Gerda snarls.
I glance at Soren, but his expression is impassive.
“But there’s more,” she says defiantly. “You’re still not done telling the story.”
“No, I suppose that I’m not.” Leith tears the sleeve from his robes, revealing ink so thick his skin is hardly visible. He turns to face the whole of Raven’s Landing: the patrol, those gathered by the gates and shouts, “Torsuld ruined me. His mage bled the color from his feathers and cursed me with it.” The venom in his voice, the power radiating from him practically makes the castle walls shake and the snowflakes melt.
“And you turned the curse on the rest of us,” Gerda says.
“If only you knew the extent of the exchange of curses, Princess,” Leith taunts. “But remember, I was already unacceptable in my family’s eyes. Meanwhile, my brother was a shapeshifting raven, but our parents overlooked it because of the monarchy’s lineage. I was the fae son, discarded. He was the perfect, golden son, accepted. But I knew his secrets and now I am king.”
I start to fidget, tired of story hour. I wanted to avoid coming to blows; the people have already endured so much, but I’m itching for action. Demon or not, it’s about time to take this bad boy down.
Soren must feel the same way because without wasting another second, he ducks under the raised weapons, spins, grabs a guard from behind, steals his blade, and fights his way up the steps with a brief clink of metal on metal as he defeats the first row of guards.
He angles his weapon at the king’s chest. “Your story is a sad one, but it’s not ours. The people of Raven’s Landing don’t deserve to pay for the result of your choices, your fears, or anger.”
The king’s thin lips quirk.
“With a swift flick of my wrist I could drive this into your heart,” Soren rumbles.
“That’s assuming he has one,” Gerda says coldly.
The king looks from the blade tip to Soren, locking on his eyes for a long breath. “I mentioned I’m immortal, right? Becoming a vampire was a small price to pay.”
I chill at the words.
Leith’s dark eyes flash as he stares at Soren. “I see it now, Hjaggson. Has it really been nineteen years to the day?” Then he scoffs at the blade. “Soren, you’re much like your father.”
“What do you know of my father?” Soren booms.
“I know everything.”
“My father was an honorable, courageous man who died too soon.” The passing frown on Soren’s lips quickly becomes a sneer, but in that split second of uncertainty, the patrol closes in, grabbing Soren roughly by the arms and restraining him. The blade drops. Like Gerda, Soren’s hesitation cost him.
“Show me the birds,” Leith says.
“We came to make a trade,” Soren counters. “Freedom in exchange for the ravens.”
Leith scans the wooden raven cage for a long moment. “You are in no position to barter.”
I release a feeble kraa to make it seem like they’re still in there.
Leith’s eyes become slits. “I once sought Torsuld’s ravens, and they could still be of use to me. However, the one I most desire is gold. What’s that expression? Kill two birds with one stone.” He removes his crown and pulls the glistening crystal from the front before putting it back on. “I’ll try for several birds, one stone.” He glares between the wooden cage, Gerda, Soren, and all the others.
“If you’re going to take a life, make it mine if it means saving one of theirs.” Soren grows taller, mightier. “And if I’m to die by your hand, I want you to know that I refuse to call you king. Even if I don’t gain my freedom, you’ll never rule me.”
My pulse thickens.
“That shouldn’t surprise me. I didn’t realize it at first, but I know you, Soren Blackthorne,” Leith says with a laugh. “But the most interesting thing is that you do not know yourself. You may not choose to call me king, but you can call me uncle.”
Soren’s long lashes blink with confusion and disbelief.
Gerda hangs her head, confirming that I was correct in my assumption based on what I saw in my dreams. Unfortunately, Leith knows now too.
The moment splinters and cracks like ice as Leith stalks closer to his nephew.
Chapter 27
Soren
No. No. No. A simple word. A brick. A blow. I want to build a tower around myself because this cannot be true. I want to strike something hard, to feel the resistance as my knuckles come into forcible contact. I want a physical reminder that there is still power in no.
No, this cannot be.
No, Leith is not my uncle.
No, he knows nothing about my father or me or my mother.
I glance at Gerda. A princess? Her stiff expression reveals confirmation. How did she know and not tell me? That means my mother was the queen. And my father...
But what of Vespertine suppressing the curse? Coming of age?
Numbness creeps toward me and not only because my feet are cold from waiting outside for hours. I desire warmth, but it doesn’t come. I was stunned when Kiki stepped forward, going against the plan, but I see now that she wanted to spare us all from more bloodshed.
But this is almost worse.
Leith’s broad forehead and the strong line of his nose carry a distinct familiarity. I glimpse disjointed pieces of myself in his reflection.
No, I don’t want to see myself in him.
No, he is not my uncle.
No, this is a trick, a manipulation of reality.
Leith taps his chin and a sinister smile plays on his lips. “There is some resemblance. I see it now. You do too. It would be a shame to kill a member of the family.”
“You are not my king
