Page 41 of HeartTorn

“And have you left her untouched since that night?”

The answer sticks in my throat. When he looks at me, I cannot quite meet his gaze.

Gantarith laughs. It’s more amused than disparaging, but my gut burns with bile, nonetheless. “Well, I suppose you are a man as well as a king,” he says. “And she is a pretty temptation, I’ll grant you that. All those long days of travel, all those quiet nights beneath the stars? Not one man in a hundred would have resisted.”

“You’ve a dirty mind for a priest,” I growl.

“I wasn’t always a priest, now was I?” With a sigh, Gantarith turns away from the two of us, stepping to the altar stone. He sets his brazier down there and lifts his head to the open sky above the dome. Is he praying? Seeking guidance from Nornala? I can only hope she will answer him directly, and we can put a swift end to this.

At last he turns around and folds his arms across the open front of his cassock. “Unfortunately,luinar,you are bound to your bride untilsilmael,according to the law. The only way to break that bond earlier without causing severe harm to yourself . . . well, I don’t like to say.”

“Tell me.”

Gantarith presses his lips together, his jaw working beneath his black beard. Then: “If one party proves traitor, not only to the marriage vows, but to all Licorna, then the bond may be broken ceremonially via bloodletting.”

Ice shoots through my veins. I stare at him, aghast.

“The elders,” Gantarith continues, “would likely agree that she is, by the mere nature of her humanity, a traitor to Licorna. If you are determined to rid yourself of her now rather than later, well . . . you won’t have any difficulty convincing them to demand a bloodletting.”

“And by bloodletting,” I say slowly, “you mean . . .”

He draws a long breath. “I will cut her throat with the ceremonial blade and let her blood flow across this very stone in an act of purification.”

Thunder seems to pound in my ears. I turn my head away from the priest, stare sightlessly around me. The ilsevel blooms waft gently in a breeze blown down through the skylight overhead. Their many glowing hearts seem almost to mock me, so gentle and pure in the face of this new horror.

“Warlord?” Ilsevel’s voice plucks at my ear. She draws near to my elbow. Her hand stretches out but does not quite touch me. “What is it?” she demands. “Tell me.”

I lift my gaze to hers. Her brow is stern, her jaw hard. Something tells me she’s understood more of the exchange between me and the priest than I want to believe.

Rather than answer her, I turn to Gantarith once more. “There must be some other way.”

“Unfortunately not,” he replies. “If you find you cannot remain bound to her untilsilmael,this is your only choice.” He tilts his head a little to one side. “The elders might make the choice for you and insist upon her death anyway. It is forbidden for a human to enter the Hidden City. She breaks our laws simply by her presence here.”

“I cannot do this.” I run a hand down my face, grimacing. “I won’t do this.”

“If you don’t, the elders may view you as the traitor,luinar.” Gantarith’s voice is heavy with the truth of his words. “The tribes are only loosely united as it is. This might be the breaking point, the final undoing of all that remains of Licorna.”

Gods blight and damn me. He’s right. I’ve put the security of my people at risk, all because I couldn’t let this stranger go to Lurodos. A boiling sensation burns in my breast, frustration mounting, transforming to rage. Rage that she should be so alluring to me, even from the first chaotic moments of our meeting. That she should be so spirited and brave, so rash and ferocious, and that these qualities should draw me to her with such intensity of feeling that I simply could not let her fall into the hands of monsters.

And now what? Have I saved her only to lead her to another, equally gruesome death?

“Warlord!” Ilsevel’s voice echoes sharply against the stones. This time I must look at her, must meet her snapping eyes. “Tellme what’s happening,” she says and draws a breath through clenched teeth. “What is he telling you?”

Gantarith curses sharply, a most unpriestly sound. “Bid her be silent,” he growls. “Let her not profane this holy place with her human speech.”

I cast him a short glare, then turn from him to Ilsevel and answer in her own language. “Our bond will not be broken tonight. We must remain together until the month’s end, when thevelramay be safely severed.”

She looks at Gantarith, then back to me. “That’s not the whole truth, is it?”

I don’t answer.

“Thereisanother way to break the bond. You . . .” She hesitates and swallows. “You have to kill me.”

I hold her gaze, unblinking.

She lifts her head a little, jaw set and fists clenched at her sides. “If you’re going to kill me, I’d rather you told me outright. Don’t lie. I can’t . . . I can’t bear a lie.”

For a long series of heartbeats, we remain like so, staring at one another beneath the moonlit dome. Then I step forward and, before she can retreat from me, take hold of her hand. The same hand which I’d held on the night of our wedding. In that moment of connection, thevelratightens around my forearm, and I can almost see the flare of magic between us. Ilsevel perceives it too, for I hear her sharp intake of breath and feel her wince in pain at the sudden constriction of the cord.

---