Page 23 of Vow of the Undead (The Bloodrune Saga #1)

“It isn’t winter yet.”

“The early snow begs to differ.” I eyed his cup as he brought it to his lips.

Not once did he offer it to me. The customs in Mara might be different than Skaldir, but from what I’d heard, it was normal everywhere in Vylheim to pass around drink and share food.

“Tell me something I don’t know about Mara.

” This was the most neutral question I could think to ease into my own version of an interrogation.

I couldn’t very well command him to lay bare secrets he and other kings had kept for a hundred years.

“If you come and sit with me.” He slipped his hand into mine and pulled me toward the throne.

“Do you mean, on you?”

He glanced over his shoulder, his grin apparent by the lift at his cheekbone. He dropped my hand and turned, then gripping my waist with both hands, he sat and positioned me in his lap.

“Now look at the people, Silver. What do you notice about them that’s different from Skaldir? ”

“They’re rude.”

His laugh rumbled against my back. “That is obvious. I know you see more, dig deeper.”

Even though I was a seer, this wasn’t how a witch’s magic worked. I didn’t notice anything about others beyond a basic need for survival. If they weren’t a threat, I stopped assessing them.

“The courtiers are cold and the servants act like they’re in a trance. People from my village are sharp and full of life.” I twisted to face him. Even if he said he valued truth, I wanted to see evidence of this on his face. “Where is Ragna?”

“Ragna?” His eyes were devoid of recognition.

I gritted my teeth. How could he forget her so easily? She’d risked her life to make a statement. Did he already wipe the other witch from his mind too? He hadn’t even watched her execution.

“The woman you ripped from her home in Skaldir. She has a daughter named Alva and a newborn son and a husband, Rolf, and several other children along with a farm.”

He shook his head and I scoffed. I shoved off of him but he hooked his arm around my middle and pulled me back down.

I nearly bit my tongue to keep from cursing at him. “The women you hunt down and drag away from their villages, have they already been shipped off to be forgotten in the wasteland until they die at sea for your exploration?”

“Ah.” He smiled. “That Ragna. She is safe and taken care of. I can assure you, she is not exiled, nor part of this exploration.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t lie.”

I chewed at my lip. Maybe I did believe him. He was so different from me, and I was the one who lied, often. Everyday, I lied about my true name.

What about King Drakkar made me believe him? Was it that he mentioned the monsters? Or that he had no reason to lie? He was the king, untouchable, whether he created false truths or not.

He cleared his throat. “Also, that is not my exploration. It’s the council’s plan.”

“To rebuild our population. Or do they lie?”

Another noise came from this throat. “Definitely. But that one is actually the truth and I can’t deny they’re right about this one thing. One.” He laughed without joy.

In roughly five weeks, all the exiled witches would be sent to a watery grave, but my mother didn’t even have that long.

“Where are the runestones?” I asked, emboldened by need.

“You have three nights until we’re married, Silver. You must be patient. Then, and only then will you share in every truth that I have to offer.”

I frowned. It was a bold question, stupid to throw out there so flippantly. Perhaps if I gave him more of myself, he’d open up. “Then I expect to see them. I like history.”

“Because you’re smart.”

My lips parted, his compliment throwing a curve into my thoughts. I blinked and continued. “I know it’s wrong to say, but I’m…intrigued by the ancient warriors.”

His gaze sliced to me. The icy color of his eyes reflected brighter from the matching shade of my dress. “I should have guessed.” His voice was lower now, heavy with heat. “That’s why you look so thirsty when your eyes are on me.”

It didn’t matter how much I tried to hide, King Drakkar somehow always saw through me as if I was still wearing that stupid transparent nightgown.

Talking around the truth was a waste of time with him, so I cut to the questions again.

“Why do you carry a sword? Is it true that you cut down defected executioners yourself?”

“Yes. ”

“Are you skilled with it or do you only use it on such rare occasions?”

“A traitorous Grimward member isn’t as uncommon as you think, and if you’re looking for more to lust after, I’d be happy to show you my skill with a weapon.

” He winked and my heart skipped. This was the answer I needed.

It was the only lawful and possible way I saw to get him to bleed.

Then he’d be at his most vulnerable and I could pry the real answers out of him.

That was Freya’s promise.

“Now?” I prodded.

“Another time. I only practice on an empty stomach and when I want to exhaust my body for sleep.”

Shit. If my calculations were correct, my mother would only survive the wasteland for a couple more weeks. She likely required fresh water, and the substantial food that only a prosperous land could offer.

Two weeks to pass the trial.

Freya wanted me to understand her but I had to do her bidding to comprehend the way of a God. Only then would it be clear.

“You never lie, right?” I asked without waiting for a response. “So tell me, if the guard you practice with cuts you, is he held to the standard of the law of Vylheim?”

King Drakkar ran his teeth over his bottom lip. “I want to say they can never get past my sword, but I do value the truth.”

He left it at that, but I didn’t. This was enough proof that I had to watch one of those practice sessions, and witness the sight of his blood hitting the ground.

I wasn’t going to wait for another time. It had to be now.

So when the celebration ended and the king retired, I followed him, because he hadn’t eaten a damn thing all night.