Page 110 of Through Battle and Blades (The Wolf Queen 2)

“So she is.”

I watched Ulfric pace closer. I could still hear his quavering voice and see his rolling eyes when he was in the midst of battle, the way he’d shouted at the archers, frantically seeking to countermand his general’s orders. That much less dignified version of the king was superimposed over this one and neither was in any way worthy of my respect.

“Any particular reason why I’m bound like a criminal?” I asked, the last few words coming out from between clenched teeth as I felt another sharp stab of pain. But I didn’t shrink from this agony. I leant into it, feeling its bite as some kind of physical manifestation of anguish that burned inside me. My eyes fell closed for a second, seeing Nordred bleeding out, feeling him—

“What you are is still to be determined and based on the… abilities you showed on the battlefield… it was thought best that we secure you,” Ulfric said.

I grinned at him, feeling the cool air play across my fangs as I did, hearing the sad patter of rain beyond the tent.

“You think this is enough to restrain me?”

The lordlings all looked to each other, to the king then, nervous as a mob of sheep on market day.

“If it isn’t, we’ll find a way to neutralise your power quickly enough.”

The king sounded confident, probably because he was back playing to what he saw as his strengths. Machinations and back room deals, coercion and bullying tactics. He had to appear calm and in control for me as well as his little cluster of aristocrats.

“Don’t want to neutralise it too soon,” I replied. “I’ve stopped the Reavers from travelling towards Snowmere, for now.” I tried to reach out with my mind then, seeking to finish what I’d started, but a burning pain behind one eye, and the fact my consciousness did nothing other than remind me of the deplorable situation I was in, put paid to that idea. “We need to pack everyone up and get them back to Snowmere as soon as possible.”

“We will,” Ulfric asserted. “You, however? Well, that remains to be seen. If you don’t give me the right answers, you’ll end up in the same state as Nordred—”

“Don’t say his name,” I growled, some power leaching into my voice. “Don’t ever say his name.”

“You won’t leave this tent,” Ulfric said, continuing as if I hadn’t spoken, clasping his hands in front of him. “You won’t take another breath, not unless you convince me of your worth. You’re of the old queen’s get? One of the Granian girls born from Eleanor’s line?” Some of the nobles started to mumble to each other at that, as obviously they were unaware of my family tree before this moment. I nodded. “Then perhaps you can be useful to me. I’ll be needing a new queen. Aurora has been of little use to me for some years. I kept her around for fear of alienating her allies, but now…”

He nodded slowly, his eyes sliding all over me with the kind of lingering look Weyland gave me all the time, but with none of the lascivious amusement I was used to from my mate. Instead, I shivered, then winced as I felt another pang inside me.

“A queen of the old line, one who brings the same powers as the former rulers.”

More, a dark voice said in my head. So much more.

“I see why Dane was willing to sideline his country’s interests in favour of you. It must’ve been seductive, to come across such a potential in the form of a naive young girl. He saw a pathway to power, one that ignored the natural turn of things, where he would have had to wait until I stepped down. But my son learned his lessons in power at my knee, and I’m not so old that I don’t see the value of what is in front of me. You could join with me: lend your power, your status to me. The hero of Aramoor, the vanquisher of the Reavers at Ironhaven. I would commission my bards to sing odes to your abilities and prowess.”

“And what will they say of yours?” I asked, my eyebrow jerking up.

His lips thinned at that, the muscles in his jaw flexing before he let out a long breath.

“They don’t need to say anything about me. I am the establishment in Strelae, whereas you will be the upstart that ridiculous stories are being told of. I will legitimise you as you will me and together, we will—”

“What about your sons?”

My voice broke on the words, because deep down, I knew. I couldn’t work out how his sons, my mates, had turned into the men they had, what with the two vipers that had raised them. But they had turned out to be good men, and that put a target on their back. I heard the wet slice of Callum’s blade as it was thrust into Nordred, felt my eyes fill again with tears, the sound of them falling matching the steady beat of the rain outside.

He’d do the same, the fucking snake. He’d kill my mates in front of me if it meant–

“They are fine sons, ones a man could be proud of,” Ulfric said and for a second, I felt a little hopeful, his voice becoming deeper, rougher as he described them. Then he stepped closer to me, until his knees touched mine. I tried to jerk away, my joints able to move a little due to the way I was strapped to the chair, but not far. He took that concession as his invitation, inserting himself between my knees. “But if I’ve proven I can have good sons, strong sons with a bitch like Aurora.”

No mention of his true mate and Gael. His hand reached down and I watched its progress with wild eyes, my breath coming in short, sharp pants as I strained to avoid him. But he touched me, like I was his to take, his to caress, his mate, his queen, his…

“Imagine the boys I could get on you.”

Bile flooded my mouth, my guts lurching even as my womb contracted, as if it would ward off any seed he might try to force upon me. I stared up at this looming figure, his golden visage somehow evidence of the corruption that lurked within. I held his gaze, saw the sly smile form on his face and that, on top of everything else he’d said and intimated, was enough to make me turn my head to retch. A mouthful of bile left my mouth and landed on the carpet, the glistening, viscous glob shining in the lamplight. The lordlings recoiled, strangely discomfited by such a prosaic sight when they’d just heard with equanimity their king’s tales of a planned filicide.

Because that’s what it would take and everyone knew it. My arms strained against my bonds, every muscle vibrating with the need to end this bastard. My mates would never surrender me to their father’s tender mercies, not for the benefit of Strelae, not even if the goddess herself ordained it. I heard the Morrigan’s snicker at that.

“And where are your sons now?”

Get him talking, I thought furiously. Tell me everything.

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