Princess Of The Skulls - Chapter 38: Chapter 38

The silence that followed my father's death was more deafening than any battle cry. I stood over his body, my sword still dripping with his blood, and felt the weight of two kingdoms settle on my shoulders like a lead cloak. The soul-bond with Aldric thrummed between us, sharing not just power but the crushing realization of what we'd become.
"Seraphina." Aldric's voice was soft, but I could hear the strain in it. The magical connection we'd forged was still raw, still seeking equilibrium. Every emotion I felt echoed in him, and vice versa. His concern for me mixed with his horror at the violence we'd witnessed.
I didn't look at him. Couldn't. Not yet. Instead, I surveyed the cathedral that had become my coronation ground. The nobles who had cowered during the battle were slowly rising, their fine clothes torn and stained with blood. Some looked at me with fear, others with calculation. A few—the smart ones—with respect.
"Lord Cassius is dead," I announced, my voice carrying to every corner of the sacred space. "King Magnus is dead. The old pacts are broken." I stepped away from my father's body, finally meeting the eyes of the assembled court. "I am Seraphina, first of my name, Queen of Shadowmere and rightful heir to Thornfield through marriage bond."
A murmur rippled through the survivors. Technically, I was right. With both kings dead and my soul-bond to Aldric, the succession laws of both kingdoms fell to us. But law and reality were different things, and I could see the doubt in their faces.
"You speak of rights," called out Duke Blackwood, one of my father's former advisors. He was clutching a wounded arm, but his voice remained steady. "But what of the armies loyal to Lord Cassius? What of the nobles who will never accept a necromancer queen?"
Before I could answer, Kael stepped forward. His twin daggers were sheathed, but his hand rested on their hilts. "They'll accept her or they'll join the corpses she commands."
The threat hung in the air like incense smoke. I felt Aldric's disapproval through our bond—he'd always been more diplomatic than either Kael or I. But diplomacy was a luxury I couldn't afford, not when every moment of hesitation could mean civil war.
"I don't want to rule through fear alone," I said, surprising myself with the admission. "But I will if I must.
The alternative is chaos, and chaos serves no one."
An older woman I recognized as Lady Ravencrest—Lydia's mother—stepped forward. Her daughter had betrayed me, but the mother had always been pragmatic. "What guarantees do we have that you won't become like your father? That this power won't corrupt you as it did him?"
It was a fair question. I could feel my grandfather's presence lurking at the edges of my consciousness, waiting for weakness, for the moment I might choose the easier path. The necromantic power flowing through me was intoxicating, and it would be so simple to let it make my decisions for me.
"You have my word," I said simply. "And more than that, you have him." I gestured to Aldric, who moved to stand beside me. "Our bond ensures that neither of us can fall to corruption without the other knowing. We balance each other."
It wasn't entirely true—the soul-bond was still too new, too untested. But it was the best assurance I could offer, and it seemed to satisfy some of the assembled nobles.
"The practical matter," said Duke Blackwood, "is that Lord Cassius's forces are still out there. General
Thorne commands nearly ten thousand men, and they'll want blood for their king's death."
I nodded. I'd been expecting this. "Then we give them a choice. Bend the knee, or face the consequences of continued rebellion."
"And if they choose rebellion?" asked Lady Ravencrest.
I smiled, and I could see some of the nobles flinch at the expression. "Then they'll learn why the dead don't stay buried in Shadowmere."
The threat was real, but it also exhausted me to think about. Commanding the corpses during the battle had taken more out of me than I'd let on, even with Aldric's life force to draw upon. Large-scale necromancy would require sacrifices I wasn't sure I was willing to make.
"My queen," Kael said quietly, "there's something else."
I turned to him, and he gestured toward the cathedral's main doors. Through the stained glass, I could see the flicker of torches—many torches. "Cassius's advance force?"
"Most likely. They would have seen the magical discharge when you broke your father's bindings. They'll be here within the hour."
The cathedral suddenly felt like a tomb. We were trapped, with wounded survivors and limited fighting strength. Even with my necromantic abilities, I couldn't raise an army from the few corpses scattered around the altar.
"How many?" I asked.
"Two hundred, maybe more."
Too many. Far too many for our small group to handle, especially with half our people wounded or traumatized. I closed my eyes and reached out with my death-sense, feeling for any advantage, any edge we could use.
And then I felt it—a vast network of bones beneath the cathedral floor. Centuries of burials, of faithful laid to rest in the crypts below. An army of the dead just waiting for the right command.
"Seraphina, no." Aldric's voice was sharp with alarm. He'd felt my intention through our bond. "That's desecration of the highest order. The Church will never forgive—"
"The Church can judge me when I'm dead," I interrupted. "Right now, I need to keep us alive."
But as I prepared to extend my power downward, to call up the ancient dead from their rest, I felt something else. A presence that wasn't my grandfather's whispered corruption, but something older.
Sadder.
Not this way, child.
The voice belonged to my mother. I hadn't heard her spirit since the battle began, but now she was here, filling the space between heartbeats with her familiar warmth.
There is another path. Trust in the light you've bound to yourself. Trust in the balance you've created.
I opened my eyes and looked at Aldric. Through our bond, I could feel his magic—not the death-touched power I wielded, but something clean and bright. Life magic, healing magic, the kind of sorcery that created rather than destroyed.
"The binding ritual," I said aloud. "It wasn't just about sharing power. It was about creating something new."
Aldric's eyes widened as he understood. "Light and shadow. Life and death. If we can balance them perfectly ."
"We can do more than just animate corpses," I finished. "We can heal them. Bring them back not as undead slaves, but as living allies."
It was theoretical at best, impossible at worst. No necromancer in history had ever attempted to reverse the death process entirely. But through our bond, I could feel Aldric's certainty that it could work.
"The cost will be enormous," he warned. "It might kill us both."
I smiled grimly. "Then we'd better make sure it works."
The sound of marching feet was growing louder. Whatever we were going to do, we had to do it now.
I reached for Aldric's hand, feeling the soul-bond flare between us as our magic intertwined. Death and life, shadow and light, dancing together in perfect, impossible harmony.
Outside, our enemies approached. But in the cathedral of bones and blood, two young monarchs prepared to rewrite the laws of magic itself.