Realms of Stone and Gold

by C. E. Olson

  He stands in front of his brother and stumbles forward a little as Reeve pushes him and mutters under his breath about Varis being a fool. Varis keeps his head angled toward the ground to watch his feet as they make their way up to the guards patrolling the outer gate, and here it is — the first test.

  They approach slowly, giving each of the guards ample opportunity to put names to their familiar faces. Varis can see the moment it happens — two of those gruff, haggard faces light up with amusement and glee when they realize the Hammer has been captured.

  “Well, well, well,” one of them says. “If it isn't the Bastard himself, all tied up by the brother he was sold to save. No honor even amongst brothers, anymore. What are you doing here?”

  “Do you always answer your own questions before you ask them?” Reeve asks in a bored tone. “I'm here to turn him in. He failed in his latest mission.”

  As planned, Varis stays quiet. These aren't the people he needs to explain himself to or beg for mercy, and he won't do it a moment before he needs to. They move aside to let them in with a crude remark, but the closer they get to Attarand’s throne room, the more Varis starts to regret his decision. The air in the castle feels different now, somehow. Charged with a barely concealed frenzy and a thirst for blood — but he doesn't realize until it's too late that it's likely his blood.

  “If it isn't the Kesters,” Balian says with a snarl. “You were given a fortnight, Bastard. Where is my head?”

  “On your shoulders, Your Grace, where it should be.” Varis receives a sharp kick to the back of his knee from Reeve for that little outburst, making him flinch. “Apologies, Your Grace,” he adds quickly. “I failed to bring you the head of the Queen. She trapped me and forced me to swear an oath, and—”

  “And? And what of your oath to me?” Balian spits. “You should've done the job and suffered the consequences if you were thick enough to let her trap you. A dead queen and a dead assassin is better than no dead queen and you standing in front of me. Don't speak to me of oaths, boy.”

  Varis dips his head. “I apologize, Your Grace. I had intended to fulfill both oaths, not just the secondary one I made to the Queen.”

  “Yet, you did not, unless you've got her head shoved up your arse. What happened?”

  He recounts the tale as succinctly as he can — from Aine’s threat to Reeve, to the oath he swore to save them both, and the things he'd learned about Sontar and Naslan. The mention of his Sentinel’s betrayal has him snapping for someone to go find Naslan and bring him in, which only makes Reeve more tense. Varis tries to push through and get the King’s attention back on track, but it's already lost and he doesn't hear a word Varis says in defense of Aine.

  “Untie him,” Balian says to Reeve. “We’re going to play a little game.”

  A shiver races up Varis’ spine as Reeve’s shaky hands unlock the shackles. “Still think this was a good idea?” his brother mutters under his breath.

  “I'll let you know in a few minutes.” He rubs his wrists as the shackles clatter to the ground. “Just stay alert.”

  Balian says something to Gerves that's lost to Varis’ ears. The Sentinel stalks over with a sad expression on his face and hands Varis his sword with a whispered apology, then heads for the door to block his exit. A very clear memory surfaces in Varis’ mind: he was twelve years old, still little more than a squire to Aylard, and the King had invited him to watch something he called his favorite game. Varis had expected a joust, or maybe an archery competition or something like that, yet the game was much different. Two knights had shared equal blame in the failure of a mission, and instead of executing them both, he allowed them to fight to the death to decide which one lived. It was bloody, brutal, and the very thing that made Varis want to learn to properly fight.

  And now, he's about to find out how much he's learned over the years. As Naslan is brought in and the King lays the accusations against Naslan and confirms what's about to happen, Varis studies him. He's at least twice Varis’ width and probably three inches taller, but in his experience, size matters much less than skill and speed. He already knows he's faster and better with an axe, but this longsword is slightly heavier than the ones he's used to. His reaction times might suffer because of it, and therefore he might suffer because of it.

  “We should run,” Reeve mutters into his ear from behind him. “They armed you, you're free of the manacles, we should just fight our way out and go.”

  Varis shakes his head minutely. “No. The whole point of coming here is that I don't want to run. Don't cheer for me, don't cheer for anyone. Keep quiet and we might get out of this.”

  “How many times do I have to listen to you say that before you stop getting us into situations we need to get out of?”

  “Probably a lot,” Varis concedes. “Now go. Hurry.”

  He nudges his brother out of the way and spins to face his opponent. There's nothing but fear and hatred on Naslan’s face, but all Varis can see is the look on Aine’s when she told him of Naslan’s betrayal. This, all of this, happened because Naslan couldn't hold his tongue when the need was dire.

  “Begin,” Balian says, leaning forward.

  Varis bides his time, pacing sideways to carve out a spot for him to move. There aren't many people in the room surrounding them, but there are enough, and the last thing Varis wants is additional casualties. He doesn't have a problem killing Naslan. Truth be told, he's wanted to for longer than he can remember, and his easily angered nature should make this easy.

  “Come on, Nassy,” Varis teases. “I'm right here. What are you waiting for? You know I like to be chased more than I like to chase. Oh, wait... maybe that’s just your wife. She knows.”

  Naslan growls like an animal and lunges forward, but Varis parries easily and dances to his right. “You're dead, Bastard.”

  “Resurrected is more accurate, but whatever helps you sleep at night.” He parries twice more, letting Naslan tire himself out. “Speaking of your wife and things that help me sleep at n—”

  Clank!

  The force with which Naslan strikes sends a reverberation up through Varis’ sword. He nearly drops it, but the extra half-hand on the handle allows him to strengthen his grip just in time to save his own neck.

  “Stop talking,” Naslan snaps. “I've had enough of your jokes.”

  Varis bows, sweeping his sword to the side and holding his breath as Naslan takes the bait. He watches the shadows on the floor as Nas swings his blade with raw, brute strength, then tucks his own and rolls out of the way. The stone cracks under him as Naslan’s sword makes contact and he yells out in anger and pain, giving Varis the split second he needs to sweep the giant’s legs out from under him. He ignores the sweat dripping from his brow as he kicks Naslan’s weapon away and looms over him, tilting the man’s chin up with the tip of his sword.

  “You weren't around for this particular conversation, but I promised someone that I deeply care about that I'd gut you before the end. How kind of our King to present the opportunity to me here. Any last words, Nassy?”

  The man grins, leaning up until the blade cuts into his neck. “Yeah. You need to learn when to shut up.”

  Varis ends up on his back before he can process the threat. He loses his grip on his weapon, but it doesn't matter — Naslan doesn't go for it. Instead, he climbs on top of Varis and wraps his meaty hands around his throat, squeezing until Varis bucks under him.

  “Don't need a sword to end a twat like you,” he says roughly. “I'll make sure to tell that pretty queen of yours — oh, yes, I know all about her — that you said hello as I take her for my own.”

  White hot anger surges through Varis until he barely knows what he's doing. He jerks, hitting Nas in the nose with the heel of his palm and closing his eyes and mouth to avoid the spray of blood. Naslan still has him pinned, and one, two, three sharp, ruthless punches later, Varis is seeing stars. This is exactly the type of fight he tries to avoid. Knowing he can't stay like this, he leans up, wrapp
ing his arms around Naslan’s middle and pulling him down into a hug. Two quick movements later and Varis has their bodies pinned together — right arm slung over Naslan’s shoulder and the other swinging up and around. The momentum flips them over and Varis slams his forehead against Naslan’s, then scrambles off of him to grab Gerves’ sword.

  The moment it's back in his hand, he relaxes and wipes the mixture of blood and sweat from his face. The fight has already gone on too long, and Varis is disappointed in himself. This is the second time he's been burned for allowing his enemies a moment to speak. No more, he tells himself. No hesitation.

  Naslan’s breathing is far heavier than Varis’ own as they face each other again. “Why won't you die?” Naslan snaps, then begins a sloppy, brutal series of attacks.

  Varis does his best to dodge, but over and over, the blade cuts into his skin and tears his clothes. He's not as quick as he needs to be, and his original plan to tire Naslan out isn't working. With a yell, Varis goes on the attack instead of playing defense and backs Naslan up until he's nearly running into Reeve, and just the sight of his brother gives him strength he thought had long waned. He thrusts his sword into Naslan’s belly and twists, sweaty hand covering sweaty hand on the hilt, shoving it deeper with a grunt.

  “Do tell the gods I send my regards,” Varis says quietly. “But I won't be joining them today, either.”

  He yanks his blade out and watches as Naslan slumps to the floor and tries to put pressure on his wound, but it's not doing him any good. It's oddly reminiscent of what he must've looked like when Sontar’s guards got the better of him, but there's one difference: Varis survived to tell the tale, and Naslan won't.

  Backing up, Varis watches as Nas struggles and ultimately slumps, lifeless on the stone floor. There's blood all around them and a hush falls over the few people in the room — all except for Balian. Varis can hear his whispers; knows he's not happy with how this played out, but Varis doesn't care. He nods to his brother to let him know he's okay despite the mess he must look like, and his brother’s returning nod is encouraging to say the least. He's proud of Reeve for trusting him this time instead of interfering like he'd expected.

  Once Varis faces Balian fully again, he gently lays Gerves’ sword down. “Now, Your Grace, will you listen to me? Or should we continue this until I've cut down every member of your Sentinel?”

  “Threats will do you no favors here, Hammer. Maybe next time, I won't give you the courtesy of having a weapon. We’ll see how good you truly are then.”

  Carefully, Varis bows. “I serve at your pleasure, Your Grace.”

  The King growls a low disapproval, but leans back on his throne. “Fine. Carry on, then. You were saying you found out about our dead friend’s betrayal. Then what? What stopped you from fulfilling your oath, and why are you so convinced the Fae bitch isn't my enemy?”

  “The answer to both of those questions is the same, Your Grace.” Varis takes a deep breath and braces himself for the inevitable outburst, but he doesn't see any way around telling this particular truth. “I'm her mate. That's why I couldn't kill her and why I know she's on our side. I—”

  “Your what?” Balian asks in a rage. “So the Fae bitch spread her legs for you and suddenly you're in love? She can't bond with you, Sontar took care of that. You threw your life away for nothing, you fool.”

  Varis huffs and clenches his jaw, but chooses not to retort. “I'm asking for forgiveness, Your Grace. There may yet be a way to bring both kingdoms through this together.”

  “Mercy? Now you want mercy? Where was my mercy when you tossed me aside for a foreign whore? Were the ones that I gave you not enough? Fuck mercy. You have two minutes to convince me not to kill you outright.”

  “As I've stated, the Queen of the Sun Court is not your true enemy,” Varis says quickly. “Sontar was. He was cruel, ruthless, and used you to do his bidding and get what he wanted. Aine was simply acting in defense of her court, nothing more. And whether you're happy about it or not, Your Grace, the Lunar Court will seek retribution. Whether they blame us or the Sun Court for what happened, I'm not sure — but either way, if they blame Aine and attack the Sun Court, they will win. She has no substantial army or fighting Fae worth much of anything. I've seen them, I've fought them, and I've killed them. If the Lunar Court gains possession of Aine’s lands, they'll have direct access to the portal into Ostusen. Is that what you want?”

  Balian sneers, but the irritation on his face gives Varis hope. “You made this mess, Hammer. You brought the entirety of this down on my head. I still haven't heard a good reason not to kill you for it, or better yet, to hand you over to whoever takes Sontar’s place as a peace offering.”

  “I wasn't really Reeve’s prisoner,” he admits. “I came here willingly, shackled to show you I meant no harm, to warn you of what’s to come. I could've run, could’ve left with Reeve and Aine and sought sanctuary in the Star Court, or tried to band together an army in the Sun Court. I could’ve escaped here to Boedal or Epriven and hid. I could've stayed right where I was and lived under one of Aine’s glamours until all of this blew over. But I didn't do any of those things, Your Grace. I came here, to you, to warn you and offer my services. I might've started this, but you need me to end it and you know it.”

  “I knew one day I'd regret giving your father a single coin for you,” Balian drawls. “Fae Hammer or not, you’ve been a thorn in my side since you were eight years old, and now, your inability to do your godsdamned job is going to ruin us all.”

  He snaps his fingers, prompting Watt and Batkin to fetch the manacles that had dropped. Varis doesn't fight him, though Reeve takes a half-step forward like he might — but a slight shake of Varis’ head has him stopping. Varis submits, holding his hands out willingly. “Ask your spies, Your Grace,” he calls to the King. “Ask them of Sontar’s plans. That he was always going to betray you eventually, the moment you helped him get what he wanted. Ask them if someone took his place yet and what their plans are. You'll see I'm telling you the truth. I'm not your enemy, Your Grace.”

  “No, but I just became yours.” Balian snaps his fingers again and Batkin secures the shackles, using the chain between them to tug him toward the door. “Take him to the darkest cell in the keep,” he yells. “Hurt him if you must, but keep him alive. We’ll trade him with the Lunar Court if we need to sue for peace.”

  The last thing Varis sees before he's dragged from the throne room is Balian turning his sights on Reeve, and a fear like he's never known for his brother rises until it tastes like bile on his tongue. Balian may need Varis as a bargaining chip, but Reeve? He has little doubt that unless Reeve can find a way to talk his way out of this, his minutes are numbered.

  Lie, Reeve, he begs silently as the door slams to cut off his view. Lie through your teeth.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Aine

  For the first time in Aine’s life, she has nothing to do. Time with Laix turns out to be fun: they tell each other stories of their pasts, clean the house, cook dinner, and bake shortcakes. All the things Aine never thought she’d do in her life, and she enjoys them all immensely. She’s also fully aware that Laix is distracting her — or maybe they're distracting themself — but she finds herself thankful. Sitting around worried about their mates would only make everything harder, and although nothing could ever completely take away the fear looming over them, keeping busy helps.

  When the sun begins to descend for the evening, they’re both pacing on the porch. “Do they always worry you like this?” Aine asks.

  “Not always,” Laix responds. “But when they’re together, yes. I never know what trouble they will get into. We’re spiraling again, Aine. Tell me about your court.”

  Again, a useless distraction, but she reminds herself that they’re only trying to help. “The Sun Court is the best court there is. I’m not being biased... okay, maybe a little, but the weather is absolutely perfect all year long. Varis thinks it’s too bright there.” She smiles at
that, but it fades quickly. War could be on its way to her court right now and she hasn’t even sent her people a warning. “Laix, is there a way to get a message to my court?”

  They explain how the Stone Realm has owls that can cross planes with ease without a portal, but it’s a very costly request. Most people around can’t afford to send one. “You might be able to afford it, of course, but if you go there with Fae coins, they might suspect who you are.”

  “And how else am I supposed to get word back to my people? If the Lunar Court attack and I didn’t even try to send word... what kind of queen would I be?”

  Laix has nothing but understanding in their eyes and they think of a plan then and there. They will be the one to send the message off for her, but not with money. It would look far too suspicious if they showed up with that amount of coins, but they’re sure Aine’s golden hair clip will be enough, and Laix will claim they found it in the dirt.

  Aine’s heart sinks. It sounds like they truly have no other option, but her mother gave her this clip when she was just a girl. The thought of parting with it has her chest aching painfully, but she pulls it out of her hair and hands it to Laix. Their hesitation is kind, but Aine insists. “It’s the only way. This is the only way I can help my people from here. Please, Laix.”

  They nod and pull Aine into a hug, and the gesture is so warm that Aine melts into it. “If we can find a way to get it back, we will.”

  “Thank you, Laix. But I have a feeling my mother would have preferred this rather than the sentiment. Our people come first.”

  “Not always, Your Grace. Sometimes, you have to put yourself first,” Laix says. They’re not wrong, but Aine doesn’t think that really applies in this situation. It’s only a hair clip, and if giving it away may be a way to save lives, she can’t be selfish here. “I know this is different, but I’m talking about what comes after. How do you believe your people are going to react to the Fae Hammer being your mate? I’m sorry, Aine, but it might be time you consider never going back. Maybe what’s best for your people is you never returning and them appointing a new queen?”