Page 51 of A Crown of Darkness

This isn’t me, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t find her own voice. Not anymore. She could only watch as this unfolded, a mute witness. Wren tried to struggle free but there was no getting out of this. And still Finn held her, his voice a soothing murmur. Somewhere, he was still holding her, in the darkness, still protecting her. And she would find her way back to him. She had to.

At first the Nox had no name, but they named her. She had no form but they imagined one for her. Where the Aurum became all-powerful flames, she was a woman clothed in night and stars.

No one started it. Not really. She could see that. But Ilanthus and Asteroth edged their way to war, and there was no reasoning with anyone. The Aurum wanted to protect those it loved and so did she. It was perhaps inevitable.

But the Nox did not allow herself to be drawn into the fray.

The kings of Ilanthus brought her offerings, gifts. She blessed them and their line. She took them as lovers and gave them strength and power and…

When they loved her, it worked. They protected her people and she was pleased.

But they grew jealous, and they wanted more power. More power than anyone should be allowed to have.

They wanted her power. To defend the kingdom, they said. They needed her to protect them. In the end, they resolved to make her comply and they found a way. Through the remnants of old magic which still lingered.

She had never killed anyone until the king – she didn’t even remember his name at first – put that crown on her head. Such a beautiful thing, cunningly wrought and wreathed with magic that even she did not understand. That was her first mistake, to let him do that.

He flattered her, this silver-haired man with deep blue eyes. He said he loved her and promised to serve her, and offered her his body.

She bore him a child.

Cold dread squeezed at the back of Wren’s mind, even as she held that child in her arms, even as she knew that love and felt that all she had wanted was now given form, given flesh.

And one night, while she was sleeping, the king took the child and killed it. He drenched her in its blood and took that crown and bound her to it.

Sidon, she recalled at last. His name was Sidon.

Hatred was hot and white and terrible. Rage made her scream through gritted teeth. Hot tears splashed on her face. Finn’s tears. He was seeing this too. He had to be. This was as much his story as anyone else’s. That monster was his ancestor. And this was his origin too. His blood, his bond, his sacrifice…

She was bound to obey him, to serve him. No longer a goddess, not even a queen. Just a slave, a weapon. There was no choice left to her. He was powerful and mighty. He took many wives and lovers, sired a legion of sons and bound her to their blood and them to her. He warred on their enemies and…so much death followed but only the first one mattered to her.

When the Nox finally managed to tear herself free, when Sidon finally succumbed to death, she took a terrible revenge on his line, all of them, all those sons. She flung the crown here into the darkness where they could never touch it again, never use it against her. She cursed anyone who would try to wear it, or make her wear it again.

And from that time on the line of Sidon would serve her, die for her, be hers…without any choice in the matter. It was vengeance of a sort, a spell created in grief and rage, but it trapped the Nox as much as the descendants of that long ago king. At any time, they could have chosen the other path, butthey all chose blood. Better to kill all of their line than to submit to her.

No wonder she had been helpless against Finn. No wonder he had been helpless against her. They had never had any chance at all. Everything felt empty and cold, like a lie. A destiny they could never have hoped to avoid. It wasn’t fair.

‘But you love him,’ the Nox said. ‘Is that not true?’

Wren didn’t know how to answer that. She did love him. But could she have done anything else? And did Finn have any choice at all?

‘Wren?’ he whispered, and his voice sounded like his own again. The world retreated, back to the darkness of the chamber with its flickering glow of blue-black light. The vision had slipped away from her and Wren was huddled on the ground, sobbing. She was wrapped in an Ilanthian sheath-like dress, the colour of ravens’ wings, black shot with iridescent blue and threads of silver. And Finn wore the armour of a king.

He knelt before her, his head bowed, the sword on the ground between them.

Slowly Wren pulled herself back together as best she could.

I can give him a choice, the Nox whispered and the air trembled around them.There is always a choice.

‘What do you mean?’ Wren asked bitterly. She might have seen the truth of this being, its origins and its tragedies, but all the same, she wasn’t so much of a fool as to trust it. ‘What possible choice remains?’

‘Whether to live,’ Finn said. It was him, through and through. ‘Whether to die. Or simply, whether to let you decide.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I will protect you, Wren. With anything I have. I always will and I will give everything to do it.’ He bowed his head and his voice seemed to change, becoming formal and grave. ‘I offer youmy life, Lady of the Divine Darkness. To do with as you please. That is all I have ever had to offer and?—’

‘Stop this,’ she told him. She didn’t know if he was talking to her or the Nox and she didn’t like either option. ‘Stop it, Finn. Don’t you dare?—’

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