I almost let her walk away. I almost let that be the last thing she said to me, but then I thought of my sisters, and this kingdom, and the fact that I was the true heir of Mide.
I felt the warmth of Leif’s hand on my arm, strong and comforting, and stood tall. I might have been the daughter of the Phantom Queen, but it was that blood that would allow me to defend my kingdom and my world from the real monsters who threatened it.
“No, you’re wrong,” I said, and she turned slowly. “This is my kingdom. Those are my sisters—no matter that I only share half their blood. My father was the king, and for better or worse, I was raised as a princess of Mide.”
Her eyes narrowed. “It’s true. Your father named you his heir, but what good is it now? This kingdom has been claimed by Sigtrygg.”
I thought of not just Sigtrygg, but the greater j?tnar threat. “Then leave with my sisters while you can. Take Branna and Deirdre and flee to another kingdom; we have other allies—”
“I cannot leave your father,” she said in a growl. “Of course I will not abandon him and this clan.”
I glanced at the charred remains of the men surrounding us and swallowed hard. She wasn’t in her right mind, but I still had to try to make her see reason. With Sigtrygg harboring j?tnar under his own roof, Mide could be in very real danger. “Please, Máthair, there are worse things than Sigtrygg that threaten this kingdom. I was given a vision of éirinn—”
“Stop!” Máthair snapped. “I won’t listen to such pagan nonsense. You taint this sacred ground by even uttering such a thing.”
“You’d do well to listen,” Leif warned. “Your daughters’ lives could depend on it.”
“And who are you to say?” Máthair demanded. “By the look of you, you are a Northman. What is the true reason, then, for your alliance with Ciara? Did she seduce you as her mother once did the king?”
I flinched at the implication as Leif drew himself up to his full height. “We owe you no explanation.”
She turned her attention back to me. “You are not welcome here. With Sigtrygg alive, this kingdom is no longer yours.”
It was clear she wouldn’t listen to anything we said. And with Sigtrygg in league with the j?tnar we’d encountered in Dubhlinn, we didn’t have time to make her see reason. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake sense into her, but there was nothing more important right now than the quest.
“We will need horses,” I said, choking on the last word. There wasn’t a horse in the stables equal to the one I’d lost.
“Take them, then.” She wrapped her cloak tighter around her and walked away without a backward glance.
Leif grabbed my arm. “Sigtrygg is responsible for this, and he will be dealt with.”
Sigtrygg. I thought of what the pagan king had done to my clansmen, to my father—to my kingdom. The rage grew until all I could see was red. I wanted to find the men who had burned the church and slaughter them like pigs. “I want him dead.” Just then my body was filled with an impossible amount of energy, as though I could take on the whole of Sigtrygg’s army. It built and built until my muscles thrummed. I tasted blood on my tongue and wanted more.
Leif took my face in his hands and met my eyes. I hated to think what reflected back at him. “Then we will make it so.”
“Two hundred men, Leif. They died, and for what?”
Leif was quiet, his eyes searching mine. Finally, he said, “Their deaths needn’t be in vain.”
The Sword of the Fallen blazed to life on my back. I felt something inside me rise up to answer. “No. This is what the Morrigan wants, what she wanted all along.”
“The Morrigan wants our quest to succeed.” He took a step back from me. “She told me how to raise the army.”
My hands shook with the need to hurt something. “I knew you weren’t begging her for my life; I should have never trusted you.”
“I told you before that it was your decision. She held me back and told me the ritual in case you had a change of heart.”
“A change of—and what, suddenly decide that yes, I wanted to use the blood of two hundred innocent men? She is no benevolent goddess. What if the ritual damns their souls?” My words lashed him like a whip, but he stood unflinchingly before me.
“Regardless of why I was told, these men are dead. They were slaughtered like animals in a place your people consider sacred. You have the power to make their deaths worthy; they will have given their lives to bring forth an army strong enough to destroy the j?tnar.” His hands curled into fists. “An army strong enough to bring Sigtrygg and his j?tnar allies to their knees.”
Revenge, the darkness born inside me the moment I walked into the chapel seemed to whisper, or perhaps it was my own mind cracking beneath the pressure of so many unbearable losses. Thoughts of storming Dubhlinn with an unstoppable army rose unbidden to the forefront of my mind.
I knew Leif was right. Sigtrygg could be on his way at this very moment—the hideous j?tnar beside him—to finish what he’d started in my kingdom, and I needed an army.
The only things standing between the vile king and my kingdom was us.
I pulled free the Sword of the Fallen. It glinted in the light, and a faint hum came from within the blade. I met Leif’s gaze.
“What must I do?”
17
Leif crouched and touched his fingers to the ash and soot upon the floor. “Blood and ash is required for the ritual—your blood.”
I glanced down at the gleaming blade. It was as if it whispered what must be done, a quiet voice in my mind. “The sword must be anointed with blood and ash. What then?”
“Then you must say: ‘So the Phantom Queen’s blood flows in my veins, so shall I summon the army of the undead.’”
I stared at him. “You knew about the Morrigan.” I was in complete shock that he hadn’t said anything, and I flinched when I remembered what we’d both witnessed of the Morrigan—what must he have thought of me?
“I knew only that you shared blood, not that she was your mother.”
“You knew I was kin to such a gruesome being, and yet you . . . kissed me? And now that you know she is my mother . . . ?”
“My desire for you has not changed. What do I care who your mother is? I kissed you when I thought you were all Celt, after all.” He smiled teasingly, even amid the carnage at our feet, as only a Northman could. I couldn’t yet return it, but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless.
Relief that he hadn’t judged me for the Morrigan’s horrific actions bloomed in my chest. “I can’t express to you how much your words mean to me.”
“You could always show me,” he said, and his gaze dropped to my mouth. It brought a reluctant smile to my face, even as desire stirred within me. My breath stilled as he reached out and touched a lock of my hair. “Later, then,” he said.
I forced my mind back on the task at hand. “After I have performed the ritual, what will happen?”
“She didn’t say, but we’ll soon find out for ourselves.”
A trace of unease spread down my spine even as the Sword of the Fallen thrummed eagerly for my blood. I held out my hand, and with the other, made a shallow cut along the palm. Blood immediately flowed, and Leif took hold of my injured hand gently. He sprinkled the ash he had collected over the wound, the black soot mixing with the dark red.
All at once, my vision darkened at the edges, and all sound seemed to disappear. As though I had performed this ritual a thousand times before, I took hold of the blade of my sword and smeared the mingled blood and ash along it. It disappeared on the blade like water in the sun.
The church was still. I could hear my own heartbeat, the thrumming of the sword in my hand, and a louder pulsing—the heartbeat of another realm. I slammed the point of my blade into the floor and said the words that would summon an army powerful enough to save us all.