Chapter 28

Ceven

TARRY AND CEVEN returned to the suite. The same guards still held post outside his doors; during the discussion with his brother he’d forgotten to gripe about his new spies. He didn’t bother looking at them, as if it were their fault for following orders, and stormed inside, peeling off his jacket and tossing it onto the back of the couch.

Tarry said nothing—thank the Gods, Ceven didn’t want a lecture right now—as he plopped onto the sofa, not caring that his boots were getting dirt and whatever else on the white fabric. Everything in this room wasn’t his choice anyway, but he kept it because his mother had designed it for him.

The crackling of the fire was his current serenity.

“Why do I feel Sehn is hiding something?” He rubbed his nose and sighed. “What am I missing?”

It was more to himself, but Tarry responded, sitting next to the fire. “Executions of assassins don’t come often, but to have the king involve himself . . . either he is neglecting to tell us who this Caster really is, or there is another step to this that has yet to reveal itself.” Ceven felt the old man’s eyes on him. “Either way, I will make sure you come out of this alive. I’ll protect you no matter what happens.”

“As long as you survive as well.” Ceven didn’t like that he had almost lost him to one man—no, some beast. He didn’t like the odds if the king went against Tarry for siding with him. “I mean no disrespect, but I’d understand if you wanted to step away from this. Where this is going, there’s no guarantee the king won’t have you killed or thrown in the dungeons, or—”

“Uttering those words is still meaning me disrespect. Xilo and I came here in search of a greater purpose outside of our past.”

Ceven remembered the time Xilo had admitted it to him during one of their excursions in the Atiacan jungle. We had left behind the Gods and Goddesses long ago when we slaughtered innocents. Still, we searched for something to cleanse us. We found our religion in serving in the Royal Guard. In serving something greater than just the next meal or a bit of coin.

“We thought it was serving the kingdom. But during the Red Wash . . . watching its king slaughter more innocents, we realized we had never left our sins behind. Had only traded them to be the weapons of another sinner.” Tarry was quiet, and Ceven didn’t dare interrupt. Tarry’s confessions of his past life, of the inner workings of his mind, were rare. Like an absodian jewel. “You have grown into someone worthy of serving, Ceven LuRogue. Even if your path hasn’t been laid out yet, my faith is that you will do the right thing. Because of you.”

The weight of those words toppled him, a heavy breath knocked from his lungs. “Well, damn. No pressure, right?”

Tarry smiled, another rarity. He was just full of them tonight. “No pressure.”

Ceven lay in his four-post bed, wide awake when he should be sleeping. He was drowning in the purple comforter, so he kicked the whole thing off. Still, it beat sleeping on that small mattress at Xilo’s son’s place. Then again . . . He rolled over, wishing he could gaze at a green-eyed, rosy-cheeked girl whose hair was always a mess. His hand rubbed the silken sheets where she could’ve easily lain. If he were with her, he’d gladly take the cramped mattress and scratchy sheets any day. But he had to focus on Sehn’s plan, on saving his own behind in the meantime. He wanted to get back to her as soon as possible, but it helped to know Xilo was with her. Even if Ceven wasn’t able to make it back, Xilo would get her away from here safely.

He left the door to his bedroom open, and Tarry stood across the suite. His dark metal armor shimmered in the dying firelight. Ceven didn’t know how the man could stand for hours on end. It was the only part during his training with the Royal Guard Ceven hadn’t been able to master.

Sighing, he decided lying on his back was his best bet before closing his eyes.

Ceven was on his back, disoriented. The world tilted and blurred, but he could make out Sehn. And the king. They were laughing and pointing at him. He tried to shout back, but a cloth covered his mouth. No, wait, it was a snake. He tried to snatch it off, but his limbs were too heavy to lift, and the sounds of hissing and laughter grew louder and louder.

“I have an inside man.” Sehn’s tongue slid out, but it was forked. “You’d never guess who!” A black serpent wrapped around his arm, the head bowing closer to his face. Ceven tried to yell again. It was no use; his body had turned to stone.

“An execution of this magnitude.” Sehn laughed and laughed. “Surely the king would involve himself in that!”

The king bent down, his frosted face sneering at Ceven. “Of course, I would love nothing more than to behead you myself!”

Tarry was next to Ceven when he shot up in bed. His body dripped sweat, despite having slept with no blanket the entire night. Light slithered in from the curtains, but it didn’t ease his frantic heart.

“What happened?”

Ceven shook his head. “A dream, but . . .” It hit him. What Sehn meant to do. He hopped out of bed, throwing on his shirt from last night. It didn’t matter; he didn’t have time to change his clothes. “We have to go. I know what he’s planning—”

Someone pounded on the door to his suite.

Tarry snapped his head at him. Ceven hooked his sword, sliding a dagger into the band of his boot, another into the hidden pocket of his cotton trousers. Not that it mattered. When the Royal Guard came in here, he couldn’t fight back. Not with just himself and Tarry, injured or not.

Tarry was ahead of him, axes drawn, when nine armed Royal Guards stormed into the suite. It was overkill, but Ceven was flattered. To think, Sehn thought it took nine trained Royal Guards to take him and Tarry into custody.

“I’m the inside man Sehn was talking about. The Caster isn’t the only one planned to be executed,” he hastily whispered to Tarry.

A familiar face stood at the front of the Guard. It was Troy. “Under the authority of the king, you, Ceven LuRogue, are under arrest for the murder of Ryker Ardonis.”