Page 75 of Heart of the Shadow King

“But her sister is yet living. By your own laws, Larongar, this girl is mine.”

The king swivels in his saddle, turning to the men on his right and left, searching for help. Mage Wistari leans in his saddle and murmurs something to him, which earns him a curse and a threat of execution. The mage hastily sits back in his saddle, head tucked into the dark hood of his robe. Larongar rounds on me again, his single eye white-ringed with desperation. “Send her to Beldroth. Let the witch treat her wounds. She’s no good to you dead.”

I shake my head. “She is no good to me alive either.”

“You may take her home, a healed wife.”

“I have a wife.”

“You’ll have two!”

“I need mages. Not wives.”

Larongar’s gaze fastens on his daughter. I can see the calculations running through his head. This is why Faraine urged me to choose her sister as my bride. This man, this tyrant, this liar, cares for little in his life. He would sacrifice any one of his children on the altar of his own advancement. But Ilsevel . . . for her, he feels something. Something deep, dangerous. Something powerful. For the space of ten heartbeats, I dare to hope.

“I lost her once. I thought it would kill me.” Larongar bows his head, the knuckles of his hand relaxing away from his sword hilt. “But it did not.” He looks up again and fixes his one-eyed stare on me. “Do what you will with her, King Vor. I do not release you from your vows. Nor will I send my mages to your world.”

And there it is. My last hope extinguished. Never a great hope to begin with, but one I’d clung to with true troldish tenacity. From the moment I laid eyes on Larongar, I’d known I could not trust him. Now fifty good troldefolk are dead. For nothing.

All because I could not resist this man’s eldest daughter.

“Aruk!”Parh says, her voice a growl close to my ear. “Break the girl in half and hand him her body in pieces. Then let me give the order, and we shall slaughter theseguthakugs.”

We could. Perhaps we should. It is what a true trolde king would do. Gaur would not have waited for his minister of war’s urging. He would have been on them in an instant. Shall I not do the same as he? I want to. The fire of vengeance burns in my belly. I see the faces of every rider who fell in battle, of every unlucky soul dragged into the darkness of the culling. It’s as though they surround me now, their voices hollow and chorusing in a song of death. I must answer that song. My arms ache with the need to tear and rend. Beginning with her, this girl even now pressed against my breast.

But when I look down at her still, stern face . . . it isn’t Ilsevel I see.

“Send word through the company,” I growl. “We return to Mythanar. At once.”

Parh sucks in a hissed breath. “But, Vor—”

“At once,” I repeat and turn to her, my eyes flashing. “There will be no bloodshed. We are done with this world.”

For the space of three breaths, I wonder if Parh will obey. I wonder if my kingship will end here and now as my minister turns against me, and myortolarokfall upon each other. Are we to perish on our own swords beneath this dreadful burning sun?

Then Parh turns from me and bellows,“Drag-or, ortolarok!”

“Rhozah!”they respond. Soon they have formed up, three abreast, eager to leave behind this world for the familiar darkness of home. Parh looks at me, wordless with rage, before turning on heel and marching to lead the first of our company through the gate arch.

“You can’t do this, Vor,” Larongar protests, watching as the warriors he’d fought so hard to command escape his control forever. “The alliance stands! I order you to honor it by the power of your written name.”

I ignore him. With the poisoned princess in my arms, I watch until all my people are safely through. Lur goes last of all, reluctant to leave me. But I nod silently, and she obeys without protest. Only then do I turn to Larongar. I am alone in his world, surrounded by allies-turned-enemies. But I am not afraid. Should they dare attack, they know I will slay half their number before they can take me down. None wishes to be the fool to initiate such slaughter.

I approach Larongar on his black horse and hold out the princess. His eye widens. With a wordless growl, he takes her in his arms, cradling her slim body across the bow of his saddle, all the while holding my gaze.

“Your daughter Ilsevel,” I say. “Returned to you. Untouched. Our contract is now void, Larongar. We shall not see one another again.”

He grunts, his lip curling beneath his thick mustache. “And Faraine? Theodre?”

I do not answer. I turn on heel, exposing my back, daring any one of those warrior mages to hurtle a curse, to give me reason to crush their spines and rend their limbs apart. But Larongar growls a sharp, “Stay your hands!” and no spells fly. I march to the gate and step through the arch, never breaking stride. Back to the Under Realm. Back to Mythanar.

Back to face our final doom.

31

FARAINE

I don’t know how long I remain in this state. Static. Frozen. Out of time and thought.

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