“I have to admit, I was a little surprised to hear that you were engaged to the Princess.” Bain ran a hand through his dark hair and lowered his eyes, as if embarrassed that he’d said that. “Not that you’re not a good choice. Because you are. I just . . .”
Tove leaned farther forward on the table, his voice hushed. “I assure you that no one else is more surprised than I am that I’m marrying a Princess.”
Bain looked up at him then, letting his gaze linger a bit longer than was polite. He was only a few years older than Tove, and he was slender and almost delicate-looking, like a young Johnny Depp. That made his eyes stand out even more, and seem incredibly entrancing.
“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around more,” Bain said, taking a small step away from the table. “With you living and working here now.”
“Good,” Tove said, then hurried to correct it with, “I mean, yeah. I’ll be seeing you.”
Bain left the table then, and Tove was reluctant to look away. He leaned back in his chair and sighed, then noticed the Chancellor was still blathering on to Wendy.
“You’ve had your turn,” Tove said, interrupting the Chancellor midsentence. “Move along.”
“Beg pardon?” the Chancellor asked, his tiny eyes as wide as they could get. Aurora coughed under her breath, trying to dissuade Tove from being rude, but he ignored her.
“You heard me.” Tove glared at him. “Move.”
The Chancellor stammered but did as he was told, wringing his hands as he walked away from the table. A woman came up to the table after him, but before she could say anything, Wendy offered Tove an appreciative smile and mouthed the words Thank you.
The woman just gave them quick congratulations, which was a nice change of pace, and Tove tried to thank her for it, but he’d forgotten her name. Fortunately, Wendy swooped in to supply it, so he didn’t look like a complete jerk.
While they continued with the seemingly endless procession of well-wishers, Tove found his eyes searching the crowd for Bain. Though he never found him again, it did solidify Tove’s commitment to his marriage with Wendy.
It was another selfish reason, one that made him feel guiltier, like he was tricking her into this somehow. But the only way that Tove could ensure that real social change would be made to the Trylle—namely, who they were allowed to fall in love with—would be if he was in a position of power. He had to be King.
3. Loki
Saturday, October 28
The light above him flickered, and Loki glared up at it as he paced his cell. He loathed the dungeon, but not for the reasons Oren wanted him to. It just always seemed too over-the-top, with its dank bricks and dirty floors and hobgoblins at the doors. It was too predictable to be horrifying.
Not only that, the structure wasn’t even very strong. Loki’d been chained to the wall, and while Oren had been smart enough to use heavy metal for the chains and cuffs around his hands, Loki had easily been able to yank them from the concrete. Now he walked around, dragging a chunk of brick behind him, but he could move freely.
The slats on the front door clicked as they slid open, and Loki groaned.
“If you’re going to spend this much time with me, sire, you ought to set me up in the marital suite next to yours,” Loki said as the door began to open. “It’ll save you the trouble of walking all the way down here.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s only me,” Sara said, and she came inside the cell.
Loki stopped pacing and glanced over at her. He hadn’t thought she would visit. She’d sworn to wash her hands of him if he failed in his mission, and he had. Since he’d returned to Ondarike, she hadn’t even spoken to him.
Now she came into the dungeon, carrying a tray with a few scraps of food and a cup of water. He eyed her, only to check for bruises or marks, but when he didn’t see any, he looked away.
“What do you want?” Loki asked.
“That’s no way to speak to your Queen,” Sara said.
She shut the door behind her when she came in, noticing the door was dented in quite severely, probably from Loki’s attempts at escape. He would say he cared nothing for his life, but he wouldn’t fight so hard if he didn’t want to get away.
“You’re right.” Loki gave her a sardonic smile. “Why don’t you throw me down in the dungeon? That ought to teach me a lesson. Oh, wait . . .”
“You know I didn’t want you down here,” Sara said. “I never wanted to see you like this.”
“No?” He shook his head. “You didn’t stop him from putting me here.”
“What was I supposed to do, Loki?” Sara stepped toward him, pleading with him. “You failed him, and you know it.”
Loki said nothing to that. He merely stared at the ground, his jaw tense. His shirt was gone, and Sara could see the fresh lashes he had across his back. So far, he only had a few—bright red lines cut across his flesh.
But the King was only just beginning. He’d been known to drag out his punishments for months, sometimes even years, torturing his victims over and over again.
“I brought you food,” Sara said quietly and held out the tray toward him.
He stared derisively at it, and for a second Sara was afraid he would smack it out of her hands. Instead, he reached over and picked up the glass of water, his chain clanking against the metal tray.
Before taking a drink, he muttered, “Thank you.” He gulped it down quickly, then set the cup back on the tray.
“Don’t you want the food?” Sara asked, and he shook his head. “You should eat. You’ll need your strength.”
“It’s better if I don’t have my strength.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Death will come quicker then.”
“Don’t say that.” She pursed her lips. “You don’t mean that.”
“I don’t mean that?” Loki laughed darkly. “Of course I do! Oren is going to torture me until I finally die, so yes, I wish for a fast death. That’s the only sane thing to do.”
“He might not.” Sara couldn’t even look Loki in the eyes when she said it.
“Yes, he might not,” Loki agreed with false cheer. “I might be lucky enough to be immortal like Oren, so I can spend all eternity in this dungeon. Wouldn’t that be grand?”
“Why couldn’t you just bring her back?” Sara spat, surprised by the intensity in her voice. She was still staring down at the floor, but when she lifted her head, there were tears in her dark eyes. “If you’d just brought the Princess back, you wouldn’t be here.”
He met her eyes for a moment, then shook his head and looked away. “I couldn’t do that to her.”
“If you care for her, then you should’ve done it,” Sara went on. “He would’ve had you marry her. You could’ve lived forever with her, ruling this kingdom.”
“First of all, you know as well as I that the King will never give up his rule,” Loki disagreed with her. “He just wants her because she’s a shiny new toy that the Trylle have. He’ll never let her take over for him.”
“Eventually he has to step down,” Sara insisted. “He wants an heir.”
“He wants an heir who will run things exactly like him,” Loki said and began pacing again. “Wendy’s nothing like him. He’d do everything he could to break her down, to turn into her a calculating barbarian. He’d destroy her.”
“No, I wouldn’t let him.” Sara shook her head. “I would protect her.”
“You mean like you protected me?” He glanced back at her with a raised eyebrow, and she bit her lip.
“I tried.” Her voice broke. “But there was nothing I could do.”
“I know.” Loki sighed and regretted what he’d said. “I don’t blame you for this. It was my choice. The King sent me to get her. I knew what would happen if I didn’t return with her, and I didn’t.”
“You didn’t have to come back.” Her voice quavered, and she set down the tray on the floor so she could wipe her eyes. “After you went to Förening the other day to get her, you didn’t have to com
e back.”
“I wasn’t going to.” Loki paused, debating whether or not to tell her the truth. “The King sent me back to get her, knowing I’d earned her trust, but I asked Wendy to run away with me. And I meant it. If she’d said yes, I would’ve taken her far away from all of this.”
“But she said no?” Sara asked.
He swallowed hard and didn’t say anything for a minute. His shoulders slackened, and he looked more despondent than Sara had ever seen him before.
“It’s for the best, though,” Loki said finally. “If she’d come with me, it would’ve meant hell for her people. Oren would’ve claimed they broke the truce and were holding me hostage. He would’ve attacked them with everything, and the Trylle wouldn’t have her to help defend them.”
“That’s why you came back,” Sara realized. “If you stayed gone, Oren would blame the Trylle and go after them.”
“He would’ve killed them and stolen her.” Loki nodded. “It didn’t seem worth it to have all the bloodshed just so I could avoid some pain.”
“Loki.” She walked over to him and tried to put her hand on his arm, but he pulled away from her. “You need to escape.” She lowered her voice, in case the guard outside might be listening. “I can help you.”
“I think it’s too late for me, Sara.” He smiled sadly at her. “But you should get out while you still can.”
The door behind them started to push open, and Sara hurriedly stepped away from him.
Oren strode into the room, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up and the top button undone, like he meant to get down to business. In his right hand he held a sword—the diamonds of the bell guard glittering over his hand.
“I wish you’d told me you planned to come see Loki today,” Oren said, his voice like rough gravel, and smiled at his wife. “I could’ve saved you the trip.”
“I only brought him food.” Sara gestured to the tray on the ground. “I thought he should keep up his strength.”
“Nah, I don’t need my strength.” Loki waved off Sara, making his chains rattle, and pointed to the sword. “The King’s come to kill me.”
Oren’s smile widened and his black eyes rested on Loki. “Joke all you want, but soon you’ll be begging for death.”
“How would you prefer me to beg, sire?” Loki asked. “On my knees? Because I can do that right now, if you’d like.”
“Loki,” Sara said in a hushed tone.
“My Queen, would you leave us, please?” Oren asked, without looking at her. “I need a moment alone with our prisoner.”
“Your Majesty.” Sara wrung her hands and looked from Oren to Loki, her eyes wide and fearful. “Please don’t do anything rash.”
“I’m never rash,” the King snapped. “Now leave us.”
Sara glanced back at Loki, looking apologetic. He wanted to nod to her, to make some gesture to let her know that he was okay with her leaving, that he encouraged it, even. But he couldn’t. If the King saw that, it would appear that she was asking for Loki’s permission, and Sara would pay dearly for that.
So instead, Loki did nothing except stare stoically at the King. Sara left the dungeon without another word to either of them, and the door clanked shut loudly behind her.
“My wife cares too much for you,” Oren said simply.
“It depends on what you think of as ‘too much.’ ” Loki wagged his head, considering it. “Since you’re incapable of caring because you have no heart, I suppose that any amount would seem too much to you.”
The King laughed loudly, and he held up his sword, gesturing with it as he spoke, and it was a struggle for Loki to keep his eyes off the metal as it glinted in the light.
“I’ll admit this to you, Loki—I did always think you were funny. I’d never say that to anyone else, but you make me laugh.”
“I did always fancy myself the court jester,” Loki said.
“And you were. A fine one too.” Oren rubbed his chin and paced in front of Loki. “And if you’d been good at anything else, we wouldn’t be here. Do you want to know the one thing I could never stomach about you?”
“My boyish charm? My stunning good looks? My untamed hair?” Loki suggested.
“You never knew when to shut up.”
Oren turned on him and lifted the sword suddenly. He drove it right toward Loki, and when the tip of the blade pierced his chest directly above his heart, Loki didn’t even inch. He just swallowed hard and kept his eyes on the King, but Oren didn’t push the blade in any farther.
The King narrowed his eyes at him. “I could kill you right now.”
“I rather expected you were going to,” Loki admitted.
“I know.” Oren smiled broadly at that. “That’s why I’m not.” He jerked the sword back, slicing Loki across the chest, but it was nothing more than a flesh wound. Still, Loki had to steel himself to keep from reacting to the pain, and blood dripped down his skin. “I want to make you suffer the way you’ve made me suffer.” “This is you suffering?” Loki smirked. “You don’t know the first thing about true pain. You’ve never gone without—”
Before Loki could say any more, the King backhanded him, so the bell guard of the sword hit him square in the jaw. The diamonds pierced his skin, and the King used such force that Loki had to use all his might to keep from falling over. But he refused to give Oren the satisfaction.
He straightened himself up, absently spitting blood on the floor, and kept his eyes on Oren. His hair had fallen forward, nearly into his eyes, but Loki didn’t brush it away.
“You can mess up my face and my hair, but I’ll always be more charming than you,” Loki said, smiling even though it hurt like hell to do so.
Oren leaned forward, and when he spoke, his voice was low, like he was conspiring with Loki. “I know you want me to kill you. That’s why I’m not going to. I also know you can barely survive without interaction. Even me, smacking you around, you thrive on that. You crave it.”
“Aw, yes, I often long for a right hook in the jaw or a whip to my back,” Loki replied. “I’ve written many a sonnet about the beatings you used to give me when I was a child.”
“The real torture for you is being ignored,” Oren went on as if Loki hadn’t said anything.
“So true. That sword you have is nothing compared to being shunned. I’d take the guillotine any day as long as someone is watching.”
“Make your jokes, but nobody will be around to laugh at them,” Oren said, backing toward the door. “I’m forbidding Sara from seeing you or any of the guards from talking to you. You’ll have nothing. When I’m through with you, you’ll wish you’d never been born.”
“I’ve always wished that, sire,” Loki said and exhaled deeply.
Oren laughed as he walked out of the dungeon, and Loki could still hear him laughing even after the door had locked and Oren had begun walking away.
With no other way to express his frustration, Loki picked up the tray and threw it across the room. It crashed into the wall, denting before clattering to the floor.
He slumped back against the wall and held his head in his hands. The truth was that he had no idea if he’d make it through this. Isolation, beatings, constant threats of death—it was exactly what he’d thought it would be, but that didn’t make it any less excruciating to endure.
“That Princess better be worth all this,” Loki muttered to himself.
But as soon as he said it, he thought of her. The kindness he’d seen in her eyes and the fact that she’d stood up for him and fought for his life, even when his own people never had. They’d only shared a few moments together, but she’d made him feel more than he ever had in his entire life.
Without a doubt, she was worth it. No matter what the King would do to him, Loki would gladly do it all again, if it meant that he could spare Wendy the same fate.
Ascend
To all the readers—thank you for all your support.
ONE
amnesty
I had my back to the
room as I stared out the window. It was a trick I’d learned from my mother to make me seem more in control. Elora had given me lots of tips the past few months, but the ones about commanding a meeting were the most useful.
“Princess, I think you’re being naive,” the Chancellor said. “You can’t turn the entire society on its head.”
“I’m not.” I turned back, giving him a cool gaze, and he lowered his eyes and balled up his handkerchief in his hand. “But we can’t ignore the problems any longer.”
I surveyed the meeting room, doing my best to seem as cold and imposing as Elora always had. I didn’t plan to be a cruel ruler, but they wouldn’t listen to weakness. If I wanted to make a change here, I had to be firm.
Since Elora had become incapacitated, I’d been running the day-to-day activities of the palace, which included a lot of meetings. The board of advisers seemed to take up a lot of my time.
The Chancellor had been voted into his position by the Trylle people, but as soon as his term was up, I planned to campaign against him as hard as I could. He was a conniving coward, and we needed somebody much stronger in his position.
Garrett Strom—my mother’s “confidant”—was here today, but he didn’t always attend these meetings. Depending on how Elora was doing that day, he often chose to stay and care for her instead.
My assistant Joss sat at the back of the room, furiously scribbling down notes as we talked. She was a small human girl who grew up in Förening as a mänsklig and worked as Elora’s secretary. Since I’d been running the palace, I’d inherited Joss as my own assistant.
Duncan, my bodyguard, was stationed by the door, where he stood during all the meetings. He followed me everywhere, like a shadow, and though he was clumsy and small, he was smarter than people gave him credit for. I’d grown to respect and appreciate his presence the last few months, even if he couldn’t completely take the place of my last guard, Finn Holmes.
Aurora Kroner sat at the head of the table, and next to her was Tove, my fiancé. He was usually the only one on my side, and I was grateful to have him here. I didn’t know how I would manage ruling if I felt completely alone.
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