Page 39 of The Last of the Dark Lords

"The crown is a gift from Stahkla, and the God of Fire and Metal has an agenda. He hates that Greatfalls stays independent from the rest of Fyr, from his hand-chosen Lord. The crown can't lie.It can’t show what isn't there, but Stahkla can decide what the wearer sees to support his own schemings."

"Cyrus is trying to do what's right."

"Is he?"

"Yes! I've seen him put his own life at risk trying to save his subjects. Since I've met him, he's always thought of himself last."

She glared at me, but I didn’t flinch as I continued on. “We share the marriage bond now. I don’t sense any deceit from him, not toward me, and not toward his people.”

“They were quick to get you married.”

“It was part of the treaty that we should be married upon my arrival.”

Grandmother cocked her head at me, her expression unreadable. After a moment, she said, “There was no such provision.”

“What?’

“That was not a requirement of the treaty. The armistice didn’t go into effect until the wedding occurred, yes, but it didn’t enforce a timeline.”

I stared at her. Had they lied to me? Had they purposefully rushed the marriage? What possible reason would they have to do that?

“I…I don’t know. All I know is what I can sense through the soul bond. Despite any faults, Cyrus is trying to lead the best he can.”

She frowned. "Very well, child. If you say it is so, I will take it as truth. But that means little when he is under the thumb of an evil god."

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. This was complicated, made more so by my oaths and my bond to my new husband. I was being pulled between my old life and my new one, and I didn’t know how much further I could stretch before I broke.

"Listen to me, Skye. Do you care for him?"

"I do. More than should be possible after such a short time."

"Have you seen what the crown takes from him?" She gestured to Cyrus' sleeping form on the bed. "The cost is a steep one, and eventually it will kill him. It will not be a pleasant death."

My heart burned at her words. "What do you mean?”

"Death is the price of worshiping the God of Fire and Metal. The more you use his gifts, the more he takes from you."

My throat tightened at the thought of losing Cyrus. We’d just been married. I needed time to be with him. He deserved more than an early death.

"If you separate him from it,” she continued, “he will have the chance to live a normal life."

"But he'll hate me! I’ll be breaking the oaths I swore to him.”

"Oaths blessed by a dark god.” Grandmother spit on the ground next to her. “But won't you be helping him? Saving him, even? And at the same time, you can help your people get out from under the thumb of Ashfuror."

"I-"

"In your oaths, you vowed to stand in the way of any harm to him. The crown will bring about his death. You can stop that."

I stood there, staring at her, and no words would come. There was no right answer. On the one hand, Cyrus had chosen tobear the crown, presumably with full understanding of what that meant. On the other hand, Grandmother had never lied to me, not that I knew of. She had omitted facts on occasion, but if she said the crown would kill him, I believed her. I had to. I’d stopped thinking of Athard as my brother years ago, and she was the only family I had left.

I shook my head.

"He'll forgive you, Skye." Grandmother spoke in a low, soothing tone. "He is your husband. You have the chance at a life with him, unburdened by the price of Stahkla's artifact."

"Fine." The words came out as barely a whisper. There was no way to win here. Either I betrayed my home or I betrayed my husband. But at least this way, Cyrus would live. "I'll do it."

She put her hand to her lips and gently blew me a kiss. "You will always be my family, love. You are my Skye. Your mother and father would be proud."

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