She'd said that wasn't the last time she'd been murdered, and, in this, he believed her. So how many deaths had she suffered? Exactly how else had she died? How old was she each time?
No wonder she held life in so little regard.
He'd yelled at her this morning, shaking her to get her to tell him. And something had happened. She'd gotten a look about her, and her eyes had darted. Her swagger had vanished.
As he'd suspected, whenever she was discomfited, she camouflaged her expressions with an illusion of either amusement or patronizing indulgence.
Now there were no illusions. And she was so used to mystickally hiding her expressions that she didn't remember to school them.
Angry, sarcastic Sabine had started blushing today, as well. Whenever she'd caught his gaze on her strand of white hair or her neck, a pink flush colored her high cheekbones. She acted as if he now knew a flaw in her character that she'd tried to keep hidden.
Sabine had become an open book. And what he was reading disturbed him greatly.
She'd asked him if the knowledge of her past had softened his anger. He almost felt numb to that anger, as if his confusion about her had overwhelmed it. At every turn, she confounded him. Like the most complicated puzzle he'd ever encountered.
This situation reminded him of when his Lykae friend Bowen had been trying to win the pretty witch Mariketa. The two had gotten off to a rocky start, since
he'd trapped her in a tomh of Incubi and hadn't rescued her for weeks.
Rydstrom remembered being perplexed by his friend's confusion and weird aggression. Rydstrom had been so smug, calmly advising Rowen to reason the situation out. He recalled Bowen snapping that he was going to enjoy it when Rydstrom found his own woman. She'll make your horns go ramrod straight every time she. saunters by. Bowen had been eager to see her shake Rydstrom's unflappable demeanor.
Was I once unflappable? It seemed a lifetime ago. Now
I comprehend what Bowen had gone through. But the Lykae had ultimately used his head to fig-ure out how to win the witch. Once they'd been wed, Bowen had told him, "I learned a lesson-with a mate, do nothing irrevocable. There are lines not to be crossed with a female, ones you can never come back from. And never for an immortal would suck in this case."
Do nothing irrevocable. But by leaving Sabine bound, Rhdstrom was earning her hatred. While he took his revenge, was he doing something she could never for-give? It didn't matter what actually was wrong or right or fair-only what she believed was. .. . As he helped her across another stream, she said,
"Why do you even want this kingdom back so badly?"
No one had ever asked him that specifically. Weeks ago, the Valkyrie Nïx had asked him, "Which would you prefer to have? Your queen or your crown?" He often thought back to that night. He'd answered his crown, a choice made so easily.
"It's my birthright," he finally answered. But it hadn't always been. Rydstrom hadn't been raised as the heir of Rothkalina. And as the second son of an immortal king, I he'd had no reason to think he'd ever be the ruler.
Fate had had other plans, and Rydstrom had changed his out of necessity. "I want to see my people prosper once more."
"Why?"
"Because I'm their king. Their well-being is my responsibility."
"At least you're honest and not spouting nonsense like 'Because I love them as a father loves his children.'"
Rydstrom feared that he didn't love his people-not enough. Sometimes he resented them, resented that he was trapped in a never-ending struggle to win a crown that should never have been his.
His older brother, Nylson, and their father, the great king, had gone to battle the Horde. They'd disregarded the custom to separate the king and heir in times of war, and they'd both died.
Leaving Rydstrom as a bewildered young ruler.
After that, he'd burned to get his brother Cadeon his own successor, out of harm's way, fostering him with another family as soon as he was old enough. Which Cadeon took a nine-hundred-year exception to. . . .
"I also want my home back," Rydstrom added. "'To restore it to its former glory." And to scour it clean.
Never had he felt at ease like he had at Tornin in ages past. He'd always held on to memories of his fam-| ily there, of Mia and Zoe playing hide-and-seek with
Cadeon when he was just a pup, of laughter echoing in those great halls.
But once Cadeon was grown, he had ignored Ryd-strom's summons to return to the castle and hold it against their foes. Cadeon had chosen to remain with his foster family. Tornin had fallen. . ..
If Rydstrom could win the kingdom back, then maybe some of the strain would fade between him and his siblings.
"Do you think you deserve this kingdom?" Sabine asked.
"It's mine by right."
"Might makes right," she countered. "In any case, were you such a great king that it would be right for you to have it back?"
"I believe I was." Of course, he'd only been ruler for very few years.
"You left this kingdom mired in the past. No advances even for the time. No roads, no tolls, no permanent portals connecting Rothkalina with other provinces."
"I didn't have time! I'd been at war with the Horde from the first day of my rule." When that crown had first sat so heavily on his head. "And you forget-many of my kind can trace. Beings shape their world by necessity. There wasn't a need for clunking metal contraptions or blowing up mountains to build roads."
"If you keep the kingdom without arteries, then only those who can teleport can prosper. I'll bet you're feeling the-sting of that right now since you can no longer trace."
"Because of Omort," he grated. In the past, Rydstrom had been able to effortlessly trace from Rothkalina to other planes and civilizations. Now he was in his own kingdom, traversing Grave Realm-by foot.
Just another reason to slay Omort. With his death, Rydstrom and Cade's ability to trace would be restored.
Sabine continued, "And what about other non-demon beings who might want to make Rothkalina home? You're hardly attracting them to settle here."
"Like the Sorceri?"
"Maybe." She raised her chin. "We're not without talents."
"Rothkalina has a dearth of wine drinkers and slave keepers."
She ignored his sarcastic comment. "Not that they'd want come to this medieval plane anyway. We're merry, and the rage demons are stodgy and stuck in old ways."
"Then what's your excuse for wanting to remain?"
"Here there are no Vrekeners and no humans. Demon, even an evil sorceress needs a safe home to call her own."