Page 51 of Kept

Lar Guna’s eyes went cold. “We all value Lord Varick’s insights, Your Grace, but you are the king. We trust you to guide us based on your communion with the gods.”

Anger surged, and I welcomed it. Heard it in my voice as I looked Lar Guna square in the eyes and said, “You know nothing of the gods. I have bled—”

“I’m aware, Your Grace, but you have also strayed.”

Varick had a dagger in his hand before I could draw a breath. “Say that again,” he growled.

Lar Guna wasn’t intimidated this time. He had the safety of the table between him and Varick. He looked around it now. “You see, my lords? This is what I spoke of.” His eyes flashed as he addressed the Council but looked at me. “We look to the king as an example of faith and tradition. He is our conduit to the gods. It’s right there in his title—the Vessel of the Sacred Blood.”

My anger thickened, turning black and solid. “When have I failed to uphold tradition?” I demanded. But I already knew. I recognized the look in Lar Guna’s eyes. Had seen it time and again in my father’s face. And Valen’s. And countless courtiers over the years.

And I saw it now. Around the table, the lords of the Council regarded me with contempt. But it wasn’t just directed at me. There was plenty for Varick and Given as well.

The dark edge of my anger spread, the blackness seeping through me. It filled all of my hidden places—the parts of myself I’d kept from the world. I’d hidden them away, not because I was ashamed but because I knew that showing them meant showing Varick too. Exposing him to scrutiny he didn’t deserve.

But that was all done now. The hidden places were deep. So very deep. The anger spilled into them. Filled them. Began to rise.

“None of us can control our desires when we feed,” Lar Guna said. “But you take it too far, Your Grace. Your”—he glanced at Varick and spat out a word—“attraction is unnatural. You have allowed it to rule you. You’ve imperiled the kingdom by refusing to take a wife and sire an heir. And now you’ve angered the gods.” His voice climbed, indictments falling like the lash of a whip. “The Deepnight is crumbling. Lar Katerin has been taken. The South is invading, and we’re crouching like insects who scatter in the light. Our High Priest is dead. You have yet to appoint a new one. By every measure, you have failed Nor Doru. You’ve succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh, peddling your wife to your general like a common whore.” Lar Guna’s mouth twisted. “And you debase yourself with Varick of Lar Keiren. A male who would allow another male into his body is a weak vessel.” He leaned forward and slammed a fist on the table, making the marker over Lar Katerin jump. “Weak!”

Varick blurred.

“Ricti,” I said, and the bly’ad wrenched him to a halt.

There was no pain this time. Or if there was, I didn’t feel it. The anger was too deep. It spoke with my voice, shaking the ground as it opened my mouth and said, “Rem.”

Varick fell forward and caught himself on the back of a chair. The lord occupying it didn’t appear to notice. He was too busy looking at me.

The others did too, their eyes wide with fear.

Unimportant. The anger only cared about one, and it stared him down and spoke again. “The gods gave me these words, Artur of Lar Guna. RICTI.”

Lar Guna seized in place, his face a mask of frozen shock.

The anger nodded my head. “The gods gave me the power to still. You won’t move again until I release you.” The anger smiled with my lips. “I can keep you still until you die, Artur of Lar Guna. For days, for weeks. I can keep you standing until you perish of thirst and rot from hunger. Your allies on the Council can’t save you. They can kill me, and you’ll remain just as you are. Still. Because I’m the only one who can speak the word to let you move again.”

He stared, unblinking. Helpless in the anger’s grip.

“REM.” Release.

Lar Guna came alive. He sagged forward and gripped the edge of the table.

“AMET.” Stop.

He clawed frantically at his throat. Panic filled his eyes as he realized he couldn’t breathe.

“REM.” Release.

He wheezed, doubling over as he sucked in air.

“SABET.” Obey.

“No more,” he gasped, lifting a shaking hand. “Please.”

“Do as I say. Touch your nose.”

“I can’t— Ahhh!” He screamed and brought his hand to his nose so quickly that he smacked himself.

“Hop on one foot.”

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