“You want to play the game too?” he asks her.
“People’s lives aren’t a game,” she says, struggling to break free.
“I believed that too, once. It’s too bad you weren’t there to convince my family of the same,” he says, throwing the word family like it’s dirty. “I was their pawn. The spare. The overlooked and underestimated heir.” He paces between the line of patrol at his back and me: still planted a step below him on the stairs and flanked by two guards with blades drawn. “They sent me north to Innsbruck—to hide my fae powers from favor, from the kingdom. I wasn’t good enough for the castle. But the mages there saw my potential.” He glances at, Glandias, the grim mage in the red robe.
“Now, who bows before me? All of you,” Leith says.
I sense Soren watching from the foot of the stairs and am sure to make the would-be birds in the cage rustle every few minutes. I want to drag this on as long as possible, give the others a chance to get into position, and apologize for going off the map as the king reveals the truth of his lies, at last. As brave as the Raven’s Rising is, seeing that they were outnumbered and outmatched, I wanted to prevent more fighting by appealing to the king. Now, we’re all backed into a corner.
“Before you die, Gerda, I’ll give myself the pleasure of telling you the story.”
Then again, I wasn’t expecting any of this so maybe we stand a chance.
Leith paces along the castle steps. “I returned from the outerlands to find that Hedda, the lovely princess from over the sea, had been promised to the handsome, strong, perfect Torsuld, my brother. I saw quickly what she was. Fae. How could our parents allow it? How could he stand her? Well, Torsuld had a secret of his own.”
Gerda narrows her eyes. “He was a raven shifter.”
“Indeed he was and yet our parents favored him. They didn’t send him away like they did me. They allowed him to take the throne because he represented the family legacy.” Leith goes on, “My plan was really quite simple. Even after they were married, Torsuld spent so much time with his beloved ravens that it wasn’t hard to convince Hedda that he preferred them to her. Nor was it difficult to poison his mind with stories that she wished to run away with her true love from Brendsondl. And a little mage magic never hurts.” He laughs.
“Lies. All of it,” Gerda grinds out. “There was no one from the Westlands that she loved. You made that up to drive them apart.”
Apparently, dividing people is what Leith is best at.
He slaps Gerda with the back of his slim hand at her insolence.
Faint gasps of disbelief issue from the gathered crowd.
I throw a kraa kraa followed by the flap of wings from the wooden raven.
“Now Torsuld’s precious ravens have come to me.” His eyes dance over me.
Good. He still believes it.
Gerda growls, “Your story wasn’t finished.”
Leith’s face crinkles like paper. “No, it wasn’t.”
“I want to hear the truth, at last,” Gerda says.
Leith’s voice takes on a feathery, mocking quality. “While the king and queen were apart, I saw to it that Torsuld remained in his raven form forever...along with all raven shifters.”
The golden raven?
“The poor queen found herself jealous and alone as months passed and Torsuld remained away—favoring his birds.”
“You were the wedge that drove them apart.” Gerda glares.
“She stumbled right into my soothing arms. Poor, poor Hedda. I was there for her when her husband was not. Although Torsuld may have been perfect in our father’s eyes, he did not possess my powers—the ability to see what our parents couldn’t—how I was the most capable and therefore the rightful ruler of this kingdom. When six months had passed, I was to marry her as stated by law.”
“She despised you.”
“You sound so bitter, Princess Gerda.”
“You discovered she was pregnant.” Gerda’s voice is tight.
“But the child wasn’t mine and considering she’d been consorting with her true love in Brendsondl while married to Torsuld there was no way to prove the child’s lineage. It was sentenced to death upon birth,” Leith speaks in a mocking tone about his web of deception resulting in the potential death of the child as if it’s a triviality.
“You are a monster,” Gerda says. “Hedda would rather have died than be with you.” Hatred floods her eyes.
“In the end, it didn’t matter. I disguised myself as the midwife, using a handy little spell thanks to my time with the mages. Then I gave the baby the burden of Frosted Oblivion.”
“And Vespertine stopped you.”
For a moment, Leith looks startled as though that’s news to him. “He tried. He failed.”
“He suppressed the spell. He succeeded.” Gerda’s voice is steel.
Leith shakes his head. “Even if Vespertine suppressed the spell and the child lived, the curse would take hold on the day he comes of age.”
Gerda shudders.
Scenes from Soren’s dreams start to make sense. Was that the curse I’m meant to break? Or the ink? Or something else? All of them?
Leith brushes his hands like the job is done. Only it isn’t. He must not realize the heir survived, but what of the Frosted Oblivion? Surely, he’s come of age by now...or not.
“I know that look, the one glittering in your eyes, Gerda. Cold desire. Murder. What you’d like to do to me. The child’s name was Hjaggson Torsuld Hrafn, thunder’s son, am I right?” He laughs thickly. “There’s no one in this kingdom by that name—no fae and raven offspring. I made sure of that with the Grievous Fires as you all them. I burned the books so no
