Page 1 of Ties of Death

1

A Stranger to Me

Come morning, I will have had three names in my life. First, the name I was born with. Second, the name I took when I married my husband. And third, apparently, the name of the man who just murdered my husband.

But not if I have anything to say about it.

“No,” I say, steel in my voice. Steel I force there so that tears won’t overtake me. I’m not sure what they are—tears of betrayal? Tears of relief?

Either way, they’re all wrong, so I blink them back and keep my eyes pinned to the man standing over my husband’s body.

He’s tall, broad shouldered, and once I would have said he was even more familiar to me than my husband. But the boy I used to know is clearly gone.

I continue once I’m sure my voice isn’t going to tremble. “I will not go with you, and I certainly won’t marry you.”

Daenn’s hand tightens on the hilt of his sword. It’s the only physical reaction he shows to my words. “I’m not asking, Emana. You can either go pack a few things with an escort, or I can throw you on a gryphon right now. But youarecoming with me. There is no one else here to stop me from taking you.”

Unbidden, my gaze drops to the body at his feet.

Tolomon was a big man, and he loved fighting, but it doesn’t surprise me that he fell to Daenn’s blade. He is—no, was—rash, hot-blooded, and even if he wasn’t, I never saw anyone beat Daenn in a fight.

Tears threaten to choke me as I linger on the limp way he lies there in the dirt, lifeless eyes staring in my direction but not looking at me.

These tears are easy to identify: they’re traitorous tears, because they’re not grief.

No. I don’t grieve Tolomon’s death. All I feel is deep, soul-searing relief—and guilt worming through it all. Despite all his faults, the man was my husband. I shouldn’t be happy that he’s gone.

I try to force myself to reach for anguish as I study the dark red watering the ground beneath him. Too much—it’s too much for him to be healed from. Far, far too much.

I rip my gaze away, clenching my teeth against the sobbing laugh that wants to rise out of me, and take in the rest of the scene before me.

Daenn didn’t come alone, and I recognize every warrior he’s brought to do his bidding. Some I only know by sight, but others...others I know almost as well as I once knew Daenn. They shift uncomfortably or drop their gazes when I turn mine toward them.

They know how shameful, how horrific Daenn’s actions are. As much as I wanted to be free of Tolomon, as much as I don’t regret his death, I can think of no reason Daenn could give that would justify the unwarranted murder of a man. And killing him just so Daenn can claim me as his own wife?

Indefensible.

The betrayal rears its head again, drowning out the relief. How long have I wished that Daenn would come rescue me?Save me from the greatest mistake of my life—my marriage to a cruel, possessive man?

And now he has… but it seems he’s no better than Tolomon, for he claims me, treats me as flippantly as Tolomon ever did. If anything, he’s worse. Tolomon never killed a man.

And not one of Daenn’s men have chosen to stop him. None of them lower their weapons from where they hold Tolomon’s personal guards captive. My dead husband’s men are outnumbered, and even if they weren’t, they are outmatched.

My clan are some of the best warriors on the continent, and the years I’ve spent away will never be enough to make me forget that.

I hate how powerless I feel in this moment. I have never wished for some sort of active, offensive magic so much in my life. I have an abundance of magic, but it’s not something I’ve ever been able to control—more of an aura that envelops those around me, as is usual for gryphon clan magic. And even if I could direct it, its only purpose is to bring people peace and calm. I want to bring them—him—pain like the storm drowning me.

I tilt my chin up. “Fine. I’ll go pack. Who would like to assist me?” I rake my gaze over the traitors. “Lars? No? How about Kettil, then.”

Lars can’t even meet my eyes, but Kettil does. His mouth twists down, his expression resting somewhere between regret and defiance.

“Eskil,” Daenn says, “she has ten minutes.”

Ah, yes. Eskil. Daenn’s closest friend after me when we were children. My closest friend after Daenn. Clearly Daenn trusts Eskil’s loyalties lie with him.

Eskil meets my eyes, his own gaze a touch enigmatic. Maybe there’s some lingering loyalty to me somewhere inhim. It’s a faint hope, but it can’t hurt to nurture it. I’m already being kidnapped.

Kidnapped by the man I always wanted to rescue me. Betrayal twists its knife a little deeper in my heart.

---