Page 4 of Tree of Ash (The Runic Saga #2)

The Spare

Darien

Darien pulled at the collar that constricted his throat.

He started to scratch at the stubble covering his cheeks, but his fingers faltered at his father’s stern glance.

With controlled effort, Darien lowered his hands, doing his best to appear attentive yet relaxed.

His older brother Aeron had mastered the balance with ease, but Aeron wasn’t there, and Darien didn’t want to remember why.

Darien, along with Anara, Torsten, and six additional council members, sat around the rim of the long oval table.

The council members watched him from the corners of their eyes, measuring him against Torsten, king of Safír and Darien’s father.

Some of them were no doubt measuring him against Aeron as well.

But no one knew that Aeron, the perfect Crown Prince, had become the Empress’ War Dog who hunted them even now.

Only Darien, Larissa, and Anara knew the truth.

One week had passed since their ill-fated trip into Lystheim, the city of Perle, with Larissa, Anara, and Halla.

They’d found Halvor, a supposed shopkeeper who’d given them a rendezvous point to meet with Vienám rebels, but they hadn’t realized how closely they had been hunted.

Before the rebels arrived, a draugr attacked Darien and Anara as Kafteinn Calder confronted Larissa and Halla. Their escape had come at a cost.

Halla.

Darien clenched his fists under the table. He’d lost Halla. Though Vienám spies had successfully smuggled them out, Halla had been left to the mercy of slavers. Darien’s guilt over Halla’s capture soured his joy of seeing his father alive.

In the last week, Darien’s time with his father had been short; he’d spent most of his days in galdr -induced exhaustion.

Even with the rest, Darien struggled to focus.

As King Torsten informed the council of Larissa’s return, though he referred to her as Lovisa , the room faded away.

In its place, the gnarled and runed roots of an enormous tree snaked across the room, beckoning Darien back into dreams he’d fought so hard to escape.

A sharp pinch in his side cleared the roots from his vision, bringing the council room back into focus. Anara side-eyed him, drawing Darien back into the discussion.

“ . . . invite one representative from each family to attend, though we will still run out of room,” Torsten instructed.

The dark-skinned man on Darien’s left leaned forward, his elbows thudding against the table. “What of the Perle Princess?”

Darien stiffened at the impatience in the man’s tone, glancing at Anara.

Her shrewd eyes narrowed at the council member.

He’d introduced himself as General Sture of the Smaragdian commonwealth.

The electric lights drilled into the stone walls of the mountain glared against his dark, bald head.

Emerald vines embroidered in the collar of General Sture’s suit seemed to swirl against the cloth.

Torsten raised an eyebrow, his piercing blue eyes unblinking. “What of her?”

General Sture gestured to the empty chair among them, an emerald ring glinting on his fingers as he waved them about.

“You tell us this Princess of Perle has returned to fulfill the prophecy of the False Empress’ downfall.

You expect us to rally our people for war.

Yet we’ve not yet been given the opportunity to meet with her or hear the details of this prophecy for ourselves. ”

“Your people?” Torsten asked, a foundation of steel underlying his light tone. “All people within the Vienám are under my command, General.”

“Of course, your Majesty,” the man to Sture’s left agreed.

He held his posture with rigid perfection, but his gray eyes shifted as he smoothed back his oiled black hair.

“Though General Sture’s question stands.

Why is she not here? As the council of kingdoms, shouldn’t we be the first to assess this princess before the rest of the people? ”

“Do you doubt King Torsten’s assessment, General Aiko?” Anara asked, her voice full of innocence.

The man’s mouth tightened as he flicked a glance in Anara’s direction. He shifted ever so slightly away from her. “Of course not.”

“Our princess returned,” muttered another general. He was older than the rest and seemed to be holding back tears. “Our people have waited for so long.”

Darien remembered his name. Soren, the general of Perle.

“We could not risk this information spreading,” King Torsten continued, addressing the previous general’s concerns. “Not until we were ready for the entire Vienám to know, General Aiko. It was only this morning that Princess Lovisa woke, which is why I called this council to order.”

“A banquet has been arranged for you all to speak with the Princess tonight,” Halvor added, pushing up his half-moon spectacles.

Of all the council members, Halvor was the only one that Darien trusted.

He’d encouraged Torsten to march on Perle and rescue Halla at Larissa’s request. “The Jotnar have agreed to host us.”

All turned to Speaker Skaei. The giantess leader of the Jotnar met their gazes with a serenity that undercut the tension in the room.

Her skin, dark as the mountains, glowed with an unearthly sheen.

Power seemed to sleep beneath her skin. Though Halvor had warned Darien to not use the term “giant,” there seemed no other way to describe the Jotnar who lived in the Nordryggen mountains.

Even the smallest Jotnar towered a foot over most men.

Though they varied in appearance, all Jotnar had the same amber eyes that glowed even in the darkness of the mountain—a reminder they were not entirely human.

Torsten rose to his feet, signaling the end of their meeting. “You have my instructions. Gather the representatives of your people. Tonight, everything changes.”

General Soren harrumphed at Torsten’s understatement. Though Sture and Aiko opened their mouths as though to protest, neither spoke at the sight of Skaei rising from her chair. Her presence demanded obedience. She held her hand toward the door. “If you will, generals.”

Darien glanced at the exit, his heart pulling him down the twisting tunnel halls to where he knew he could find Larissa still recovering from the return of her galdr . Though he longed to follow the council members out, his head reminded him of his duties. His father had to know about Aeron.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Anara murmured.

Darien sighed in defeat. “You always know what I’m thinking, don’t you?”

“Only when it’s about Larissa .” She grinned. “Which is most of the time.”

Darien lowered his voice further. “The council doesn’t seem too certain about Larissa.”

“Politicians,” Anara scoffed. “They just want to be reassured of their own importance. Halvor’s banquet is sure to settle any rustled feathers.”

“So.” Torsten’s booming voice cut off Darien’s response. His vivid blue eyes locked onto Darien under bushy black brows. “What did you think of your first council meeting?”

“I—” Darien paused, sitting straighter in his chair. The words didn’t care for it came to mind, but he was certain that wasn’t the right answer. “I’m not sure why I was here. There wasn’t anything I could add apart from retelling them our story.”

“Your presence alone was everything,” Torsten said.

“For decades, I have guided the Vienám, and though it is composed of people from every commonwealth, I have not forgotten the priority of my people. The Safírians rely on me to restore us to our home one day. But how can a people trust a king with no heir? Our blood is blessed with the power of the gods, and with your return, there is hope in the continuation of our strength.”

Torsten smiled, but Darien’s mouth went dry, his tongue sticking to the back of his teeth as the meaning behind his father’s words washed over him.

The power of a kingdom was dependent on its monarchs’ Ancestral Blood.

Tradition taught the stronger their galdr , the stronger the people.

It was one of the reasons why many monarchs hadn’t married beyond their borders for risk of diluting the power of the gods.

A sharp jab from Anara’s finger in Darien’s back prodded him to speak. “So you were putting me on display for the council?”

“In a manner of speaking, but it’s so much more than that.

” Torsten glanced at Speaker Skaei who, to be honest, despite her enormous size, Darien had not seen return.

It was eerie how one so large could make herself appear nearly invisible.

Perhaps it was her galdr . Darien still wasn’t sure exactly what the Jotnar could or couldn’t do.

“If that’s the case, why wasn’t Larissa here?” he asked. “She’s the hope of Perle, isn’t she?”

From the corner of his eye, Darien caught Anara’s smirk. Halvor looked down at the table.

The firm pressure of Torsten’s lips revealed his distaste. “You mean Lovisa . I don’t care what she calls herself in private, but to the world, she can only be known as Lovisa.”

Skaei leaned forward, her dark hands spreading over the glossy surface of the table. “Lovisa is still recovering from recent events. She needed rest and to prepare for this evening.”

“Precisely,” Torsten agreed, his voice clearly signaling the end of the discussion. “Tonight we will announce Princess Lovisa’s return and our plan to reclaim Perle, but there is more. Tonight, I will name you as the new Crown Prince of Safír.”

It was the obvious decision, and yet Torsten’s words landed like a gut punch. Darien hadn’t been raised to be the Crown Prince; that had always been Aeron’s role. “Faeir, there’s something you need to know. Aeron, he isn’t—” He struggled for words.

Anara cleared her throat. “He’s alive.”

Darien winced as her bluntness echoed in the following silence. Speaker Skaei’s eyes widened, sending her thin black eyebrows up to her hairline. The grin on Torsten’s face melted into a confused grimace.