Chapter 17

Ronan entered my chamber without knocking, shut the door, and leaned against it.

I lifted a languid hand from the arm of my chair before the hearth and injected as much insolence as possible into my voice. "Your Majesty."

His jaw tightened.

"Forgive me for not rising," I said.

A beat passed.

"But?" he asked, the T sharp in the air.

I rested my head against the back of the chair. "But what?"

"Most people would interpret your statement with the expectation that you have an excuse for not adhering to protocol. I was giving you a chance to finish your sentence."

"Oh no, I just don't feel like standing for you."

He crossed the chamber and sat in the chair opposite mine, his elegant hands on the armrests. Everything about Ronan was elegant, from his long, pale hair to his lean, lightly muscled build. But he was no lightweight. Like all elves, his wiriness concealed a whipcord strength.

"I wondered why you haven't visited the manor," he said. "You must be hurting for power. Now I know you've been busy stabbing me in the back."

I made a show of looking around. "You've been busy, too." I met his gaze. "Plundering Haluven's kingdom."

Abruptly, any pretense of politeness dropped from his expression. His eyes went frosty, and power hummed around him. "You've done your share of plundering."

Ah.I flashed a smile I knew didn't reach my eyes. "If you're referring to Princess Liria, I wasn't the first. But then, you know that already, don't you?" I tilted my head. "Funny, in all our encounters, you barely mentioned your ward. Now I know why. You raised Haluven's daughter and then you took her to bed. Not very noble of you, Ronan."

We surged to our feet at the same moment, and our chests brushed as we faced off before the fire. I had four inches of height on him, and I took advantage of it as I loomed over him, forcing him to tip his head back to look me in the eye.

He glared up at me, not the least bit intimidated by my size. And why would he be? His sigils shimmered on my skin. As long as I stood on elven soil, Ronan could control me like a puppet. The threat of that terrible, all-consuming power was a blade at my neck every second I breathed the air in Ishulum.

"How dare you put your filthy hands on her," he growled, menace pouring off him.

"It was hard not to when she rubbed her tight little ass all over my dick." I smirked. "Did you teach her that?"

A blast of icy wind knocked me backward, and the faint sound of a raven's caw echoed in my ears. I stumbled as Ronan lowered his hand, his long hair swinging. The backs of my knees hit the chair I'd abandoned, and I lost my balance and sat down hard. I was back up in a second, my hand going for my sword.

But of course I didn't have it. His knights had taken it from me the second we crossed the Covenant. With a muttered curse, I clenched my fist at my side.

Ronan's stare was as cold as the power he'd just lobbed at me. "Watch your tongue when you speak of the princess," he said, "or I'll close your mouth for the rest of your stay in Ishulum."

Anger seared my gut. He could do it. With a few words, he could muzzle me like a misbehaved dog. I stabbed a finger at him. "Don't fucking threaten me. She ran from you. What else did you do to her besides steal her crown while her father's body cooled?"

He was in my face in a blink, his teeth bared. "If you're implying that I hurt her, I'll shut your mouth with my fists."

Shock rippled through me, the force of it knocking me back a step. I bumped the chair again, making its legs scrape against the floor, but I ignored it as I stared at Ronan.

He frowned, something that might have been self-consciousness flitting through his eyes. He lifted a hand and smoothed his immaculate hair. "What."

"You're in love with her." It was as clear and bright as a fresh layer of snow. Ronan prided himself on maintaining a certain cool, elvish detachment, but he couldn't conceal this. Not from me. I'd known him too long. He loved Liria. Deeply.

All at once, the fight left him. He moved behind his chair and gripped the back of it, frustration shimmering in his eyes. "It would be so much easier if I weren't."

A strange sort of awkwardness settled over me. "Does…" I cleared my throat. "Does she love you, too?"

For a brief moment, it appeared he might answer. Then his expression grew shuttered. "We were talking about you. How long have you been meeting Liria at the Covenant? Today wasn't the first time."

I clenched my jaw.

He waited. Ronan was nothing if not patient. Possibly, he'd already gotten the answer from Liria. But it didn't matter. Because he didn't necessarily care how much time I'd spent with her. No, he only cared about the why.

Why I'd met her. What I'd thought to get out of it. And knowing Ronan, he'd already guessed.

"Counting last night, three times," I said finally.

Anger flashed in his eyes. "You were going to try bonding with her."

No.

Maybe.

Had the thought percolated somewhere in my mind? The thing was, I couldn't say for certain. I'd been struck stupid by Liria's beauty, and then charmed by…well, everything about her. I wasn't about to tell Ronan that. He'd already decided I was guilty, and perhaps I was. Denial was a waste of time, and I had so little of that precious commodity. So I kept my mouth shut and waited for his next salvo.

"Do you know how difficult it is for an elf to bond with a frost-touched human?" Ronan asked. He paused, clearly waiting for some kind of response. When I didn't give him one, he stepped out from behind the chair. "It wouldn't have worked. Liria's magic is too weak."

"I know." If she'd been strong enough to lead, the lords who controlled Haluven's Council would have never permitted Ronan to rule. The elves were as bigoted as humans when it came to bastards, but they prized power above everything. The second the Winter Guards addressed Ronan as "Your Majesty" at the river, I'd known Liria would never be queen.

"Yes," Ronan said, "but you didn't know it until today." He offered a cold smile. "Once you discovered your error, you were awfully quick to turn her over to me."

"Fuck you. What else was I supposed to do with a dozen of your knights at my back?"

His gaze was steady. "I don't judge you for it. You need power. You acted in your best interest."

I took a moment to grind my teeth together. "Don't act like you don't benefit from our arrangement. You use me as much as I use you."

"And now you're back at the well. What happened this time, Sigurn? Another skirmish?"

"No. My father died, and my mother plots to push me off the throne."

Ronan's eyes widened. In the silence that followed, his cold smile vanished, and his haughty features softened. "I'm…" His hands twitched at his sides. He curled them into fists briefly before releasing them. "I'm so sorry to hear that. I understand the pain."

"I know you do," I said quietly. We stared at each other, a world of complexity between us. Finally, I cleared my throat. "I return to a castle full of hornets. My mother has filled it top to bottom with her people. I summoned a storm before I left. The snow will keep them from moving troops around, but it won't last forever. As you said, I need power."

"How long will the storm hold?"

"I don't know. Days, maybe a we—" I clamped my mouth shut, inwardly cursing myself for playing into his hands. "I can't stay, Ronan."

His expression hardened. "Why not? You took your time deciding whether it was worth the risk to betray me."

Anger rekindled in my gut. "We both know you don't give a shit about that. You understand strategy better than anyone."

"I'm flattered by the compliment."

"No, you're pissed off that I slept with Liria, and now you intend to punish me for it." His eyes turned frosty, and I hesitated, unsure how far to push him. He loved her. I had no idea if she returned the sentiment, but she hadn't faked her passion with me. And if that wasn't complicated enough, I hadn't lied to her when I said I was well on my way to loving her. It wouldn't take much at all to get me all the way there. But I had no claim on her. Not like Ronan did. And what could she and I ever be, anyway? I was human. Mortal. She was an elven princess.

Time. Another sword at my throat.

"You can stay a while longer," Ronan said. "If your storm is as strong as you claim, another day or two won't matter."

Panic rose swiftly. I forced deference into my tone, but it burned like hell as I said, "If you won't give me power, then at least allow me to return to Nordlinga. There's absolutely no reason for you to keep me here."

"You're wrong about that. Obviously, Liria was unaware of our bond. She needs time to deal with it." A muscle jumped in his jaw. "You can stay here a couple more days."

"Ronan—" My plea cut off as the temperature in the room plummeted. His lips moved, and his voice echoed inside and outside my head.

"Stay in the castle until I say you can go."His magic tugged hard in my chest, yanking a grunt from my throat before I could stop it.

I clenched my jaw as power sizzled through my body, cementing his order in my bones. Magic wrapped around me and squeezed, the pressure stealing my breath—and my will. Sometimes, I thought I understood what Tola the Bitter had fought for. Magic was beautiful, but it could twist and warp itself into ugliness. It could be horrifying…and so very dangerous. The anger in my stomach climbed into my throat, where it threatened to choke me. Or maybe that was Ronan's invisible collar around my neck. I resisted the urge to tug at it.

But I couldn't resist the urge to fuck with Ronan's head.

"Did you tell Liria everything?" I asked, my voice raspy from his magic throttling my freedom.

The little tick in his jaw fired again. "Don't," he said quietly. Deliberately.

Just as deliberately, I ran my gaze down his body. And I stepped close, crowding him. Gaze locked with his, I lifted a strand of long, white hair from his coat and pushed it over his shoulder. "I guess not."

His breathing went shallow. He closed his eyes. "I said don't."

I leaned in, my cheek nearly brushing his. "You're right. Maybe Liria doesn't need to know everything."

He shoved me away. For one tense moment, we balanced on the edge of violence, a turbulent sea of old grievances and unspoken things between us. Then Ronan turned and went to the door. He stopped, his hand on the latch, and spoke without turning around.

"I'll send someone to look after your horse at the cabin."

I glared at his back, hating him and…not hating him. And hating myself because I could never quite despise him as I should. "You think this is a game. My kingdom hangs in the balance."

"So does mine." He looked at me over his shoulder, the seemingly calm and collected elven lord once more. "You like to pretend you're the only person who understands sacrifice and duty." He gestured at the room. "I didn't ask for any of this. But I have it now, and I'm not going to lose it. I won't lose Liria. So help me fix what you broke, and then you can return to your endless war."

"I didn't break anything."

Anger rolled off him in a rush of cool air. "You fucked the woman I intend to make my wife. You've made an already difficult situation worse."

"So send me away. I'll cross the Covenant, and you'll have everything you want."

He startled, his face going pale.

Confusion roiled me. We'd been arguing for twenty minutes. He'd been angry for most of it, but now he looked like he'd seen a ghost.

He opened the door. I expected a swift exit, perhaps followed by a slam. But he paused on the threshold, twisting around once more to meet my gaze. He held it, and I held my breath, waiting for…

Something.

With an intake of air that wasn't quite a sigh, he left.