46

Letum's Oblivion

Aslap reverberates through my skull, and the sting lingers on my right cheek as I open my eyes. My vision is blurry and dizzy, the warm tingling remaining on my face.

I apply a light pressure, massaging the area as the figure looming above me comes into focus.

Beautiful olive skin, kissed by the summer's sun, is highlighted and sculpted to perfection aside from the voluminous waves of dark chocolate hair billowing over Dorit's hardened brown eyes.

"Ouch," I groan, still groggy.

Dorit's eyebrows furrow at my remark. She disappears momentarily, and suddenly, I am ambushed with finger food.

From the smell of it, it's a solstice pastry followed by rosemary bread and a small cube of cheese. The cheese hits me in the center of my eyes, and I flinch, rolling to the side to prevent more food from landing on my face.

Unfortunately, three women stare at me incredulously.

Dorit, Ophelia, and Cordelia wear deep scowls, each of them crossing their arms, remaining silent, but hollering and yelling come from the halls.

I recognize my surroundings—I am still in Jerrick's room. It is fitting to wake up in Letum's realm, only to be tortured for eternity in my husband's rooms.

But looking around, I am puzzled.

No instant torture. No impending doom burrowing itself in my gut.

I imagined death to be more painful, and I can't help but ask, "Am I in Oblivion?"

Dorit shakes her head.

I slump back, almost wishing I was dead rather than dealing with the three women who are, by the anger on their faces, clearly no longer my friends.

Dorit steps toward the bedside table, pouring something into a goblet and rudely shoving the glass to me. "Drink," she orders.

I nervously reach for the glass, bringing it to my lips, and am pleased when I taste water. I gulp it down, the liquid coating my throat and soothing the scratchiness that lingers through each breath.

Once the contents are empty, Dorit snatches it away and then shoves a roll at me.

I study her angered movements, glancing briefly to Ophelia and Cordelia, unsure who to watch, who might try to throttle me or slap me.

My jaw works, savoring the bread before deciding to speak first. As soon as I swallow, though, each of us interrupts the others.

"Explain."

"How could you!?"

"I-I can't believe you!"

"How long have I been out?"

We all pause.

I cough lightly and hold the bedsheet still wrapped around me as I sit up. I take them in, relieved to find them uninjured. A blessing from the Makers.

If only the same can be said for Jerrick, Jonas, and even Niko.

Sweet Makers, I need to stop Jerrick. Even if he thinks Niko deserves it, Niko is a royal advisor to Axidoria and was my proxy while I was here.

I am furious with Niko, but I don't want him killed.

Jerrick won't listen to me, but maybe I can still save Niko. Maybe with my own life forfeit at the hands of Jerrick, he will leave Axidoria to Niko.

Sweet Makers, I need to get Niko out of here.

I brace my fatigued body up, ignoring the three women as I hurry to Jerrick's wardrobe, finding clothing to change into. Screw trying to run down the stairs in a gown I could trip over. I reach for a black tunic and trousers, wanting to smell them, but immediately dress, tightening the laces around them so they won't fall.

"What do you think you are doing?" Dorit asks, placing her arms on her hips.

I look around for shoes to wear, stopping on each of them wearing boots and not slippers. I point to their feet, and their heads drop to their footwear.

"What size are each of you?" I demand.

Dorit meets my gaze with fury in her eyes. "If you think we are going to let you out of here, you are crazy, Tove."

A defensive reflex snaps into place, knowing the longer I am here, the less time I have to stop all of this. I drop my hand.

I square off with her. "You know what, Dorit? I don't fucking care what you think of me. I don't fucking care because, when I realized how much I care about all of you, I ordered an end to this to prevent anything from even happening in the first place. And since Jerrick didn't kill me, I am going out there and finding a way to stop this. With or without your help. Now, one of you is going to give me a pair of boots or not, but as your queen, I order you to let me out of here so I can save my husband and prevent anyone else from getting hurt."

Dorit's anger simmers into shock as Cordelia and Ophelia look at each other.

Dorit is about to say something when Ophelia steps forward. "Here, take my boots." She bends over, unlacing her boots and sliding them across the floor, skipping of their own accord to me.

I offer her a tight smile, hurriedly lacing up each shoe.

"Do you love us?" Dorit asks.

I meet her stare, responding without any hesitation. "Yes."

"Do you love Jerrick?" she presses.

"Yes," I grit out, my heart aching at the memory of hurt in his eyes.

Cordelia and Ophelia's eyebrows lift at my declaration, a silent exchange forming between the two of them.

Dorit's brown irises remain fixed on me. But when her eyes close, she exhales before she, too, offers me her own smirk.

"Told you," Dorit jests.

The shift of her demeanor catches me off guard, and I startle.

She turns to open the door, eying me once more. "Just because I told you so doesn't mean I'll forgive you that easy for stringing us all along. Now, get out of here and put an end to the fighting. If you do that, I might be willing to hear an explanation later."

Tears well in my eyes.

I rush to Cordelia and Ophelia to embrace them and then join Dorit at the threshold. She arches back, trying to avoid my arms wrapping around her, but I still latch onto her for dear life for an instant before pulling away.

"I never thought family could be beyond my own blood, but it is. And it is with each of you, Jonas, and Jerrick. I love you all so much," I whisper to them.

I take a long breath and wipe the tears from my eyes. I break into a run down the hallway, with no location in mind, only wanting to stop the people I love from getting hurt.

Screams, yelling, and the clatter of swords echo down the staircase. Every instinct has me wanting to turn away and return to the safety of Jerrick's room.

But I trust I can stop this.

I can prevent bloodshed and two people I dearly care about from killing each other.

My boots smack against the stone but are quiet compared to the noises coming from other levels of my home.

When I reach the lowest floor, some guests are fighting, while others and staff members run in different directions, looking for safety or shelter.

My thoughts drift beyond those in the castle, to those in the villages, to Frida.

I pray to the Makers that they will all be safe.

I stand on my tiptoes, trying to find a familiar face, a glimmer catching my attention.

My eyes widen as Bernie and King Beauvais armed with swords, protect a group of guests. Bernie's daughters hold them together in line, threatening anyone looking to attack them.

Princess Vivienne holds a small dagger, and Princess Marian is armed with a bow and pack of arrows on her back.

Deities, I should have a weapon on me.

I look at my hands briefly, remembering I am a weapon.

I peer up, trying to get one of their attentions. "Bernie!" I shout into the chaos.

His head whips up and in my direction. "Tove!"

An armored man enters the hall with a bloodied sword, hurrying toward a nobleman fighting a bannerman.

Women scream as Bernie pivots for the swordsman, not moving fast enough.

My heart lurches as the enemy lifts his sword to strike. Panic grips me in place just as King Beauvais catches the man off guard, lunging in front of Bernie, striking the man down in one swift blow.

I gape, stunned, as does Bernie.

A weird silent exchange streams between the two of them while the princesses hurry the guests down the cleared path.

When the crowds clear, I rush to them, my breath struggling to keep up.

"Have either of you seen Lord Nikolaj or my husband?"

"I saw King Jerrick and Prince Jonas hurry outside a while ago. They ordered King Beauvais and me over here to help get the guests in here to safety," Bernie says.

He sees something over my shoulder and pushes me aside.

My back clashes against the wall as another swordsman sprints toward the King of Belmur. This time, Bernie is prepared. He holds his sword with both hands, waiting for the man to strike.

The man inches closer, but Bernie does not move.

I cover my mouth, stunned when the swordsman lifts his sword in an outward and downward swing.

Bernie dodges, unsheathing a hidden dagger and stabbing the man in his side repeatedly until he goes down. Bernie kicks the sword from the dead man's hands before meeting my stare.

"I last saw Lord Nikolaj with Lord Ulrik in the throne room," he pants through his hardened green gaze, eyes softening into sorrow. "They ordered everyone to round up the guests and meet in the throne room. They said they were going to have everyone watch them kill a king."

I need to put a stop to this.

I swallow thickly, as Bernie places a hand on my upper arm, comforting me. "I won't try to persuade you one way or the other, Tove, but—"

I take his hand. "I need one of you to find Jonas and Jerrick for me. Tell them I'm sorry. I'm going to the throne room to order my men to stand down. There is no need for this bloodshed, and… I want to discuss the terms of surrender."

Bernie's mouth falls. "Tov—"

"I can find them." King Beauvais steps forward.

I nod my thanks, turning back to Bernie, whose features tighten. "I'd rather have you get out of here," he declares.

I shake my head when he tries to tug me along. "You know I can't. This is my fault and I'm the only one that can talk down my men. I'm the only one Niko will listen to. It's my call. I have to do this."

I will talk Niko down. I will keep my kingdoms safe. I will stop the fighting.

Even if that means my life is forfeit.

He grimaces, his own hesitation evident. I am about to reassure him I will be fine, but he finally nods once. "Be careful."

I nod back, smiling and knowing he means well.

"I will," I tell Bernie.

I turn to thank King Beauvais, but he is too occupied watching Princess Vivienne and Princess Marian. All of them seem awkward around each other.

Bernie ushers his daughters away from King Beauvais, guiding them and guests down the hall.

King Beauvais inclines his head to me, heading off in the opposite direction. The tall man's blond hair gleams against the light of the sun as he hurries out of the castle, vanishing from sight before I head for the throne room.