, for it had felt as though the lash burned right through her spinal cord, but when her palm wrapped around her throat there was not a single mark there.
"I wasn't aware I was asking."
Árdís panted, her rage burned to ash in her throat. How could she ever fight that? How could she ever escape? She smelled again the stink of burning flesh.
She might have little recourse against her mother's powers, but she would not crawl on the floor and beg for forgiveness. Wiping her face with her sleeve, Árdís looked up.
It took her long seconds to gather her weight beneath her, mocked by shaky knees. Árdís's palms scraped the wall, and she hauled herself to her feet, every inch the dreki princess as she stared her mother in the eye.
"Be very careful," Amadea said. "Both of your brothers defied me. I will not have another traitor who shares my own blood. I will not."
Don't be unwise, screamed her sense of self-preservation.
She will kill you.
Or worse.
Árdís forced herself to bow her head, but her fists curled at her side, so tightly her knuckles ached.
"This court is full of rebellious hearts," Amadea warned, and her red skirts swished into the field of Árdís's vision. "Some say your brother is still the rightful heir, despite your father's murder—"
"He didn't do it. I know Rurik would never have—"
A cruel hand caught her chin, forcing her to look up. Fingers dug into the flesh of her jaw.
"You were a kit, Árdís. You know nothing. Do you think Rurik looked back once he left this court?" Amadea's eyes glittered. "I know you think he loved you—I know you think Marduk loved you—but did they ever offer to take you with them? Or did they leave you behind, like the refuse sailors throw overboard their ships? Vanishing without a single goodbye...."
Her heart absorbed the blow. They loved her. Her father had loved her, before someone in this wretched court ripped his heart out.
But that didn't negate the fact she was alone here, with not a single ally.
Or that they had left her behind, knowing what their mother was like.
Claws dug into her skin, and Amadea's glittering green eyes became the center of her vision. "I will crush this rebellion if it is the last thing I do. I will not allow your father's lawless dreki fanatics to bring mutiny to my court. Word swims of Rurik's power and might following Magnus's death, and each whisper is melding together to become a roar that shakes the foundations of this court."
"That's why you did that?" A public punishment to whip the court into line, and a mating ceremony to offer a future.
"We need to look strong in the face of these rumors. We need Sirius named as heir. If there is one thing that can counter the might of their golden prince, then it is the Blackfrost. And you will do your duty to protect this family, this court. You will mate with him, Árdís, so I can name him heir and weld this fractured court together again. I will not allow your selfishness to ruin us."
Amadea held her there for another brutal second, seeming satisfied with what she saw in Árdís's eyes.
Then she let her go and strode away, leaving Árdís gasping behind her.
5
Árdís slipped through the portal that led to her chambers, her ears still ringing.
The world around her remained silent. Someone had cleaned her rooms, and the silk spread on her bed gleamed. She barely saw it.
She was alone.
She'd been beaten down, the queen showing her just how easily it was to cut Árdís's rage out from under her. She'd seen the price of failure. Would they do that to her?
No.
A spark of hidden defiance beat within her chest like wings.
You will do your duty....
The words swam through her, like careless hands that tore through her will power, shredding it.
I'm sailing home. Forever. Unless you give me a reason to stay....
Haakon didn't know how much those words destroyed her. She couldn't go to him. She'd get him killed. She'd get them both killed. She'd seen what they did to those who thwarted them. If she mated with Sirius—
I cannot.
Silence finally reigned in her head. The press of all her conflicted emotions thickened in her throat. The dreki within seemed to hold its breath.
"I cannot stay," she whispered, so softly she could barely hear the words herself, but they filled her from within, smoothing out all of the wretched hollows within her. Flooding her with certainty, with rage, with a sudden decisive intention.
The words seemed to break some sort of spell.
Suddenly, it was all so clear.
If she died, then was it not worth it, for the merest taste of freedom? She couldn't go on living like this, and it had taken both Haakon's reappearance in her life, and the scene in the throne room to make her realize that.
The cage walls seemed to shatter around her, and suddenly she felt like she could take on the world.
Árdís broke into action, stripping her shimmering dress down her body, and tearing open her trunks. She dug through them, discarding silks and velvets, hunting for her fighting leathers, for something warm. She couldn't wear the leathers when she left court—if anyone saw her they'd wonder what she was about—so she dressed herself swiftly in a green wool dress that wouldn't draw any eyes, nor rouse any suspicions. Spare clothing went into the pack she carried when she flew, so she'd have something to wear when she landed.
Once she got this bracelet off.
What else did she need?
A sword. Marduk's sword. The one he'd left for her when she helped him escape, knowing that her brother's defiance had caught the eye of their uncle.
Didn't even say goodbye.... Árdís bared her teeth. She hadn't been ready. She'd been afraid, drawing the cage door shut herself. No more. She was done with hiding her hopes and dreams. Done with bowing to her mother's whims.
She couldn't stay here. She couldn't mate with Sirius, knowing her husband was out there somewhere. And she couldn't throw herself into Haakon's arms with her mother's threats whispering in her ears.
She'd never forgive herself if her actions led to Haakon's death.
But perhaps there was a middle path. A chance for freedom from Sirius, and a means to live her life alone.
There was one place she could flee to, where her mother would not dare follow.
She turned to gather the sword, when the portal opened and a hooded figure appeared.
Malin paused, her brown eyes widening when she saw the pack. Then she swiftly closed the portal that led to the court behind her.
"You're leaving?"
"I can't.... I—" Árdís's shoulders slumped. "I cannot go through with this. I cannot mate with him."
Malin hurried toward her. "You saw what she did to Marek! If you're captured—"
"Then it is worth it, for the few minutes of freedom." She captured Malin's hands. "You don't understand."
"I know the Blackfrost is not of your choice." Malin shuddered. "He wouldn't be mine either. But he's not as blatantly cruel as his father or his brothers. And he's the only one who can protect you. It would be a reasonable alliance for you."
"I'm already married," she blurted.
Malin sucked in a sharp breath. "What?"
Malin's mother had been human. She'd lived among her mother's family for fifteen years, before power began to whisper through her veins. Unable to shift, she could still light a fire with a
snap of her fingers, and so she'd come to court, to find her father and learn to control her elemental magic.
She knew what marriage meant.
Árdís withdrew the chain from her dress. The ring dangled on the end of it, spinning in swift circles. Slowly, she poured the ring into her palm. "When I fled court the first time, there was a man." She closed her eyes. "I loved him. With all my heart. I thought I'd found a place for myself, until my mother sent her nephews to hunt me down. I had to leave him. I didn't dare let my mother know."
Her fingers curled over the ring.
"I thought I could forget him. I thought I could survive the loss of him, as long as I knew he lived. But he's found me. And I cannot go through with this mating bond." Her eyes turned warm. "I cannot do this, Malin. My dreki won't allow it."
Malin let out a slow sigh. "Oh, Princess."
"Come with me," she whispered, holding her handmaid's hands. Malin had been her only friend at court. Her mother watched so carefully she did not dare walk among the other drekling, or venture into the lower halls, where those dreki who'd been her father's faithful warriors tended to reside.
Malin shook her head. "I cannot. My father is here. My younger sister. I have nowhere else to go."
"You could join me. I'm sure my—"
Malin slammed a hand over her mouth. "Don't you dare. If I know nothing of your plans, then I cannot share them."
They stared at each other, and Malin slowly lowered her hand. "I already know too much."
"They'll question you," Árdís said, her mind racing.
"Which is why you need to make it clear I wasn't part of this plan."
A ruthless proposition, but a wise one. She nodded. "Help me pack."
It was easier with Malin by her side. Nobody would think anything of seeing her walking the halls. The drekling handmaid slipped back into the court, and returned with a flask of water and food to eat.
"How are you going to sneak out?" Malin whispered. "They'll see you in the skies."
"Unfortunately not." She showed Malin the manacle and explained her sudden deficiencies. "I'm going to try and free Andri from the dungeons. If he's in any condition to fly, then he can help me. If not, I'll use the Reykjavik portal." She slung the pack over her shoulders.
