Page 25 of Tree of Ash (The Runic Saga #2)

Giftless Children

Darien

Darien’s mother cultivated a beautiful garden on the cliffside next to their palace.

Darien spent months pruning the plants alongside her as Aeron trained under their father’s command.

But it was a rare day when Aeron was just as free as Darien to sit on the edge of the cliff that overlooked the ocean waves crashing on the jagged rocks below.

Aeron let his legs dangle over the cliff, leaning back on his hands as he closed his eyes with his face turned toward the sun.

Darien nudged his shoulder. “So what cosmic event allowed me to be blessed by your presence, brother? It’s not often you step out of those oh-so-important council meetings.”

The tiniest slit opened Aeron’s right eye at Darien’s tone. “Not all of us get to play with the flowers all day.”

“It’s a difficult life I lead.” Darien twirled a carnation between his fingers before tucking it behind his ear. “How’s it going, really?”

“The meetings are boring.”

“What?” Darien’s shock was genuine. “You, the Crown Prince of, what did you call us, the-greatest-kingdom-in-Evrópa, is admitting that sitting in a room with a bunch of Faeir’s stodgy old advisors is actually boring?”

“If you tell Faeir I said that, I’ll push you off this cliff myself.”

Darien laughed. “Like you could take me.”

Whatever Aeron might have responded died on frozen lips.

His skin turned pale and cold as the frivolity drained from his face.

Darien watched in horror as Aeron’s face aged and sharpened with cruelty.

Calder’s smile settled into a smirk as his eyes sparked with life.

“You were plotting against me even then, weren’t you, brother? ”

Calder’s palms flattened against Darien’s chest, shoving him off the cliff and sending his body plummeting through the air. Sharp rocks pierced his skin—

Darien’s body froze, suspended at the moment of his own impalement. Paralyzed by the pain, Darien could only stare at the red-headed child who walked toward him on the raging waters. Power and light radiated from her skin as her hair curled around her face. A tidal wave rose behind her.

“Vereandi?” he asked, a tremor in his voice.

“I can save you.” Vereandi’s soprano voice rang even over the roar of the rising waters. “Convince Larissa to come to us. She must know the truth, and so must you.”

Then the wave fell, crashing against the cliff and consuming them both.

Darien stood in front of his father’s study, his eyes heavy with sleep.

Not even the sun had woken, and the mountain tunnels were colder than ever.

Darien knocked, the ghost of Aeron and the memory of Calder’s voice haunting him, but it was Vereandi’s demand that coiled in his stomach like a serpent waiting to strike.

“Enter.” Torsten’s voice traveled through the thick wood.

He entered, his royal garb replaced with farmhand clothes—all a part of the charade they were about to embark upon.

He stood at attention, feeling the weight of his ancestral sword on his hip and the gun resting on the opposing side.

Larissa, Anara, and the others were already waiting for him at the cargo truck, but his father had summoned him. So here he was.

“Faeir.” Darien nodded, folding his hands behind his back.

Torsten rose from his desk. “I’ll keep this brief—I know the others are waiting—but I want to make myself clear.”

Darien waited, careful to clear his face of his growing apprehension.

“Princess Lovisa is critical to the Vienám’s success, but she can never be more to you than your ally. Whatever childish infatuation you had when you were younger cannot exist any longer. You are the Crown Prince, and when we reclaim our kingdom, we cannot risk the curse of the giftless children.”

Darien stood speechless at Torsten’s direct order. Though he’d suspected his father’s feelings, Darien hadn’t anticipated such blunt callousness. “Faeir, we don’t even know if giftless children are real—”

Torsten’s brows lowered dangerously. “And you would risk your kingdom on the hope that they’re not?”

Darien clenched his fists, hating the supposed curse that had haunted his steps.

When the Norn had given Rúna the power of the gods, they’d supposedly warned her that a child born from a mixed union would be robbed of the galdr of either parent, if the child survived at all.

It was this curse that struck fear amongst the monarchies that their galdr could be lost and their kingdoms weakened because of it.

“The galdr within our people is weak enough as it is,” Torsten continued, barely containing the anger in his tone.

“Shiko targeted the royal families and even far-off relatives in an attempt to eradicate all galdr apart from her own. It’s imperative we strengthen the bloodlines of each kingdom once we re-establish them.

Otherwise, we may as well go back to how humanity existed after Ragnarok , killing each other over scraps of the world. ”

Darien stepped toward his father. “I don’t believe it. Our world is more established than after Ragnarok ; it’s not the same. Besides, I’m not the only one left with Safírian galdr .”

“Then who else, Darien?” Torsten thundered. “Your brother, the traitor? You can’t hide your responsibilities behind Aeron anymore. He is gone, and you must rise to your position.”

Darien held his father’s gaze in a silent battle of wills.

“Did you know I nearly died in the escape when Safír fell?” Torsten finally asked. At Darien’s shocked face, he laughed without mirth. “Of course you didn’t. You weren’t there. You were in Perle, with Lovisa.”

Darien heard the accusation as clearly as if his father had shouted it.

“Your mother died, though. Aeron was dead, or at least, I thought he was, and you vanished without a trace. Those of us who survived banded together. Then we found the Jotnar, and they gave us a place to grow and flourish. But in our safety, a new danger was brought to the forefront of the people’s minds.

What would happen if I were to die? For all I knew, Shiko had already ended the Perlian line.

I couldn’t allow her to end mine as well. ”

Torsten sat at his desk and stared not at his son, but through him, as though Darien was not there at all.

“I didn’t want a new wife. I still mourned for Meya, my love.

I didn’t want new children when my last had been ripped from me.

But my people needed me to find a new wife.

The Vienám needed me to have heirs. Who would lead them if I fell?

The Jotnar? No, the Vienám needed certainty in the future.

So I married again, but the gods refused to grant me more heirs. ”

Darien thought of the woman he’d seen only on occasion. She stood in the shadows, surrounded by her court, but forgotten by her husband once she’d proven to be an unsuccessful solution. Darien couldn’t even remember her name.

Torsten refocused on Darien. “Then you returned, practically from the dead. With Aeron gone, you are the heir. Not only to the throne, but to our bloodline. You cannot forget that.”

Darien’s blood burned not on behalf of Larissa, but for himself. Why couldn’t his father see that Darien was trying? “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t care about our people?”

“It is more than just caring for them. We must sacrifice ourselves for them. Their needs are our own. Our bloodline protects them—”

“But it didn’t!” Darien interrupted, slamming his palms on his father’s desk.

“For centuries, the kingdoms separated themselves from one another for the sake of our bloodlines, but in the end our separation only aided in our destruction. Look at the Vienám! This is proof that we don’t have to be separate any more.

We can mix our kingdoms and our people—”

“To what end?” Torsten thundered, rising to his feet. “So that we can live in hiding? So that you can pursue Lovisa? You hate that I might sacrifice your happiness for the sake of our people, but you would sacrifice our people for the sake of one girl?”

Yes, I would , he wanted to shout, but even as his heart demanded it, his mind rebelled. Could he really put himself before his entire kingdom? The thought alone was enough to tame Darien’s temper.

Torsten adjusted his collar, seemingly taking Darien’s silence as a concession. “Remember, Darien: even as you walk from this room, as you travel to Perle, you are not alone. People are watching, trying to determine whether our line is strong. I trust you to not shame me.”

Darien’s gut tightened, but he didn’t speak. It would only make things worse.

Torsten rose to his feet. “We’ll discuss this further after we reclaim Perle. Go; our armies will set out by nightfall behind you. Make sure the gate is open by the time the first wave arrives.”

Darien turned, but stopped at his father’s voice.

“One last thing. If the Empress’ War Dog is there, be sure to put him down.”

Darien nodded curtly, but Torsten was already absorbed in the papers on his desk. He strode across the room, shoving the door open before his lungs burst from unspoken words. The door closed, just as Darien pounded the bottom of his fist into the wall.

“Darien!”

Larissa stepped into the light. Dressed in all black combat gear, she’d been nearly invisible in the shadows before. She reached for his hand, turning it over and prodding at his fingers. “At least nothing is broken; why would you do that?”

Darien leaned against the wall, enjoying the feel of her fingers caressing his hand. “Had to be done,” he muttered.

“Because clearly the wall deserved it.”

“Something like that.”

Her gaze shifted at his tone from examining his hand to analyzing his face. She let Darien’s hand fall back to his side. “Your father?”

“We don’t need to talk about it.” Darien flexed his stinging hand. “Come on, I’m sure the others are waiting. Let’s go get Halla.”

“You make it sound so easy. Get Halla. Reclaim Perle.”

Darien shrugged. “Add in a couple giants and the goddesses of Fate messing with our sleep, it’s practically foolproof.”

“Well, that’s good, since so many of the council members seem to think we’re fools.”

Darien’s voice turned serious. “We’ll prove them wrong. They’ll see.”

“Wait”—her feet slowed—“did you say our sleep?”

Darien hadn’t meant to mention it. “New dream. Same message.”

“For a goddess with an eternity to live, Vereandi could learn some patience.”

Snorting in agreement, Darien followed Larissa through the winding tunnels and down the long flights of steps to the loading bay, where a large transport truck awaited them.

Anara stood to the side, speaking with Halvor and blatantly ignoring General Ishaan.

Darien’s irritation, calmed by Larissa’s presence, resumed at the sight of the shifter who watched Anara from nearby.

Though he knew Anara certainly didn’t need any help, Darien was more than happy to knock the general on the ground if he said anything impertinent to Anara.

The twins, Haki and Jari, walked around the truck, finalizing their inspection.

Though their faces were nearly identical with matching buzzed hair, Darien could tell them apart instantly.

Haki stood near the engine, his enormous frame making the truck look small in comparison.

His sentry’s uniform pulled tight across his chest and arms. Long scars peeked out from under his rolled up sleeves from where Anara had attacked him—before she’d known he was on their side.

He smiled and bowed upon noticing Darien and Larissa.

His twin, Jari, nodded and eyed them warily. He’d not been welcoming when last they’d met. At Darien’s and Larissa’s arrival, the group quieted as the weight of what they were about to attempt settled over them.

“For Halla.” Anara’s words echoed in the large space.

At Darien’s side, Larissa smiled, her feet moving toward the truck. “For Halla, and for Perle.”

Darien’s strained smile hid the apprehension that Vereandi’s dream had rooted in his chest.