11. Eight

"We should make arrangements regarding your coronation," Katyr said at the first war council meeting.

My generals and allies sat around the long table in the great hall of ?nor with me at the head. Next to me, in the place of honor, was Prince Elindir. It'd been two days since the wedding, and he hadn't spoken to me since that night. I had the sneaking suspicion he was avoiding me, perhaps hoping that I would change my mind.

I wouldn't. I had made my choice. Elindir was mine and no amount of sulking at the war table would change that.

He seemed to be in a sour mood, choosing silence and drink over any meaningful conversation with anybody. So long as he didn't get drunk, he could do as he saw fit, but I wouldn't tolerate drunkenness at a war council. Not from anyone.

To my left was Victorin Stoneriver. Though the seat technically belonged to his husband, Lord Harwin was feeling faint and had opted to rest so he'd be well enough to attend supper. At least, that was the story Victorin told. It was more likely Victorin realized he would be of more use at a war council than his soft-hearted husband and simply decided to be there instead.

Katyr, Ieduin, Niro and the Empress of Bones sat across from us while Aryn occupied the windowsill. There was a seat for Aryn next to Ieduin, but it was presently empty, and I expected it would remain so for the duration of our meeting. If I'd permitted it, Aryn would've been up in the rafters simply because it afforded him the best view. The window was a compromise. I had his attention either way, which was more important than where he seated himself.

"The sooner you're crowned, the better," Victorin offered. "If I may be so bold, I suggest we hold the hunt in The Flatwoods. There are plenty of fine stags there."

"I have no interest in a stag hunt in The Flatwoods," I said, refusing a refill on the wine going around the table.

Victorin pressed his lips together, clearly taking it as an insult. It wasn't meant to be, not directly.

Silence hung in the air for a moment before I announced, "I'm going hunting in the Spine."

"The Spine?" Victorin's chair creaked as he sat forward. "Your highness, we are on the cusp of winter. There may be snow in the mountains already. Blizzards, even."

"The danger that you could be lost or killed is too high," Niro agreed.

"It is how it was done in the old days, when the line of kings was strong," I pointed out. "The return to tradition will send a message to the people, one that needs to be sent."

"He's right." Ieduin yawned as if staying awake for the meeting was a chore. "Fighting wars with armies is all well and good, but we need the people to be on our side too. We do that by building up a myth around our king. While Taratheil sits in his tower, old and frail, Ruith is out there hunting bears in the fucking mountains like a badass. It's genius. It'll get people talking."

"I'm sure the rebel king's frozen corpse will be the talk of the town," Niro said coldly. "We cannot risk it, not this time of year, my king. If you delay the coronation until spring, then perhaps—"

"No," I said firmly. "It must be now, while battle lines are still being drawn and alliances have yet to be forged. I won't be undone by a little snow and some rough terrain, Niro."

"Perhaps not," he agreed, "but you can't ask the others in the hunting party—"

"There will be no hunting party," I said. "No hounds, no courtiers, no games. I will do it in the way of my forefathers. I will go into the Spine of the Gods with my blade, my bow, and a second. Nothing more."

"Majesty, that seems…unwise, especially given the current political turmoil," Victorin said.

"It will show strength," the Empress of Bones said. "And it will please the gods."

"Taratheil could have men lying in wait," Katyr agreed. "I agree. It is an unnecessary risk."

"I think, if he can pull it off, he'll be a fucking legend. But I'm not in charge of Ruith's security." Ieduin jerked their chin toward where Aryn sat in the window. "What do you think, Aryn?"

Aryn lifted the dagger he'd been sharpening and studied the edge of the blade. "When the fighting broke out at Haena, it is said Taratheil got on his horse and fled the battle. Would you have made Ruith do the same?"

"Of course not," Niro spat as if it were an insult. "This is different. There is no reason for him to go into the mountains on the cusp of winter without us there to protect him."

Aryn turned his head, eying my general. "In the last civil war, King Irasmus survived the Battle of the Byfrost, one of the deadliest battles in our history. He beheaded his brother, Ori, intending to put his head on display at the capital rather than bury it with honor. But Irasmus had been injured in the fight, a cut to the thigh. Ori's teeth scraped at the wound as he rode. It festered, and Irasmus the Bold died in delirium, some say murdered by his brother's ghost. King Belius and King Yoren were both poisoned by their queens, and countless kings have died in their own beds, either betrayed by those closest to them or at the end of a Shikami blade. Death comes and goes as she pleases, needing no permission from the living, and owing no explanation. She comes for us all, General Niro, at her pleasure." He stood, dropping the dagger into some hidden place in his sleeve. "Ruith should do as he feels compelled. He hasn't steered us wrong yet."

"Then allow me to volunteer as your second," Niro said, standing.

Ieduin snorted. "You do realize this is a hunt, right? Not a battle? There's a pretty big difference between running down a wild stag and directing an army."

"I cannot take a Runecleaver," I said. "Or anyone with magic, for that matter. It's against the rules."

"I imagine you don't want a Yeutlander, either," Ieduin said.

I snorted. "Since when have you ever been interested in rituals of kingship?"

"Never," they said with a shrug. "But I'm good with a bow. Not that I'm complaining about being left behind, mind you. I'd rather sleep in a bed than on hard stone."

"Elindir will be my second," I announced.

Elindir, who was drinking from his goblet, nearly choked. He took a minute to recover, putting down the goblet, before declaring, "Why would I go hunting in the mountains with you?"

"It's as much for you as it is for me," I said, and it was true. His people needed to see him as more than just a leader. They needed him to be a prince . It was the only way they were going to fight for him here and abroad, but it was a role that he had failed to embrace so far. "Besides, you are the ranking noble present, and it would be remiss of me not to extend the invitation to you first."

Elindir scanned the faces at the table. "But I'm human. Won't that send a message as well? Perhaps one you don't want to send."

"That humans are our equals?" I leaned back in my chair. "I am staking my entire kingship on that message. It is why we must end slavery and begin to develop political relationships with the human lands. This culture of summer raids abroad and winters at home while we war in the north is unsustainable. The humans grow tired of our invasions, and we grow tired of dead sons at the Yeutlands border. I mean to usher in an era of peace for my people. That begins by extending an olive branch to my enemies. Let them see us together, and hear that we have no animosity towards one another and soon they will believe I can deliver the peace I have promised."

"The warrior clans will never lay down their arms, Ruith," Niro advised. "The Wolfhearts, Northfires, and Runecleavers have all embraced battle as an inevitability. They train for it starting in childhood."

"And the other nine clans should kowtow to those three?" I stared at my general.

"Three very powerful clans, Ruith," he reminded me.

I stood. "A few clans have held all the power for too long. The other nine united easily outnumber them. We only need to get them to set aside their smaller squabbles, and they will unite under our banner. I have a plan to do that, a plan that begins with the hunt and ends with our host marching on D'thallanar in the spring." I held my general's gaze for a moment to make sure I drove home the point before addressing the room. "The army will depart ?nor and ride south tomorrow and await our arrival at the Seashore border. I will begin my fast at dawn. Elindir and I will ride for Mount Sacrum at first light the following morning. This council is dismissed."

The looks around the table ranged from pride to confusion and disapproval. Lord Stoneriver and General Niro thought I was being too rash, but they would fall in line. It was Elindir who might prove to be the biggest roadblock going forward, as I was sure he meant to argue with me about serving as my second. The meeting was barely adjourned before he turned to me, the spark of some argument already lit on his tongue.

I cut him off, addressing my general instead. "General Niro, a word?"

Elindir narrowed his eyes.

"In private," I added, and Elindir pushed his chair in hard enough that the sound of wood striking wood echoed through the chamber before he stormed out.

Niro approached, a fist to his chest, his head bowed. "How may I serve, my king?"

"You can stop questioning me in front of Lord Stoneriver."

He lifted his head, blinking in confusion.

I gave him my back, choosing instead to turn and admire the wood carving above the mantle. It depicted the birth, life, and death of Lord Jorin Stoneriver, Harwin's great-great-grandsire. He was famous for his devotion to the god, Sigri, whom he claimed spoke to him through visions in the mists above the falls.

"Do you know why I chose you as my general, Niro?" I asked.

"Because you wanted the best by your side, and you know I'll challenge you if you make a stupid decision. This is a stupid decision, Ruith. The human prince is not some domesticated beast. He is dangerous."

"He is the most dangerous piece on the board," I agreed. "He could be my undoing, which is why I must keep him close. I made him what he is. I must continue to mold him into the role I need him to play. But that has very little to do with you." I turned away from the carving. "Question me and my methods in private, if you must, but not in front of the other lords. In the war room, you and I must appear united in our goals."

"You want me to support plans I know nothing of?" He shook his head.

"I want you to support your king, as you gave your oath to do."

"Ruith—"

"Your majesty or your grace will suffice."

Niro's jaw snapped shut and his shoulders stiffened. I hated to be so hard on such a dear friend, but he had to learn that there was a time and place for us to be friendly. In the war room was not one of them. There, I had to be King Ruith. I could not allow any schisms to form in the council.

The war council would only expand as we brought in more houses, and if the wrong lord sensed a crack at the wrong time…

I was holding together the pieces of a shattered kingdom with hopes and dreams. We could not afford for anyone to see through that lie, not while the war was so young. This story I hoped to build around myself was our greatest weapon, sharper than any sword, stronger than any wall. Stories could go where no army might. They seeped into the ground and flowed along rivers, changed hands in markets and at inns all across the land. In the darkened corners of every inn from the Bay of Ghosts to the Frozen Sea, my name had to be on everyone's lips. Did you hear about the rebel king? How he killed a white wolf in the Spine of the Gods? It's an omen. The gods are with him. Shouldn't we be as well?

An old soldier like Niro could only see the battles yet to be fought, and the bloody path he knew we must carve to victory. He saw the war, and that was his job. I needed the people to look elsewhere, to hear the story and not the clash of swords. That was my only hope of ever besting my father at his own game.

Niro lowered his head. "Yes, your grace."

"Now, I expect you have much to do if our troops are to march out tomorrow. You're dismissed, General Niro."

"My king." He put a fist to his chest.

As I watched my general take his leave, I wondered if perhaps I should have listened to him. Taking Elindir up into the Spine with nothing but a few swords and animosity between us might go terribly wrong. Perhaps he would tire of my games and slit my throat as I slept, or simply leave me for the bears and wolves. Perhaps we would finally cross swords and let the gods decide if he was to be my kingly sacrifice. If not, then perhaps we could play another game and he would finally break for me.

I knew only one thing for certain. When Elindir and I came down from the mountain, we would either be firm allies again, or one of us would be dead.