Page 65 of A Frozen Pyre
Samael showed no capacity for worry. He said, “I told you that things wouldn’t turn out in your favor. They have not. I believe that means both my advice and predictionscontinue to be sound.”
Eero and Harland looked at Samael with a mixture of panic and frustration. The three men, still bandaged and healing while the tonics worked through their system, sat around a low-lying table in the wing of the castle that had been allotted to them.
“But the oracle—” Eero countered.
Samael waved a hand. “May I, King Eero?”
Eero’s expression crumpled. “You may.”
A rare hesitance crept into Samael’s voice. “You may not like what I’m about to say.”
“Speak your piece. We are in this position because of my hubris. Ignoring your wisdom was my great mistake.”
Samael met the king’s repentant gaze as he said, “I’m calling in our life debt.”
Eero’s lips parted. The air escaped the room as the king focused on his advisor.
“Now? When I need you most?”
Samael was unmoved. “I believe this is my purpose. Not only can Ophir manifest, but we’ve seen how her manifestation leads to destruction in Tarkhany and Gwydir—and those were just two events for which I’ve been present. She sent her dragon south to Aubade, which means your people will face her wrath in the days to come.”
Eero’s voice was numb. “Tell me what to do.”
“I cannot better the continent while serving you, Your Majesty. There is neither wisdom nor honor in allowing this to go unchecked. If I have a purpose in this life, I know it now. Judgment has led me to this calling. You can’t be responsible for checking your daughter. She is your blood, and it wouldn’t be right to call upon you to do what it takes. Ceneth can’t be responsible for stopping his bride. Tarkhany has a laundry list of reasons to hold a vendetta against Farehold. The nightmare that’s befallen the continent cannot be contained by any one of the kingdoms.”
Eero mumbled something about not understanding, butHarland fell to a single knee.
“Don’t make a scene, Harland,” Samael said.
Harland whipped out a dagger and locked eyes with Samael. “Swear something to me.”
Samael pursed his lips. He urged Harland to stand, but the man refused.
“Swearit!”
“What?” Samael bared his teeth, revealing his fangs for the first time. He was rarely one to be caught off guard. They’d never seen him openly angry before this moment. Harland, on his knees, eyes wild with desperation, seemed to be his tipping point. Behind him, Eero remained in shocked silence.
“Make an oath with me. Make it now.”
“Stand, Harland.” Samael glared, temper showing beneath his façade of calm. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself. I’m doing what must be done.”
Harland pressed the dagger into the meat of his hand. Blood trickled down his wrist. “Make an oath with me, Samael. Make it before our king releases you. Don’t hurt Ophir.”
Samael inhaled sharply through his nose. “Harland—”
“Swear it,” Harland begged again. “You’re right, Samael. Your gift has brought you here because this cannot go unchecked. Kill her monsters. Do what three of the continent’s kingdoms cannot. Undo the blight she’s bringing upon the land. Don’t allow her to destroy the world. Protect the citizens. Monitor the magical imbalance. I honor it all, Samael. I concede to every bit of it. Do what you must, but don’t hurt her.”
Samael pursed his lips. “But—”
“Do what you must!” Harland repeated, hazel eyes alight with an inferno as if he’d borrowed Ophir’s gift for flame. “But don’t hurt her.”
Eero looked between the men, then to his feet. “I second Harland. I have no more heirs, and it appears I never may. Make this vow, and I will release you. Do not hunt mychild.”
Samael looked up with something akin to disappointment. It was not Ophir’s father who argued on behalf of her life. The king stared mutely at the exchange happening before him. If it weren’t for the crackling fire within the hearth catching against Eero’s eyes, there would have been no evidence that the king was alive at all.
“What do you propose?” Eero asked quietly. “And what does it have to do with my life debt?”
It had been three days since an entire wing of the castle had been laid to waste by Ophir and her dragon. For nearly as long, Samael had remained a silent sentinel. He’d never been exceptionally conversational, but this particular brand of silence suggested that other workings had gone on behind his eyes. Now, on the end of the third day, he announced his plan.
