Chapter 29

Humans scattered as the Winter Guard and I bore down on them. My knights kept pace with me, their faces hard as they bent over their horses' necks. The scepter was slippery in my sweaty hand. I gripped the staff harder, my gaze on Sigurn's mother.

Mine.

"Attack!" I screamed, leaping the trench. My horse crashed into a tangle of human knights. Swords slashed at my skirts as men's shouts filled my ears. On either side of me, the knights of the Winter Guard stabbed at the humans. Blood spurted from a man's neck, and he went down, his face contorted in agony. Sigurn's men battled Lorsten's knights, the two groups clashing in grunts and vicious curses. It was chaos as men tripped and screamed, slashed and punched. Nearby, a Winter Guard flung himself from his horse and kicked at a human who wielded an axe.

Light shot past my head, and I yanked on my reins, making my horse dance in place. A sizzling sound split the air, and I ducked as another ball of light streaked past me.

No, not a ball. An arrow. Across the clearing, archers knelt in a line. Several drew back their bowstrings. A second later, another volley flew at my head.

"Archers!" I yelled. Around me, knights on horseback ducked low. Once the arrows whizzed past, two of the Winter Guard charged forward, scattering the archers.

The clang of steel on steel drew my attention. A short distance away, Sigurn battled a redheaded knight. They glared at each other as they parried and thrust, swinging their broadswords in deep arcs. Their grunts reached me as they rotated in a sort of dance. It was brutal but strangely beautiful. Mesmerizing. I'd grown up watching knights spar in the courtyard, but this was different.

Because it was real. Sigurn and the redhead fought for their lives, every blow a potential death kill. Blood pounded in my ears, and my mouth grew so dry that my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I squeezed my hand around the scepter's staff, indecision tugging at me.

Skirts, Cyra had reminded me years ago as we ascended the steps to my father's chamber. At eleven, I'd resented the weight and inconvenience of all that fabric. Had bemoaned my loss of freedom.

But I'd been grateful for my skirts today as I hurried in secret to the Crypt and plucked the scepter from its pedestal. Ronan and Sigurn hadn't noticed it tucked in the deep pockets sewn into my skirts. I'd carried it across the Covenant, the men I loved at my sides.

Let me be worthy of you.

At the time, I hadn't been certain what I was asking. But I was certain now. Maybe I wasn't worthy of Winter. But I was worthy of love. And no one was taking it from me.

The redheaded man sidestepped Sigurn's sword, whirled, and delivered a vicious overhand blow. His sword struck Sigurn on the shoulder, filling the air with the wrenching scream of metal on metal. Sigurn staggered backward but righted himself. With a deep bellow, he slashed at the redhead.

But he missed.

The redhead spun away. Sigurn regrouped and swung his sword, but the redhead was fast. He ducked under the blade, then popped up, bringing his sword with him. The edge caught Sigurn in his flank where his breastplate met his hip, leaving a narrow band of vulnerability. Blood sprayed the snow, and Sigurn crashed to one knee. His head drooped forward, and he swayed as if he struggled not to fall.

"No!" I cried, my protest immediately swallowed by the cacophony of the battle.

At the same moment, Ronan appeared on the edge of the clearing. Cold fire danced in his palm, and his eyes burned as brightly as his magic as he advanced forward, his gaze fixed on Sigurn's opponent.

The redhead's mouth curved in a triumphant smile as he stood over Sigurn. Slowly, he raised his sword.

Sigurn looked up suddenly, his eyes locked on Ronan behind the redhead.

And I understood what Sigurn had done. He'd pretended to lose so Ronan could finally win.

Ronan's mouth stretched, and the Old Language boomed in the air. It was nothing I could have translated. The words were too ancient, too raw and powerful for something as mundane as everyday speech. They vibrated in my skull as Ronan drew his hand back and then flung it forward.

The ball of cold fire streaked from his palm, forming into an icy dreadraven. The bird opened its beak as it sliced through the air, and it echoed Ronan's song of vengeance as it smashed into the redhead. The vibrations in my head formed a name.

Lorsten Hallerson.

The last of his line. He crashed to the ground, sending dirty snow flying. Immediately, he fought to rise, fear and panic on his face. But it was too late. He was already nameless.

Ronan vaulted into the air, Summerbane swinging in a graceful arc. The blade sliced through Lorsten's neck, sending his head tumbling across the sky, a frozen mask of terror on his face.

Magic rippled out in a shockwave, disturbing the air and sending humans crashing to the ground. When it dissipated, Sigurn rose, his eyes shining with a powerful emotion as he gazed at Ronan, who stood with tears streaming down his face.

Our people don't weep.My father had viewed tears as a weakness. But he'd been wrong. Ronan had never looked stronger.

Movement behind Ronan drew my gaze. A woman in a gray wimple burst from a tangle of men and hurried toward Ronan with a broadsword in her hands. Eyes blazing with madness, she lifted it high.

"No!" Sigurn shouted, staggering toward Ronan.

Everything seemed to slow down. I echoed Sigurn's shout as I dug my heels into my horse's flanks, spurring it forward. But Sigurn's mother was too close. The blade flashed as it descended. Sigurn crossed the clearing in two long strides and tackled Ronan, covering Ronan with his body. The sword sliced into the back of Sigurn's neck.

A scream ripped from my throat as I thundered forward. Sigurn's mother staggered back, the sword falling from her hands.

I lifted the scepter.

Feel the ground under your feet,Ronan said in my memory. The ice is just beneath the surface. Do you sense it?

I did.

The scepter had killed usurpers in the past. But I wasn't stealing Winter's power. I was using it to save the men I loved.

I leveled the scepter at Sigurn's mother and called my magic. Power flowed down my arm and into the scepter's orb. Ice streaked from it, burst into a white fawn, and galloped straight for Sigurn's mother.

Her eyes went wide as the fawn leapt and crashed into her. Ice exploded, the sound like a hundred bolts of lightning striking at once. Men whirled as Sigurn's mother fell to the ground, her body frozen solid. Ronan pushed Sigurn off him, then rolled Sigurn onto his back. Sigurn's head lolled to the side. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Everywhere, battle ceased. Men stood in silent shock as they looked between Sigurn and his mother's frozen body. A few tossed their swords to the ground. After a beat, the rest followed. The battle was over.

Heart racing, I slid from my horse as Mirella rushed into the clearing with a dagger in her hands. Her red hair was a wild tangle down her back, but she looked strong as she lifted the dagger high and then plunged it into Sigurn's mother, shattering her into pieces.

Mirella straightened, a look of grim satisfaction on her face. "That bitch was the one who lit the lamps in the dungeon."

I half ran, half staggered to Sigurn and Ronan, and I fell to my knees at Sigurn's hip. Blood pumped from the side of his neck, where a deep gash exposed red flesh and purplish bone.

More blood bubbled on his lips as he gazed up at Ronan. "Your vow is fulfilled."

"Fuck the vow," Ronan rasped on his knees beside me. "I can't lose you."

Sigurn coughed. "Love you." He looked at me, and his eyes softened. "Love you too, sweetheart." He lifted a hand, only to drop it clumsily. "I can't… Please don't cry." His eyelids drooped.

"Stop it," I ordered, grabbing his hand. Panic made my voice shake. "Sigurn Brighthelm, you stay right here."

He coughed again, blood spilling down his chin.

"Sigurn!" I grabbed at his shoulders, dropping the scepter. It bounced to the snow, its orb staining the ground blue.

Scepter.

My heart pounded.

Sigurn stared up at the night sky, his mouth stretching wide as his eyes went cloudy. He looked… He looked like my father as he lay dying.

Sigurn… Scepter…

My father's last words flowed through my head.

Sigurn.

Bond.

Scepter.

My heart thumped faster. Dying words possessed unique power. Only fools ignored them.

"Sigurn!" Ronan called, his voice blunted as if he spoke from far away. As blood rushed in my ears, I lifted the scepter from the snow. Wordlessly, I took Ronan's hand and wrapped it around the staff.

Ronan's eyes met mine, confusion floating among the fear and pain. Past and present merged, and he knelt before me in my father's apartments, his pale eyes steady.

If you're going to be queen, you'll need to be a little dangerous from time to time.

I folded my fingers around his.

Will you teach me to be a warrior like you?

His lips parted. Slowly, he looked at Sigurn, then swung his gaze back to me, understanding dawning.

It takes a man's strength to wield a broadsword.

Perhaps. But I had other weapons. And power.

Sigurn. Bond. Scepter.

"You're bonded to him," I told Ronan. "Command him to stay."

Eyes wide, Ronan nodded. "Yes, my queen."

Hand wrapped around Ronan's, I angled the scepter sideways and thrust the shining, seething orb into the wound in Sigurn's neck.

His eyes flew open. His spine bowed off the ground.

"Stay with us!" I yelled. Ronan translated under his breath, speaking the command in the Old Language. "As Queen of Winter, I command it." Ronan echoed, and the Old Language rippled around us. "Stay with us, Sigurn Brighthelm. I command you to live an immortal life!"

The scepter shook. Ice cracked somewhere, but I couldn't look away as the orb's light swelled.

"Live," Ronan said in the common tongue. "Live, Sigurn ap-Ronan, King of Nordlinga and Brighthelm of your people. Live for all time, the bonded beloved of Liria Ilymaris Morendiel and Ronan Morendiel."

The ground shook. More ice cracked. Frost emerged from Sigurn's wound and spread, racing down his body. It covered him quickly, obscuring his dark hair and beard.

Panic gripped me. It wasn't working. Sigurn was dying. The frost spread faster, coating his legs. It covered him completely.

"No," I sobbed, curling over him. Ronan touched my hair.

Sigurn lay still. Silent. His chest had stopped moving. Frost obscured his features.

I released my grip on the scepter. Tears burned my throat and spilled down my face. They dripped onto Sigurn's chest, making tiny divots in the frost.

The ground shook. Then Sigurn jerked hard, throwing me backward into Ronan's arms. Ronan and I fell on our asses as Sigurn sat up, swiping at the frost.

"What the—?" He rubbed his eyes. Frost clung to his hair. He ran his hands over it, cursing.

Someone gasped behind me. "His ears…"

Ronan leaned around me. As Sigurn went still, Ronan reached out and touched Sigurn's ear, which now tapered to an elegant point. The wound on his neck was closed, the skin smooth and whole.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, joy trembling in my chest. When Sigurn looked at me, I couldn't hold back my sob.

His eyes were both brown. The sigils that peeked from the edge of his breastplate were different too. Now, bears and white fawns romped among the dreadravens.

"Liria," Ronan said softly, drawing a finger down my neck. Wonder filled his eyes. "Your sigils have changed."

"So have yours," I said thickly, running my gaze over the trio of fawns, bears, and dreadravens that marched along his neckline. My eyes burned. Winter hadn't just accepted me. It had extended its embrace to Sigurn, granting him immortality and an equal measure of elven power.

Sigurn reached up and touched the tip of his ear. "Huh. I got the ears, after all."

With another wet sob, I flung myself into his arms, nearly tackling him to the ground. He absorbed the impact, and his laugh rumbled against my chest as he buried his face in my neck.

"You saved my life," he rumbled. "I hope you're prepared to live with me for a very long time."

"Forever," I whispered.

When we finally eased apart, Ronan was smiling at us with suspiciously shiny eyes. He glanced at the mix of human knights and Winter Guards observing us before canting a look up at the castle. "How the fuck are we going to manage this?"

I slipped my hand into his. "We'll figure it out."

Both men looked at me. Sigurn's brown eyes shone with tenderness as he stroked my cheek.

"I can't wait."