The Throne of Ice & Ash (The Runewar Saga #1) (PREVIEW)

4: Ties That Bind

"I would kill a hundred, a hundred hundred, if that is what it cost to topple your king's corrupted throne!"

- Coppereye the Insurgent, First Drang to the Unchained Thanes, to Thoros Wolfjaw, the Champion of Torvald Geirson, the Last King of Baegard

When the doors to the Hall of Tapestries cracked open and the guardian, Graynson, stepped out, Aelthena braced herself for battle. But Annar did not follow the scarred warrior.

"What did Lord Heir Annar say?" she demanded of the old veteran.

Graynson bobbed his head. "He says he'll be out soon, Mistress."

She stiffened her jaw, but held back her frustration.

"Ah, self-restraint," Frey observed. "I didn't know you exercised it."

Aelthena turned her head aside, only partially hiding her grimace. Daughter of the jarl, and still, she had to tolerate boorish behavior. But that's a woman's place, she thought with bitter irony.

Sometime later, the doors to the chair-room finally opened again. Aelthena readied herself, and this time wasn't disappointed as her eldest brother emerged.

Annar had never been a comely man. He had the wide face of their father, but lacked its sharp definition. His eyes were the spring-leaf color of their mother's, but they were hooded by his brow. His red hair was muddied and thin. He was a misfit of their parents' physical characteristics. Yet he possessed the best of their minds, with but two failings: stubbornness and an inability to laugh.

"Aelthena," Annar greeted her coolly. "Sister. You wished to speak?"

She carefully held her temper in check. "I know about the meeting between the Thurdjur and Balturg elders. Why did you try to hide it from me?"

Annar's veneer of brotherly affection frayed and fell away. "It's none of your concern. You know matters of the jarlheim are the dominion of men."

Those Djur-burned Inscribed again. For a moment, she was tempted to decry the rules, regardless that their entire society was based on them.

Before she could think of a more appropriate reply, Annar seemed to remember the guardians standing near them. "Leave us," he commanded.

They struck their fists to their chests and quickly complied. Not even Frey dared a pithy retort.

She finally found the words she had been searching for, and she measured her tone to come across reasonable, but firm. "You know I'm suited to ruling, Annar. I don't ask; I command. Men jump when I tell them to, or crawl if it suits me. I know all the subjects a good leader should — maps, commerce, labor, politics. I know how to decide the correct path forward and how to ensure my will is enacted. I'm not asking you to hold my hand as I play at politics, brother. I'm asking you to stop tying my hands behind my back. Cut me free, and let me do what I can do well."

She studied her brother's silent face. It had barely changed throughout her speech, his eyes downcast, hands clasped behind his back. Many people had called Annar frost-bent, and she was inclined to agree. But she hoped there was still some glimmer of humanity that would peer beyond her sex and see her for who she was.

He finally looked up. "You may attend the elders' meeting."

Even as her chest warmed with success, suspicion dampened it. "Is that so?"

Annar's lips tightened in what almost passed as a smile. "You're right, Aelthena. I shouldn't waste a good mind. The Inscribed... Perhaps they should serve as signposts rather than blinders."