Page 96 of Of Kings and Thieves

Whether she knew it or not, I was no pawn to order around and torment. I was the woman who had hunted the alicorn horn since it came to my lands. The woman whose father and friends had died by her soldiers’ hands. My song grew louder and steadier. Though it didn’t seem to affect her, I wondered why she didn’t attack or hack off my head with Col’s sword.

As if reading my thoughts, she unsheathed Bloodsong and stalked toward me. I knew this could be the end, but I wouldn’t let her win. I wouldn’t stop singing.

“Silence!” Her voice was laced with power.

It reminded me of Col’s power with his voice, the one that had chased off the monster on the mountain peak. The power that compelled people to obey even though he rarely used it. He was a true ruler, a king who led by example instead of by force.

As Moredanea drew closer, I sang and thought of Andris. I didn’t mind if his sword ended me. I didn’t fear it. So I sang louder, my voice growing stronger, the pain intensifying even when it seemed like it was already more than I could bear. Yet I couldn’t stop. My magic seemed amplified, and I sang the song that had been burning in my heart since I had met Col, though I didn’t know it.

The raven prince in exile longed to reclaim his stolen throne,

To see his enemies’ lifeblood spill, hear their dying groans.

In dreams, Bloodsong called out to him, yearning to taste red rain,

Until the day the Iron Raven would make the usurpers pay in pain.

The grieving trees weep their white tears,

For half-breeds slaughtered through the years.

Their song of woe rides on the wind,

Calling out for justice to begin.

Until the Iron Raven’s cry sounds loud,

And washes clean their graves with crimson cloud.

All who share mixed blood shall be avenged,

When this noble blade tastes one last red end.

Moredanea, vile serpent Queen,

Your villainy shall soon be seen.

When Bloodsong drinks your final breath,

And I will bring your wicked death.

No longer shall your evil reign,

When the siren cleaves you twain.

Your blood-red banner torn away,

On the dawn of a brighter day.

Moredanea halted, eyes wide. She clutched her head as if assailed by a piercing headache, clearly affected by my song. But she overcame it, raising the sword over her head. I glared at her and sent a thought to Col.

I love you.

Bloodsong burst into flames, the runes on the blade glowing as if a fire within had awakened.

I kept singing, now directing the song into the sword instead of at Moredanea. Col had sung to the sword at times, and I had mocked him for it. But now it felt right.

Moredanea screamed and dropped Bloodsong. She backed away, covering her ears and shrieking for silence over and over, like a dying animal. As I sang on, Col staggered to his feet. But instead of going for Moredanea, he knelt beside me and touched my face. “Keep singing, my love.”

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