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More magic filled the courtyard, scouring Rharreth’s skin with more pain even than Charvod’s whip. He tried to call on his magic, tried to fight.
But he was outmatched. He had always been outmatched, though he hadn’t known it.
When Laesornysh turned that feral, magic-seared gaze to him again, Rharreth knew.
He was going to die. His people were going to die, his kingdom would be destroyed, and there was not a thing he could do about it.
In torturing Laesornysh, Charvod had doomed them all.
Now...
Rharreth braced himself against the wall in his bedchamber of Khagniorth Stronghold, the royal residence inside the walls of Osmana. At least, it was supposed to be the royal palace. His grandfather, father, and brother had spent very little of their time there, preferring the more war-like setting of the fortress of Gror Grar instead.
Once he had been released from the custody of the conquering elf and human armies, Rharreth had pulled his warriors back into Osmana, leaving the ruins of Gror Grar and the nearby plateau to the invaders.
A knock came from his door a moment before Zavni stepped inside, giving a brief glimpse of the rest of Rharreth’s shield band waiting in the passageway, before he closed the door behind him. “The elf king has given the signal that they are almost ready for the wedding to begin.”
“I am ready.” Ignoring the flare of pain from his still healing back, Rharreth pushed away from the wall, his hand dropping to the sword he had once again buckled at his side now that it had been retrieved from his brother’s body.
Zavni stayed where he was, a pace inside the room. He met Rharreth’s gaze with the boldness of a longtime friend rather than as a warrior facing his king. “Are you sure about this, Rharreth? There have already been enough rumors about you. Marrying an elf will only make the warriors more suspicious of you.”
“I know.” Rharreth glanced around the room, from its large bed piled with furs and wool blankets, to the clothing nook that he had partially cleared of his clothes to make way for his soon-to-be wife to claim instead.
Only the members of Rharreth’s and Charvod’s shield bands had known the full truth that Charvod had accused him of treason. All of Charvod’s shield band had been killed in the battle at Gror Grar, and Rharreth’s shield band was loyal to him. They would not talk.
Still, there were vague rumors. Something like that could not be fully hidden. Already, many among the most powerful warrior families questioned Rharreth’s motives in signing a peace treaty with the elves and humans. They argued that they should have kept fighting. That, once winter came in truth, they would be strong enough to repel the invaders. They cast aspersions on Rharreth’s honor and courage.
At least Rharreth was the only one who knew that he—and not the elves—had been the one to include this marriage as part of the treaty. Perhaps it was the coward’s way out, but Rharreth had allowed everyone, including his own shield band, to believe that this marriage was being forced upon him as the cost of peace.
Zavni still stood there, waiting for Rharreth’s answer.
Rharreth straightened his shoulders, meeting Zavni’s gaze. “You saw Laesornysh’s power when he destroyed Gror Grar. He would have destroyed Osmana and who knows what else if I had not surrendered. I know we trolls do not like to admit to strength other than our own, but he is capable of wiping Kostaria off the face of the mountains should he choose to do so. To ensure that he never feels the need to continue what he started at Gror Grar, I must make a permanent, lasting peace with Tarenhiel.”
“By marrying a Tarenhieli traitor?” Zavni raised his eyebrows, his gaze studying Rharreth.
Zavni was too good of a friend not to see past all the official reasons Rharreth could give.
Rharreth glanced away, not willing to show Zavni a part of himself he still did not understand yet.
He claimed he was doing this to save Kostaria. But, was it possible that he hoped to save Princess Melantha as well?
“I know what it looks like, Zavni. I know how difficult this is going to make the start of my reign. But I have to do this.” Rharreth filled his heart and gaze with stone, bracing himself for the war with his own people that he would start the moment he married Princess Melantha. “I am not sure how or where, but Kostaria has gone wrong, and I will do whatever it takes to set it right once again.”
That could be the only explanation for why Rharreth felt such a tearing inside his own sense of honor over his actions in the last week.
Under his grandfather’s, father’s, and brother’s reigns, something had gone terribly wrong inside Kostaria and corrupted the honor that it claimed to hold to.
Rharreth had to fix it. No matter what it took. He never wanted to look into an enemy’s eyes and see more honor there than he saw in his own people.
