Page 112 of Through Battle and Blades (The Wolf Queen 2)

“Go,” Dane said to the lot of us. “Take Darcy to our tent and keep her there until I return.”

“You seek to protect us?” Weyland asked sharply.

“Yes.” Dane’s reply was disarmingly honest. “I have done so to the best of my ability up until now. Why would I stop? Because what must take place… A king cannot die under mysterious circumstances, the act performed all cloak and dagger in a gilt tent.”

“He must be executed,” I said, suddenly realising what he meant.

When a knight was stripped of his title, his spurs cut off, his shield crushed, it was always done so publicly. So that his shame would be known, so there would be no furtive questions asked in backrooms, undermining the decision. So that the witnessing the act became complicit in his repudiation. Dane nodded slowly.

“Rath and I will handle it,” he started to say.

“No.” Everyone turned to Gael, watching him as he drew me closer, tucking me in against his body, and I wondered then if he knew what he clung to. “He’s our father too.”

“Which is exactly why—”

“No,” Weyland said. “We face everything as a pack. We’re not having you endure a baying crowd alone.”

As if on cue, I could hear the rumble of voices outside.

“You’ll watch him die,” Dane said, looking into each person’s eyes, trying to drive home the reality. “I have to cut his head off with an axe.”

A criminal’s death, one utterly without honour.

“Then I’d be the best man for the job then.” Axe didn’t look happy about the idea, but he thrust his battle axe out, the blade still marred by blood and fur. “Haven’t had a chance to clean it yet. It’s like I knew.”

“Axe. Brother–”

“I’m the one with the strength to make it quick, humane,” he said with a nod to himself. “The job falls to me. We can find someone to care for Darcy while we—”

“No.” My voice was the flattest of all of us, scoured clean of emotion, even the persistent pain that raged inside me not able to change that. “I promised blood to the Morrigan.” I stared down at the bloody countenance that was the king’s face. “I just didn’t think I’d be offering it up to her right now. I wouldn’t have had to if he hadn’t volunteered to murder my mates and rape me. Rulers must serve the people.”

It felt like my voice grew echoey now, and with that came a brief vision. Of those fur-clad people I’d seen in the Maiden’s cave, the woman, older now, a rudimentary crown created from woven branches and dried flowers being placed on her head. But when I blinked it faded again.

“And when they forget that, their power must be stripped,” I said finally.

“Father won’t let anyone take his.” Dane reached down and hauled his father to his feet, several soldiers stepping in to take over. But as he watched them grab Ulfric, there was a sadness in his eyes. “No matter where he is, where we keep him, he’ll always be plotting, trying something.”

“You’ll regret this,” Ulfric pronounced, his voice wet and choked. “The gods don’t look kindly upon kin killers.”

I smiled then, hearing the caws of the ravens outside, feeding on the fallen.

“I don’t know. I think you’ll find this goddess quite supportive.”

56

I’d seen executions before. Father would make examples of habitual thieves or rapists. It wasn’t for the crime of abusing a woman that they were hung for though, but the fact they’d stolen another man’s wife or child and violated her. The establishment used these theatrical events to reinforce the rules we lived by and the power structures we lived under.

So what was this going to be?

Soldiers, still battered, bruised and bloodied, stood around in a ring many men deep, and as the lordlings were led out, as the king was brought forward, their shouts filled the air. They were sharp, harsh, cutting, just like those of the feeding ravens out on the battlefield. I glanced their way for just a moment, watching the birds tear flesh from bones, rip eyes from sockets and gobble them down, turning Reaver and Strelan alike to flesh to be consumed.

Waste not, want not, that dark voice said inside my head. My minions accept the sacrifices made to me in my stead. And now you give me another. Her voice was almost girlish in its intonation.

What does the death of a king buy us? I asked idly as the Ulfric was dragged into the circle and that’s when silence fell over the crowd.

Dane was born to be king. He stood there, a proud figure, his dark hair waving in the wind as his bleeding, subjugated father was pushed before him. Ulfric fell to his knees without prompting, his hands to his face, the blood dripping through them and onto the earth, his muffled cries ignored.

Blood for blood.

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