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"The Ulriks need to get down here before we all die," he shouted.
Brokk scooped Kol into his arms and ran down to the dirt oval. I carried Raven, the others rushing close behind.
Henderson held out his hand. A spark of electricity jumped from his palm and a strange, white light encased us. I felt Sersha's thoughts flood into my brain as though they were part of my own.
From the look on everyone else's faces, they were experiencing the same.
"Memories," Henderson explained. "I used a spell to grab what I could before her lifeforce expired. I thought you'd want to know what she was doing with those who were disappearing."
The ground rumbled and he looked down then back up. “More pressingly, I learned that someone in the bloodline has to volunteer to rule before her body turns cold.”
It was basically the same thing Malcolm had communicated. The heir ceremony had always been a big deal and production in the Faelands. Until now, no one had known or cared why.
Raven coughed. "If one of us doesn't?"
"The magic here will choose the heir and the remaining fae will die. Though cruel, it’s been effective. The ancients created strong enchantments in this space to ensure there was always a successor. Insurance, should the ruler not make it out of the ring alive. It was a well-guarded secret."
It was diabolical.
We each shared troubled glances. Uncomfortably, I thumbed through what I could of the handful of memories forced into my head, trying not to react to the misdeeds I was being shown.
Good riddance, bitch.
It was then I noticed the only fae unaffected by the ancients' iron spell was Brokk. The frosty hands of fear and dread reached into my chest and stole my breath.
My teeth gnashed. “The successor has already been chosen.”
Raven's sound of distress hung in the air among the silent tension. I could feel my heartbeat swishing in my ears. If I could force her to volunteer, she'd live. Her family might live, too, if it wasn't too late.
Raven lifted her hand, clenching her fists in frustration.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"C-cut …" she croaked.
Cut the bond? No fucking way. Where she went, I followed.
"Someone better volunteer before I get violent." I would not lose her. Not like this.
Brokk made a noise of mild annoyance. "I take it neither of my children are going to volunteer?"
His unconcerned tone was going to push me straight into a murderous rampage. "Neither of your children are coherent enough to make decisions, much less speak!"
"Very well." He handed Kol off to Nik. "Perhaps they'll both consider the consequences of their actions moving forward."
The Navita was going to take his sister's spot. It had been his plan all along. If his children weren’t here I would have strangled the bastard.
I could tell Raven wanted to say something but couldn't. Instead, her head fell back in a heave of exhaustion.
No matter. I intended to have words with Brokk once we were away from this death pit and Raven was safe.
The dragonbone handle of The Navita's blade shone as he sliced across his palm. Squatting down, he spoke words in a language I didn't understand.
The spell shattered and a surge of energy expelled outward from the ring, gone as fast as it came. I surveyed our group, relieved everyone was still alive.
The solution had been a simple one, and blessedly anticlimactic, yet Brokk had been angling for a life lesson to come out of it. Strangling him wouldn’t be enough.
"How did you know to do that?" Phalen sought accusingly.
