The True Saint

Love & War

The Darkling stares at King Grimjer for the longest time with a look that would strike fear in even the toughest of soldiers. His colorless eyes are frighteningly calm, but there is a murderous gleam to them also. The Darkling takes his gaze off of Grimjer to look at me. I try to act calm, however, I doubt that my tense disposition and wild eyes give off much collectedness. As of now, we are all at a standstill. I cannot use my power quickly with the chains on, the Fjerdan King can slit my throat before the Darkling is able to summon shadows, but I am Grimjer's only protection from what Aleksander will do if he kills me.

The Darkling is the first to break the silence. "I believe you have something of mine."

"Mm. This belonging must be important to you considering how much effort you put into getting it back. Although, you did break the agreement. You were to come alone."

I do not appreciate being called 'it' and 'belonging'. I would interrupt to correct them if there was not a sharp weapon being held against my skin.

        "No, you said to not bring the second army. I did not. Also, you are right. She is important to me, which is why you are going to let her go, and then I will slowly peel the skin from your bones and feed it piece by piece to my nichevo'ya."

        King Grimjer lets out a cruel chuckle. "For once, you will not get what you want with witchcraft. You are not in a place to negotiate, Darkling." Grimjer's grip tightens painfully on my hair with the blade still resting steadily on the sensitive skin of my esophagus. "Now, you are going to abdicate the throne that you should not have had in the first place. It belongs to humans, not demons. It belongs to me. After you do that, you will hold your hands apart where I can see them. I know that your hands have to touch before you can use your sorcery and before you even think about using magic, my blade will already be tearing through her throat. If I understand correctly, you are both immortal, but not invincible. Do not give me a reason to test that theory on your wife."

There is a strange look in the Darkling's eyes. I have seen it before but where? I question. When I finally realize why he has that look, my heart aches. King Grimjer threatening me is the mirror image of four centuries ago when one of the king's men held Luda's life in his hands before Aleksander.

        I can't stay quiet any longer. I feel completely helpless without speaking. My voice comes out raspy, but confident. "He would never abdicate the throne! Especially not to a delusional man with old-world beliefs–"

        Before I can say anything else, Grimjer applies pressure to the dagger. I feel a nauseating pain and then a trickle of blood running down my throat, following the path of my skin, and soaking into my dress's neckline.

        "Now, we shall see what the Darkling holds in higher regard: his country or his summoner."

        I take the risk to speak again, my throaty voice sounds more desperate and replaces the confident tone that I had previously. It is also difficult to speak as the intense anguish grows like wildfire on my throat. "He would never choose me over Ravka."

"But he already has. Why else would he be here?"

I meet Aleksander's gaze and I finally see it. Behind the vengeful ravenousness, there is guilt. He has already chosen me by coming here. He chose me over the country that he loves. "Aleksander, don't do this," I beg.

He ignores my pleas and focuses back on Grimjer. "If I abdicate, you let her go."

"You have my word," Grimjer nods. He is obviously lying. He will kill the Darkling and then me. Why is he doing this?