Page 105 of Heart of the Shadow King

“Running away won’t help.”

“No. But a change of scenery is in order. Besides, I can send you reports from across the kingdom, let you know how the rest of the Under Realm has fared through recent events.”

“But you will come back.”

Sul drops his gaze. A lock of white hair falls across his forehead. “I don’t know.” He lets out a slow breath, and I wait with my heart in my throat for him to continue. “I too find my purpose somewhat rocked following recent events. I’ve dedicated everything to protecting Mythanar from a fate to which it ultimately succumbed. But here we all are. And there is your wife, fulfilling her gods-ordained role.” He looks up slowly, meeting my eye. “I’m not sure where I fit in this new world you’re building, Vor.”

He’s right. I don’t want him to be, but he is. After everything we’ve endured—betrayal and poison and banishment—how can we simply go back to being the brothers we once were? I will always love Sul. But I will never trust him fully.

“What about Hael?” I ask instead.

A flush of color stains Sul’s cheek. He turns from me, his gaze seeking the silent figure of my captain, standing in Faraine’s shadow. She is recovered following her ordeal, though she will carry those scars to her grave. They lend her a solemn, terrible dignity, not unbeautiful. “She will not leave her queen. Herkurspari-glur,”Sul says.

“She would for you.”

“But she shouldn’t.” My brother grins, but there is pain in his eye. “Come, we both know the truth! I am not worthy of that woman.”

“Perhaps Hael should be the one to decide your worth in her eyes.”

Sul pushes away from the wall, shaking his head. “I don’t have the courage, Vor. To live up to what she deserves is a feat far greater than any I would dare.”

“You crossed worlds and realms. You sailed the Hinter Sea. You faced perils beyond imagining in your bid to return and save Mythanar.”

“Yes. And look how that turned out.”

“Your courage was not lacking.”

But Sul’s lips twist in self-mockery. “It wasn’t courage. It was moral certainty. A certainty which I now lack.” He lets his gaze drift back to Hael one last time, lingering. His expression is softer than I recall ever seeing on his face before. “Maybe someday. If she is still free.”

I grunt. Hael has waited this long for my brother to realize the truth in his heart. She will probably wait a little longer.

That is, of course, unless Prince Theodre has his way. My brow tightens as that fop of a young man emerges from the crowd, two goblets in his hands. He offers one to his sister, who accepts it with murmured thanks. The other he holds out to Hael. She eyes it as though he’s just offered her a cup ofwogghaspit. He says something, smiles a brilliant smile, probably meant to be endearing. She relents enough to take the cup and down the contents in a single gulp. When she hands the goblet back to the prince, one would think by his expression she’d just given him the keys to the kingdom.

But surely Sul has nothing to worry about on that score. Gods above and below spare me, I hope not!

Faraine staggers. My heart stops.

I’m across the chamber in a few quick strides, all other concerns forgotten, my attention fixed upon my wife’s slim form as she begins to fold up on herself. The cup drops from her numb fingers, clattering to the floor. Then I’m there. And she settles in my arms as though she expected to land there all along. Scooping her off her feet, I turn away from the watchful eyes of all those gathered. “That is enough!” I bark. “The queen will rest now. There will be more miracles later.”

The crowd murmurs in mingled protest and concern. Ignoring them all, I carry her back to the alcove with me. Sul is gone. Whether for good or simply to begin preparations for his journey I do not know. For now, I will not think of it.

I peer down into Faraine’s pale face resting against my shoulder. How small and delicate she is, so fragile. And yet so magnificent. “Are you all right, my love?” I ask, my voice a low growl in my throat.

She looks up at me. Though there’s pain in her eyes, she smiles. One hand reaches up to caress my cheek, as though drawing strength from inside me. “Yes, Vor,” she says softly. “I am with you. All shall be well.”

47

FARAINE

I perch on the edge of a wide stone bed draped in pale furs. Soft whitehugagogsilk clothes my body, clinging and revealing in the low moonfire light. Littlelorstcrystals hang suspended from the ceiling, adding to the soft atmosphere, and though this chamber is nowhere near as fine as the one from my first wedding night, I find I like it better.

It’s meant for me. And Vor.

My husband insisted that we perform theyunkathuwedding swim anew before the eyes of his court. I was reluctant. I feel I have been much on display these last few weeks as I’ve worked to undo theva-jorspell across the city. The intense gratitude and adulation of the troldefolk is a lot for my gods-gift to bear.

But Vor took my hand in his and begged me to reconsider. Theyunkathuis sacred to his people. The last time he made it, he had believed Ilsevel swam beside him. This time it would be me. And the ceremony, the vows, everything would be done in truth with his court to bear witness.

I couldn’t deny him.

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