Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

brYRA

I stretched my legs, increasing my pace, thrilling at the speed in which the ground disappeared underneath me, the feel of the wind caressing through my pelt. It felt too long since I could take my beast form, racing on four legs instead of two and roaming unhindered through my father's lands.

In beast form, our minds and bodies melded with the untamed wilderness of our home, untethering us from the inflictions which bound the two-legged kind and setting us free. It was why Huungardred favored their beast form, why many buried themselves within the wilderness for months at a time. Most would choose that way of life for longer, forever perhaps, if it weren't for my father's rule, forcing them back into their two-legged, half-beast half-man form occasionally so that none would forget they still had to live in the world of humans.

Weeks from the fight in the Ashenlands, and I'd yet to release my Huungardred form. I needed the beast to heal my terrible wounds, but that was not the only reason; I needed to forget.

Sadly, it seemed the memories wouldn't leave me so easily in beast form. For once, the freedom of burying myself within the wilderness would not cure all my ills.

Finally, I slowed and as I did so, I returned to my two-legged form. Weeks spent as a beast and there was a strangeness to walking on two legs such that I tripped over my own feet and nearly fell into the snow. I growled at my clumsiness, then, for some strange reason, chuckled, which then gave way to laughter.

I paused, resting a hand on rough bark and laughed some more. It felt silly and good, but in many respects hollow. The true merriment of my laugh was absent, the laugh echoing around as though there was nothing inside of me to mute the noise. I sobered on the thought and straightened.

Light flakes of snow fell, tickling the end of my nose. I raised my head, eyes closed, angling my face so the tiny flecks of the snow chilled the human side of my face. The skin prickled with the feeling.

It was good to be home. If only I could bury the memories and return to my father's court. But I'd had a taste of the malignant hatred and wickedness of the two-legged kind of which my father warned me about.

We lived our lives in the north, shielded far from the reach of humans. Our power and might as Huungardred kept our neighbors from our borders, but father had argued that it would not always be the case, and we needed to prepare for the day when they would become bold.

Garrat and Osmud were good to their word, protecting me from the worst of the clans' prejudices against the Huungardred, forcing them to accept me as a warrior fighting alongside them. But what I'd not revealed to either Razohan—to save them pain—was the terrible things they sought to inflict upon me once the fight began. Not even as allies were they prepared to shed their hatred for my kind.

And then there was the fight. Despite having traits that made us the perfect warriors, Huungardred were loathed to fight. Father took his place on the Huungardred throne by force, any other way and a leader would not be respected, but that didn't mean we spent our lives intent on tearing each other apart; I couldn't say the same for the two-legged kind.

Terrible things were done that night, as was with war. But I'd not been prepared for the attacks on me by my allies, or the rising of the dead. The world was changing. It seemed the tales of long ago would surface again as cyclic as the seasons.

My father cared little for the babbling of augurs or anything the Nazeen proclaimed. As his daughter, I'd believed in him and stopped listening to myself. But the dead had risen, and now I struggled to turn aside all Romelda had said. Perhaps the life we knew really was about to be destroyed.

I shook my head, sending the little streams of water created from the melting snow on my hot skin in a tiny spray around me. The world of humans was not mine to worry about. I was my father's daughter, the plight of the Huungardred should be my sole concern. I'd given myself to Tamas's course because I believed in him, but I couldn't do that anymore. Now I was fully healed, it was time to return to my father's side, give myself to the plight of my people.

About to take the beast form again, I stopped when the sound of horse's hooves reached my ears. I sniffed the air, smelling horse sweat and burned wolfrow.

Nazeen. And I knew which Nazeen I would find were I to continue along the path behind me. Curiosity made me turn around and head back the way I'd come.

It didn't take long before I saw Romelda's horse's gray head shifting through the snow-covered trees. Next came the Nazeen. Her appearance shocked her.

She'd fared little better than most of us during the fight. I'd not seen her once the fighting began, but word from Garrat informed me she'd survived a Salmun attack. It seemed such an attack was dangerous indeed, for the Nazeen looked aged beyond her time. Healed lacerations slashed across her face like silvery rivers and the skin on the back of her hands looked as frail as dead leaves.

"It's a long way for you to travel," I said in way of welcome as I walked toward her approaching horse.

"And now my travels are at an end." She reined her horse in and slid from the saddle, retaining the agility I remembered.

"You've ridden through the snow to see me?"

"I have."

Her blood-red eyes were now black. Perhaps the most shocking difference in her appearance .

"My father's hall would've made a more comfortable place for a chat."

She glanced around her. "This is the perfect place for the chat I wish to have with you."

I nodded, unhappy to hear this. Though father concerned himself rarely with what the Nazeen said, his hospitality was as boundless as his courtesy. The Nazeen were our allies, and the Huungardred had so few. Because of this, I strode toward a fallen log and brushed it clean of snow, then motioned for her to join me.

Anything Romelda had to say would relate to the greater realm, the south, Tamas and the Etherweave. Except for Tamas—a man I could never push aside, even if I wanted to—the rest was no longer my concern. But out of deference for the Nazeen, I would at least listen.

She sat with ease, no sign of lingering aches or wounds from the battle.

"You must have some idea why I've sought you out in private?"

Straight to the point. The Nazeen always presented themselves honestly, never hiding their true intentions behind deceptive words—a trait my father and I deeply respected.

"You wish to draw me back into the troubles of humans."

For three breaths, she replied with a stare. "The war has only begun."

"A war that has nothing to do with the Huungardred."

She straightened in her seat, as though she were drawing in strength to forge ahead with her goal.

"There was great loss. An unavoidable toll in war. "

"I learned that the fight of the two-legged is not a fight for the four."

"You're wrong." She leaned forward, as if to emphasize the sharpness of her retort.

After a moment, she eased back. "This is everyone's war." She placed her hand on mine, resting in my lap. The skin on her palm was rough, as though she'd labored long and hard.

"The war for the Etherweave will consume everyone in the near realms. And then it will stretch to the far realms until it consumes everything.

"As a Huungardred, I know you're reluctant to get involved. You have many significant concerns of your own. But Bryra, you were once willing to get involved. You rode south with the rest of the clans to fight alongside the Razohan."

I turned away, avoiding her now black eyes. Romelda would not know at what cost I did so, and there was no point in telling her.

"I did," I intoned. "And now I have returned to my father's side. He needs me. The clans weren't happy to have me there. I now understand my father's concerns. This land is my future, as are my people, not the poisonous greed that festers in the heart of the two-legged."

A light dusting of snow coated her hair. She didn't bother to hide her impatience with my speech. Yet again, I couldn't help but respect her. Many would simper and nod, pretending to understand my meaning, all the while planning their tactic to undermine my reasoning.

"The greed of the south is your greater danger. Forget?—"

"And what can I do? I followed the Razohan in to battle because I believed in Tamas, but it made no difference to the outcome. What difference can I make now?"

"Tamas betrayed us," she snapped.

I gasped. Shaking my head, I said. "No. You're wrong."

"Don't let your feelings for him muddy your intellect, Bryra. From the start, Tamas went against my command."

I wouldn't have guessed a Nazeen would show such a pitiable emotion as bitterness.

"His choice led to our failure. And now he'll bring devastation upon the seven realms if he continues to turn from what needs to be done. I fear, though, his mind is lost. He can no longer see clearly."

"What're you saying?"

Romelda leveled her black eyes on me. "The princess must die."

I leapt from the log. "You can't ask that of me."

Romelda joined me standing. She was a tall woman, but was forced to look up at me.

"You love Tamas."

It wasn't a question.

"He doesn't love me. I know that. I've always known, even if I choose to dream."

"He's blinded by this woman."

"You think love is blind?"

"This time it is," she continued, not thinking of what she'd said.

"He bit her." There was no greater intimacy than that. No greater demonstration of love than that.

"Tamas is not a full-blooded Huungardred. He doesn't understand the depth of his actions. The bite was not made out of love, but fragility." She spat the last word.

"Maybe not in the beginning. He did so because he's an honorable man. And honorable men don't kill innocent women. But I think much has happened while he was in the south. There's no denying where his heart now lies."

"It's not his duty to think with his heart."

"Honorable men will always think with their heart, so they don't act in tyranny."

Romelda's face flushed, even though her lips were now a deep bluish red from the cold. "You're ignorant of what she's capable of."

"I know she raised the dead."

"She's a bloodborn."

That stole my words. At reading my shock, Romelda's glare held a tinge of triumph.

"You made us think Tamas was the only bloodborn."

"For centuries it is all the augurs proclaimed." She turned from me and paced a short distance, as if to hide her shame for her false guidance. "Sirillious said differently the last time I saw him. ‘Twain is the bloodborn'. Those were his words. The first time I'd heard them uttered. Curses it would be this woman. Anyone else and they would already be dead."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Tamas is sure."

That Romelda was confident in Tamas's belief made me believe it, too. "My feelings are unchanged, regardless of how he feels about me. You're willing to place this burden upon me, knowing Tamas will hate me for eternity if I kill her. "

She at least had the decency to look abashed at what she was asking. "Believe me Bryra, no one understands better than I the burden I'm placing on you. The blooded gave their life to the servitude of the Etherweave. I have sacrificed everything in my life to ensure the rightful heir will one day sit upon the Bone Throne. And that rightful heir is not Tressya.

"I ask you to make this sacrifice to save someone you love from their folly. Tamas is blind to what fate he'll create with the choices he's making."

"What if you're wrong? I trust Tamas to do what's right."

Romelda inhaled, arching her neck and turning her face to the feathering of snow. "And what if I'm right? Are you willing to take that chance?"

"I've already said my place is by my father's side. My concerns are for my people."

Romelda looked as though I'd slapped her. Then, regaining her composure, she glanced around us to the snow covered forest. "It is very peaceful here. I can see how you would easily believe everything beyond these forests can't affect you." She shifted her gaze to me. "I wish it were so. You think the clans are your enemy, but they are nothing compared to who will come for your lands and come for your people if we fail, and Tamas fails to ascend to the Bone Throne. As a bloodborn, controlled by the Salmun, the princess Tressya is now our greatest enemy."

She held up a hand to stem any argument I may have.

"She was an innocent before she arrived in Tarragona. She would've stayed that way had Tamas completed his task. Evil is not born, but it is easily made, and Tressya is now in the grip of the Salmun, under their influence, learning their lies."

She took my hand in hers. "As a Huungardred, I know romantic notions of love didn't blind you. Their bond is one-sided. And it's all from Tamas's side. She'll remain untouched by the bond while he falls hopelessly and deeply under her spell. In the end, she'll become his master. There'll be no hope for him, and no hope for us. His pain will be great when he discovers the mistaken choice he made."

I pulled my hands from hers. "But what if you're wrong?"

Romelda was right in saying it could only ever be one-sided. It was impossible for anyone without Huungardred ancestry to ever form such a bond. But if the princess was bloodborn, didn't that make her Razohan with a bloodlink to the Huungardred? Didn't that mean at some point she could choose to accept Tamas's bond?

"With all my heart, I wish I was. I know I'm not."

I turned my face, giving Romelda my less expressive beast side because my human side was vulnerable to revealing my confused thoughts. I didn't want Romelda to see how much I was breaking inside; all over again.

Tamas had always been my dearest friend. And for the last five years, my feelings toward him had changed, grown deeper, more enduring, more precious. I'd dreamed he and I would form such a bond, longed for it to be so. My heart was ripped apart to know it would never happen, to know he'd chosen another, yet I would never blame Tamas for my feelings. He'd never promised me more; it was my own fanciful desires.

I found escape from that pain in knowing their bond would never be complete because Tressya was not blood linked to the Huungardred. It was petty and cruel of me to have such feelings, so I intended to keep them a twisted secret I would hopefully shed once I grew through the pain in my heart.

Romelda's words ripped my bleeding heart anew. And what if Tressya chose not to reciprocate and strengthen their bond? It would be as Romelda said, with Tamas a slave to his love while the princess remained unaffected.

I couldn't bear the thought of him enslaved because of his love, his heart torn like mine because he'd made the wrong choice.

"Look at me. I can't move amongst humans."

It was my excuse; an excuse, which meant I'd not entirely dismissed all she said. I was curious whether she could provide a solution to my appearance.

"With my help, you can. I'll disguise your true-self, give you the form of a woman. It will not last, but you'll have enough time in disguise to finish what Tamas should've done at the start. I'll spell a letter of recommendation, which you shall give to the seneschal once you reach Emberfell. That will ensure you're given the position as lady to the queen."

I didn't want to agree to such a thing. I wasn't a murderer of innocents. But I couldn't dismiss the fact Tressya was living within Emberfell, guarded and influenced by the Salmun.

Tamas couldn't have foreseen this when he saved her life by marking her on the ship. He didn't love her then. The bond would enhance his feelings, blinding him to the truth. He really was falling into a trap of his making, all because he acted honorably and saved an innocent woman.

"All right. I'll do it." I couldn't believe the words I was saying. It was as though someone else was speaking from my mouth.

"I'll make this burden easier for you to bear. Poisons are a tidier way to kill. And you can be long gone before it takes effect."

I shook my head. "This is wrong. My heart tells me so. How can you ask me to betray my dearest friend in such a way?"

"Listen to me," Romelda hissed, her patience fraying with my refusal. The blooded were bound by their oath, their resolve hardened by a millennium of shared memories. It made sense that she was solely focused on what she believed must be done.

"There must be another way," I interrupted before she could continue.

"There is no other way." Then she gently touched my arm. "I understand your hesitation because I know your heart. You're a true and loyal friend, like your father. But Bryra, the fate of the seven realms surpasses your personal feelings. If the Salmun seizes the Etherweave, then all the seven realms are doomed, including everyone you love. Whatever hatred you fear Tamas will harbor towards you will matter little if we cannot ensure he alone wields the Etherweave. Remember, Tamas will be the first to die if the Salmun succeeds. Are you willing to let that happen, knowing you could have prevented it?"

Turning my head from her, I closed my eyes. "When?" The words were like flames pouring from my mouth, burning my throat and tongue.

"It's best it's done as soon as possible while Tamas is still in the north. And Bryra. This is our secret."

I turned to her. "I won't be able to keep it a secret from Tamas always."

"I respect that. It's a secret until it's complete." She squeezed my hand. "There'll come a day when he'll see the truth and understand why it had to be done. He won't hate us forever."

Maybe so, but Romelda didn't understand the depth of a bond. Neither did I, for that matter, but I understood it more than she. Regardless, to save him from his terrible mistake, I had to accept he may never forgive me. But I would rather he hate me than see him enslaved by a false love.

What if she falls in love with him and surrenders herself to the mate bond in return?

That was a wound too great for me to bear, and a possibility if she really was a Razohan.