Page 16 of Realms of Shadow and Sun
This was it, Sion thought, his mind racing. He knew his treachery would eventually be uncovered. The constant fear, the sleepless nights wondering when he would be discovered—it had all led to this moment. Fates, he only wished he could have done more. Found some kind of weakness, some useful information on how to defeat her. The weight of his failure pressed down on him, threatening to crush what little resolve he had left.
He stayed silent, knowing there were no words to appease her. He had always known she would grow tired of him and find a way to dispose of him. His only regret was that he wouldn't be able to take her down with him. The thought of leaving Renya alone, of failing Grayden and all those who depended on him, was almost too much to bear.
Cressida withdrew her milky white hand and pulled a piece of parchment from between her cleavage. Sion was grateful he'd never have to see her uncovered chest again. His charade was over, his own personal torment almost ended. A small part of him felt relief at the thought, even as fear clawed at his insides.
“Brandle noticed you heading towards the falconry a few nights ago,” Cressida continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “He followed you. Can you guess what he saw?”
Sion remained quiet, his mind flashing back to that night. He had been so careful, or so he thought. But in this place, with eyes and ears everywhere, it had only been a matter of time before he was caught. He kept his head bowed, wondering how his death would play out. He hoped it would be quick and dignified. He hated to imagine her toying with him, like she often did. She enjoyed playing with her prey before she consumed them, a fact he had witnessed far too many times.
“You don't know? Or you don't care to deny it?” Cressida's voice had an edge to it now, sharp as a blade and just as dangerous.
Again, he kept his tongue in check. He wanted to lash out, to have the final word, but he was tired. Tired of this role, exhausted from the mental toll he paid. Pained from the emotional turmoil. He was glad it was over. Thrilled for the end to be here. He'd see his father again. It would all be okay. He said a silent prayer to the Fates. Let his death accomplish something. Fuel a fire within his lands to avenge his passing.
Cressida tapped her talon-like nails against the throne, the rhythmic sound like a countdown to Sion's fate. She was clearly enjoying Sion being in the hot seat, her eyes gleaming with malicious pleasure. Brandle watched his queen, also entertained by Sion's predicament. The tension in the room was palpable, a living thing that seemed to pulse with each beat of Sion's racing heart.
The wind ruffled Sion's robes, the cold oddly comforting. He looked at Renya, not wanting to incriminate her further, but he recognized the parchment Cressida held and knew Renya was just as much on trial as he was. Their eyes met for a brief moment, a world of unspoken words passing between them. He closed his eyes, bracing for what was coming. He had seen it play out so many times, and had witnessed so much death in this room. He wondered how his own ending would come. Would she blast him with her magic? Slit his throat? Either way, his body would end up in the ravine below, carelessly tossed aside like so many others before him. The thought should have terrified him, but instead, he felt a strange sense of calm. At least it would be over.
“Fine. Refuse to speak,” Cressida spat, her patience clearly wearing thin. “It's obvious to me that you are working for my daughter's mate—that foolish boy. As if he stands a chance against me.”
This time, Sion's pent-up frustration and anger got the best of him. Months of suppressed rage, of playing the obedient servant, finally boiled over. “Are you jealous that I serve him, or just jealous that he prefers your daughter over you?”
The words had barely left his mouth when pain hit him, a blast of magic colliding with his chest. It felt like being struck by lightning, every nerve in his body screaming in agony. This was what he wanted. If he angered her, she couldn't draw out his death. But suddenly, the agony stopped and he heard a soft cry.
Through the haze of pain, Sion saw Renya had thrown herself in front of Cressida's path and was now twisting and writhing in torment. Cressida instantly stopped when she realized her target had changed, surprise and something akin to concern flashing across her face for a split second before her mask of cruelty slipped back into place.
Sion panted heavily, trying to recover from the piercing pain flowing through his body. He watched Renya do the same, her face pale but determination set in her eyes. It was now clear to Sion that either Cressida's magic was fading, or Renya was now too powerful to be controlled at the same time as Sion. Either way, it was a good sign, a glimmer of hope in their seemingly hopeless situation.
The Shadow Queen strode towards Renya and yanked her roughly to her feet, her fingers digging into Renya's arm hard enough to leave bruises. “What are you doing, girl? His punishment doesn't concern you!”
Renya lifted up her chin, her gray gown trailing behind her. Despite the plain gowns Cressida forced her into, Sion couldn't deny her beauty. He understood Grayden's fascination with her. Her golden hair tumbled down her shoulders, the locks thick and shining even in the dim light of the throne room. Unlike her mother, Renya didn't paint her lips or rouge her cheeks. Her natural grace was evident in the way she moved, her tone of voice, and her expressions. But right now, her eyes were deeply furrowed in anger, blazing with a fierce determination that reminded Sion of why he had risked everything to help her.
Sion was free again, unbound from Cressida's hold. He debated jumping off the edge of the cliff, ending it before Cressida could torture him to death. The ravine below seemed to call to him, promising an end to his suffering. But as he looked on, Cressida struggling to overpower Renya once more, he paused.
Renya was flailing her arms in a cruel imitation of a marionette doll, arms moving uncoordinatedly. A bead of perspiration dripped down her wrinkled forehead, deep in concentration. A flash of surprise, then horror, and then something else—almost pride?—crossed the Shadow Queen's face. Sion knew Renya couldn't outright attack Cressida while the blood promise remained in place, but she was still fighting against both the magic of the promise and the magic Cressida was using. He beamed with pride, even though Renya's training was not his doing. She had come so far in such a short time, her strength of will matching her growing magical abilities.
“Stop fighting me!” Cressida bellowed, her composure cracking for the first time. The air crackled with conflicting magics, golden sparks of Renya's power clashing with the dark tendrils of Cressida's control.
“Leave him be!” Renya shouted back, her voice ringing with authority. “Spare him, and I will never fight against you again. I'll cooperate in all ways!”
Cressida paused, her eyes narrowing as she considered this unexpected offer. “Another blood promise then?” Her thin eyebrow arched towards the open ceiling, clouds dancing above like silent witnesses to the drama unfolding below. “For your loyalty and unwavering cooperation?”
“No, Renya!” Sion screamed against the wind, his voice hoarse with desperation. There was no way he would ever allow Renya to make a blood promise for his life. Her loyalty to Cressida was too big of a price for anything. The very thought of Renya binding herself further to this monster made his blood run cold. Seeing no other option before him, he ran towards the edge of the room, preparing to dive headfirst to his own death. Better to die than to be the cause of Renya's further enslavement.
He was halted mid-jump by Brandle's magic, the sudden stop jarring every bone in his body. Frozen in midair, he hung, arms flung forward and dangling over the cliff. The wind whipped around him, tugging at his robes, a cruel reminder of the fall that awaited him.
“Orders, my queen?” Brandle's tone was downright cheerful, the sadistic pleasure in his voice making Sion's skin crawl. Sion wished for nothing more than to be free of this spectacle, to fall into the abyss below and end this torment once and for all.
Cressida's eyes darted between Sion and Renya, calculating. Finally, she spoke, her voice cold and precise. “A blood promise can only be given freely. I cannot force the girl's loyalty in any other way. I'll spare his life in exchange for your fidelity.”
Sion knew he should feel relief, suspended in the air but knowing his life was safe, but he also understood the Shadow Queen's treachery. Death was truly the only way out. The 'mercy' Cressida offered was no mercy at all, but a different kind of prison. He wanted to scream, to beg Renya not to do this, but the words froze in his mouth, stifled by Brandle’s magic.
“Do you agree, girl?” Cressida's voice was soft now, almost gentle, but Sion could hear the triumph in it. She had orchestrated this perfectly, using Sion's life as leverage to bind Renya even tighter to her will.
Renya held her chin high, a single tear coursing down her cheek. The sight of that lone tear, a testament to Renya's pain and sacrifice, broke Sion's heart. “Yes. I'll make another promise.”
Cressida's villainous laugh carried with the wind, a sound of pure malevolent joy that sent shivers down Sion's spine. He hung over the ravine, listening with foreboding as Renya once again made a blood promise to the savage queen to save a life. The words of the promise echoed in the chamber, each syllable another link in the chain that bound Renya to her monstrous mother.
“Now, release him,” Renya commanded as soon as the promise was sealed, her voice surprisingly calm. There was a strength in her tone that hadn't been there before, as if the act of sacrifice had awakened something within her.
