“Dreks used to be people, millennia ago. My ancestor Cronan cursed his warriors to become unbeatable beasts. He had the blacksmith make him a sword, imbued with his power, so his later generations could control the drek army. Also ... so they could make new ones.After his death, one of his descendants predicted the dreks would lead to the end of the world, so she cursed the sword to be unusable by a Nightshade ruler. Dreks had ravaged both Lightlark and Nightbane. After Cronan’s death, they were all banished below. Now ... they’ve started rising up again.”
“So ... the sword controls the dreks. That’s why you want it? To stop them?”
I nod. “My father was obsessed with finding the sword.” He was obsessed with finding anything that might give him an edge. For a moment, I remember that stone. The one that nearly killed him, at the end of his life.
I’m surprised I’m speaking about him at all, especially to a Wildling. But she’s not just a Wildling. Not anymore.
She’s patient and interested. “Why?”
“He wanted to use it to invade Lightlark. It would have been easy, with the dreks.” I don’t have that same motivation. Not that it would be possible until the Centennial, anyway. Also ... I’ll never forget how many died in the war. I’m content with our land ... if I can banish the dreks.
She asks me something that makes me pause.
“What was your mother like?”
I’m silent for a few moments, feelings long buried now slowly rising. “I wouldn’t know.”
Her brows come together. “She—died? In childbirth?”
“No. On Nightshade, rulers don’t take wives. They don’t ever even bed the same woman twice. Or, at least, they’re not supposed to.”
She looks far more horrified than I would have expected. “What? Why?”
“A precaution. Love makes our power vulnerable. It is a weakness.” I remember what my father said.Love kills kingdoms.
She’s staring at me. I search around for her feelings and find only sadness. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”
“I do. If I love someone, they have access to my ability. It’s a liability. My ancestors never cared to take the risk.”
“That’s why you had the line of women,” she says. “The volunteers. To make sure ... to make sure you never sleep with the same person twice.”
Exactly. “Not that I would remember them, but the palace has records. It’s a precaution. It’s been that way for generations.”
Then, she says something that shocks me, though it shouldn’t. She’s clever. She’s sharp. “You’re trying for an heir, aren’t you?”
It’s true, though since I met her, I haven’t been trying at all.
I remember sending the Covets away. I remember realizing no one would ever compare to her. The idea of being with someone else, even in the basest sense, repulses me.
She really has ruined me. The world seems dull now that I’ve seen her. Her beauty makes everything else look lesser.
I’m knocked out of my thoughts by a flash of her jealousy. Of unease. “I’m guessing ... it hasn’t worked?”
“Bearing children as a ruler can take time.” I realize now why she might feel uneasy. Having an heir would mean I couldn’t attend the Centennial. It’s one of the rules. I wouldn’t be able to fulfill my part of the deal. “No, I haven’t continued since we made our agreement.”
I don’t tell her I have no plan to fulfill our agreement at all. She’ll be dead before the Centennial, if we can find and unlock the sword. My realm will be rid of the dreks.
She’s still thinking about me having previously tried for an heir, because she says, “You think the dreks will eventually kill you. You want to ensure your realm survives.”
Precisely. “It’s my duty.”
“And if you did eventually have a child, after the Centennial, you wouldn’t want to know the mother? You wouldn’t ... allow her to help raise the child?”
I wonder why she’s so interested. I see the flash of green eyes again, from my dream, in the face of a child. An ache goes through me, as if I’ve already lost something I never had in the first place.
I feel the same way when it comes to her.
I’ll never have her.
