Page 131 of Season Warriors & Wolves

“My pardon?” one of them barked, eyes bulging out. Offended it seemed. The nepotistic hierarchy of this kingdom made for some spoiled rulers. Wars caused by a fragile ego were not a new concept in this part of the realm.

“It is not for me to pardon,” my wife said, more gracefully than usual. “Though the Goddess of Deceit might appreciate a few prayers in these very dark times.”

“Your gods are cruel,” one huffed.

Snow swivelled a look over them. “I can see that.”

The youngest one, the Darmain Prince, shot their king a look. “Are they here to break the deal?”

“Break?” I asked, leaning back and throwing an arm around my wife’s shoulders. “No, but it was also not in my knowledge I gave you permission to break it by taking another from Silas Krigborn.”

“You must know well,” the Breshall prince said, sneering. “The highest bidder wins by bringing the biggest bid. We promised metal, not our loyalty. We are free to bargain whatever trade we wish and with whoever we wish as long as we provide you that metal.”

That made me chuckle. “Biggest bidder? I offered you no bid. What I did offer on the other hand is not a single other option besides trading with me.” I pointed my head to their king who’d heard the terms and repercussions of denying me were. “Ask.”

Snow’s mouth curled in a sly smile as she murmured for me to hear, “So you threatened him?”

“The chance presented itself, my heart.” Drystan had asked what his other choices were besides trading with me, and I’d laid out the fact that the whole of Comnhall would have not seen light till they’d withered under the shade of night and died if he’d not taken his first and only choice.

The three princes turned to their kin. “Uncle?”

Drystan’s look was cold. “The monarchy will die when my blood dies. This throne will remain under my name until its very last breath and then remain no more. No other name will sit where mine has sat. If I must force my hand on you then I will. If he must force his hand on you, then I will let that happen as well.”

“Fine by us,” the Norodoh Prince said. “We will take our chances.”

Snow groaned, already bored. “If this had been another time, I would have melted your flesh like wax. However, we do not have the time nor the patience to play chase the mouse with either three of you buffoons or with any other three buffoons.” She pulled the vials from a small silk sachet and put them on the table before us.

“What is this trick?” the Breshall Prince asked, and Drystan leaned forward on his throne to observe the blood vial.

“Longevity. Eternity. Immortality. There are many words for it.”

One of them laughed and the other two just stared incredulously at my wife. “You expect us to be fooled so simply?”

“Quite honestly, I’ve seen you be fooled for less.” She pushed the vial a couple inches toward them. “But try it.”

“It could be poison.”

My wife cackled and they all went pin straight when lighting hit just outside the window and slithered inside to twirl around the princes. “Why would I need to poison you? I like seeing blood, bone, guts and so on and so forth.”

One of them shakily reached for the vial and tipped all of it in their mouth, gagging for a moment at the taste.

Snow took out a dagger from her side and threw it on the table. “Someone kill him. I’d rather not stain my dress.”

“W–what?” They all shot at their feet. “You can’t possibly—”

I faded behind the Breshall Prince and slashed the dagger over his throat. He dropped to the ground, gurgling and choking on his own blood, but only for a moment as the wound to his neck began sowing together and he finally sucked a full breath.

“What in the crown jewels,” Drystan murmured in astonishment when his nephew rose from the floor soiled in his blood, more alive than he had been before I’d killed him. “Impossible. This is impossible.”

“Would you like for me to kill him again?” I asked, straightening my jacket.

The prince stumbled back, waving a hand. “Once was enough.”

“Thought so,” I said, sitting beside Snow again.

“Have I come from the dead?” he asked, still in shock.

“No,” Snow answered. “The potion kicks in before you die and slowly mends what has been damaged.”