Page 22 of Heart of the Shadow King

At long last, he draws breath. “I suppose there’s not much point in denying anything now.”

“You swore to me.” The words rise from the pit of my gut. “You swore it was not you who had poisoned me. You said you would take the draught yourself first.”

“Yes.” Sul sighs. “I suppose I did.”

“You lied to me.”

“I misled you.” He turns to me then, his eyes reflecting the harsh light of the fire. “But I did so for your sake.”

“You tried to kill her.”

“She had to die.” Sul shakes his head, but his gaze never breaks with mine. “She still has to die. Or Mythanar will be brought to its knees.”

I cross the room in two strides, grip Sul by his throat, and slam him against the wall. “You tried to murder my wife!” The words rip from my throat, a roar of rage and pain no bonds of brotherly loyalty can repress.

“She’s not your wife!” Sul chokes, writhing uselessly. Firelight glints in the depths of his fear-widened eyes. He tries to speak more, but cannot get the words out, cannot drag air into his lungs. He is strong, a full-blooded trolde, taller than me, broader. But in that moment, he is like a clay doll in my hands.

“Vor!” Hael’s voice, thick with pain, growls close to my ear. “Vor, don’t do this. Don’t kill him in cold blood.”

I dart a glance to one side. Hael catches my gaze, holds it, offering me a delicate thread back to sanity. I don’t want to take it. I want to let this madness carry me away in a wave of fury. But she won’t let me go.

With a snarl, I release my hold, retreat two steps, and let Sul collapse to the floor. My brother rubs at his throat, hacking and coughing. His loose hair falls about his shoulders and half-hides his face. “She’s a witch!” he rasps. “She’s cast a spell on you. Since that first night when you rescued her from the Licornyn, you’ve been lost to all reason. She must be stopped!”

The air in my lungs burns like fire. “Why Rath?” I demand.

Sul inhales and pushes himself into a seated position, his back against the wall. He draws up one knee, rests his elbow on it, and runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “When the execution failed, I thought it best to deal with the matter as quickly as possible. Rath . . . his mind was always malleable. It didn’t take more than a small dose of the powderedraogto set him raving. I figured no one would think he’d done it of his own volition, and he would get off with a banishment in the end.” He lets out a huff of air, a bitter almost-laugh. “I always hated Rath anyway.”

“And where did you come by the poison?”

“Anuggrhain Hoknath. The Children of Arraog have been working on a powdered variant for many turns of the cycle now. I have connections; it wasn’t difficult to acquire.”

Of course. Targ and his followers were against my marriage to a human from the start. “So, you are working for the Children of Arraog now,” I snarl.

“No, Vor. I am and always have been working for you.”

I lunge him again, haul him to his feet. “How dare you? How dare you spit such bile and lies even now?”

Sul does not fight back. It would be better if he did, if he gave me a battle of strength. Instead, he stares into my eyes and shakes his head slowly. “I swore I would never betray you, Vor. If that means I must prevent you from betraying yourself and all the Under Realm, so be it. I’ll be the villain if that’s what it takes. If that’s what you need from me.”

Wrath bellows up from my gut. In another moment I would break his neck, tear his head from his shoulders and cast it into the moonfire blaze. But Hael’s strong arm wraps around my throat from behind as she hauls me back. “Vor don’t hurt him!” she roars. “If you do, you’ll never forgive yourself!”

“Release me!” I cry, and she lets go at once, but puts herself between me and my brother, who sags against the wall. I point an accusing finger. “He tried to kill Faraine! It was he who poisoned me.I would have violated her. I would have destroyed her.”

“But you didn’t.” Hael holds up both hands. “You don’t bear that guilt.”

I draw a ragged breath into my lungs. It’s true—the actual deed was averted. But the intent had been there in my heart, and that is conviction enough. I hate myself for what I almost did, whether the motives were mine or wrought by outside influence. I hate myself, and I hate my brother more. But enough to kill him?

Sul laughs, low and bitter. “What’s this? More evidence of the witch’s influence? A true trolde king would have slaughtered me on the spot!”

My gaze rips from Hael back to him. “Is that what you truly want,brother?”

He pulls himself up straight, still braced against the wall with one hand. His eyes are white-ringed, the black pupils fixed points of mingled ferocity and fear. “I want you to be king. The king Mythanar needs. If that means my life must be sacrificed, so be it.”

There are weapons on the walls, an ornate display of blades, clubs, instruments of hunting and war. It would be the work of a moment to swipe a sword down from its mount and run it through my brother’s gut, pinning him to the wall. I draw another slow breath. “If I have you dragged before the court, and Rath gives testimony, you will face thedrur.”

“Good.” Sul’s eyes flash. “When all your court has gathered to see my head roll, they will first have to hear me speak. Then I will tell them the truth. I will warn them of the witch in their midst.”

He truly is ready to die. That defiance in his eye is no ploy. But he knows too how my hands are bound. As my unofficial spy master, he knows every secret, every whisper of insurrection. He knows better than I exactly which members of my court seek to place him on the throne of our dead father. To have him dragged to the scaffold and publicly beheaded would be as good as offering my own head to thedrur’sax.

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