“Eventually he has to step down,” Sara insisted. “He wants an heir.”
“He wants an heir who will run things exactly like him,” Loki said and began pacing again. “Wendy’s nothing like him. He’d do everything he could to break her down, to turn into her a calculating barbarian. He’d destroy her.”
“No, I wouldn’t let him.” Sara shook her head. “I would protect her.”
“You mean like you protected me?” He glanced back at her with a raised eyebrow, and she bit her lip.
“I tried.” Her voice broke. “But there was nothing I could do.”
“I know.” Loki sighed and regretted what he’d said. “I don’t blame you for this. It was my choice. The King sent me to get her. I knew what would happen if I didn’t return with her, and I didn’t.”
“You didn’t have to come back.” Her voice quavered, and she set down the tray on the floor so she could wipe her eyes. “After you went to F?rening the other day to get her, you didn’t have to come back.”
“I wasn’t going to.” Loki paused, debating whether or not to tell her the truth. “The King sent me back to get her, knowing I’d earned her trust, but I asked Wendy to run away with me. And I meant it. If she’d said yes, I would’ve taken her far away from all of this.”
“But she said no?” Sara asked.
He swallowed hard and didn’t say anything for a minute. His shoulders slackened, and he looked more despondent than Sara had ever seen him before.
“It’s for the best, though,” Loki said finally. “If she’d come with me, it would’ve meant hell for her people. Oren would’ve claimed they broke the truce and were holding me hostage. He would’ve attacked them with everything, and the Trylle wouldn’t have her to help defend them.”
“That’s why you came back,” Sara realized. “If you stayed gone, Oren would blame the Trylle and go after them.”
“He would’ve killed them and stolen her.” Loki nodded. “It didn’t seem worth it to have all the bloodshed just so I could avoid some pain.”
“Loki.” She walked over to him and tried to put her hand on his arm, but he pulled away from her. “You need to escape.” She lowered her voice, in case the guard outside might be listening. “I can help you.”
“I think it’s too late for me, Sara.” He smiled sadly at her. “But you should get out while you still can.”
The door behind them started to push open, and Sara hurriedly stepped away from him.
Oren strode into the room, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up and the top button undone, like he meant to get down to business. In his right hand he held a sword—the diamonds of the bell guard glittering over his hand.
“I wish you’d told me you planned to come see Loki today,” Oren said, his voice like rough gravel, and smiled at his wife. “I could’ve saved you the trip.”
“I only brought him food.” Sara gestured to the tray on the ground. “I thought he should keep up his strength.”
“Nah, I don’t need my strength.” Loki waved off Sara, making his chains rattle, and pointed to the sword. “The King’s come to kill me.”
Oren’s smile widened and his black eyes rested on Loki. “Joke all you want, but soon you’ll be begging for death.”
“How would you prefer me to beg, sire?” Loki asked. “On my knees? Because I can do that right now, if you’d like.”
“Loki,” Sara said in a hushed tone.
“My Queen, would you leave us, please?” Oren asked, without looking at her. “I need a moment alone with our prisoner.”
“Your Majesty.” Sara wrung her hands and looked from Oren to Loki, her eyes wide and fearful. “Please don’t do anything rash.”
“I’m never rash,” the King snapped. “Now leave us.”
Sara glanced back at Loki, looking apologetic. He wanted to nod to her, to make some gesture to let her know that he was okay with her leaving, that he encouraged it, even. But he couldn’t. If the King saw that, it would appear that she was asking for Loki’s permission, and Sara would pay dearly for that.
So instead, Loki did nothing except stare stoically at the King. Sara left the dungeon without another word to either of them, and the door clanked shut loudly behind her.
“My wife cares too much for you,” Oren said simply.
“It depends on what you think of as ‘too much.’” Loki wagged his head, considering it. “Since you’re incapable of caring because you have no heart, I suppose that any amount would seem too much to you.”
The King laughed loudly, and he held up his sword, gesturing with it as he spoke, and it was a struggle for Loki to keep his eyes off the metal as it glinted in the light.
“I’ll admit this to you, Loki—I did always think you were funny. I’d never say that to anyone else, but you make me laugh.”
“I did always fancy myself the court jester,” Loki said.