We step out of the brush. Roane holds out a hand and keeps me back. Four Shadowmen descend around me. "Stay behind Division lines. The Shadowmen will protect you," he says and meets my eyes. "Whatever you do, do not fear them."
There is a warning in his words, but before I can speak, he steps into the open, past the forest boundary and beyond Division lines.
His brother's smile widens. "My brother, the runaway!" He clasps a hand to his heart. "I was worried about you. I thought you'd abandoned your people, our bravest warrior, our-"
"What are you doing here, Thyre?" Roane stops a few feet away. "How did you know where I was?"
The Sentries form a semi-circle behind Thyre. With a threat like Roane, I can imagine him needing protection.
Thyre's eyes narrow. "How? You might as well have left a note. I know your fighting style: messy and bloody. And you have a nasty habit of decapitating. I much prefer to - " he motions a finger across his throat " - slice and drink."
Roane's jaw clenches, as do his fists. "You were always an animal."
Thyre jerks his head in my direction. "It was because of her kind, you know. Is she yours?" He runs his gaze along me; the lust in his stare feels like serpents twining about my throat.
"She belongs to herself," Roane says, "And you can't have her."
Thyre presses a palm to his chest and feigns a gasp. "Oh, Roane, Roane. I think we've started this conversation off wrong. You're angry, and you have all the right to be. It's this, isn't it?" He lifts his hands to frame the crown of thorns and ivy. "I should have asked before taking what's yours, but it does suit me quite well, don't you think?"
"Doesn't matter. A crown doesn't make you a prince."
Thyre arches a brow, a slow smile curling his lips. "It can, once you're dead."
Tense silence settles between the two brothers, the threatening words echoing between them, and in my ears. The crown didn't change who Thyre was, not a prince. But he would be a prince if Roane dies. The pieces of this simple yet complicated puzzle arrange themselves in my mind and I feel the ground vanish beneath me.
"You can have the crown. All I want is to take her across this bridge."
"How generous of you, but you know I can't just take it. Were it that easy, I would have claimed it long ago. The only way to forfeit the crown is by death, brother. A death I have been wracking my brain trying to plan. If I just outright killed you like I wanted, like Cassius was too much of a coward to do, this would have all been over ages ago. But that would make me a traitor to our people, seeing how much they love you. But then you went and crossed division lines." He clicks his teeth. "It's a shame really, but even our people will understand that the punishment for such insubordination and treason is death. So sadly your options, dear brother, are death and death. But I will be merciful and let you decide how you die. A nice trait for a king: merciful, no?"
Thyre walks in an aimless circle. "You choices are either I kill you now and take the girl, or we take you back to our father, who will tear the skin from your bones and then give me your crown and the girl. Your choice, though-and in no way am I biased because it's me-I would be the better choice. You know how nasty father can be, and so close to the Swelling..."
He looks to me and tilts his head. "Human girl, neither of you will be alive once all of this is over." He extends a hooded hand to me. "Come, I'll be gentle."
My hands dampen and my neck prickles with the desire to thrust arrow straight into his chest.
"What makes you think she'll listen to you?" Roane says, his voice a low rumble. At the sound of him, a hissing whisper echoes through the forest. It's the sigh of something sinister waking from a long slumber. The sentries exchange looks, no doubt hearing the same. Between the trees, night deepens and the branches tremble. And in the midst of it all, Roane's skin grows thinner and paler, patches of it roughened like scales. He once told me he hadn't taken on the Darkness yet, but he was still able to summon it. My heart twists and for the first time, I doubt I'll be able to keep him from it.
YOU ARE READING
Nether
FantasyYears ago, the Trolls were banished into the Nether, a void of evil and darkness between the magical realms. With their greed and treachery locked away, peace has reigned throughout the worlds. But not for nineteen-year-old witch, Aramina. Being dis...