Page 91 of Silverbow (The Godsung Saga #1)

Enya batted her eyes to recover herself. She tried to make her voice meek. “Returning him to me would go a long way for your…proposal.”

He chuckled against her skin. “I’m sure it would go a long way toward getting you to Durelli too. But you can’t outrun me, Enya. If I can’t have you, no one can.”

“I’m not running, Peytar.”

“You will consider my offer then?”

“I will.”

Oryn

“Easy,” Colm muttered at his shoulder, undoubtedly feeling the pulse of Oryn’s gifts at his fingertips.

Oryn had shamelessly heard every word of that conversation, funneled to him on a wisp of air.

Gitaela stood at his other side with Orimum, humming along to the waltz.

As it drew to a close, she shoved her brother forward.

“That’s your cue, Ori.”

The Second Prince of Dwarves shuffled across the floor to cut in and Oryn released his hold on his gifts, pushing them back down deep into his chest. Leon came to stand at his side, lifting a bushy brow toward his eldest. Gitaela blushed and scampered away.

“I don’t know when she became her mother,” he muttered into his cup. “Bloody meddling.”

Ralenet skulked toward them and Oryn tried to hide his displeasure in his own drink.

“I want her returned to Estryia,” he drawled without prelude.

Leon lifted a bushy brow. “Lady Ryerson is free to do as she chooses. She’s claimed sanctuary.”

“Only the gifted can claim sanctuary.”

“She is gifted.”

The High Lord of Pavia huffed with amusement. “And what is her gift?”

“Perhaps if we’re lucky, she might demonstrate,” Oryn muttered.

Leon hid his smirk in his stonebrew.

“I confess, I don’t really care,” Ralenet sighed. He turned to Oryn. “What do you want for her? ”

Oryn’s anger was almost swallowed up by his disbelief. He thinks he can buy her? From me? He turned on his heel and stalked off before he could throttle Peytar Ralenet and violate the treaties that held the tenuous peace in place between Tuminzar and Estryia.

When Orimum released Enya into the waiting arms of one of his kin, the sound of her laugh chased him to where his companions stood amongst the columns.

He watched her be swept into dance after dance.

Enya leaned into the attention and flattery, never once darting a look his way, even if half of Drozia was watching him to see what he’d do.

A horde of Leon’s advisors descended upon him, asking about conditions in Durelli.

He let Colm do most of the talking, nodding when it was expected of him.

Enya finally managed to disentangle herself from a gaggle of dwarves.

As she strode toward the front doors, she plucked a bottle of wine from a table and tucked it into the crook of her elbow.

He excused himself abruptly and trailed after her, stepping out into the night.

Gods above.

He threw out a wall of air as she swung her bare feet over the wall to dangle into open air.

“Do you like flirting with death?” He hissed, sliding onto the stone next to her.

“It has a certain allure,” she answered, gazing out at the black valley below them.

Oryn settled beside her and asked the question he feared. “And Ralenet?”

She pursed her lips. “Even less alluring than a Covwood witch.”

He hadn’t really thought she would consider his offer, but relief seeped through him all the same. “You didn’t seem surprised. You knew that was what he wanted?”

She swigged from the bottle and nodded. “I’ve been mulling it over.”

“And Renley?”

She sighed as she wriggled her toes, red and angry from the discarded shoes. “A good queen’s man, Renley Ryerson.”

Oryn had known all along that Lord Ryerson was different than most, but the depth of the man’s devotion and sacrifice was admirable. It was a shame to leave him to rot in Estryia, but telling her that wasn’t likely to help.

She tipped her head back, gazing up at the stars. “Tell me a story, Oryn. ”

Where’s Colm when I bloody need him? He cast around, looking for something to say. He pointed at the night sky. “Nimala’s horn-”

“Not about them. About you.”

He blinked in surprise. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Bade’s shadow slinking between the columns, illuminated by the golden light spilling from the windows. “Only twice have I ever slipped my royal guard.”

She looked at him expectantly.

“Once, on a night like this. I was no older than Dozmac. Lerrick was entertaining the Durelli Merchant’s Council. I snuck out of the Great Hall and made a run for it.”

“Did you not like Drozia?” She asked.

“I loved Drozia. Lerrick was always kind to me, but I wanted to go home . Even if I had never really known it.”

Enya hummed as she took another swig. “And did you get there?”

“Gods, no. I didn’t even come close. I ended up lost in the high peaks for a week. An early blizzard blew in, dropped heaps of snow. I had to shelter in a cave. Not even Colm or Bade could find me.”

“And then?”

Oryn chuckled at the memory. “I was attacked by a snowcat. It was her cave I stumbled into. My gifts manifested then. It happens like that sometimes. They appear when you need them most. I couldn’t control them, I didn’t know what I was doing, but I sealed myself inside a little dome of air and for a full day, watched her swipe and claw at it, terrified it would collapse at any moment. ”

Enya huffed a laugh.

“Vicious creature, you’d have liked her,” he added. “But Colm found me the next day. He came close enough to sense the wielding.”

“And the other time?”

Oryn swallowed, his shame and regret bitter on his tongue. “The other was Covwood. Colm never would have let me go and he was right not to.”

“Why did you?” She asked.

“The same reason I ran away the first time, I suppose. I wanted to go home.” Oryn held his breath, waiting, the silence between them its own kind of song.

“I suppose we have that in common, you and me,” she finally sighed. “We both long for places that have been reduced to ash.” She tilted her head. “Did you get what you wanted from Hylee Starseer? ”

“She didn’t show you?”

Enya shook her head and laughed. “She showed me your payment. All of your payment.”

Oryn was glad the dark hid the blush that crept into his cheeks. “I’m sorry you saw that.”

Enya shrugged. “Quite a show, Princeling . I’m surprised she kept her word to let you leave Covwood.”

Oryn shifted uncomfortably on the wall. “To answer your question, no. She gave me little more than meaningless riddles. She told me I needed the Treesinger, which should have been plain enough, but she wouldn’t tell me how or where to find them.”

“What exactly did she say?”

Oryn cleared his throat. “‘When what was old is new again, when what was lost is found, then will the song of sorrow scour the stain, and the crowns will tremble before the sound.’”

Enya hummed again. “That’s what Cedric meant it being soon? ‘Old is new again’?”

Oryn nodded. “Perhaps. There have been more new gifts in the last ten years than in the fifty before.”

Enya hummed, kicking her feet.

“You said I paid in power and Pallas in blood. Whose blood bound Drulougan to him?”

She huffed. “Curious isn’t it how in the last thirty years, the only heirs to Davolier House have been born to women who married in?”

Oryn blinked at her. “ The Book of Names .”

“Pallas Davolier traded the future of his house for his quest for power.”

Oryn sat back, cursing. Hylee really had woven a masterpiece.

The most prideful house in all of Estryia couldn’t produce heirs and the ones it did were likely sired by other men - a fact they either remained ignorant to or were forced to endure.

No wonder her power had swelled to such a terrifying magnitude and the king of pride himself…

“Are you saying Pallas’s sons are illegitimate? Enya, that means-”

“I know what it means, Oryn.”

“Your claim. That’s why Peytar wants to marry you.”

She laughed darkly. “Is it hard to believe a man wants to marry me because of me ?“ She took another gulp from the bottle. “Don’t answer that. ”

The music from the hall seemed to grow louder in an incessant thrumming as Oryn swallowed his answer.

“Your claim is better than Pallas’s,” he said slowly. “Even if his sons were legitimate.”

She lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “I don’t want the throne. Besides, my sister’s claim is better than mine.”

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

“Do you know where she is?”

She squinted as if trying to see something that wasn’t there. “I’m not sure. Estryia, I think. Perhaps the North or the Westerlands.”

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

Realizing it wasn’t coming from the palace, Oryn whipped his head around, straining for the sound. Wings. He seized Enya’s arm and dragged her down off the wall. She squeaked in surprise, letting the bottle fall from her grip and shatter on the paving stones.

“I will not-”

“DEMONDREAD!” Bade bellowed.

Oryn scrabbled for his sword, Enya’s wrist clutched in his other hand.

She seemed to register the shout and was running at his side, but they were not fast enough to avoid the dark forms that dropped out of the sky.

Like their makers, the beasts of Covwood had immunity to the pure godsongs.

The raging torrents of wind Oryn sent their way barely ruffled ragged, leathery wings as they alighted on the stones before them.

Five shadowy forms appeared out of the dark, blocking them off from the Palace of Drozia.

Oryn raised his sword but the beast before him opened its mouth and began to croon.

He staggered a step, then another, realizing with no small horror the sound was filling his ears.

Moving became difficult. He could find nothing else, no other sound to hold onto as it snared him in its song, paralyzing his limbs.