Page 203 of Brimstone
“Enough, Orious. I think she understands now,” Belikon intoned.
His seneschal stopped speaking, falling into an even deeper bow than the first.
To me, the king said, “These dryads are onmyland. They exist at my discretion. They obey me in everything, and in return I keep them fed. Try to cut this one down or hack your mate free,and it will kill him in an instant. They’ve turned into spiteful things over the years.” He laughed. “I have to admit, I admire their ability to inspire such fear into their captives. Sometimes, if you place your hand against their trunks, they’ll show the symphony of terror they are conducting inside the minds of those they harbor within.”
“Let himgo,” I seethed. “You know Malcolm’s horde killed the people of Gillethrye. Fisher had nothing to do with it!”
“Fisher has been nothing but trouble since the moment he was born, and the only way I will suffer him to live is likethis, where he can’t stir up my people and cause any more trouble. He will remain here until I am satisfied he no longer poses a threat to my crown. He will stay here,” he repeated, “until I have seen you bow before the Firinn Stone and you have rendered yourself Oath Bound into my service. You will accept this without complaint, and after you have proven yourself to me . . . become my tool to wield, eventually, in a couple thousand years, I may set him free. This is the only way he lives, girl,” Belikon sneered. “Make your peace with it.”
I would not make my peace with it. Never in a million years. But Belikon didn’t know that. He thought he had me cornered with nowhere to go. I nodded to the god sword still churning out black smoke on the stone at the foot of Fisher’s prison. “And Nimerelle?” I asked. “What happens to Fisher’s god sword while he’s trapped inside this prison for thousands of years?”
Belikon’s gaze was feverish as it fell upon the sword in question. “Since Kingfisher stole what was rightfully mine and took Solace when he fled the palace, it’s only right that I takehisgod sword fromhim. Soon, the oubliette will consume your mate. When the dryad encapsulates him fully, it will not kill him, but he will enter a state very much like death. The bond between god sword and male will be broken, and Nimerelle will be mine. A gratifying justice, I think. With such a legendary god sword inmy hand, I will bring those who refuse to bow before me to their knees by force. For the good of Yvelia—” His words died on his lips. “Wait. What are you doing?”
I had used the time while he was speaking to press Erromar and Selanir together. The short swords had become one again, reforming Solace. The singular swordwasfar bigger than was comfortable for me, but I could wield it just fine. And I was going to needtwohands for what was coming next.
“He isn’t staying in that thing.” It was a statement. A simple fact.
Orious barked out harsh laughter, though he shuffled his feet. “Stubborn until the end, Your Majesty. What did I tell you? She can’t be reasoned with.”
But Belikon wasn’t listening to his seneschal. He was staring, eyes narrowed into slits, at me. “What are you hiding, girl? What do you know?”
I took a step forward. “I know the history of that god sword over there. Doyou?”
The bastard’s frown deepened. He drew his cloak about him, arranging the fabric so that it hung correctly at his feet. “It is a sword, half-breed. Swing and it cuts. What else do I need to know?”
“It was given to Fisher by the gods themselves. Did you know that it’s made of iron?”
The king laughed dismissively. “Don’t be stupid. No member of the Fae can wield iron. One second holding that in his bare hands, and the dog would have been dead. He’s carried it since Ajun—”
“Since Ajun. Yes. Ajun, where he closed the iron gate that protects the city, again with his bare hands. He knewthatwould kill him. And it should have. But Bal and Mithin chose to take pity on their favorite, didn’t they? They saved him. They gave him a sword of iron, because he had shown strength enough towield it. And there on the killing fields, his friend was slain by the dragon they fought. The very same whose skull you display behind your throne as if it wereyouwho slayed him.
“You chastise me for claiming what’s rightfully mine? The spoils of waralwaysbelong to the crown, you fool.”
Another step. I was nearly close enough. Almost, now . . .
“Her name was Merelle, twin sister to Renfis, the male who later became general of your army.”
Wrinkling his nose, Belikon shook his head. “Am I supposed to feel something? How am I supposed to remember everyone who falls in service of their king? I didn’t even know the malehada sister.”
I swallowed down the bile that rose up the back of my throat. “She died screaming. Fisher and the other members of the Lupo Proelia brought down that hateful beast, and Fisher found himself trapped inside its jaws. Merelle came to him there. Her spirit, that is. She bound her soul to that blade, so she would always be with her friends. That’s why he named the sword that. Ni’ Merelle. For Merelle, in Old Fae.”
Orious sneered, his top lip curling in disdain. “Do not lecture us on the etymology of words formed in a languageyoudo not speak.”
Another step closer. Only one more, and I’d be close enough.
I made a point of ignoring Orious’s jab. “The blade, then, as you can discern from the tale, is no simple god sword. It’s made of iron. It houses the echo of a soul that died because ofyou. It doesn’t matter if Kingfisher lives or dies. You’llneverbe able to wield Nimerelle. If the metal doesn’t kill you, then the warrior who lives inside it will.”
He clearly hadn’t known about the iron. God swords always made the people they weren’t bonded to uncomfortable. That was just the way of them. He’d put his unease around the sword down to that. He hadn’t touched the sword without gloves yet.That would have been a death sentence, given who he was and the fact that the blade was still bonded to Fisher. The realization came crashing down on the king now—a hole in his plan. A disruption, souring the taste of victory in his mouth.
He tried to wave the matter off. “So be it. Fine. If no other member of the Fae can touch the damned iron, then it’ll be disposed of. Buried in an unmarked site. Thrown into a chasm. It will be forgotten, and you will make me anewgod sword—”
Thereisone,” I interrupted.
Orious’s mouth flapped, his anger over the fact that I’d spoken over his precious king evident. Belikon just sighed. “Onewhat?”
“One other who isn’t affected by iron.”
“Pray enlighten me. Who—”
