And hallucinations of a wild man atop a deer, and a woman whose aura exuded summer and sunlight
“So, if Yain glows—”
“Yail,” Anderz corrected.
“IfYaillights up when I ask, I will pass the rite? What if it answers Adastrus as well?”
“Have more faith in the gods, Princess.” A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “You bear the mark of the chosen. Nothar will answer you, not your brother.”
“But if it does?”
He sighed, shook his head, and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his deep black robes draping around them. “In that very unlikely circumstance, your victories outnumber the prince regent's, two to one. However, a response on his behalf would allow him to invoke the Rite of Combat.”
“Gods! I assume Adastrus is skilled with a blade? It would be a fair fight?”
“Aye, Princess.”
“I’d lose,” I stated flatly, shooting him an exasperated leer. “Anderz, I grew up in the slums. I might stand a chance in a gritty brawl, where I could use my surroundings to my advantage, but not in a duel!”
“He would use Grimm,” he said.
My heart twisted as I peered Sainte’s way, though his gaze was fixed on the counselor with intense scrutiny. Tension crackled, as if he searched for hidden truths beneath Anderz’s words, his expression a blend of curiosity and suspicion.
My throat tightened. “I would have to fight Grimm?!”
“No. I would.” Sainte’s voice carried a low, dangerous edge.
An unspoken exchange passed between their locked gazes, and I stared, desperate to gain some clarity.
“I won’t allow it.” My chin dipped, conveying my assertion.
Sainte had suffered enough. I wouldn’t let him fight his friend for my sake.
“You’d have no choice,” Anderz said with a small shake of his head, bringing his unblinking gaze back to me. A heavy frown rode his thin lips as he thought on it. “You would have no chance against Grimm, and it would be expected that a Valahant fight another, not the royal themselves.”
“You said they are forbidden to interfere in the rites.” Skepticism laced my tone.
“A Valahant is bound in life and death. If it comes to your demise, Sainte would intervene.”
That would have been nice to know in the middle of the Howl.
“We need to find a way to release Grimm,” I huffed, my frustration evident.
Knowing my brother, if there was an opportunity for him to invoke the Rite of Combat, he would. I lacked trust in gods who only manifested in dreams and hallucinations to depend on their response.
“Do you believe the regent wouldn’t try to strip you of your Valahant if it were possible?” the counselor asked.
“There has to be a way.”
Sainte’s stare bore into mine. “I am bound to you in life and death.”
“Why would Grimm agree to that?!” I cursed, bringing my palms up to my face.
“Princess, the velebond between you and dear Sainte is unique.” Anderz’s tone softened. “It’s rare for a Valahant to choose their bonded. Traditionally, it is requested by a royal, and such a request given by Adastrus would only be a veiled command. Grimm of Strongstone had no choice.”
I was out of my depth. Every aspect of politics was a foreign concept to me. Anderz did the best he could. His wisdom was a lifeline, valuable beyond measure. Without him, I was a fish floundering out of water. If he had no solution, I could only trust that there was no way out of the bond.
“Take heart, Princess. The God Stones will rule in your favor,” Anderz said, his voice carrying a touch of optimism. “We face an incredibly daunting task ahead.”
