Ragnar nodded; how could he not know it?It was the bullshit excuse Khans used to discredit his power—the belief that a king could only be ordained by the gods.
“Great Khan, then I should ask you.Who decides when the gods have ordained a man?”
A perplexing question.Ragnar stared at the prince.Who decided when the gods had ordained a king?He was not sure.“I fear I do not believe the gods made kings,” Ragnar stated.“The gods made men, and we men made kings of ourselves.”
You are king if you wish to be king.
The boy froze, caught off guard.Then he smiled, something beautiful."I see, I do not need a Shaman then, do I?I can simply do as I wish."
Movement in the shadows caught Ragnar's eye.It was a strange woman, half-hidden behind a flowering bush, trying desperately not to be seen.No veil covered her face—just tangled hair and red-rimmed eyes and a bruise blooming along her neck that she kept trying to hide by tugging at her collar.
Their eyes met for the briefest instant before she vanished back into the darkness, her footsteps quick and uneven on the garden path.
Ragnar turned back to the prince, who had gone still, his face blank but his eyes betraying a pain he couldn't quite hide.
"The woman knows you," Ragnar said.
The prince said nothing, suddenly losing the will to talk.
"Thank you for the story, Prince.I'll remember it."Ragnar inclined his head and walked away without looking back.Hidden battles took place in every court; this one was no different.But he was just a passerby, and he had no interest in pushing the tides one way or another.
The Valthorne party departed at dawn.
The Igwe saw them off with much fanfare and little sincerity, his head clearly pounding from the previous night's excess.The Okpalaeze stood at his father's side, flawless and charming; the Third Prince was nowhere to be seen.
Ragnar's party quickly put distance between themselves and the Ameachi palace, traversing deeper into the forest and up through the ridges to where the Borjigin were said to have settled.
The sun climbed higher, but the leaves gave them a canopy.It was only after two hours that Ragnar's head began to ache.
At first, he dismissed it as dehydration or lack of sleep.He'd pushed through worse; a headache was nothing.But the pain only grew, spreading and thumping wildly on his skull.The greenery around him blurred; his horse's gait felt unsteady, each stride jostling his spine in ways that made his stomach lurch.
"Thane."
His voice came out slurred and muffled to his own ears.
Thane turned in his saddle, concern flickering across his usually impassive face."Great Khan?"
Ragnar opened his mouth to speak, but the world swayed, falling.He grabbed his reins tighter, but his fingers wouldn't close properly.
"Great Khan!”
Thane pushed his horse forward.Ragnar found his vision leaving him when he heard it—the sound of betrayal.
Metal leaving leather.The whisper of a blade drawn free and the clash of swords.
Chapter 9
ThepathtotheAncestral Shrine had become too familiar.
Borji counted the bridges as he crossed them, each step taking him further from the main palace and deeper into a part of himself he didn't quite recognise.A month ago, he would have laughed if someone told him he'd be spending his afternoons visiting his wayward sister in a forgotten corner of the palace grounds.
Now, it felt inevitable.
His mind churned as he walked, turning over the same uncomfortable thoughts that had plagued him since their last conversation.
You would use a child?The question had left his lips before he could school it, and her answer—or rather, her non-answer, the way she wouldn't even look at him—had weighed heavily on him ever since.
A woman who has sworn to kill someone is not above using innocent people.
