The Frozen Prince (The Beast Charmer #2) - Maxym M. Martineau Page 0,75

the darkness, and the orb inched closer. “You make interesting assumptions.” Without warning, the orb floated through me and seated itself in my heart. Gentle warmth, followed by an unbearable sense of knowing, flooded my mind and shot outward to my fingertips. Countless pairs of eyes studied me from the dark. They blinked like stars and weighed what they saw. I itched for the shadows. This kind of darkness didn’t offer the same reprieve I’d grown used to. Instead, I was entirely too exposed.

The orb left my body. Unfathomable emptiness stretched through the cavity of my chest, and Oslo sighed. “You worry you’ll do the same to your pair bond. Tell me, is she kind and just?”

“Yes.” Warmth gathered in the palms of my hands and chased away the chill left by his words.

“Does she deserve to rule?”

I frowned. “She governs her own people. I doubt she has any interest in leading those who condemned Charmers to exile after the First War.”

Frenzied excitement exploded from the orb, and dust particles of pure crystalized light began to fall from above. Streams of trailing, sparkling dust followed their descent. Oslo’s voice seemed lighter.

“Do you think Zane deserved to rule?”

Zane. At the sound of his name, something deep stirred in the pit of my belly. His blood resided within me, and it was as if the mage acknowledging his name woke a slumbering part of me, of him. History had named him the Viper of Wilheim for his battle prowess and agility, and suddenly I was seeing the image of a snake with inky-black scales. It uncoiled before me, hood flaring wide. He never got the chance to ascend to the throne, but now, through my blood, he could.

“I can’t say.”

“Why?”

“He died for his father’s cause. But to say he deserved the throne would be like admitting he made the right decision to slaughter the Charmers.” I ran an errant hand through my hair and tipped my chin upward. “Some say the king’s command was the first bounty, and Cruor’s Oath was born. Magic would have willed Zane to abide, not to mention loyalty to his family. He had his sister to think of. Perhaps some other fealty beside that. By blood, the answer is yes. By conscience, I cannot say.”

The snake seemed pleased. So did Oslo. “You and your pair bond can rewrite history.”

His statement hung between us, begging to be acknowledged. Rewrite history? Charmers wanted nothing to do with Wilheimians, and I couldn’t blame them. I could no sooner ask them to fall under Lendria’s rule than I could tame a beast in the Kitska Forest. Especially when I wanted nothing to do with the throne.

My gaze snapped to the orb. “I don’t want to rule.”

“And that’s why you must. You’ve been questioned and found worthy. Go forth and have your claim realized.”

A resounding clap chased the shadows away, and the orb of light disappeared in a blink. Vibrant green life surged into view in the form of moss and leaves and vines. All magic from the marble tomb was gone. The sticky scent of pears hung heavy in the air, and I turned to find Ozias and Kost walking toward me.

“You all right?” Ozias asked.

“Yes.” No. I didn’t know. Physically, I was unharmed. But… Oslo’s words reverberated in my mind.

“Let’s get back to the Zeelahs before something happens.” Kost pivoted his hips in the direction of our mounts, but kept his gaze locked on me.

“It already did.” In the time it took for me to take a single breath, Oslo had assessed me. A communion with a mage backed by the gods, meant for royals’ eyes only. I’d been welcomed and questioned, but there were still three more ruins to go, and no chance in hell I’d follow through with the gods’ plans. At that indignant thought, though, a glimmer of inky scales flashed through my mind. Zane. I could practically feel his disappointment, his longing for redemption. Oslo had brought his memory to life, only for me to deny his blood, my blood, and its place on the throne.

Gritting my teeth, I stalked past Ozias and Kost in the direction of our Zeelahs. “Let’s go.”

A sudden burst of heat flared from the ring on my finger.

Go forth and have your claim realized. I was already a prince in name, but without completing the ritual, it meant nothing. If the gods acknowledged my claim, though… Would the glamour of the ring hold up? It grew heavier with each passing breath,