The man the king beheaded. The wailing increases, and I hear the loss so strongly, I am forced to squeeze my eyes shut. It's dark. Far too dark for a place with glowing crags.
My crystal is hot, and my body temperature increases until... Iseesomething else. A blue baby and his Enduar family, I see them fleeing to this cave. I see a life pass in an instant. I feel the pride of the man who died. It all alarms me.
This crystal is doing something to me. I wish they would have never put it in. I yank my hand out of the king's grip, stepping back from him and the other Enduares. The grief and pain of the headless man's family, the anguish of my mother's screams, and the haunting images of the blue baby's life are too much for me to bear. I can't even fathom how the Enduares deal with the incessant magic of the stones.
The king reaches out for me again, but I dodge his touch. "Estela, please," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your thoughts are yelling at me. Let me in."
I shake my head, tears streaming down my face. "No. I don't want this. I don't want any of this. Take this crystal out of me."
The king's brow furrows, and his gem glows brighter, almost as if in warning. "What is wrong with the Fuegorra?"
I stumble back, fear twisting my insides. The cold, wet stone of the wall presses into my back as I hide from that man.
Stay back,I say, speaking to him on purpose this time. My hand goes back to the phial. In the darkness, he halts. I can see when the glowing gem winks out and he watches the rest of the procession.
As the body is washed away, the singing stops. The screams stop. The only sound is the watery roar in wake of the pain.
A reverence fills the air as, one by one, the Enduares leave. They let the world fade to black as they trail out. We are not the last to exit the hall, and it is I who chooses to leave when the time comes. The king does not try to pressure me.
I walk past him, keeping my eyes down, not wanting to see the pain etched on his face again. But before I can make it to the doors, he grabs my arm, spinning me around to face him. His grip is firm, cluing me in to the tension in his muscles.
"King—" I start.
"Teo," he says firmly. When I don't move to speak again, he continues, "We are betrothed. I am not your king. I am your Teo."
I pull my arm out of his grip, looking at him with hardened eyes. The song nudges me once more, but I refuse to hear. "You are notmyTeo. I wish you were nothing at all."
The words slip out, and his eyes darken, his jaw clenching as he steps closer to me. “You saw the meeting with the giants. Would you like to talk about it now?”
I clench my teeth. “What is there to talk about? You killed the man we just had a service for,” I whisper.
His eyes narrow. “That was the deal for the giants. I was supposed to kill two.”
I tear away from him. “Am I supposed to be impressed? Congratulations, you are a murderer.”
He laughs, actually laughs. “I am the Butcher, Estela. I have been slaughtering since before you were born—you knew this when you decided to marry me.”
I can hardly keep the next words from coming out. “You told me that you believed people could change.”
This completely disarms him. He stumbles back, blinking. “People can change. But, there are certain duties I can’t deny as a king.”
I shake my head. “You lied to me about protecting my people.”
He grabs my wrists and pulls me close. I don’t fight back. He’s warm and this muggy room is cold. “I killed Tirin to protect our people. Don’t you see that? You think that peace can’t have its moments of bloodiness? If you are grateful that you are still here and not riding back to Zlosa with those bastards, then you’ll forgive me my trespasses.”
I blink, breathing heavy. He’s so close. “Did you ask Prince Rholker about Mikal?”
His face tightens. “You accuse me of not caring for my people, but all you care about is your brother. Do you have any right to judge?”
“Forgive me for expecting more of a king than a lowly, uneducated slave,” I spit.
“You will soon be a queen.“
I step closer into him. There’s something about the way we fight, the way that we strip each other bare with these words. It inspires something more, something greater. It makes me… hope. I see him different now. “Did you ask?”
That strange, long tail swishes behind him, an action I’m quickly becoming accustomed to.
He releases me. “I did. But there is nothing to report.”