Page 63 of Marked By the Enemy
Darian stiffened beside me. “I was a child. I don’t remember what I signed.”
“But I do,” the Bone Seat said. He turned to the rest. “You should ask him what his signature bought.”
Astrid’s voice cut across the courtyard. Low, even. “He was ten years old. It wasn’t his fault.”
I frowned, a flicker of alarm catching in my chest. Astrid was aware of it? Was she more attuned than the rest of us? It would make sense. She’d been the revered wandbearer of her village long before the binding vow marked her.
The Bone Seat’s eyes narrowed, too. “You talk as if you are certain.”
“I am.”
He stared at her like he wanted to burn a hole through her skull. “How?”
She didn’t answer.
His smile slipped. The silence turned brittle.
Ulric grunted. “Speak plain, death-walker.”
The Bone Seat’s eyes slid to mine. “You want truth? Fine. Kill me, and Prince Darian dies with me.”
Branwen choked on her breath. Ruen cursed. Lymseia surged forward before Fen caught her arm. Willow’s mother pulled her daughter behind her. Even Astrid’s staff shifted in her grip.
Darian blinked. “You lie.”
“He’s not lying, Prince Darian. I’m afraid to say I saw it.” Astrid said.
Darian turned on her. “What did you see?”
Her knuckles were bone-white around the staff. “Your mother. Kneeling. Her mark stripped. You crying behind her. Too small to understand. And the Bone Seat standing over her.”
Darian’s throat moved once. “You beheaded her,” he said, voice raw.
The Bone Seat didn’t blink. “She disobeyed.”
“You murdered her,” Darian said. “And claimed me.”
“I did more than claim,” the Bone Seat said. “I made you. I am your father.”
A stillness hit the ring, sharp and deep.
“I don’t believe you. No!” Darian shouted.
“I’m sorry,” Astrid said quietly. “It’s true.”
Darian shook his head. “No. My mother was the queen. My father was the king.”
“He fled because I took everything,” the Bone Seat said. “Including you. After the birth of your dear brother, your father lost interest in the Queen. The King was happy with his mistresses. Your mother needed a lover, and I was there to provide. We made you.”
Darian’s hands clenched. I half expected blood to bloom from his palms. His whole body looked like it wanted to reject the name. The prince took two steps toward him. I moved faster.
I drew my blade and lunged.
My fae-forged sword dissolved mid-swing from the hilt outward, falling in a line of grey powder between us. The pieces drifted like burnt leaves. Nothing remained in my hand but a dead hilt and air.
The Bone Seat didn’t flinch. “That was unwise.”
“You kill for less,” I said, breathing hard.
