My stomach drops. I take a deep breath. I force myself to think of the faces of all of my people. One of them will die. But not by the giant’s hand. There is only one way to preserve the honor of my people, and it is to give them the death they deserve.
I swallow, opening my eyes and fixing them on the Prince's face. “I will agree if you let me handle the death."
"Very well," Rholker says, put out.
I stand up from the table, my jaw clenched in fury.
"We have a deal," I say, my voice cold.
The Second Prince nods dismissively. "Good."
Lothar pulls out a blank scroll. “Finalizing the details of our treaty must come first. We have a few requests to discuss.”
Prince Rholker shakes his head. "Prove you are willing to sacrifice for this treaty first, or I will tell my father you declared war." His lips curl up into a smile.
I look back to the giant. "You are young, but these things are done with great care. Not in one afternoon." The words I speak are lifeless. “You must give me time to consider.”
He smiles. “No. This is the offer. Take it or leave it, old man.”
Somehow, I will make him pay for his arrogance and cruelty. It has been thirty years since we last sent hunters to their borders, but it could be possible again. I’ve been a fool for putting off sending Lothar to the elves.
Maybe the human men living in my city will be amenable to learning to fight. They are hardy.
The prince shakes his head. “Are we not in a tent full of Enduares? I will not let you pick some weak, dying whip. You'll choose from your warriors, just like you chose from ours."
Rage washes over me. I force myself to turn and look at the men standing in the room behind me. My comrades, my friends. I look at Dyrn, Joso, Lothar, Faol... Vann. My throat tightens as I wish I could send them all away. None of them look afraid, none of them look at me like I am weak. Vann meets my gaze with unflinching respect I don't deserve. I must be quick, or the giant could change his mind.
When Vann starts to move, time slows. I shake my head, a minuscule amount. My mouth opens to silence him—to remind him of his value. He saved me after the war, and I would not have been able to gather my people as effectively if I had not had a personal advisor. Losing his insight and presence would be detrimental to my ability to rule.
Another Enduar saves us both. Tirin.
It is like someone reaches into my chest and tears out my heart. He was the first to come to me after I found Estela, the first to confirm she was my mate. I have been proud of his growth as a hunter.
How will I tell his mother? What will I say in the council meetings with his brother? He meets my eyes and nods, offering himself for this awful obligation. He is too good. Untouched by the war that haunts me day and night. I had looked upon him more than once with hope for the future of the Enduares.
And yet he offers himself nobly, understanding the severity of his actions. He is not a child, and I cannot control a man’s right to sacrifice himself.
"Are you sure?" I ask in my people’s language.
"No conspiring," the Second Prince barks. "Speak the common tongue, or the deal is off."
Tirin nods, his face resolute as he murmurs, "It is an honor to die for my people. If we can keep the humans, it is worth it.”
My throat closes. “This man will fulfill your deal.”
The Prince rises to his feet, coming to stand beside me. "Use my sword," he offers.
I take one look at the scuffed, no doubt blunt blade and shake my head. "He will die by my own weapon.”
Tirin steps forward, and I gesture for him to kneel.
He does so without hesitation, and I stand behind him, drawing my sword from its place on my hip. It makes a hiss against the tough leather sheath which sears my eardrums.
I have to do this. For my people, for Tirin, for myself.
I take a deep breath and raise my blade high above my head. In one swift motion, I bring it down, severing Tirin's head from his body. Blood sprays everywhere, coating me in a sticky crimson. I hold tightly to my blade, ensuring the prince can't see my trembling hands.
Somewhere behind me, there is a gasp.Murderer, the voice says. It catches me off guard, and I turn around to see a streak of gold and brown darting away from the tent flap. Estela. Why is she not in her room? It took me so much to get her away from the giants, why the hell would she try to come close to her old slavers?