Page 26 of Dance of Kings and Thieves

Gunnar’s chest puffed a bit as he stepped before the man who’d taken his childhood.

Stor scoffed. “What good is the pup?”

With a laugh, Gunnar gripped Stor’s hair. “Oh, you’ll see. Niklas.” Gunnar searched for the Falkyn lead in the crowd. “Do you have any ghostvine on you?”

A giddy sort of light brightened Niklas’s eyes. “That I do, my vicious young friend.”

Niklas handed Gunnar a small pouch from one of the larger skins tethered to his belt. Always lined in elixirs, I doubted Niklas would ever be without any ingredient we ever needed.

Gunnar tossed the pouch between his palms, looking at Stor. “Do you know that ghostvine causes paralysis before it kills you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before forcing Stor’s mouth open and dumping a pile of green dust onto his tongue. The powder reeked of rot and mold, and Stor choked on it as Gunnar forced his mouth shut.

“It was kind of Maj to let me have you, but I think my parents deserve to do whatever they please. Now they can.” Gunnar stroked the side of Stor’s face. “However they please, and there is nothing you can do about it. You will feel it all and be helpless to stop it. You will not even be able to scream.”

Stor’s complexion changed to a sickly blue. His body went rigid, unmoving, but his eyes spun wildly in his head.

Hagen and Herja shared a conspiratorial look, then hand in hand they approached Stor.

No screams could escape his throat, but for many tolls, his tears, grunts, and cries lived in every spin of his eyes as my brother and his lover ended the last face of their nightmares.

* * *

Patrik’sand Stor’s bodies were strung up at the front of the gates. A warning for the Black Palace. Pieces of Stor’s fingers and tongue were scattered amongst the trapped skydguard. Halvar and Tor told them to enjoy their last meal.

Perhaps we were villainous, cruel even, but I was not certain it mattered to me any longer. If Kase breathed, if our guilds lived, if the North left our land with another victory, then I would be cruel and bloodthirsty until the final skydguard fell.

We would return to the nest on the morrow. A few warriors and Falkyns would guard the academy to ensure the skydguard, any Southern fae, and Patrik’s men remained imprisoned until death came, or the battle ended. The pupils of the academy would return with us to Skítkast.

We were not in the business of slaughtering innocent young folk merely to shock the Black Palace. But if they fought back, or tried to escape, their fate would take a darker turn.

I covered a yawn with the back of my hand and made my way up a set of stairs toward the room where Kase and I would sleep. The flicker of a candle drew my eyes to one of the small offices on the floor. Niklas hunched over a table and flipped through a thick leather-bound book. On a small chaise, Junie slept, her hand dangling as if she’d fallen asleep holding onto her husband until she couldn’t any longer.

“Gaining turns of study in one night?” I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe.

Niklas lifted his head. His hair was tousled like he’d dragged his fingers through it relentlessly, but he grinned, wide and white. “Malin. Come here. I think I found something about the queen’s ring. This damn place is a treasure trove. I do hope they realize these books are now all mine.”

I gave him a quick smile, then took up a seat. “What did you find?”

Niklas pushed one of the heavy books across the table to me. “It is no wonder the noble lines of this kingdom react to the thought of a fated queen in two ways: fear and respect for the true heir, or with zealous desire to take the power for themselves.”

The marked page was filled with sketches of the ring and a detailed account of historical references of times the ring had been used.

If this was a true history, then the ring had been in this land for centuries. A relic passed between bloodlines, hidden, or abused for its power. But the more I read, it was that power which frightened me most.

“Niklas, do you truly think the ring can do all this?”

He let out a sigh and slumped back in his chair. “I don’t know, Mal. But if it can, it is no wonder Ivar fights to keep it out of your hands.”

“But I am not the only one who can pull power from it.”

“True.” Niklas spun the book back from my grip, studying the lines. “Anyone in either bloodline can wieldsomepower from the ring, but there are clear consequences. Did you see?”

He pointed to a neatly marked box in the corner of the page with a list of dangers to using the ring.

The ring could give one increased strength in their mesmer, protection against enemies the same way a visionary Protfetik could sense danger. The ring amplified connections to other Alvers.

I thought of Kase. He was the closest Alver to me, another Anomali. What sort of changes might happen to his mesmer if I took hold of the ring?