by Bec McMaster
The last dreki he wanted to see right now. Damn it.
Too late.
The king’s head lifted, and there was no reasonable way to extricate himself from this situation without being obvious about it.
Draco gave him a nasty little smile. “Come to convince me to hand over my knife so you can rescue the girl?”
“No.” He started walking again, this time toward the table. “I was hoping there’d be wine down here. The flagon in our rooms tastes like piss, and Solveig’s sleeping. I was going to tuck myself up in a corner of our room and drink your best wine.”
The king merely watched him as he took another goblet from the set and filled it.
“What do you want?” Draco growled.
“An apology to start with,” he said, sinking into the chair beside the king. “You accused my sister of murdering your Chaos-wielders.”
“I thought you were returning to your room?”
“You look like the most miserable prick I’ve ever met,” Marduk said with a shrug. “I thought I’d stay here and gloat a little.”
And then he gave Draco a winning smile.
The king bared his teeth. “I’m not apologizing. I accused one of the Zini of being the perpetrator, and it seems I was right.”
Marduk sipped the wine. Not bad. Flemish by the taste of it. Draco certainly had fine tastes. “Technically, it’s Elin’s body, but the soul with the reins in hand seems to be my mother, and she’s Zilittu to the bone. Or soul. Or whatever it is now.”
“You really wish to quibble about it?”
“I was just thrown into an abyss where I had to crawl over the bones of your former enemies before setting my mind alight in order to rescue my mate. Yes, I think I am going to quibble about it.”
“I’ll grant you this—no one’s ever escaped the Abyss before.” Draco’s gray eyes turned curious. “What was it like?”
“Wielding my sister’s magic?” He shuddered. “It was like peeling my own skin off from the inside. I don’t recommend it.”
“Mmm. They say the Goddess’s gift can only be wielded by women because she thought male dreki would use it to overrun the world.”
“While that’s a plausible theory, I have met my mother. If she could have walked over a field paved with dreki skulls to put herself on a throne of the world, she would have done so.” Marduk thought about it. “She probably still intends to do so.”
“And my suggestion stands. If we kill her before she can activate the key, then this war will be over before it begins.”
“If you’re so sure this is the answer, then why are you down here drinking by yourself? Where are all your friends? Your allies? Your brother and sister?” Marduk paused, sharpening the edge of his words. “Your mate?”
Draco scowled.
“Let me guess….” Marduk leaned back in his chair. “Your queen is not receptive to your plans of killing the girl and saving the world. She wants to remove the dagger from your brother’s chest and use it to save Elin instead.”
Oh, that scored a mark.
“You shouldn’t have pursued Solveig,” he mused. “I don’t think your ploy to make Andromeda jealous worked. I think you just pissed her off.”
“And you shouldn’t speak of something you know nothing about.”
“I think I’m starting to understand. I’ve been talking to some of your guards, some of the maids—” He caught a glimpse of Draco’s startled expression. “Oh, relax. Not a single one of them has betrayed your confidences. But they don’t have to. I’ve learned a little bit here and there. One can put the pieces together.”
Marduk leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Two years ago, your father poisoned prominent members of Andromeda’s clan. And then he offered them the cure in exchange for her hand—and the key as dowry. But he offered her to his heir, didn’t he? And you were not the heir.”
Draco’s eyelids hooded dangerously.
“You took one look at her and wanted her. It’s always been that way, hasn’t it? You and Scorpius, jostling for position all these years. Desperate to outscore each other. Determined to win at any cost.” Marduk sipped his wine. “And you won. You killed your father. You put a spell-forged knife through your brother’s heart and trapped his soul in the jewel within the hilt. And you claimed your queen.
“But your queen had other ideas.” He shrugged. “I don’t know whether she had a preference for your brother or whether she was infuriated by your tactics, but for whatever reason, she slammed the bedroom door in your face and won’t let you through it. Andromeda strikes me as someone who likes to play by the rules. She is proud, and loyal and honest. And you just proved that you’re not.
“Your queen wants to return home. But you don’t want to let her go. And then Solveig comes along, and she’s strong and powerful—a threat to any woman. So you make her an offer you know she won’t accept, because you’re trying to push your queen back into your arms. Would I have the right of it?”
There was a long tense silence as the king decided which route to take.
“Ours is a political match,” Draco finally said.
“Bullshit.” He laughed as he drank his wine. “It may have started that way, but you want her.”
Murder flashed in the king’s eyes. “I’m not going to listen to this.” He pushed his chair back. “Out of respect for your brother, I won’t bother to paint your teeth over the floor.”
Marduk cradled his goblet in both hands, thoroughly enjoying the moment. This was where he baited his hook. “I can tell you how to win her back.”
Draco took two steps.
And then he froze.
But his head was half-turned, his fingers twitching.
Caught on the end of the hook, and aware of it.
“Why would I listen to you?” The king turned, all fury and menace. “You can barely keep your own mate satisfied.”
“You’ve tried everything else. Why not try this one last thing?”
Draco sank back into his chair. His merciless eyes glittered. “Go ahead then. Amuse me. It’s not as though I have a war to plan.”
“You have to wait until your scouts return anyway. And my suggestion is simple,” he replied, refilling the king’s cup. “It also solves our little Elin problem….”
“Ah.” Draco gave a bitter laugh. “Let me guess? I remove the blade from Scorpius’s chest. I give you the dagger in order to rescue your beloved drekling handmaid. Andromeda falls to her knees in gratitude at my mercy.” He rolled his eyes. “And then I have to fucking deal with my twin again. If you think I’m going to be so foolish as to fall for this, then you don’t know me very well. I have everything I want. I don’t need her heart.”
“But you still want it.” Marduk clinked goblets of wine with him. “And I know how you feel. Because I see the same look in your eyes that I see in the mirror. We can’t help but want what we can’t have. A woman’s heart, given freely and without restraint. But only one of us has managed to overcome the hatred that comes with that woman. To take and to hold. It’s the Zilittu way. But if you continue to take your current path then you will lose Andromeda. For good.”
“She’s already lost to me.”
It was the first hint of a concession Draco had made.
And he could see how much it cost the other male to even speak of it.
Marduk sighed. “No, she’s not. If she was already lost to you, then she wouldn’t watch you the way she does. She wouldn’t keep giving you chances to prove yourself. And she has, Draco. She offered you a choice two hours ago. Remove the knife. Save the girl. Prove you can be the better dreki.”
A harsh breath escaped Draco. “You do realize if I remove the knife, then my brother will seek to take her from me again. The next time we fight, he won’t hesitate. One of us will be forced to kill the other. And… I don’t know if she’ll be too disappointed if I’m the one who dies.”
Marduk paused.
“As you said, two brothers fought over
the same woman.” Draco’s voice roughened. “Maybe the wrong brother won in her eyes.”
“So the pair of you fought over her, and if you pull the knife out, you’ll fight again?”
Draco cut him a hard look that said “yes.”
Marduk shook his head. “You’re right. You’re not going to win her—”
Heat blazed to life in Draco’s eyes.
He held his hand up. “But neither is Scorpius. Because you’re both making the same mistake. Andromeda isn’t a crown. She has her own thoughts, her own ideas… and both of you took her choice away from her. Did anyone even ask if she had a preference?”
A seething kind of silence settled over the pair of them.
“I would normally kill a male who spoke to me like that,” Draco finally said.
“Drink up. I’m probably the only sorry son-of-a-bitch who actually understands what you’re going through right now.”
That earned a thoughtful look.
“You have to give her a choice. You have to let her go in order to see if there’s any possibility she can forgive you. You have to allow Scorpius to rise, or she will never let you get close to her.”
“Spoken like someone who’s never had to face such a choice.”
“Spoken by someone who did face that choice. Do you know why Solveig gave me a chance? Because I offered to stand aside.”
“When?”
“If Solveig wished to take you up on your offer.” Even now, the thought made him want to hit someone. “If she wanted to pursue your offer, then I would have stepped aside. Even if it cost me my pride. Even if it cost me a single chance to earn her heart.” He blew out a breath. “When her father pushed us together, I was offered the choice of three daughters. I chose her, but she never had the chance to choose me. And if there was ever going to be any hope for us, then… I had to give her that choice.”
The king’s eyelashes lowered to half-mast.
“You may not be as much of an idiot as I originally thought,” he finally said.
Marduk’s hopes lifted. “Then you’ll remove the dagger?”
Draco pushed to his feet and drained his goblet. “I’ll think about it.”
“Where is she?” Marduk demanded, as he entered Solveig’s room and found only his sister, fluffing the pillows. He’d hoped to slip in here and tempt Solveig into bed. Where she should have been.
Árdís arched a brow. “What business is it of yours?”
“She is my….”
“Your what?” Árdís’s intent gaze sharpened.
Bloody sisters.
Marduk sighed, clasping his hands behind his head. He wasn’t going to get away with this. And maybe it was time to accept the truth. “My ruin,” he admitted in a quiet voice. All he could think about was Solveig’s confession last night. It had been eating at him all day, but he had no one else to speak to of this. “Do you remember when you used to say that one day I would meet a woman I could love, and you hoped she didn’t love me back?”
“You were seducing your way through half of Mother’s ladies-in-waiting,” Árdís pointed out. “I wanted you to know that you were breaking hearts.”
“I was eighteen.”
“And at eighteen, you were an arrogant little shit.”
He sank onto the bed. He’d wear that. Still, it left a bitter feeling in his chest, because now he was on the other end of the hook. “Well, it seems you have your wish.”
“Oh,” Árdís said softly, and there was sadness in her eyes as she clasped the pillow against her midriff. “I never wanted you to suffer, Marduk. I just wanted you to know… that your actions had consequences.”
“I know my actions have consequences.” His voice roughened. “It’s taken me years to get Solveig to the point where she doesn’t flinch when she hears that stupid song I sang that long-ago night.”
Árdís arched a brow. “I am firmly Solveig’s ally on this point. I’ve heard that song.”
“Of course you did,” he said gruffly. “You wouldn’t be my sister if you didn’t go seek it out, just so you could rub my face in it.”
“Your early years weren’t your best years, brother.”
“The original version wasn’t that bad,” he protested. Goddess’s mercy. “I can’t change the past. I can’t go back and shut my stupid, fucking mouth. And I would.” He met her eyes. “If I could change the past, then I would. I would do anything I could to wipe that moment from both our lives, so she never has to hear it again. I never wanted to humiliate her.”
Árdís nibbled on her lip. “You don’t have to change the past, Marduk. You just have to change the song.”
What did that mean?
“Do you love her?”
“I don’t know.” The scene at the cave flashed through his mind. You’re lying to yourself. He steeled his heart. “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t want to, because I know she’ll never give me her heart in return.”
There was something about Árdís’s expression that made his stomach twist. “Maybe there’s… hope for that.”
“She swore she’d never mate with me in truth.”
“Mmm.” Árdís glanced away, her hands fidgeting with the pillow before she cast it on the bed.
Árdís, who was the worst liar he’d ever met.
Árdís, who couldn’t keep a secret to save herself.
Marduk pushed slowly to his feet. “You know something.”
She took a step back, her eyes darting here and there. “No.”
“You do.” He grabbed her wrist. “What did she say to you?”
“I made her a promise that I would never reveal to you the truth of what she spoke of,” Árdís said, chopping at his wrists. “Let go of me.”
“I’m your brother,” he said incredulously. “You’re going to keep secrets from me?”
“Her secrets? Yes. Perhaps my brother should use his damned head and start thinking,” Árdís retorted, “because I made a promise, and female dreki don’t break promises to other females. Think, you idiot. Why would Solveig suddenly put her armor in place? Why now? The pair of you have been kissing in every corner of the keep!”
“I don’t know. We were finally—”
It hit him like a punch to the throat.
She’d been in his bed before. This had nothing to do with surrender. The last few days had been an emotional whirlwind. And last night had been about more than physical desire. She’d let down her guard.
Solveig didn’t surrender to vulnerability.
She was proud and she was furious, but he’d caught enough glimpses of the real woman inside her to know that she saw weakness as something to be fought. Something to be denied.
I will not let you break me, she’d said once.
But he’d come close, hadn’t he?
He’d seen the way she looked at him when she thought her expression guarded.
Solveig wasn’t denying him because she felt nothing for him. She’d hauled her shields into place because she felt too much.
“Well?” Árdís set her hands on her hips. “Would you care to elaborate? Or continue staring at me blankly?”
She came back into focus, cutting through the image of Solveig that he’d conjured.
“Sometimes,” he told her. “You’re the most frustrating pain in my ass.” When Árdís opened her mouth to argue, he stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. “And sometimes, you are wise beyond your years. You’re right. I’m an idiot. I’ve been looking at this all wrongly. I keep thinking about what she’s telling me, but I haven’t been thinking about what she’s not telling me.”
Árdís caught his sleeve. “Don’t break her heart, Marduk.”
And he had to ask, though his voice roughened. “Do I have it?”
Árdís pressed her lips thinly together. She would not break Solveig’s confidences and he respected her for that. But it was confirmation enough.
The breath burst from his lungs. Hell.
He was going to kick her ass for not telling him
.
“Marduk?” Árdís called as he reached the door.
He shot her a look.
“It’s not the bond she’s truly afraid of,” she told him. “Tell her how you feel.”
Tell her how you feel.
Marduk ground his teeth together and climbed the stairs to where Solveig was sparring with her own shadow on the top of the tower. The keep was a stirred anthill, and it had taken him two hours to track her down. In the distance, storm clouds rumbled as if they sensed the dreki call to arms.
“What are you doing out of bed?” he demanded, as she drew back into a defensive stance, brushing her sweaty hair from her eyes.
By the look of her, she’d spent every moment of those two hours shadowboxing.
“Do I look like I plan to fight this war flat on my back?” Solveig barely lowered her fists. “I need to know how bad the damage is.”
“And?” There was no point arguing with her. As much as he wanted to wrap her in a safe cocoon right now, doing so would only earn him a rousing fight.
Solveig broke away from him, heading for the small tray one of the servants must have placed on a nearby table. She poured a glass of water and drained it. “I’m fine.”
“Solveig—”
She turned on him. “I am my father’s war marshal, and as soon as Draco’s scouts catch a glimpse of Elin and those alfar, I intend to go hunting.”
“Can you even fly, right now?”
“I guess we’ll find out. Fight me.” She spun, lashing out with a kick, which he caught against his shoulder.
“No,” he said. “Aren’t we done fighting?”
Wind whipped her hair across her face, and she looked at him with her heart in her eyes. “This isn’t easy for me.”
“You think it’s easy for me?” He took pity on her and let her go. “Fine. If you beat me, then I’ll shut my mouth and not fuss over you as you ride for war. But if I win, then you will concede: You will let me go south in your place and bring your father’s warband back north for you. You’ll get another day to heal.”