101: THE BLACK KING

(Teraeth’s story)

As the crowd began to murmur about the king’s disappearance—hardly a good sign—the doors slammed open. Suless and Queen Miyane ran inside. Everyone stood not from respect but because something was so clearly wrong.

The two women ran inside as arrow fire chased them and bounced off the parliament wards. A bloom of energies—fire, ice, lightning’s sizzling flash—impacted those same wards like bright, glorious fireworks. For reasons no one could comprehend, the vané army seemed to be trying to kill the two women. The army hadn’t succeeded due to the Parliament of Flowers’ magical protections.

Suless and Miyane slammed the doors shut and braced themselves on the other side, then glanced back over their shoulders like little girls caught playing a prank on their parents. The two women looked at each other, then slowly turned around, hands still shoved up against the doors.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Suless declared.

Hope flared in Teraeth’s heart. Senera grabbed his arm and squeezed. He pretended not to notice, since it would have only drawn attention to the fact Senera cared what happened to Janel.

“What is the meaning of this?” Daynos’s voice shook with outrage. He seemed quite done with this trial’s shocks, surprises, and interruptions.

“I can explain—” Queen Miyane started to say, then made a face as if she’d just touched something scalding. “On second thought, she’ll explain.” The vané queen edged back toward the chairs the king and queen had been using previously.

“Suless” spared the queen a quick glare before she turned a lethal, brilliant smile on Daynos. “I request sanctuary?”

“Janel?” Valathea’s voice carried clearly through the room.

Janel waved to her with one hand before slamming it back against the door as it started to open. A loud pounding banged against the other side.

Teraeth hurried down the steps. A second later, the others followed, like ducklings after their mother.

“Move away from the door, young woman,” Daynos demanded.

Janel gave one last anxious glance to the door behind her, then raised her hands and backed away to the side. Parliament guards closed in on her and grabbed her arms.

Daynos gestured and the large doors swung open again. The entire vané army stood on the other side, behind several silver-clad soldiers whose faces were nearly purple with rage. “May we enter?” a woman demanded. “The king has been assassinated. The suspects fled into this buildings.”

Every eye turned to Janel.

“The assassin was a demon,” Janel explained, “who would have killed me if she hadn’t stepped in. Ask her.” Janel jerked her head in Queen Miyane’s direction.

Everyone began shouting, all at once.

“Be quiet!”

Megrea slammed her staff against the marble floor, so hard and loud it seemed impossible she hadn’t cracked the stone itself.

The hall fell quiet.

“The king is dead?” she asked into that silence.

For a long pause, no one answered, but the same thoughts had to be going through everyone’s minds. If the king was dead, then lucky they were about to vote to recognize Khaeriel’s and Doc’s prior claims, wasn’t it?

Teraeth reached the main floor grown increasingly crowded with guards, Founders, and soldiers. He’d fight his way to Janel if he had to. His father saw him and moved to intercept.

“Just give her a minute.” Doc had a strange expression on his face, one Teraeth couldn’t interpret.

“Yes,” Janel answered. “The king is dead. A demon took his soul. I swear I had nothing to do with it.”

Megrea gestured toward the center area. “Would you care to step over here and repeat that?”

---

It didn’t take long for the truth to come out, or at least, part of the truth. They never called Queen Miyane—a shuddering, hysterical shell—to testify, but a magical oath made it easy to verify Janel’s assertion that she hadn’t been responsible for Kelanis’s death.

And once they’d done so, they let her go.

Teraeth waited for her. Blood splattered Janel’s gown. Her blood, Teraeth thought, but she didn’t seem to be in any pain, the wound already healed. Teraeth felt like he didn’t have enough air as she took his hand in hers. Her hand wasn’t empty, though.

She handed him his arrowhead necklace.

“I think you dropped this,” Janel said.

“I must have.” He marked her twinkling eyes, the way her mouth turned up, just one corner, her wry smile. He put his hands around her face and leaned down to kiss her. She kissed back, bit him almost immediately, tugging his lower lip between her teeth for a beautifully piercing moment before he kept her tongue too preoccupied for that.

“I guess the glyph worked,” Senera said.

Janel immediately broke off the kiss, smiled lovingly at Teraeth, and caressed his jaw. Then the smile went away, and Janel pointed a finger at Senera. “What is she doing here, and why is she still alive?”

Teraeth cleared his throat. “A lot’s happened. I promise there’s a good explanation.”

“It had better be a fantastic explanation.” Janel spared Senera a hateful glare. “Or I’m clawing your eyes out as soon as this is over.”

Teraeth wasn’t entirely sure if that threat was meant for Senera or himself. Possibly both. He put his arm around Janel’s waist, grinning. “I’ve missed you.”

Everyone sat down again.

Down on the floor, they seemed to realize that the hearing could continue. Khaeriel looked nervous but happy, and it seemed likely that she had good reason to be. With her brother dead, there was no longer any question that she would end up with the crown.

Doc walked up to Valathea and said something. Then Doc swept Valathea into his arms and kissed her passionately. When they parted, he lifted Chainbreaker¹ from around his neck in one swift, sure motion and set it around hers.

Teraeth felt his blood turn to ice. He removed his arm from around Janel and sat up.

“What…?” He stared in shock.

Why would he do that? Doc would never give up Chainbreaker. It was one of the most powerful artifacts in the whole world. Did he have some reason to think Valathea was in danger?

Valathea tucked the stone under the edge of her dress and returned to her chair.

“What’s going on?” Janel asked.

“I thought I knew,” Teraeth said.

Megrea came to the center.

“After what was frankly an astonishingly short deliberation,” Megrea said, “we have decided that from henceforth, we shall move forward without the Law of Daynos.”

Clamor. Some positive, some negative, depending on individual feelings. Khaeriel slumped back into her chair, clearly relieved.

“However, besides rescinding the Law of Daynos, today’s conclusions have troubling implications. While we agree with esteemed Founder Valathea’s argument that neither Terindel nor Khaeriel ever properly died and therefore were quite improperly stripped of their crowns, the knowledge of that error brings with it a new danger. We have had five hundred years of peace, but tonight has the potential to split the rule of the vané, a people united, into two divided houses once more. We feel this is to be avoided at all costs.”

Khaeriel straightened again, eyes wide.

Teraeth’s father had said he didn’t want the throne. The only reason Khaeriel had kept Doc by her side was because she’d assumed he wouldn’t be a threat to her ambitions. He had promised he had no interest in returning to the throne.

“Had the Law of Daynos never existed, then Terindel would still be king of the Kirpis vané, and his brother, Kelindel, would have never claimed the throne. Terindel was also king of the Kirpis vané before the nation of the Manol ever existed. He is the eldest child of Terrin, and we must acknowledge the superiority of that claim.”

A look of growing horror crept over Khaeriel’s expression.

“What?” Janel leaned forward. “Is she saying what I think she is?”

“Yes, she is,” Teraeth answered. He scowled. His father hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was certain the Founders of the Star Court would vote his way. They were clearly far more loyal to him than anyone had credited.

Don’t mess with the plan, Doc had told Khaeriel, and like a fool, Khaeriel had followed along. So had Teraeth. Except the plan had apparently never been to give the throne back to Khaeriel at all.

Doc was taking the whole damn thing.

And Doc had never made any promises to Thaena about performing the Ritual of Night.

“Thus we have carefully weighed the strengths of the two claimants to the throne. Terindel, who was king of the Kirpis vané but has lived for the past five hundred years as a Manol vané, and Khaeriel, daughter of the now-revealed usurper, Kelindel, and the Manol queen, Khaevatz. While we have found Khaeriel’s claim significant, we have ultimately decided that the wiser course of action would be to give the throne, whole and entire, over both Kirpis vané and Manol vané, to King Terindel.” Daynos then bowed. “Your Majesty.”

Khaeriel stood, her face a fury. She turned and stared at Doc.

He gave her a wink. “Better luck next time.”

“You son of a—”

“Now, now,” Doc wagged a finger at her. “Don’t worry. I’m still going to go through with the deal for Thaena on your behalf. You’ll keep all your promises. Therin was my friend too.”

Khaeriel’s expression tightened. “But if you do that—” Anger shifted back into disbelief. Why would Doc go through all this to enact a ritual that would kill him? She turned to look at Valathea, who didn’t look at all happy about this outcome. She sat ruler straight, head held high, nostrils flared, every bit of her body language suggesting tight control of a boiling fury. Valathea returned Khaeriel’s stare and gave her a single, short nod.

Khaeriel took a deep breath, shuddered, and walked away. She wasn’t going to dispute the ruling, although she was muttering something under her breath as she returned to her table.

Teraeth frowned as he took in the scene. He was still missing something. Why would Doc give away Chainbreaker? Why would he go ahead with the ritual if he didn’t have to? Doc had literally lost his kingdom refusing to perform the Ritual of Night. Doc knew it would cost him his life. Even if he and Therin had been that close, why not let Khaeriel do it, since she was the one Thaena was most likely to Return?

“Well,” Doc said. “I guess it’s time to start planning a particularly lavish coronation.”

Which is when Thaena appeared in the middle of the room.

“No, it isn’t.”

The Goddess of Death was in her full voramer raiment once more, but this time, her white gown was ripped and splattered with gore, her belt and necklace dented from weapon strikes, her hair fins torn. She looked as though she had been fighting nonstop for weeks.

The hall fell silent.

Doc turned and gave Khaeriel a look. “Thanks.”

The former queen just glared. Of course she’d prayed to her grandmother. Teraeth felt a wave of dizziness and guilt wash over him. Praying to Thaena is what he should have done—and hadn’t. He hadn’t even thought about doing it. He’d been too busy trying to figure out what his father was up to.

The Goddess of Death walked forward. “I should have known better than to think you wouldn’t try something, Terindel. But if you think you can delay this by spending months preparing for your coronation, think again.” She snapped her fingers, and several bits of jewelry—necklaces, chains, a tiara—flew off their respective owners and hovered in the air next to her, rearranging themselves into a ragged crown of twisted metal and jewels. She grabbed the result and tossed it down at Daynos’s feet. “Crown him. Now. Clear the room and prepare for the ritual.”

Off to the side, Valathea quietly stood up and walked out the door.

And everything clicked.

Doc knew his life was forfeit in exchange for performing the ritual. That was if everything went to plan. But what if it didn’t? What if Doc knew it wouldn’t? If Teraeth were in his father’s place, there was one scenario under which he’d send Chainbreaker away—send Chainbreaker away on the neck of the woman he loved—and that was if he thought he’d lose both if they stayed. Doc was protecting Valathea …

… from Thaena.

Which meant that whatever Doc thought would happen next, he already knew it would drive the Goddess of Death into a murderous rage.