Page 31 of Vow of the Shadow King

“Your name.Faraine.What does it mean?”

“Oh!” I laugh a little. “Faraine meansfar horizonin Old Gavarian. I’ve always thought it rather unsuited to me. I was never one for travel and ultimately destined for life in a convent.”

Hael tips one eyebrow slightly. “Perhaps there was portent to your name after all.”

My mouth quirks, my laugh not quite faded. I raise the cup in salute. “I’ll drink to that.” Then, softly, not entirely certain I want to be heard: “What doesVormean?”

The air in the room goes very still. I count my breaths up to ten before daring to peer up at Hael. Once more, her too-keen gaze is fixed on me with lancelike sharpness. Have I made a mistake? But when I reach out with my gods-gift, it’s not resentment which emanates from behind her barriers, merely caution.

“Valiant,”Hael says at last. “It is an ancient troldish name, a name of kings. And yes, if you’re wondering,” she adds, angling her head to one side. “It is well suited to him.”

Heat warms my cheeks. Hastily, I look away, take another gulp of tea. It’s a bit too hot. I grimace as I force the mouthful down. “All right,” I say, determined to break this tension in the air, “let’s have another word.” I glance around the room, seeking inspiration. A fireplace dominates one wall, set with a huge stone mantel elaborately carved in the image of a dragon. It catches my eye. “How do you saydragonin troldish?”

Something strikes me. Not a powerful blow, but sudden and sharp enough that I jump in my seat. I turn to find Hael’s face drawn into a deep, dark scowl. The lines around her mouth are tight, the muscles of her jaw tense and hard. “I cannot speak that word,” she says. “Not to you. Not out loud. It is sacred.”

“Sacred?” I blink at her, my mouth sagging. “I’m sorry, I was given to understand troldfolk worshipped Lamruil, the God of Darkness.”

“Some sacred things are not meant to beworshipped.”

Her words seem to echo in the space between us. I’m still trying to figure out a response when she bows and moves to the door. “The princess must excuse me,” she says. I can feel her pushing her emotions back down with a firm, practiced hand. “I shall resume my post. If you have any need, do not hesitate to ask.”

I open my mouth, more questions on the tip of my tongue. But she’s out the door already, pulling the door firmly shut behind her. And I’m alone once more. A prisoner in my husband’s household.

“Far horizon,” I whisper, my eyes shifting to the window and the world beyond. But there are no horizons here. Not in this world under stone.

12

VOR

“The whole town was swept away. Only a handful of survivors have made it into the city thus far. We anticipate more will arrive in the nextlusterlingor two.”

Chancellor Houg’s voice drones relentlessly in my ear. It’s as though the more dire news she must deliver, the more monotone her delivery becomes. Perhaps it’s a good thing. After all, the word she bears is hard enough without added emotion.

I rub at my shoulder, trying not to obviously scratch the itchy bandage underneath my shirt. Madame Ar patched me up following the incident in the queen’s chambers, and her gluey healing salve is starting to peel away, leaving my skin raw with rash. As king, I cannot be seen to squirm and scratch. I must be the solemn figure head my people need in this time of uncertainty, even in the privacy of my own office. Stoic. Unmovable. Solid as bedrock.

Still,lusterlingfollowsdimness, anddimnessfollowslusterling, and reports continue flowing in. One after another they pile up, each small concern adding to the weight of the mountain I must somehow bear upon my back. And who is there to come alongside me, to help me with this burden? Sul is gone. Hael is dismissed from her post. And my wife . . . my bride . . .

“Your Majesty?”

Houg’s voice breaks through the mental fog clouding my brain. I drag my head up, meet the three pairs of stern eyes staring down at me from across my desk. Lord Dagh, my household steward, stands on Houg’s right, with Umog Zu, the low priestess, on her left. Both look ready to launch at the throat of the other. I ignore them and focus my attention on Houg. “Yes, Chancellor. Do go on.”

“The river folk require refuge. They ought to be sent to the Temple of Orgoth, but—”

“But we are already overrun with orphans and refugees from our own city!” Though characteristically a living enigma of calm, Zu positively vibrates with ire in this moment. “My brothers and sisters of the Dark can scarcely enter into theva, so distracted are their minds and souls. How can we expect to keep the city healthy and thriving if the prayer vibrations so necessary to the wellbeing of all Mythanar are so rudely interrupted?”

I am no theologian, but I know enough to comprehend Zu’s frustration. Theumogartake it in turns entering into various states ofva,that is to say, oneness with the stone of our birth. In this state, they send their lifeforce vibrations down through the many layers of rock to the heart of our world, to soothe that which dwells in the heat and the darkness there. It is said these constant prayers are the only reason the Under Realm still exists.

I don’t know if this is true. In fact, I rather doubt it. But I’m not about to voice such blasphemy to my low priestess. I have far too many vivid memories of this woman boxing my ears when I was an impudent young prince. I doubt the crown on my head would stop her from boxing them now.

“Very well, Umog,” I say. “Send the river folk up to the palace. Lord Dagh,” I turn slightly to address my steward, “we can house any number of refugees in the East Hall, can we not? There’s ample room for some makeshift beds.”

Dagh pulls a face, contriving to look even more put-upon than usual. “The East Hall is currently in use by the household staff. If Your Majesty may be pleased to remember, a large section of the staff quarters was severely damaged in the stirring. As restoration efforts have concentrated on other parts of the palace—those occupied by members of your court—the staff have been obliged to manage as best they can.”

I frown. “East Hall is huge, Dagh. It’s positively massive. Surely there’s room for a dozen families or so.”

“East Hallwashuge, Your Majesty. One end is shored up and in need of repairs before it may be safely used.”

With a sigh, I bend my head, momentarily unable to maintain the façade of kingly strength. I’m tired, so achingly tired. I’ve not slept in days. Lastdimness,I managed to chase everyone from the room long enough to put my head down on this very table and catch a few uncomfortable but blissful hours of slumber . . . only to be rudely awakened by Houg’s pounding fist at the door. “Fine,” I say heavily. “Forget the East Hall. What about the guest wing? There are several spare apartments currently not in use. Lady Xag’s, for instance.”

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