Page 58 of Vow of the Undead (The Bloodrune Saga #1)

T he come down after our enjoyment on the throne left my head swimming. I slipped back into my dress, my legs trembling. I wasn’t going to bother with the ribbons when Drak came up behind me. The fabric clung to me as he softly pulled the ribbons tighter and secured them at the middle of my back.

If this was how he’d behave during our marriage, it’d be so easy to forget the blood all over him, that he killed and tasted others. Killing was the way of Draugr. The undead sought to extend their existence, they had no souls.

Kayn had no soul, and now he wouldn’t have mine either.

I flexed my fists and Drak cupped his hand over mine. “Cold?”

I shook my head as I turned to him. “I need to know who killed Embla. Do you have any idea who would have bitten her but not drained her? And why would they leave her for me to find?”

He brushed his thumb over my hand. “Someone who wanted you here.”

“Who else but you?”

When his eyes darkened, he blinked and let go of my hand. Raking his fingers through his loose hair, he cursed. “Fuck. The council returns today.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means they wanted you here when they came back.”

“For what?”

He opened his mouth then promptly snapped it shut.

His eyes flicked to the massive door. Without moving, without breathing, he stared as if in a trance.

Finally, his gaze sliced to me and the frown that twisted his face warned me what was coming next.

“I don’t know, to stop our marriage? To make you their vessel. To kill you.”

I sucked in a breath that cut off with the slam of a door.

A figure dripped out of the darkness as they stepped inside.

A man I vaguely recognized as one of the council members strode into the throne room.

His cloak was embroidered with intricate vines, leaves like Creeping Thyme in thread the color of the hills in summer across Skaldir.

Fangs jutted from his pale, sickly-looking lips and his waxy taupe eyes fell hard on me.

Cold shivers skittered over my skin and I slipped my hand in my pocket, feeling for the silver pendant.

He flicked his attention away from me and to the king. “King Drakkar.” His voice fell flat, and he tipped into a faint bow that looked more like habit than a gesture of respect. “The council has spoken.”

The king clenched his hands into fists, but was otherwise still.

My eyes darted between them. I knew the king had a council, and that likely the royals took a part in the decisions for Mara, but this newcomer said it as if the king wasn’t part of that same council.

In Skaldir and the nearby villages, the meetinghouses were open for all to discuss life and law with the Vyls.

Though the last meeting before we left was split on the decision for my father to seek help from Mara. And my father did it anyway .

“She must go.”

King Drakkar sucked air through his teeth and slowly shook his head. “The last I checked, I’m the king, Dante. Not you. Not the council.”

“And who put that crown on your head?”

“Me,” King Drakkar growled, his voice rough with finality. “Why are you really here, Dante? You’re always at odds with the council. You and Astrid and Sten like to play at being in control but you can never sway Ylva and Darius and Sitric.”

Astrid and Sten. They weren’t just courtiers, I’d destroyed two council members with the silver pendant. A shiver cut down my arms.

Dante’s grimace deepened. “They’re not here. So maybe we’re no longer playing. Not now that we’ve bargained with Silver.”

All at once, my heart stopped.

I’d made no such bargain. But I also wasn’t Silver—not the real Silver.

She’s gone. The Grimward killed her. Forget her before I have to beat the memory out of you. Echoes of my father’s voice filled in my mind. It was as cunning as Loki’s but far crueler. Father always said the same thing until he hardly spoke to me at all.

You are Silver now. There is no Lux.

My gaze sliced from Dante to King Drakkar. The king went rigid. Fury flamed in his eyes and his jaw flexed. “You didn’t release her.”

For the first time, Dante smiled. “You went too far with this God complex. We will not have a God as our king.”

“I will not be directed like a child.” He marched over to Dante. “That’s your cue to leave.”

Dante only scoffed, refusing to back down. “I’m not here for you, my king.”

King Drakkar’s arm shot out behind him as if reaching for me. “Lux. Compel him. ”

Dante smiled, and before I registered the king’s demand, the other vampire was upon me. He gripped my neck and wrenched my head to the side. My empty hands fruitlessly reached for the stake I’d left on the ground by the throne, but it was too far and my desperation was useless.

My heart wove a frayed rhythm. In a single breath, King Drakkar grabbed him and threw him against the black stone floor.

It only took one blink before Dante shot to his feet and past the king to lay his hands on me again. He gripped my shoulders and sank his fangs into my throat, the pain hot and slicing. I couldn’t help the shrieking gasp that escaped me.

Finding my voice now, I opened my mouth and spewed the power granted by the Gods in rasping breaths.

Dante released my throat and I gulped air thick with the rich smell of blood. I pawed at my neck where his fingernails had sliced into the soft flesh, just as my captors had.

Once free, I saw why the king hadn’t come for me. Another vampire had barreled into him. Drak was stronger, but not as fast as the wiry man. Familiar gold eyes flashed. The cut of his high cheekbones evident when the king slammed him to the ground and the man gritted his teeth.

Drak’s attacker had been in my nightmares, in my shame.

Sten.

Impossible, I’d destroyed him with the pendant, with the power of the Gods. I saw his flesh melt and his body go limp.

Of course, killing the undead was tricky. I’d thought Odin had been able to intervene to help me bring the vampires down for the simple purpose of saving my life.

But I’d never killed my captor.

Evidence of this lay in front of me as Sten kicked the stake across the room and launched towards the king again. The stake rolled toward the back door, hopelessly far from me now.

Drak shoved Sten as my strength waned. Dante gathered himself again just when I could no longer hold the compulsion. I dropped the compulsion, my chest heaving. Sweat beaded on my brow as I scanned for the sensations again, drawing my awareness. It was all I could do to try.

I peeled my lips open but before I could compel Dante, Drak grabbed him by the back of the neck and threw him at the ground face first. He tried to block his fall, managing to only stumble forward.

Turning, he seethed and spat at Drak. “Either you kill her, or we will.”

“Boys!” A sharp voice cut from beyond the doors.

Lithe legs slipped out of the darkness as a vampire with chestnut hair piled on her head like a messy crown stepped forward. She tugged another figure along with her.

My heart dropped to my stomach. I did not blink.

Astrid, too, had survived the stabbing from my silver pendant, but it wasn’t her and the scarred flesh at her neck that captivated me.

The woman in her grasp met my eyes. As if looking into a mirror, I saw the same umber and auburn hair, the same striking wide eyes full of fear, though they were dark brown, not spilled black like the cursed ink in mine. Her hands were bound behind her back like a criminal.

She looked the same when the Grimward dragged her out of our room twenty years ago.

“Silver,” I breathed.

Red thread stretched from between her chin and her mouth to her upper lip, sealing her mouth shut. White scars dotted each spot where they’d sewn into her lips. My sister’s nostrils flared because she could not gasp or breathe deeply since she couldn’t open her mouth.

My soul hollowed. How long had my sister’s mouth been sewn shut? What had they done to her?

Astrid marched toward us, yanking Silver alongside her just as she had with me back in the forest outside Skaldir. Except her fingernails didn’t dig into my sister’s skin. Silver didn’t exactly move with her, but she didn’t fight back either .

The twisted lines of Astrid’s perpetual frown stained my memory.

Her cold steel eyes drilled into me. The closer she drew to me, the clearer it became.

Who else would have killed Embla in cold blood?

She must have known I would blame it on Drak and come here after him.

Astrid and Sten had wanted to capture me from the beginning and this lured me right to them.

Sten scrambled to his feet as if ready to salute Astrid, but Dante paid her no attention as he slammed into the king again.

This time, the king was ready for him. He reacted faster, and, sliding a small dagger from beneath his cloak, he ripped it through Dante’s neck.

In one smooth move, Dante’s head slid from his shoulders and his body dropped to the floor.

Blood spilled from where his throat was severed, pooling over the black stone and triggering a rush of bile forcing its way up into my mouth.

I snapped my eyes away from the headless body and locked onto Silver. She was staring at me, her nostrils still flaring.

I took in her clear dark eyes, the dotted scars only I would notice after she’d caught a fever and a pockmarked rash riddled her neck.

She’d scratched at the rash so hard it left permanent marks.

Her hair had grown darker with age, but she still kept it short just like when we were children.

She wore it pinned back around her face with dozens of shiny bronze pins.

With her bulging eyes and simple dress, her pink cheeks and a string of beads hanging from her fist, she reflected the child she’d once been.

I knew that toy. It was the same beaded doll she had carried with her everywhere as a young girl, even when the Grimward grabbed her, she didn’t let go of it.