Page 126 of The Ashborn

“She’ll find the light and the breath when the path opens for it. But the crown?” He gave a single nod. “That part is iron-true. She will be queen.”

Kienna motioned to turn, to walk to Connak. To tell the room that perhaps they were mistaken. She didn’t want to be the Ashborn child. She couldn’t be. The old Viking man was wrong. Everything in her demanded she tell Elira they didn’t need the Vikings as an ally. They could find a way through this raging attack from the north. Maybe the heavens would shine upon them, and King Vaerin would give up. The fire in her heart burned deeply with fear. She spent her whole life trying not to burn. Why did they keep asking her to?

She pushed her mind outward to go anywhere but there. She called Ruva again. She begged for her wolf. Deafening silence met her.

Relax, Connak said. They aren’t naming you queen right now.

Why do they have their own prophecy about the Ashborn? And why couldn’t we do this more privately?

She’s naming you heiress. You’ll only resume the throne if she dies.

“You can name your heir, Queen Elira,” Skald said, his voice scraping like stone. “But it was never yer choice to make.”

Elira’s fingers twitched against the fabric of her dress, the only betrayal of her otherwise frozen posture. “I will name Kalyra of Belok,” she said, heavy but firm.

Her glacial eyes fell onto Kienna, along with the rest of the room. Kienna’s heart nearly fumbled through her mouth. She remained silent and tried to hide the all-encompassing fear surging through her.

Broan let out a merry laugh. “Well, congratulations. You’re a fucking princess after all.”

Chapter 50

—Danek—

Kienna didn’t stick around. She would more than likely be reprimanded for it, but she bolted the minute Queen Elira turned her back.

“Go with her,” Connak sighed.

Danek followed, trailing her as closely as he could without invading her space. She walked quickly, mangling her hands again, writhing them frantically, and then bringing them to her face to bite. She wore his rings, some of the beads worn from overuse. A warmth flooded him, knowing she at least used them.

She glanced over her shoulder repeatedly, probably to see if she was being followed by meddling Vikings. She wore her heart on her sleeve as tears brimmed her eyes. He desperately wanted to reach out and take that heart. He could make this right for her if she let him.

They weaved through the bridges toward the elemental islands pulsing with magic. Kienna climbed until she reached the island of fire. It offered her immediate access, extending a bridge of stone to her. Kienna engulfed herself in the flame until she reached the temple. There was no delicate spire or carved hall, but a dark, towering chamber of scorched stone. The walls stretched high and narrow, chiseled by heat and time, and stained-glass windows glowed with flickering reds and golds.

Danek followed closely, taking caution to avoid the fire. Kienna stopped at its center, a massive iron brazier roaring and cradling a bonfire spanning nearly to the ceiling. Sparks danced upward like spirits. Nature and fire worked together symbiotically. Danek found it odd that fire could be so peaceful here in the forest. Then he looked at Kienna and knew this island was here for her.

Danek drew closer, preparing for her to push him away. To tell him goodnight and ask that he leave her be. “I’m around if you need me.” He leaned into a light bow, stopping himself immediately. It was not the right time for chivalry. He cleared his throat instead.

Kienna turned quickly, placing her hand on his sleeve and pulling him forward into the fire. They stood there in the warmth, staring at the flames. Kienna’s jaw worked against her, eyes twitching to fight her emotions. “I’m no hero. I don’t want this.”

Danek faced her, wary that the fire might burn him. He realized it could never. The flames were a warm spark meant to fuel him. Never burn.

Kienna looked good in the fire. Even with the flames, the scent of pine sap wafted from the trees around them, overwhelming the island. “I think you’d be a kickass queen if my opinion is worth anything.”

Kienna rolled her head to him, brow furrowed in a deep V. “They hate me. All of them.”

Danek went to reach for her.

Kienna paced. Her hands tore at the clasp on her cloak; the Hollow Blades insignia caught in her grip. She stared at it like it burdened her, shoulders rising in short, frantic breaths. “They shouldn’t follow me,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. The fire pulsed in bright waves as she moved. “They don’t understand what I am. I carry his magic, Danek.”

Her chest heaved. She stumbled back from him, cloak half-falling from her shoulders as though the cloth itself betrayed her. Her face twisted with choking resistance that came from trying not to cry.

Danek reached his hand out again, but he pulled back before his fingers grazed her skin.

“It should have been someone else,” she gasped, hands flying over her temples. “I don’t want to wear their deaths like badges.” She leaned over, catching her breath.

“Breathe,” Danek whispered, leaning to her. He grabbed her shoulders. “You’re not carrying it alone.”

Kienna glanced at him, eyes burrowing into his soul. She still wasn’t seeing him through it all. Danek could see her, though. He saw how much she truly cared for people. That she didn’t want to rule them because she didn’t want to turn into the bloodthirsty rulers she knew. She struggled because she was pure, fighting against the evil that pressed against her.