Chapter 99

Roan

"For fuck's sake…"

There was no praying to the gods right now, even though it was apparently their divine hand that created the golden stag. By that logic, they created me as well, and there was no one caring one way or the other if I died.

The princess seemed possessed by a similar lack of self-preservation.

She rushed forward, moving swiftly for such a tiny thing, skipping over logs and leaf litter like she was a doe herself.

"I thought it was supposed to be a golden stag?" I snapped at Silas as we both raced through the forest and after the princess. "That was a fucking doe."

"Well, where do you think little baby golden stags come from?" Silas shot back. "Do I need to give you the birds and the bees talk?"

He didn't get the chance, the three of us stumbling onto the road to the sight of a massive golden stag.

"Whoa…"

I wasn't much for religion, only going to church when my mother made me, but right now, I could have been persuaded if one of the good fathers started preaching about the benevolent care of the gods. How else did you explain a beast like this? Massive, powerful, he swept around in a circle, seemingly unsure of which threat to deal with first. He snorted then roared his defiance at the horses that were coming galloping up the road, then turning to face down Jessalyn. I let out a little growl when he lowered that massive rack of antlers of his, ready to charge, able to make the decision for him.

I was the threat he'd face first.

My sword slipped free of its scabbard, finding its way into my hand as Silas did the same. The two of us stepped in front of Jessalyn. Nothing and no one would get past us, not without a fight.

Except for her.

"No!"

She shoved her way through the space between us, rushing towards a goddamn wild animal, and when I reached out to grab her arm, it happened. The stag didn't charge, even though I watched with growing horror as every muscle the beast had began to quiver. A shout rose in my chest as I readied myself to haul Jessalyn back, but it froze midway as her hand landed on the creature's head.

The princess touched the space between the golden stag's eyes like it was a lapdog, not a massive uncontrollable animal, and when she did, I felt it. My awareness of the road, the forest, the stag faded away and replaced it with this.

Desi, red faced and flushed, her hair like string plastered to her face as she beamed up at me and Bill, baby Genny in her arms.

My sister, Viv, standing there with her hands on her hips, remonstrating her children for some small infraction, then holding them close when they rushed towards her.

My mother, her face careworn, her hair grey, but her eyes lit up like a girl's when the grandchildren came rushing in through the door. Her hands, strong and proficient as they rolled out the bread dough and then kneaded it into shape.

My dad chopping logs up into firewood in the backyard, his back no longer able to straighten fully after years of working at a forge.

Selene moving through Cheapside, distributing goods to those who needed it, then in the arms of Rose. A special love, a secret one, it seemed to burn all the brighter because of that.

Saffron and Hazel patiently explaining how to make a complex dish to Fern.

Wren and the other wolf shifter elders talking over a late morning meal about the news of the packlands.

Then Creed… My view of him seemed to sharpen, my field of vision growing wider and wider as I saw who was with him. Soldiers and wolf shifters walking side by side was not an uncommon thing in Khean, but the sight of the ragged trail of them all marching on the capital was. My heart felt like it would burst out of my chest, then as my mood soared, I saw her.

Jessalyn, always Jessalyn, all the details my mind carefully stored away came rushing up. The shine of her hair, as bright as the golden stags, the flash of her eyes. She'd been brought up a proper princess, but wearing a veil all the time stopped her from learning how to mask her true feelings, each shift declared by her gaze. Her tiny form that never seemed to hold her back from anything, all the will of a much bigger, more powerful person throbbing there, but those were just the superficial things.

The way she laughed before she stopped herself. Her scent, like white flowers on the wind. Her beautiful, husky little voice that made every nerve ending come alive when I listened to her talk, and gods how she talked. She had a bloody mouth on her, that was for sure, and I loved every word that came out of her, even the harsh ones.

Fuck… my sisters always said it would come from out of the blue, but I never expected it to be like this. Once I acknowledged it, the feeling rushed in. I was in love with Jessalyn Tennesley, crown princess of Stormare. She was queen of my heart, and that meant I needed to wake up from whatever dream this was and ensure she was safe. The stag snorted, taking one last look into Jessalyn's eyes before whirling around. If I thought to protect the princess from the stag, my focus was misplaced.

"What the hell…?"

Silas muttered that as we raised our swords, forcing Jessalyn back, right as the king, Arik, and the Duke of Fallspire arrived.

"There you are…" The menace in Magnus' voice had every muscle in my body tensing, but I took in the sloppy way he was sitting on his horse, not even aware the saddle was beginning to slip. "Both of my quarries in the same place." He cocked his head sideways as he drew his sword. "The gods have given me an opportunity to right a wrong. Kill the stag, fuck the girl, claim the gods' favour."

He nudged his horse forward, but the beast wasn't going any closer to the stag, especially when the buck started to brandish its antlers.

"Your argument is with me, Magnus."

The Duke and Arik arrived on the scene, and the intrusion of more horses, more men, definitely didn't improve the stag's mood. It lunged at Magnus' steed, forcing it to wheel backwards, and my heart leapt as I saw part of the girth strap start to sag.

"You should not be here, Usurper," Magnus snarled, with all the rage he'd been forced to keep stamped down. "Fallspire, have this bastard removed from the hunt. I did not give him leave to join us."

"But I did."

Devil came to a stop, eyeing the stag but apparently unfazed by the other animal. The Duke leaned forward in his saddle and regarded the scene before him with a steady eye, noting Jessalyn, Silas, and my presence.

"My ‘brother' has no place here!" The thin edge to Magnus' voice made clear his weakness. He had no ability to command on his own, relying on his power base of aristocratic toadies and guards to ensure his will was done and he'd recklessly left every one of them behind. "He is a bastard, not born of noble blood—"

"You've got blue blood alright," the Duke drawled, staring at the king. "Just none that belongs to the royal house of Khean. You manage to kill that stag." He nodded to the beast that stood between us and them. "That's an act of treason. Your lady mother knew the Raven had supplied the king with evidence of your true birth."

I glanced at Silas then, raising an eyebrow in question, but he just shook his head, making clear this was news to him.

"She faced trial for her crimes—" the duke continued.

"My mother died…" For just a second, I felt a moment of sympathy for the king. He was falling apart, but he couldn't see it. His eyes were too wide, his chin quivering as he said those words, his whole chest working to suck air in. I watched his hand shake as he pointed at Arik. "She took her own life rather than be so dishonoured by her own husband. The old king's head had been turned by your falsehoods." He stabbed a finger into the air. "You killed my stag. You tried to take my throne. You lied to my father—"

"My father," Arik drawled, but then his eyes slid sideways to an empty space between him, looking at something I couldn't see. "Yours was Sir Matthias, or was it Sir Jern, Fallspire?"

"That was never confirmed," the duke replied mildly. "Both men died while being tortured and refused to confirm who the father was. We assumed they didn't know or actually loved that viper the king married."

His focus shifted to Magnus, his gaze flat and steady.

"The evidence was incontrovertible. I saw each piece myself. There were witnesses, verifiable documents, but rather than allow any of that to be aired in the law courts, the queen used you to enact the next stage of her plan. You gave her the knife so she could slit her throat. Her blood is on your hands. Hers and all the other women, along with my Ariel. If you hadn't stolen my daughter in the dead of night to be used as hostage, you know a civil war would've broken out. The true-born heir to the king would've taken the throne." He nodded to Arik. "And you would've been executed as the treasonous bastard we all know you to be."

I'd seen the king fly into manic rages for far less, so watching him sit tall in his saddle, a slow smile forming, was far more frightening. The leather wrapped around my hilt creaked as my fingers sank into it.

"She cried so prettily, did you know that? I've… played with so many girls, but none as decorous as your daughter."

"Jessalyn…" I hissed, trying to catch the princess' attention. "We need to get clear of here."

She didn't heed me, because of course she didn't. I didn't understand what it was to be blue blooded, but there seemed to be this terrible carelessness about people of that class. It was as if they expected the world to bend to their needs, or, at the very least, pick them up if they fell. Instead, her eyes burned as she took this exchange in.

"We need to get her out of here," I told Silas.

"We need the truth." He was apparently infected by the same madness the others were, watching the exchange with rapt attention while standing behind a bloody stag.

"Most girls' skins get all red and blotchy when they start weeping," Magnus said, and that's when I saw it, Jessalyn doing the exact same thing. "Their noses especially. Each tear seems to burn to track down their cheeks, ruining them entirely. That's when I need to make them scream, make all the ugliness inside them come out because my fun is over, but your Ariel—"

"You were supposed to make her queen," the duke growled, and that's when Magnus smiled. He'd scored a point, found a point of weakness. "She was to bear the next king. That was the agreement."

"I made her queen," the king said smugly. "I raised her up and all of the lords who could be swayed to my side with greater grants of lands." His teeth gleamed in the sunlight. "Taken from those lords who refused to bend the knee. I put a golden coronet on her head, and then I…"

I didn't want to hear this, that I knew. What had happened to the Lady of Fallspire had been discussed at length. Ariel was beautiful, everything you expect in a queen. The people of Cheapside had flocked to the procession that led from the palace to the grand nave, waving madly as she passed, ready for her coronation. Her funeral, by comparison, was a rushed affair, with not even an open casket for the people to view. The whispers were that no undertaker's craft could make up for what the king had done to the queen.

"And then I broke her into a million beautiful pieces, like a smashed piece of fine crystal ware." His gaze snapped upwards, and when his eyes zeroed in on Jessalyn, I let out a low growl. "Just as I will this princess."

Magnus yanked viciously on the horse's reins, his focus shifting to the stag. His mount resisted, whinnying, pulling on the bridle, fighting the king's insistence that he draw closer to the stag. His sword waved around like a flag in the wind, his whole body straining, trying to master the horse, his weapon, this entire battle, and proving with every second that he wasn't up to the task. The horse's instincts seemed to overrule its training, tension thrumming in its body. It dodged to this side and that, each motion forcing the razor deeper into the girth strap, the king now fighting to keep his seat, not fight the stag. I watched the horse rear up, hooves pawing the air, right before its whole body tensed and then bucked, sending the king flying off the horse's back, his saddle flying with him, only to land with a thud on the ground.

I couldn't watch the stag, the king's horse, anything as I stared at the still body of the king. My silent prayers came thick and fast, promising to kill a fatted calf in honour of the gods if Magnus didn't get up. Plenty of people died when thrown from horseback. A broken neck, a severed spine would do it, even a broken rib that sliced into his lungs, any one of those things would do.

"Is he…?" Jessalyn asked, peering over my shoulders.

"Just stay back, lass," I urged. "No more petting stags, and you stay clear of the king, because…"

I wanted the Duke to drop down from his horse and examine the king, declare him dead for the lordlings that arrived now, but he didn't have a choice. The stag huffed at the sudden appearance of all these people, then roared his dismay, forcing many backwards, but one brave soul rushed forward, leaping out of the saddle to examine the king. Stay down, you bastard, I thought over and over, stay down! Instead, a hand slapped down on the courtier's shirt front, the king using it to lever himself up.

The courtier swept in, trying to support the king, but he was just shoved aside for his trouble. Magnus drew his sword, approaching the stag with deadly intent, his teeth grinding together, a wet patch at the front of his breeches growing steadily as he approached with deadly intent.

"Jessalyn…" Silas hissed. "We need to get you out of here."

"Now you agree with me?" I asked him incredulously.

"We need to—"

"Kill the stag, become the king in truth," Magnus muttered, seeming to not understand he was undermining his own power base, right as he raised his sword and leapt forward.

Only for the stag to turn, haunches bunching, right as he sailed past us. The golden stag took off without even a backwards look, stampeding off into the forest.

"No…" I knew the sound of a broken man, and if it was anyone other than the king, I might have felt a pang of regret. "No…" His face seemed to screw up like a small child's in a fit of rage. "NO!" But if he'd received any lasting damage from the fall from horseback, I saw no instance of it now as he approached Arik, sword raised. "You stole this from me! You stole everything from me! The crown, my wife, my mother…" Tears ran down his face openly now, much to the discomfort of the courtiers clustered around here. "You killed her!"

"No, she killed herself." Arik dismounted with a flourish, then drew his sword. "You called me bastard every day I spent in the palace, so it made me smile when I discovered that it was you that was born from between the legs of a woman who opened them for other men. You think you should be able to kill the stag, but you never will. It doesn't appear for you, will not engage with you, because you are not Kheanian."

Right then, I was willing to bet everyone saw what I did, the differences between the two. Arik wielded the sword like a warrior born while Magnus' grip on his weapon wavered.

"If anyone has a complaint to be made about the murder of a parent, it's me." Arik's sword point rose. "When your mother died, you worked with some of these fucking toadies to assassinate the man the gods determined was king. You killed my father, then raped and murdered the woman I was to make my wife, thinking them fit payment for your mother's death. Well, I disagree. My father did nothing wrong other than accept another man's get, not knowing what viper he clasped to his chest. Ariel…"

Arik swallowed hard and looked up at the Duke.

"Ariel did nothing wrong other than be the daughter of the wrong man, the fiancé of another, and you stole her away and killed her rather than face me on the battlefield." The commander's body was curiously loose, his stance strong, but he was ready to move at a second's notice. "It's only now that I see the wisdom of it. A war would've had hundreds, if not thousands, of our men killed when we can just sort out this situation out here, once and for all. It's not the stag you want, but me. Kill me, wear my skull as a crown, if you can." I watched the king's eyes gleam with an unholy light. "Because that will do me more honour than I intend for you. I'll piss in the eye socket I skewer with my sword," he snarled, "then I'll leave your body for the crows to eat."

"You are unworthy of the honour of a duel!" the king shouted, because he didn't see the picture he made right now.

Clothes piss and sweat stained, face covered in mud, his hair ruffled at all angles, and his grip on the sword wavering. This was the man who's tyrannical rule we'd lived under for all this time? I don't think I was alone in thinking that. Courtiers shifted uncomfortably on horseback, not sure if they should laugh, cry, or just turn tail and run. The Duke's men were nowhere near as reticent.

"And if you refuse, you'll have that war," the Duke promised. "On the battlefield or here right now, this issue will be resolved."

The king looked around, then at the ring of powerful men still on horseback, but if he hoped to find staunch support, he didn't. Everyone was still digesting knowledge we'd had some time to process, and so they just stared back in stony silence. When the king lavished food, drink, and drugs on his court, he had their favour, but now? This wasn't the jolly diversion they signed up for. I watched the way the king ground his teeth together before facing Arik.

"A fight to the death, ‘brother?'" Magnus shook his head bravely. "It feels like we've been moving towards this point our entire lives."

"I don't care about the past," Arik snapped, though that seemed to take real effort. "Just your death." And that was when the commander lunged forward.