The Ring of Truth

The Ring of Truth
Amval

“She will never be ready to marry my brother!” I shout as I storm into the packed temple, a sword lifted high above my head and a trail of allies collected from every corner of the palace behind me.

Gasps ripple through the crowd, buoying my name forward. Ingrid turns, her jaw falling slack. The last rays of sunset bathe her in gold…but Goddess above, Kaloni dressed her like a fucking pumpkin.

“Imposter!” Kaloni replies. “A lookalike. We stumbled across him while in exile, and I told Mother and Father he would be trouble someday.”

“I am Prince Amval Temir Akintan Som, heir to the crown my sister wears.” I storm toward her. “Victim of an attempted assassination at her hand, and her prisoner until an hour ago.”

Something dark and sour in Ingrid’s eyes dies, replaced by a glow even brighter than the sun. “And I am more than ready to be reunited with one man.” She grins and releases Cirocco. “For all my days and—”

“Seize them!” Kaloni shrieks.

The temple explodes in movement, and I realize why it was relatively easy to sneak through the palace after I escaped from the dungeon. Half the soldiers are here, lunging off the walls with perfect coordination. I launch myself forward, land on all fours as a wolf, and charge toward the altar. Kaloni can have whatever fight she wants, but she’s not keeping me from Ingrid any longer.

A gale whips into my path, attempting to tie up my legs. I leap over it. Father trained our soldiers well—but he trained me better.

“She murdered our parents!” Joli releases the pull-rope overhead, and a banner strung with a recreation of that chart Ingrid showed me, connecting all the kingdoms to Corwyn and Kaloni, falls into place across the center of the temple. “As part of a scheme with Astralis, a group trying to take over the world.”

“Astralis? They attempted to conquer Moonlight Beach a few months ago,” Luna Xandra declares. “They used Lord Corwyn and Lord Denidor to do it.”

More murmurs. Perfect.

“Amval!” Tek calls behind me.

Every instinct screams to keep running toward Ingrid, scrabbling for something in her massive, orange skirt as Kaloni grabs one of her wrists. But I want to be the man she loves—so I turn to see the friend I dragged into this mess, locked in a grapple with a soldier whose teeth are snapping ever closer to his throat.

My claws skid on the stone as I whip back. The wolf on top of him doesn’t expect my shoulder ramming into his exposed ribs. His breath bursts from his lungs, and he tumbles off Tek. General Hana, the Moonlight Beach woman I ran into and managed to sway with only the word Astralis, claws out the soldier’s throat before he can even try to stand. She nods, a silent promise that she will protect the small army of grooms that rallied behind me the moment I stepped into the stables.

A wolf flies out of nowhere, attempting to tackle General Hana. I leap into his path and ram him out of the air. Father would trust the people he brought here to fend for themselves, would likely charge the altar and shift to give some kind of speech. But my speeches have always come off stiff and unapproachable. And, despite the endless shout of my mark, I trust Ingrid.

She chose to be here. Every moment of these last weeks, she has fought. For me. For my people. She knows what she’s doing.

Those I led here need me right now.

The wolf underneath me snarls and gnashes at my forelegs. Pain spiders up into my shoulder as he makes contact. I scrape my claws across his ribs, and he whimpers.

King Kieran stands, only a few inches away. “I believe my sister. I have heard of Astralis, and I know she doesn’t lie.” He looks around the room. “And I think we all know how much Prince Amval loves his family. For him to level this accusation….”

He doesn’t bother finishing the sentence before shifting into a massive, silver wolf and slamming a paw into the skull of the soldier underneath me, who instantly goes limp. I leap off the body and charge deeper into the fray. The tide may be turning, but I don’t intend to lose a single person I brought here.

We’ve lost enough.

My world dissolves into a flurry of fur, claws, and blood. I spin this way and that as mind-links fly. A few of Ingrid’s friends amongst the maids whisper different soldiers’ weaknesses from hidden corners of the temple. Nur saves Mesut’s life. A trio of stableboys manage to drop a smaller soldier together. Other dignitaries join the fight on various sides.

The reek of balsam and sea salt reaches my nose, and I turn.

Corwyn.

The back of his coppery-tan wolf appears out of the battle. I don’t hesitate. My teeth find the joint of his hip, and metallic blood spills over my tongue. He yelps and twists, trying to reach me with his claws. I spin out of his way without releasing. Perhaps I would have been a weak king, but I am not weak here. I spent my whole childhood waiting, training for the day someone would appear and try to kill me. Some trumped-up former lord certainly will not be the one to do it.

My teeth split muscle and sinew, scrape against bone. He bends at an impossible angle, one that must hurt him, but the hate alive in his face makes it worth the pain. His claws rasp across my muzzle, up into my eye, and I release with a scream as half my vision goes dark. Pain blurs my thoughts, makes me stumble. Corwyn looms over me, a vicious sneer on his lupine lips.

And that is his mistake. The heartbeat he wastes on gloating gives me just enough time to slash at his unprotected throat, tearing through fur and old scar tissue.

Blood waterfalls onto me, hot and fast. I wriggle out of the way before he crumples. Dead.

Or at least it seems so. My halved vision makes movement difficult to track. Wolves seem to jerk and almost teleport across the battlefield. My head pounds.

Someone fits their shoulder under mine, holding me up.

“Come on,” Tek says.

“The Pony?” I reply weakly. “Now?”

He laughs in my mind and leads me toward the altar. “Your girl is waiting.”

Even though I know it’s just a nicer way of saying I’m too hurt to keep fighting, it warms me like a shot of whiskey. The idea of going to Ingrid is like a fire. It scorches through me, hot and desperate. A small squadron, a ring of protection forms around us. King Kieran. Hana. More than a few Lightning Cape nobles, including, to my surprise, a bloody Lady Ceyiz. Yet another apology I owe, when the fighting stops.

“No one will believe you,” Kaloni spits.

“Tell that to everyone who fucking does,” Ingrid replies.

The battle parts, and I see the two of them, alone at the altar now. Kaloni holds one of Ingrid’s wrists, one silver manacle clamped around it and the other swinging free while she fights to capture the other arm. Ingrid leans so far away from my sister that she looks like a diagonal line, straining to escape.

My heart pounds. I surge away from Tek, clumsy with injury and blood loss. The three stairs up to them might as well be a mountain. I miss one, smash my chin, and keep running.

“Brother.” Kaloni spits the word like it’s poison, like she’s actually saying traitor. “It seems Mother and Father didn’t teach you how to die.”

Ingrid meets my gaze, her blue eyes burning with hope and trust. My thoughts spin. I can’t fight Kaloni—she received all the same training I did, in this arena at least. But perhaps Ingrid can.

I circle half-blindly away from her. The hate that focused Corwyn is even more intense in Kaloni. I saw it in the dungeon. She spins without a second thought, her glare boring into me.

“Everyone knows now,” I say. “If you yield, you don’t have to die.”

She laughs in disbelief. “Of course, you offer mercy. That’s going to kill you someday, you know?”

“It hasn’t yet.” I gather the shreds of my shattered thoughts as much as I can and tamp down the storm raging inside me to a single thread of finesse.

“Luck,” she sneers. “Yours has always been better than mine. That’s why I know how to fight.”

“I am sorry,” I say honestly. “I wish you’d told me earlier.”

While my sister’s eyes bug out of her head, I feed a sliver of wind into the lock on the manacle around Ingrid’s wrist. Control has never come easily to me, and it’s harder now. But my mate needs me.

“You aren’t even angry?” Kaloni shrieks.

Joli’s quiet, even breathing as she picked the window lock rings in my ears. I match her rhythm just like I matched her steps at the mine.

“I’m furious,” I say. “But, Goddess help me, I still don’t hate you.”

“Oh, and that makes you so much bet—”

Click.

Ingrid’s silver manacle snaps open. With a sound of tearing fabric and an explosion of orange satin confetti, she shifts into a sleek, dangerous gray wolf. Kaloni starts to turn, her features morphing into horror.

And Ingrid slashes out her throat before Kaloni can so much as shout.

My sister falls dead between us with a hollow thud that echoes up my spine. Despite everything, I can’t look at her. I truly don’t hate her. I just miss the sister I once had.

Ingrid rushes to my side, shifts, and cups the bloody, blind side of my face. I lean into the warmth of her touch. Tears sheet down her face. I shift and curl around her, emotions too complicated for the air caught in my throat.

Quiet slowly falls over the temple. Without Kaloni giving the orders, there’s no reason for the soldiers to keep fighting. Someone drapes a blanket over us. Others are removing bodies. I don’t look over when someone comes for Kaloni. I can’t yet. Tazi, the healer, tends to my eye, stopping the worst of the bleeding and giving me something for the pain. No one speaks. No one has to.

We are all wondering whether Astralis is dead or if we have just cut off a single head.

Finally, Ingrid sniffles and looks at me. “Can you do that voice-amplifying thing?”

I nod and spin up a breeze to carry her voice to every corner of the temple.

“I meant what I said,” she declares. “I’m ready to be reunited. And we’ve got a wedding all set up.”

Goddess, I love her.