Crown of Thieves
The Legends of Dhanen’Mar
A Threads of Fate Novella
By Peyton Reynolds
Copyright ©2019 by Peyton Reynolds
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Anniah – Patron of Justice. Dominion: First-day.
Micka – Patron of Harvest. Dominion: Second-day.
Stahl – Patron of War. Dominion: Third-day.
Jardin – Patron of Travelers. Dominion: Fourth-day.
Suzumu – Patron of Harmony. Dominion: Fifth-day.
Rizea – Patron of Revenge. Dominion: Sixth-day.
Ehle – Patron of Destiny. Dominion: Seventh-day.
Ozvald – Patron of Commerce. Dominion: Eighth-day.
Katrien – Patron of Thieves. Dominion: Ninth-day.
Arawn – Patron of Chaos. Dominion: Tenth-day.
Zalis – Patron of Healing. Dominion: Eleventh-day.
Ardin – Patron of Arts. Dominion: Twelfth-day.
Dauphinee - Patron of Love. Dominion: Thirteenth-day.
Eris – Patron of Magic. Dominion: Fourteenth-day.
Cristiana – Patron of Death. Dominion: Fifteenth-day.
At the time of birth, each mortal is presented with their Birth Medallion, depicting to which of the fifteen Patrons they were born. For their entire lives, this medallion must be worn and plainly visible at all times. The penalty for not doing so is death.
Once an individual has reached their fifteenth birthing-day, they are permitted to select their Choice Patron. This medallion is displayed at the discretion of its wearer, and while many reveal its information freely, others choose to keep its knowledge hidden. The combination of a person’s Birth and Choice Patrons then act together to heavily influence the course of their life.
To make one’s Choice Patron the same as their Birth Patron, one will either gain great fortune in their chosen dominion or suffer madness. Consequently, very few risk making this choice.
* A Note on Time
Fifteen days comprise a week, six weeks to a season, twenty-four weeks to a year. The seasons mark the divisions of the year. For example, one would say, “It is Fourth-day of summer’s fifth week.”
Ninety minutes = one hour. Fifteen hours per day.
Prince Fermin
Prince Buru
Prince Neco
Prince Nevis (twin of Seret)
Princess Seret (twin of Nevis)
Prince Loh
Princess Aya
Princess Heni
Prince Borohm
Princess Tosis
Prince Selmon
Prince Padus
The ocean waters were calm beneath the ship as it glided into port, the sun overhead warm and bright on this fourth day of spring. Aharon Shai stood at the rail, observing the familiar sights of Ceja’s royal city as they took shape beyond the wharf, sights he’d not beheld in almost two years. While his time away hadn’t been entirely unpleasant, it was a relief to finally be home.
Nor was he returning empty-handed. His ship was carrying an impressive cargo, namely riches he’d successfully burgled from all across the western continent. As one of King Jahi’s royal thieves, his deployment had been a command as well as a penalty, issued after an incident involving the captain of his majesty’s royal guard. The captain, Othos Shai, was also Aharon’s father, which was likely the only reason he’d not incurred a more severe punishment. Nearly killing the man had been deemed a “family squabble” rather than a genuine attempt on Othos’s life, an interpretation Aharon hadn’t been foolish enough to correct.
So rather than face the whip or be dismissed from service, he’d been sent west, and instructed not to return until King Jahi sent for him. Two years later and still no word from his majesty had arrived, although a missive from Prince Neco had recently found him in the country of Sythr’ria, and revealed an alarming state of affairs.
Come home, Aharon, the prince’s message had read. Father’s not long for this world, and I need you.
Aharon had started for the coast immediately, and set sail from Balsh directly thereafter. Still, some time had now passed since Neco sent his summons, leaving Aharon to worry over what he might find upon finally reaching Ceja’s shores. With few exceptions, the king’s dozen children were ruthless at the best of times, and had undoubtedly grown even more vicious now that the throne was finally within reach. Indeed, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn several royal siblings had recently fallen to mysterious circumstances, although he was really only concerned for two.
Neco was the seventh son born, but now third in line for the throne; one of his elder brothers had died of a legitimate illness, while another three had been lost to bizarre accidents. Succession now placed him in a dangerous position, although his two living elder brothers had significantly more cause to worry. Friends since childhood, Aharon was one of the few people Neco trusted, the obvious reason why he’d been summoned. If Neco was to have any hope of surviving his father’s demise, he would need someone he could rely on watching his back.
The other royal sibling causing Aharon concern was Aya. While one of four princesses, her gender wouldn’t protect her as it would in other realms, for Cejan law allowed queens to rule in the absence of any male heirs. Presently, and because Aya was the second-eldest female, nine of her siblings would need to perish before she was eligible; it also meant her two younger sisters had reason to do away with her. The question of whether either of them was ruthless enough to kill so many of their brothers and sisters was one Aharon couldn’t answer, but for a chance at the throne it was certainly possible.
Upon his departure two years earlier, twelve royal siblings had been living, with another eight already deceased. It was concerning to think how these numbers might now have changed, and as he considered this Aharon began an impatient pace about the deck of the ship, waiting for the deckhands to secure the vessel and lower the plank to the dock.
Intending to head straight to the royal palace, his first order of business was discovering whether King Jahi still lived. Not seeing any mourning banners draped about Malat’s streets, he hoped this indicated his majesty continued to endure, and that he’d still have the opportunity to protect Neco and Aya.
Finally the plank was set and he hurried down to the wharf, although due to the abundance of spoils still onboard he could go no farther. Despite traveling on a royal ship, abandoning such cargo would be foolish and an invitation to robbery, a reality that now prompted him to wave over the dockmaster.
“Send immediate word to the palace,” he instructed the man. “I require several wagons and a sizable escort of knights.”
Apparently the dockmaster recognized him. “Welcome home, Lord Shai. I’m sure your father will be pleased to learn of your safe return.”
Aharon very much doubted that, and merely sent the man a blank stare in response.
“As it happens,” the dockmaster went on, “the royal jester is currently on the premises, and keeping the company of several knights. Might it be more convenient to alert him to your arrival?”
“Siris?” Aharon said with a frown, debating whether this was bad luck or good. While the royal jester wasn’t his favorite person, he’d definitely be capable of answering his questions. “What’s he doing here?” he then asked suspiciously, for when it came to Siris Pabst, suspicion was generally a wise stance to take.
“The royal jester is escorting a Jennite emissary to his ship,” the dockmaster explained.
Aharon frowned again, not pleased to hear the Jennites were snooping about. Likely, they’d caught wind of recent developments and sent someone to assess the situation. This was especially irritating since Aharon himself wasn’t yet aware of the present circumstances.
“Fine,” he then nodded, “send him over.”
Several minutes later, Siris appeared along the dock coming toward him. With him were six knights, as well as a tall, pale-skinned man Aharon could only assume was the aforementioned Jennite.
Siris wore a smile as he approached, his slight frame—perfect for the tumbling maneuvers he often performed for his majesty’s amusement—swathed in satin from head to toe. He further possessed a strangely ageless face that made it impossible to determine how old he was, and could’ve passed for either twenty or forty.
“Aharon,” the man greeted now, drawing to a pause before him. “Isn’t this a delightful surprise? I wasn’t aware you’d been forgiven and invited to return.”
Since royal thieves outranked royal jesters, addressing him so casually was ample cause for rebuke, to say nothing of the jester’s baiting remark. Since such behavior was typical and expected of Siris, however, Aharon let it pass.
“You must be slipping,” he said instead. “Or have your eavesdropping skills degraded so much these past two years?”
“Not degraded,” Siris returned. “It’s more that I simply don’t have enough ears to keep up with all currently unfolding developments. Furthermore,” he went on, turning to the man beside him, “seeing to the comforts of our foreign guest has been keeping me rather occupied. Allow me to introduce the Jennite royal advisor, Braxis Caye.”
This man was almost a full pace taller than Siris, looked in his late twenties, and was presently observing Aharon with a mild expression but assessing gaze. “You’re Captain Shai’s eldest son, then?” the Jennite opened with a nod. “It’s said you tried to kill him and were banished as a result.”
“I wasn’t banished,” Aharon replied with annoyance, “but rather deployed.”
The advisor appeared unbothered by his tone. “There’s no need to feel ashamed, unless it’s for failing to commit to the task,” he commented. “Indeed, I’ve met your father.”
Aharon gave him a long look, then decided he didn’t have the patience for this type of exchange. Also, he was somewhat out of practice when it came to navigating political waters, and didn’t think this was the opponent he wanted to re-sharpen his skills on.
“How long have you been in Malat?” he asked the man instead.
“Nearly two weeks,” the Jennite informed him, “and while it’s been entertaining, it’s time I return to the east.”
“Much to the despair of us all,” Siris added, and Aharon barely refrained from rolling his eyes. The jester’s bootlicking was common practice, although it remained anyone’s guess as to whether any of his compliments were sincere.
“Well, safe travels,” Aharon now told the Jennite advisor, before shooting Siris a pointed look. “A word in private?” he then said, before starting away.
The jester followed him about a dozen paces down the dock, then turned to take him in with an irritating smile. “Yes?” he drawled.
“My journey’s been long and my temper is short, so don’t try my patience,” Aharon began.
“You believe I’d purposely provoke the wrath of someone depraved enough to attempt patricide?” Siris replied.
Aharon sighed. “Just tell me if the king still lives.”
“He lives.”
Relieved, he nodded. “What ails him, exactly?”
The jester’s head tilted. “Ails him?”
“Is he not ill?” Aharon asked, frowning in confusion.
Siris laughed. “Oh my. From wherever did you glean your information?”
“He’s not sick? Then why am I here?”
“Neco sent for you, yes?” the jester asked with a nod. “Or perhaps Aya?”
“Are they all right?”
“They’re both fine—for the time being.”
“Siris, I’m going to strangle you if you don’t start explaining.”
The jester donned another smile. “His majesty isn’t sick, but rather eighty seven years old and finally ready to pass the crown to his most worthy heir.”
Aharon stared at him a long minute. “Most worthy heir?” he finally repeated.
“Truly, Aharon, I don’t recall you being this dense. Must I spell it out for you?”
“Yes. Spell it out.”
Siris nodded. “The royal palace has become a setting of high excitement these past few weeks. Ever since his exalted majesty announced his readiness to attend his Patrons, and invited his progeny to battle the succession out amongst themselves.”
Aharon’s blue eyes widened. “Are you saying he bid them to murder him?”
“Essentially, although he certainly hasn’t made the task easy for them—no one’s succeeded yet, although only Prince Buru presently has reason to try. The others must do away with any elder siblings first, for the line of succession hasn’t been discarded. The women, therefore, have the weightiest task, by needing to eliminate all males and any elder sisters.”
Aharon was now regarding him in blatant horror. “Were they all forced to participate?”
“No, they were given the option of exile. None accepted.”
He was speechless. Aya, why didn’t you leave? Wherever you’d gone, I would have found you!
But he understood why she’d stayed, and it wasn’t because she had any interest in the crown. No, she’d remained for Neco, to help him succeed or at the very least stay alive, because of all the possible choices he was probably the only one who wouldn’t make a terrible king. And while Aya loved him, little doubt she’d accepted this burden for the realm itself, to prevent the people of Ceja from suffering through a tyrannical or brutal rule.
“Wait,” Aharon now said, his mind still spinning. “You said only Prince Buru yet has reason to murder the king. What of Fermin?”
“Dead,” Siris succinctly informed him. “He was the first victim of the affair.”
Prince Fermin had been the eldest son and established heir. “Who killed him?” Aharon asked.
The jester shrugged. “It could’ve been any of them.”
Suppressing a wince, he spoke again. “How many others have been slain thus far?”
“Three,” Siris told him. “Loh, Selmon, and Borohm.”
Aharon shook his head, thinking quickly. With Fermin eliminated, Neco was now second in line for the throne and a target of all remaining siblings but for Buru—keeping him alive therefore wouldn’t be easy. Moreover, only eight heirs now remained, and half of them female. The princesses weren’t in any danger from their brothers, only from each other. Which meant Aya also wasn’t safe.
“How could the king possibly incite this?” Aharon now issued disbelievingly.
“Perhaps he wanted to conclude his life in a thrilling and entertaining manner,” Siris suggested.
“Encouraging his children to slaughter one another qualifies as entertaining? Even of him, I wouldn’t have foreseen such savagery.”
The jester shrugged again. “Our place isn’t to judge.”
Aharon looked back at him, his eyes narrowing slightly. Siris lived for drama, and loved nothing more than creating intrigue and havoc whenever and wherever possible. The current circumstances must therefore be delighting him beyond his wildest imaginings.
For this reason, however, Aharon thought it might be wise to discover any of the man’s personal prejudices, or where his loyalties might lie, presuming he had any. While asking outright would prove useless, knowing whether the jester was an ally or enemy would certainly be helpful.
The man was now tapping his satin-clad foot impatiently. “Are we finished here? In case you failed to notice, I’m currently in the process of escorting the Jennite to his ship.”
Aharon glanced back at the man in question. “Are you sure he’s not an imposter? He appears too young to hold the position of royal advisor.”
Siris chortled at him. “You’re such a fool,” he said.
“Why’s that?”
“He’s not an imposter. Advisor Caye commands the largest spy ring in the world.”
Aharon glanced over again. “I suppose that explains how he arrived from Jennen so quickly. His local spies must’ve alerted him to the circumstances.”
The jester was beginning to look bored. “May I go?”
“Not yet. My ship is full of riches, and I need them unloaded and brought to the palace.”
“I doubt his majesty has much care for riches now, which is something I never thought I’d hear myself say.”
“Either way, I intend to see them delivered.”
Siris nodded. “I’ll take care of it, as I’m sure you’re anxious to attend the royal lambs.”
“Don’t steal anything,” Aharon then warned. “I’ve a complete list of the inventory here,” he added, patting his belt pouch, “and I’ll be checking to ensure all is accounted for.”
“I’m not a thief,” Siris replied with disdain. This was true—the man had his faults, but thieving had never been one of them. Not that thieving was a fault of course, particularly when done on the king’s behalf and at his direction.
Starting away, Aharon now felt almost frantic to reach the palace and assure himself that both Neco and Aya were unharmed. Brushing past the Jennite advisor without a word, he then heard Siris call his name.
“What?” he snapped, turning back impatiently.
The jester was smiling again. “Be sure to give the Justice bulletins a look on your way past,” he said. “There’s one in particular you may find interesting.”
Aharon frowned at him but made no further reply, and moved to resume his retreat. Coming upon the wharf’s exit, his curiosity then got the better of him and he veered toward the notice board where Justice posted their alerts.
It took him several moments of scanning to find what Siris had wanted him to see, and admittedly, it was interesting.
Nestled amongst the sketches depicting criminals currently being sought by the law, he spotted an image that bore a striking resemblance to himself. The man’s nose was slightly wider, and his eyebrows thicker, but overall the similarity between them was startling. It even appeared they shared the Birth dominion of Thieves, for this man was evidently wanted for committing a string of local heists.
Flynn Fajen, Aharon then read, focusing on the words scrawled beneath the sketch. Ten gold for information leading to his capture.
Lingering over the sketch another moment, he then shrugged and turned away, hurrying into the streets of the royal city.
Born and raised in Malat, Aharon was confident he could’ve found his way to the palace blindfolded. Now moving steadily toward the city’s core, he mindlessly wove his way through the late afternoon crowd, gratefully drinking in the familiar sights, sounds, and scents flooding his senses.
While his time in the west had been interesting, and brought him a deeper perspective and understanding of the world, he couldn’t deny missing and longing for his homelands. The golden sand, palm trees, and intense, dry heat were all met fondly now, delivering a deep sense of welcome and belonging. Admittedly, he’d also grown weary of being addressed as “Cejan” or “foreigner” throughout his travels, and was happy this time in his life was over.
The streets of Malat were cobbled but edged in sand, with most lined by palm and lotus trees. The city itself was meticulously maintained, spacious and orderly, while the air always held the scent of the ocean, carried in from the south. As far as Aharon was concerned, Ceja’s royal city was the most beautiful in the world, and likely the wealthiest. His countrymen loved gold, as did their rulers who commonly bore a blessing of Commerce, and the realm tended to be prosperous overall.
Personally, Aharon had little reason to concern himself with money; not only was his line a Major House, but male members of his family had captained the royal guard for more than three centuries, and thus accumulated ample wealth to pass on to their future generations. Being the eldest son, the position of captain was one Aharon would’ve inherited had he been born to Justice or War, although in truth he was grateful to have escaped this fate. It was also just as well, since his brother bore War and was eager to fill the role in his place. Turo was now twenty, three years younger than Aharon, and presently a knight. Little question he would assume the position of captain in a decade or so when their father retired.
Aharon’s other brother, Zaun, was only ten, and like Aharon he’d been born to Thieves. In contrast to his relationship with Turo, which was lukewarm at best, Aharon was close with Zaun and anxious to reunite with him. Fortunately, there existed a strong chance he’d find the boy on royal grounds, and Aharon aimed to seek him out directly after assuring himself that Neco and Aya still breathed. While Siris had claimed as much, he wasn’t foolish enough to blindly trust anything the jester said, particularly without knowing the man’s specific agenda.
Now closing in on the heart of the city, he found himself struck by another wave of familiarity as the palace began rising into view. Constructed of smooth slabs of stone and engraved pillars, it had long ago been magicked to appear as though fashioned of gold, making for an impressive and mesmerizing sight.
It was also a sight no less known to him than his own family’s manor, since he’d spent the majority of his youth here following his mother’s death. When not attending the royal guard’s training sessions at the insistence of his father, he’d been tutored along with the royal siblings, or simply left to play and romp with them. Consequently, his presence was a common and accepted fixture within the palace walls.
Or it had been, at least. Moving along the laneway toward the main entrance, he was curious to learn if he’d now be stopped and questioned, particularly since his return wasn’t scheduled. Indeed, if Siris hadn’t known to expect him, his arrival was likely to take everyone but Neco and Aya by surprise.
Drawing near, Aharon eyed the string of knights lining the perimeter. He had their attention in kind, although none were moving to intercept him, and a few issued curt nods of acknowledgement. Not seeing his brother Turo amongst them, he continued toward the entranceway and found himself granted an immediate and silent passage as the knights stepped wordlessly aside.
He’d be lying to say he wasn’t surprised. While it was true his father was their captain, the fact that he’d tried to kill the man was also commonly known. Frankly, and in light of this, he’d been expecting a slightly more contentious reception.
Dismissing the matter, he hurried up the nearest staircase, following its golden steps to the third floor. Continuing to Aya’s private apartment, his knock was answered by one of her handmaidens.
The young woman was gripping an upraised dagger as she opened the door, the gesture providing a grim glimpse into the recent dangers of palace life. Taking him in, the woman’s eyes then widened.
“Lord Shai!” she exclaimed, dropping her arm. “You’ve returned!”
Since this particular handmaiden had been serving Aya for years, he had no trouble recognizing her. “Molli,” he returned, with a glance at the blade she continued to clutch. “I’m curious to know who you were expecting.”
“The resident cobras are plentiful,” she replied, stepping back, “and some quite bold.”
Following her inside, Aharon then waited in the lounging area while the handmaiden disappeared deeper within the apartment. Moving to the window, he spotted a group of knights performing their daily drills on the sands below, while his father barked commands at them from nearby. Staring downward, his look narrowed to a glare.
“Aharon.”
Shifting, he turned back and found her aqua gaze.
Had he not been sent away, they would’ve been married by now, a union approved of and encouraged by both their fathers. It was a romance that had begun long ago, and one that truly seemed destined from the start—until the day he’d attacked his father and been forced to leave. She’d promised to wait for him, but after two years his paranoia had taken over, and left him fearful he’d lost her.
Adorned in an airy, linen dress the same color as her eyes, Aya continued gazing at him, her long black hair piled atop her head. Finally, the corners of her mouth quirked upward, and she turned her head to address the two handmaidens standing behind her, Molli and another young woman Aharon knew as Seta.
“Leave us,” Aya commanded them. “Find Neco and ask him to come. If he’s been smart and heeded my advice, you’ll find him in his quarters.”
“Your highness,” the women replied, issuing nods before turning to retreat.
Aya turned back to him once they’d exited. “You look terrible,” she said.
He expelled a breath of relief. She wouldn’t be messing with him if her intention was to break his heart.
“I came straightaway from the docks,” he told her in reply. “I thought you might be anxious to see me, despite my lack of proper grooming.”
Lips widening to a smile, she stepped toward him and wound her arms about his neck. “I’ve missed you. So very much.”
He kissed her in response, and eventually forced himself to pull away. “I spoke with Siris at the wharf,” he then said. “He filled me in on your father’s demented pronouncement.”
She took a step back, her expression flooding with worry. “Not a day passes where attempts aren’t made on Neco’s life. His guards and tasters have so far kept him safe, but the danger is only increasing. I need your help protecting him.”
“Of course, but don’t dismiss your own need for protection.”
She sent him a shrewd look. “You think I failed to predict the possibility of something like this unfolding one day? I’ve taken precautions, Aharon.”
“Oh?”
Aya nodded. “Shortly after you left, I hired an assassin to train my handmaidens, a venture I took pains to keep secret. All three are now proficient with a variety of weapons, and carry hidden blades at all times.”
Aharon’s eyebrows rose. “Impressive forethinking, but it’s not an excuse to be reckless.”
She straightened before him, a determined glint coming into her eye. “As you know, I’m hardly defenseless.”
His look dropped briefly to her medallions, taking in the Justice of her birth and inverted Secondary. Only he knew its truth, and subsequently what it made her. No, Aya certainly wasn’t defenseless—having chosen Magic, she was a pyromancer.
Aharon also wore his Secondary facing inward, concealing its dominion of Revenge. Not an acceptable blessing for anyone under the king’s direct employ, he’d likewise confessed his selection only to her, and found her accepting.
“I need to know everything,” he then said, “including whether your intention is to see Neco crowned, or to merely keep him alive.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Are you asking me whether I’m responsible for killing any of my siblings?”
He paced away a few steps while answering. “I know you’re not a murderer, but I’m also familiar with how you think. You possess the mind of a strategist, and will therefore proceed in the most logical manner.”
“Which is?” she challenged.
“Neco’s best defense is eliminating the threats against him,” Aharon answered. “To keep him safe, the others must die.”
Aya looked darkly amused as she moved to settle on a chair. “Clearly, you don’t possess the mind of a strategist.”
Leaning back against the wall, he took her in. “Oh? Enlighten me.”
“Buru is the eldest remaining heir,” she explained. “For him to take the throne, only father needs to die.”
“True,” Aharon nodded, “but I see two problems with this. The first is that you’re assuming your siblings won’t just keep at it and try to kill Buru once he’s crowned.”
“Actually, I suspect he’ll simply execute those he doesn’t trust. Or if he’s feeling merciful, exile them.”
Aharon paused a moment. “Why doesn’t that worry you? For Neco’s sake at least, if not your own?”
“Because Neco and I have recently spent much time with Buru, successfully convincing him that we support his claim.”
“Is this true?”
It was her turn to pause. “It’s a double-edged strategy. Supporting Buru will shield Neco from danger—provided Buru emerges as king—but will also keep him in position as next in line for the throne.”
Aharon gave her an appreciative look. “Clever. Risky, but clever.”
“Your second point of contention, then?” she invited.
“I think you just answered it. Mainly, it concerns the fact that Buru would make a terrible king.”
“Buru is stupid, not evil,” Aya said. “And stupid can be led.”
“Perhaps, but should reality prove otherwise, Neco will remain the heir, while the rest of your siblings have been executed or exiled.”
She nodded. “At least until Buru produces a son. As it stands, his wife has only birthed daughters.”
“This strategy also keeps you from having to personally harm your brothers and sisters,” he noted.
“It was a consideration,” she admitted.
He smiled. “This is why I love you. Even under such ruthless circumstances, you find a way to confront them without degenerating into cruelty.”
Aya met his look. “Is it not cruel to wish death upon my own father?”
“In this particular situation, absolutely not. It’s his own doing, after all.”
She nodded absently, her gaze drifting. “Buru plans to make another attempt on his life tonight. Perhaps this effort will fare better than the rest.”
“If so, tomorrow may bring an end to all this. Buru may be stupid, but he won’t hesitate to extinguish the lingering threats and secure his safety.”
“Yes, I’ve discussed this with him. He knows what to do.”
Falling silent a moment, Aharon studied her. “How are you truly coping with all this?”
She held his gaze, her eyes turning weary. “Whatever is to happen, I’m soon to lose nearly all my family. Yes, most of them are deplorable beings, but it’s difficult to blame them given how we were raised.”
“That’s not an excuse. You and Neco aren’t like them.”
“I suppose. But they’re still my blood, and however one views the matter, it seems such a terrible waste of life.”
“Part of me wishes you’d accepted the exile. You must have known I would’ve found you, wherever you had gone.”
She smiled, perhaps a little wistfully. “I know, and the option was tempting. But I couldn’t leave Neco, nor convince him to come with me.”
Aharon very much wanted to speak with Neco—privately—and learn precisely where he stood in all this. Was he adhering to Aya’s approach, and solely supporting Buru’s claim? Or was he playing his own game, and secretly plotting the deaths of his father and elder brother? While thinking this latter option unlikely—but not completely outside the realm of possibility—Aharon wanted to be sure.
“At least you’re here,” Aya now went on, drawing his attention back. “I’ve missed you more than ever these past few weeks.”
“I won’t ever leave you again,” he vowed. “Presuming, of course, that your father doesn’t execute me for returning on Neco’s summons rather than his own.”
“My father has more pressing concerns, and isn’t going to care,” she assured him.
About to respond, Aharon paused and looked to the doorway as footsteps sounded from beyond. Expecting Neco, he frowned when Aya’s two handmaidens, Molli and Seta, moved into the room instead.
Aya took them in. “Something wrong?” she asked, her own gaze narrowing.
“Prince Neco asks for you and Lord Shai to attend him in his private quarters,” Molli began. “In light of today’s events, he’s now hesitant to leave their confines.”
“Why?” Aya demanded. “What happened?”
“It’s Prince Buru, your highness,” Seta answered. “I’m afraid he was killed a short time ago.”
Aya closed her eyes a moment before turning to Aharon. “Perhaps it’s time to reevaluate the acceptable levels of cruelty,” she issued bitterly, before rising and starting from the room.
Aya remained silent as Aharon followed her up to the next level of the palace. Behind them trailed Molli and Seta, and he was pleased to note their vigilance. It was even more pleasing to know they’d both been trained by a professional killer, and were devoted to Aya’s safety. He presumed the third handmaiden was presently resting, and guarded Aya when she slept.
Starting down the corridor leading to Neco’s rooms, he glanced over at her. “Forgive me the timing, but can you tell me how Zaun’s been faring? I’ve yet to see him.”
Aya nodded. “I’ve kept up with him like you asked, and for the most part he claims to be doing well.”
“For the most part?”
“He’s quieter, and more reserved. I think he’s missed you terribly.”
Leaving his youngest brother had been no less difficult than leaving Aya, and even more worrisome. In fact, it was because of Zaun that he’d attacked their father in the first place, which had left him to fear that the boy might be made to suffer the consequences. While wanting to take Zaun west with him, the king had denied the request, probably on his captain’s wishes.
“Any idea where I might find him?” he asked Aya now.
“He’s likely here on the grounds,” she told him, “as your father usually directs him to attend the daily drills. Otherwise, he’s probably at home with his tutors.”
Aharon nodded. Unlike himself and his other brother, Turo, Zaun didn’t take lessons with the royal siblings since the princes and princesses were all several years older than he was. The youngest heir, Prince Padus, was sixteen, while Neco, now the oldest in light of Buru’s death, was twenty four.
The thought prompted Aharon to look at Aya again. “Padus was only fourteen when I left, and he seemed a decent sort. Is this still the case?”
“It’s hard to say,” she answered. “He’s always kept to himself, and has only grown more solitary with age. I’ve recently tried speaking with him, but he’s clearly suspicious of my motives, for which I can’t blame him.”
Aharon considered. “As the youngest, he only has your sisters to fear.”
Aya nodded. “I don’t suspect he’s in much danger. Not yet, at least.”
“There’s only seven of you left, and four of you female,” he reminded her.
Her lips tightened. “Yes. We definitely need to reassess our position, now Buru’s been eliminated.”
They said nothing more while closing the distance to Neco’s quarters, where they found the door flanked by four knights. Aharon presumed the remaining four—each male heir maintained a personal guard of eight—were inside with the prince.
The knights let them pass but didn’t allow Aya’s handmaidens to follow, insisting that the women remain in the corridor. Aya didn’t challenge them and merely nodded her acceptance before leading the way into her brother’s apartment.
They found Neco pacing about his sitting room, his expression agitated. One look at him was enough to convince Aharon that he hadn’t been responsible for Buru’s murder.
“Aharon!” the prince then exclaimed, starting toward him and engulfing him in a welcoming embrace. More so than their actual blood siblings, the two had been as close as brothers since childhood.
Aharon returned the welcome and stepped back. “I came as soon as your message reached me.”
Neco shot a glance at his sister before donning a knowing smile. “I presume Aya has explained the situation? I can’t say I’m surprised to learn that you went to her first.”
Aharon gave him a dry look in response, for his and Aya’s relationship was something the prince enjoyed poking fun at, but very much approved of. “Sorry to damage your delicate feelings,” he then said, “but I think we have more important matters to discuss.”
Neco smirked before nodding and looking to his guards. “Leave us,” he ordered, “and shut the doors behind you.” Once the four knights had retreated from the room, he moved to the nearest chair and dropped himself down. “The circumstances have taken a worrying turn,” he began.
Aharon and Aya moved to sit on the sofa placed opposite him. “Do you know how Buru was killed?” Aya asked.
“It wasn’t because his behavior was reckless,” Neco replied. “Apparently, he was simply standing too near his bedroom window.”
“He was shot?” Aharon asked, while trying to recall the precise location of Buru’s rooms. He thought it was possible the position of the archer would tell them something.
Neco was nodding. “He had the window open, and the arrow took him straight through the head.”
“How did you learn this?” Aya asked.
“A member of Buru’s private guard came to inform me, I assume because I’m now the eldest son and foremost heir. Also,” he added, “I suspect the knights are running a betting pool.”
Aharon snorted. “An inspiration borne of my father, I suspect.” Pausing a moment, he then went on. “Can you figure where the shot was taken?”
Aya answered. “If Buru was killed in his bedroom, the archer had to be standing on either the solar terrace, or atop the roof. Neither location would make for an easy shot, so whoever’s responsible isn’t a novice.”
“Have any of your siblings been trained in archery?” Aharon asked.
Aya and Neco exchanged a look before they both shrugged.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Neco then said, “but most of us have little to do with each other, so concealing such training wouldn’t have been difficult.”
“Furthermore,” Aya went on, “we shouldn’t assume one of them actually took the shot. Perhaps Nevis or Padus ordered one of their knights to do it.”
Aharon looked to Neco. “Would your knights have complied, had you commanded them to carry out such a deed?”
The prince took him in with amusement. “What exactly are you asking?”
Aharon eyed him a moment, then shook his head. “I know it wasn’t you.”
Neco’s smile widened. “I truly have missed you, Aharon. Until recently, it’s been dreadfully dull here without you.”
Aya threw them an impatient look. “Indulge your sentiments later,” she told them, before focusing on her brother. “Answer Aharon’s question. Would your knights perform in this fashion, if you ordered it of them?”
Neco considered a moment. “Yes,” he then told them, “but only against a younger sibling. I don’t think they’d dare harm an elder.”
“A convenient response,” Aharon murmured, throwing him a pointed look.
Knowing this wasn’t a genuine accusation, Neco smiled again.
“That seems to exclude any of the knights from being the culprit,” Aya went on, ignoring their banter. “Although it’s always possible an assassin or mercenary was hired to enact the task.”
“No chance of that,” Neco denied, shaking his head. “Security about the palace is tighter than ever, and for this particular reason. If the archer isn’t a knight, it’s someone common to the grounds, and one who’s kept their talent hidden.”
Aya sighed. “That means it could be anyone.”
“Essentially,” Neco agreed.
Following a short silence, Aharon then spoke. “Let’s try a different approach,” he suggested. “Five of your siblings have now been murdered. Tell me how the others died.”
Aya shifted to regard him. “Predictably, Fermin was first. Not so predictably, he was poisoned during the very meal where our father announced this insanity.”
Aharon’s eyes widened. “Truly?”
She nodded. “This seems to imply one of us had forewarning of father’s intentions, and brought the poison along for this precise purpose. Or, someone just happened to be carrying poison and managed to slip it into Fermin’s food or drink without anyone noticing.”
“The first option seems more likely,” Neco said, “and frankly, less unsettling.”
Aharon had to agree. “Did anyone react suspiciously to Fermin’s death?”
Aya shook her head in frustration. “I was too taken aback to notice. From what I can recall, all of us, even father, appeared shocked.”
“This also served as a strict lesson to start using tasters,” Neco remarked dryly.
Aharon looked over at him. “And how has this fared for you?”
The other man paused a moment before answering. “I’ve lost six so far.”
While he shouldn’t have been surprised, Aharon nevertheless felt his stomach drop. And since Neco had just become first in line for the throne, little doubt the threats against him would now only increase.
Aya was watching him, and after a short moment she spoke. “Selmon was killed next, which I initially found baffling due to him being the second youngest male. However,” she went on, “I soon came to believe that his murder was simply a crime of opportunity.”
“How so?” Aharon asked.
“He snuck away from his guards to meet with one of the maids for a romantic encounter. She claims they parted directly afterward, but he never made it back to his rooms. He was found a few corridors from where they had their rendezvous, stabbed to death.”
“Where was he stabbed, and how many times?” Aharon asked.
“Twice, in the chest,” Neco told him.
“Was the weapon found at the scene?”
The prince shook his head. “No, but the royal Healers examined the body and claimed the damage was done by a dagger.”
Frowning, Aharon looked to Aya. “I’m definitely leaning toward a male assailant.”
She nodded. “I agree.”
Neco looked from one to the other. “Why’s that?”
“Selmon was seventeen and in prime physical condition,” Aya explained. “Were I the killer, and being a woman, I would need to ensure he couldn’t fight back and overpower me. This means I’d have to take him down on the first strike, and therefore would’ve aimed for his throat.”
“Perhaps that’s why there were two stab wounds,” Neco speculated. “The first could’ve been off its mark.”
Aharon nodded. “Yes, and if so, we’re likely dealing with a man, because Selmon probably could’ve defended himself against a woman, even if injured.”
“So either Buru, Nevis, Borohm or Padus killed him?” Neco said.
“Or possibly one of their knights,” Aya responded with a shrug.
Neco frowned, looking from one to the other. “I don’t see the point of this. What does it matter who did it?”
“The point,” Aharon returned, after exchanging another look with Aya, “is that by determining which of your siblings is enacting the murders, we’ll know who we need to defend against.”
“You mean, who we need to target,” Neco corrected.
Aharon hesitated, then gave a nod. “Yes. At this point, I don’t think there’s much choice in the matter.” Another glance at Aya showed she’d evidently accepted this as well, for her gaze had assumed a look of resolve.
Neco’s expression remained unconvinced. “You’re wasting your time,” he told them. “Even if all the murders were the work of a single perpetrator—which I very much doubt—eliminating him or her won’t halt the threat. This person has only lessened the competition for those of us who remain.”
Aharon frowned, mostly because the prince was right. In fact, sitting back and waiting for others to perform the bulk of the work was probably the precise strategy being implemented by at least a couple of the surviving siblings. Indeed, it was a smart move, provided one was able to keep themselves alive long enough to benefit from it.
“Besides which,” Neco went on to add, “you’re forgetting the simple fact that only my father needs to die for me to now ascend the throne.”
“There’s really nothing simple about that,” Aharon returned, “so I’ll ask you to continue indulging me. How did the final two die?”
“Borohm was poisoned, although like the rest of us he’d been using tasters, so no one’s quite sure how it happened,” Neco explained. “His knights simply found him in his bed one morning, deceased.”
“Strange,” Aharon murmured.
“Actually, Loh’s death is by far the strangest,” Aya spoke up. “He was standing on his terrace one afternoon, in clear view of his knights, when he suddenly pitched over the side. Because his apartment was located on the fifth floor, it was a lengthy fall.”
Aharon gave a slight frown. “He wasn’t struck by anything? An arrow or a blade?”
She shook her head. “The Healers saw no marks on his body to suggest this. The only injuries they found were obvious results of his fall.”
“What did he land on?” Aharon asked, morbidly curious.
“Mostly his skull,” Neco replied.
Since Loh and Neco had despised each other, Aharon wasn’t surprised to note the prince’s uncaring tone. “I meant—” he then started.
“He hit the courtyard,” Aya interrupted, shooting her brother an agitated look. “Perhaps if he’d fallen upon the sand, he would’ve survived.”
Aharon nodded. “Possibly, although it hardly matters now. Regardless, and given Buru’s location of death, you both need to board up your windows immediately, and avoid your own terraces.”
“I suppose temporary lack of sunlight is a small price to pay for survival,” Neco responded.
“Good,” Aharon told him, somewhat surprised he hadn’t argued. “Aya?” he then said.
“I’ll have it done once we’re finished here,” she vowed.
“All right,” Aharon went on. “It appears to me we’re dealing with three separate killers. The two poisonings were likely done by the same hand, as were the two involving Buru and Loh. As Aya suggested, Selmon’s death was probably a crime of opportunity and committed by a different assailant.”
She nodded. “I’ve concluded the same, and would further wager on our poisoner being a woman. Again, it speaks to avoiding a physical confrontation where she’d be unlikely to prevail.”
“Logical,” Aharon seconded.
A soft laugh then interrupted them, and they looked to see Neco observing them.
“Something funny?” Aya asked, somewhat sharply.
The prince grinned back at her. “The smartest kings are those who surround themselves with even smarter advisors, and I think I’m in good hands.”
“You’re not king yet,” Aharon reminded him.
“No,” Neco responded, “but should this all conclude in a battle of wits, I now willingly entrust you both with my life.”
“We’re honored. Now shut up and let us figure this out,” Aharon responded, but not without a slight nod to acknowledge the compliment.
Aya looked pensive. “Five potential threats remain,” she said. “Nevis and Seret are obviously the most worrisome.”
Aharon nodded, his lips curling slightly. Nevis was now next in line for the throne after Neco, and was probably responsible for at least one of the aforementioned murders. Seret was his twin sister, and the two had been near-inseparable since birth. Little doubt she was now aiding her brother in whatever ways were necessary to see him crowned, and Neco and the king were presently the only obstacles standing in their way. Moreover, the twins were a cunning and ruthless pair, and notoriously cruel to the palace staff. Aharon found the thought of Nevis as king alarming.
“I’m confident Seret’s our poisoner,” Aya now said, before looking to him. “Do you think Nevis is responsible for Buru and Loh?”
“Possibly, but until we figure out what caused Loh to fall, it’s hard to say,” he replied, thinking that he needed to speak with the late prince’s guards. “However,” he went on after a slight pause, “I do agree they’re the primary threat, and where we should now be focusing our…defense.”
Aya met his gaze, and at length issued a nod. “Once they learn you’ve returned, they’ll know we’re helping Neco. They’ll be expecting us.”
Unable to disagree, Aharon would’ve found this a lot more worrisome if not for Aya’s blessing of Magic. As it stood, her pyromancy talents and assassin-trained handmaidens lent a considerable assurance, although he still planned on keeping her in his sights as much as possible. However, Neco required his vigilance too, which left him to speculate that he wouldn’t be getting much rest until all this was over.
“Next to consider are Heni and Tosis,” Aya now went on, naming her two younger sisters. “Honestly, I’m uncertain if either is even participating in this, or merely holding back and waiting for the storm to pass.”
“Or, they’re waiting for the rest of us to thin the competition before actively joining in,” Neco interjected.
Aya nodded back at him. “That’s a possibility, particularly with Tosis. I can’t envision her letting such an opportunity slip away.”
Aharon shook his head. “She’s the youngest female, so she needs to kill all six of you to gain the crown. I agree she’s likely vicious enough to try, but this only makes her a threat to—and target of—everyone else. She’d be a lot smarter to just lay low.”
“True, but I imagine her ambition is outweighing her sense,” Aya returned. “Perhaps she, and not Seret, is our poisoner.”
The prince apparently disagreed. “I still favor Seret,” he told them. “Poison seems precisely her style.”
Aharon withheld a sigh, starting to feel like they were getting nowhere. “This leaves us with Padus,” he said, looking to Neco. “He’s now third in line, so only you and Nevis remain in his path.”
“Perhaps I should try speaking with him again,” Aya mused.
“No,” Aharon told her. “With the obvious exception of Neco, you need to stay away from them all. Since we don’t truly know where any of your brothers or sisters stand, it’s simply too dangerous for you to approach any of them. Don’t forget—you’re a target too.”
“To some, yes,” she agreed.
“No, to all,” he corrected. “Once they know you’re helping Neco—if they haven’t already discerned this—you’ll be in everyone’s way too.” Aharon stopped a moment to look from one to the other. “I have some ideas about how to protect you, and perhaps lure out those looking to harm you.”
Neco smiled at him. “Again, Aharon—it’s wonderful having you home.”
“Then I hope you intend to listen to what I tell you, and accept my advice,” he replied.
The prince nodded. “I’m not an idiot. Nor do I wish to die.”
Looking back, Aharon could only hope he followed through on this.
The next hour was spent discussing and plotting out various scenarios, those of both a defensive and offensive nature. The discussion ultimately left Aharon thinking that there was almost no chance he wouldn’t be spilling royal blood in the very near future, and while this wasn’t a pleasant thought, given the circumstances he didn’t appear to have much choice. To keep Neco and Aya safe, and for the well-being of Ceja itself, he would take whatever actions were necessary.
Finally leaving the prince in his chambers, he walked Aya back to her rooms, then promised to return in a couple of hours before descending to the ground floor and making his way outside. Approaching the generous stretch of sand that served as the knights’ practice area, he saw the day’s drills were just concluding as he glanced about for his brother.
Purposefully ignoring his father, he eventually spotted Zaun toward the rear of the group and started toward him. Weaving about the knights as they began retreating from the field, he tried to suppress his many unpleasant memories of his own time here, of being made to train as one of these men despite not sharing their aims and ambitions. His father had first put a sword in his hand when he’d been only seven, and then proceeded to instruct him relentlessly all throughout his youth. While hating the process, Aharon couldn’t refute the fact that it had shaped him into a proficient fighter, and equipped him with skills that had come in useful on countless occasions.
Zaun, he now saw, had dropped to the sand, his sword discarded beside him as he fought to catch his breath. Drawing near, Aharon found himself startled by how much the boy had grown, and how their resemblance had sharpened. Unlike their brother Turo, Aharon and Zaun both favored their mother, who’d died during childbirth. Their father had always blamed Zaun for her death, and caused him to live under a permanent shadow of undeserved guilt.
Finally glancing up, Zaun caught sight of him and seemed to freeze in disbelief for a moment. Springing to his feet, he then lunged toward him with a huge grin.
“Aharon!” he cried, throwing out his arms. “You’ve finally returned!”
Smiling, Aharon received his embrace, inwardly relieved to find him in seemingly fine health. Pulling back, he then gave his brother a closer inspection. “You’re nearly as tall as I am,” he noted. “You’ll be a man in no time at all.”
Rather than please him, the comment made Zaun frown. “You’ve been gone a long time,” he pointedly returned.
“I know, and I’m sorry. But I had no choice.” When his brother didn’t reply, he continued in a lower tone. “How have things been with father? Has he left you alone?”
Zaun nodded. “Most days he makes me attend these drills, but otherwise he pays no attention to me at all. It’s been peaceful…if not a little lonely.”
“So he’s never struck you again? Not even once?”
The boy shook his head. “No. I swear.”
Aharon believed him, but was somewhat surprised. Having lived through the same treatment as children, he and Turo hadn’t been old enough to defend themselves at the time, and Turo had since appeared to forgive the physical mistreatments. Aharon had not, and the moment he’d learned their father had started on Zaun, he’d stormed over to their family manor and confronted him.
The altercation left both men mortally wounded, although fortunately—or unfortunately, in his father’s case—the house staff summoned Healers quickly enough to save them. Once mended, Aharon was immediately sent away, although he’d made a point of speaking to his father before he left and had warned him what would happen if he raised a hand to Zaun again.
Apparently, his threats had been taken seriously.
Now sending a glance back over his shoulder, he looked across the expanse of sand and spied the man in question over by the wall, staring his and Zaun’s way. Maintaining eye contact for only a moment, he then pointedly turned his back.
Zaun was watching him, and now sent a worried glance to their father. “Please stay away from him,” he then pleaded, “and don’t get into any more trouble. I don’t want you sent away again.”
Suspecting he could avoid a confrontation for only so long, Aharon nevertheless nodded. “No more trouble,” he promised, while thinking that if Neco succeeded in winning the throne, this was a vow he’d be fully capable of keeping. “Now come,” he then went on, putting a hand to the boy’s shoulder and starting him away “and tell me everything you’ve gotten up to these past two years.”
Three days later, Aya sat within her darkened apartment, its every window now covered by a thin slab of iron. No further murders had occurred, and everyone’s paranoia had reached an all-time high; they were all just waiting for the next body to drop, and then to adjust their personal strategies accordingly. A horrific situation, it was also a reality Aya had forced herself to not only accept, but embrace. For the sake of her own survival she couldn’t afford to do otherwise, nor had the circumstances left her any other option.
Since Neco was in the most danger, he’d been following Aharon’s suggestion and not left his rooms these past few days. Upon visiting him this morning, Aya thought he was growing a bit stir-crazy, but he’d kept his complaints to a minimum, and most importantly, thus far remained unharmed.
Still, and despite her brother’s isolation and private guard, she and Aharon were fearful someone would find a way past these defenses and make a successful strike. For this reason, Aharon was trying to keep as close to Neco as possible, while further investigating some of the other deaths. Moreover, he didn’t want Aya leaving her chambers without his company either, and for the most part she followed his wishes, only slipping out with her handmaidens on a couple of occasions. Like Aharon, she was also trying to discern the cause of Loh toppling from his terrace, and the identity of who had taken the shot that killed Buru.
Despite all their planning and strategizing, however, the simplest solution to keeping Neco safe was one they couldn’t ignore. If the king was to die, all of this would stop. With their father dead, Neco could ascend the throne, exile his remaining siblings—with the exception of Aya, of course—and begin his reign without fear of further threats. Or at least, none more than what was typical for a ruler of Ceja.
But while seeming like a simple solution, the prospect of slaying his majesty was significantly more daunting than was eliminating their fellow princes and princesses. Neco was willing to take the required action, but because his knights wouldn’t dare harm their king, any attempt he made would have to be enacted personally. This would further necessitate him leaving the safety of his chambers and inviting a threat to his own life, as well as pit him against the king’s formidable security measures. Measures fashioned and reinforced by Othos Shai, Aharon’s father and captain of the royal guard.
All things considered, Neco would probably end up dead if he tried this, either by way of a sibling or by their father’s defenses, a conclusion that unfortunately left Aharon as the only logical alternative. Having not yet agreed to the endeavor, Aya knew he was contemplating it, and trying to determine a pathway to the king.
The very idea terrified her. Presuming Aharon was successful—a weighty presumption, admittedly—he’d still be facing substantial danger due to the fact that he wasn’t a royal sibling and therefore immune to punishment. If he murdered the king and his identity was discovered, he’d be facing execution, and under such circumstances even Neco probably couldn’t save him—for by killing the reigning king, the royal guard would be swift and merciless in hunting him down, and ensuring he met Justice for the act.
In light of this, Aya was trying to dissuade Aharon from pursuing the action, mainly by reinforcing his own cautions. Thankfully, he was neither reckless nor short-sighted, and was considering every option—and its consequences—with painstaking care. However, it was also true that each passing day allowed further opportunity for Neco’s death, and if Aharon did nothing and her brother was killed, she knew he’d never forgive himself. Because of this, she worried he might decide to just take his chances, and risk himself not only for Neco, but for Ceja itself. Furthermore, the more practical part of her mind wasn’t certain she should be trying to discourage him, for their only other option wasn’t much more appealing, and only slightly less dangerous.
Besides herself and Neco, five royal siblings remained. To secure Neco’s safety, every one of them would need to be eliminated. Simply put, this meant either her father had to die, or her siblings. It was a ghastly choice.
Shaking her head now, Aya rose and started into her bedchamber to dress for supper, an action she mostly took out of boredom. Aharon was due to arrive soon and escort her to Neco’s rooms, and as she reached for a fresh dress she found herself hoping that he’d discovered something of interest today, something—anything—that could help narrow their focus. As it was, she felt their recent inaction had only increased the danger, and like it or not, they now needed to go on the offensive before she or Neco was killed.
Discarding her skirt and blouse, she moved to pull the dress over her head, then quickly worked the laces while her thoughts remained on the various problems at hand. Turning toward the mirror, she then caught sight of a figure now standing across the room, watching her reflection, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Princess,” Siris greeted with a smile.
Aya turned and gave him a long stare. Adorned in his typical satin stylings, he didn’t appear to be carrying a weapon, although this didn’t explain how he’d gotten into her private quarters. Molli and Seta were posted just inside the entranceway door, guarding the only path—or so she’d thought—into her rooms.
“I apologize for the intrusion,” the jester now went on, “and more specifically for my timing. It wasn’t my intention to infringe upon your modesty.”
Modesty was the least of Aya’s concerns, and even under different circumstances, it wouldn’t have distressed her to know that he’d apparently just watched her disrobe and redress. Siris’s preference for other men was commonly known, and while this type of behavior was frowned upon or even outlawed in some other realms, here in Ceja no one cared. The jester was disliked strictly for his personality.
“What are you doing here, Siris?” she finally asked, still shaken and holding her Magic at the ready.
“I thought we might talk,” he said.
Before she could reply, her handmaiden Seta appeared in the doorway, presumably drawn by the sound of their voices. Spotting Siris, her eyes widened in shock even as she quickly drew her dagger.
“Wait!” Aya commanded.
Seta’s look flew to her. “We didn’t allow him inside, your highness. No one’s approached your door all afternoon!”
Eyes narrowing, Aya looked back to the jester. He met her gaze expressionlessly, saying nothing.
“It’s fine, Seta,” she then said. “Return to your post.”
The woman gave her a long look, and eventually shook her head. “I’ll remain here, princess.”
The cause of the woman’s concern wasn’t a mystery, and something Aya was also contemplating; having recently divulged the secret of her pyromancy to her handmaidens, making them the only souls besides Aharon aware of this, her Magic lent no peace of mind under these present circumstances. Also adorned in a Secondary of Magic, Siris was a light-bringer, which among other things enabled him to call lightning. Aya had no idea how she’d fare against him, if her power was strong enough to overcome his, nor did she particularly want to find out.
Even so, she felt more curious over the man’s presence—and how he’d gotten into her chambers—than threatened by it. And truthfully, if he’d wanted to kill her, doubtless he would’ve just done so while her back was turned.
“She can stay,” Siris said now, glancing to Seta with another smile. “I don’t mind.”
Nodding, Aya started toward the pair of wicker seats placed against the wall. “Shall we, then?” she invited, sinking down.
Siris followed her lead by taking the second chair, while Seta moved several steps closer. Her dagger remained in her hand, leaving little question that she’d release it at the first hint of danger.
Aya turned her gaze back on Siris, but trying to assess this man had never been easy. He’d won the role of royal jester five years earlier, and mainly because the king enjoyed watching his tumbling maneuvers, which were exemplary. In the time since, Siris had become known as a notorious eavesdropper, inciter of drama, and all-around unlikable individual. He also wasn’t as clever as he thought he was, although unlike her siblings, Aya had always made a point to be kind to him on the chance this effort paid off one day. She was now hoping today was that day, despite the fact that she didn’t particularly like or trust the jester.
“How did you get inside my quarters?” she now began.
Gazing about the shadowy darkness, he raised a hand toward one of the oil lamps and its glow instantly brightened, illuminating the entire room as though daylight were still streaming through the windows. “Much better, yes?” he then said, his green gaze swinging back to her.
She squinted in the sudden brightness. As a light-bringer, Siris could manipulate any form of light, expanding or diminishing its intensity to suit his fancy. He was well-known for influencing the torchlight that illuminated the palace corridors at night, and delighted in causing the knights on patrol to trip and fall by pitching them into sudden darkness. How he escaped retribution for this behavior Aya didn’t know.
“Siris,” she tried again. “How did you enter here? It’s important that I know.”
Again, he ignored her question. “You must be happy, now your lover’s finally returned,” he said instead.
“It’s difficult being happy about anything at this particular time,” she answered, hoping to steer him toward some manner of relevant discussion.
Instead, her words elicited a scandalized look. “What a crushing truth for Aharon,” the jester said. “I imagine you’re much higher on his list of priorities…perhaps not the summit, but high nonetheless.”
Aya arched an eyebrow. “If you’ve come to try and drive a wedge between Neco and I, you can save yourself the effort.”
He sighed. “You put me in a terrible position, princess. I truly don’t wish for you to die.”
“Is that a threat?”
He shook his head solemnly. “No. As you can imagine, I’ve found recent events wildly entertaining, and it’s been a joy to observe your wretched siblings killing each other off, one by one. However, such frivolity has passed, and choices must now be made.”
“Choices? Explain.”
“You’ve always treated me well,” he went on, rather than answer, “as has one other. I do wish you’d chosen a different alliance.”
Aya paused, thinking quickly. “Which one of them are you helping, Siris?” she then asked, somewhat tensely. She believed the jester’s claim that he didn’t wish her harm, but she also knew how much he hated Neco, and thought this might outweigh his concern for her. Indeed, his statement was troubling.
Since it didn’t appear he had any intention of responding to her question, she now decided to try a different tactic. “What did he or she promise you in return for your aid? To preserve your appointment as jester?”
While he still didn’t reply, she thought this seemed the logical answer. What other motivation could he have? True, he’d admitted that the circumstances were providing him much glee, but once Ceja’s new ruler emerged he’d be replaced, bringing an end to all his fun as well as his status. A vow to keep him on as jester in exchange for his help was the only sensible conclusion.
“Siris,” she said now, straightening in her chair, “might you reconsider your own alliance if I secure a similar promise from Neco?”
He frowned. “I could hardly trust his word.”
“No, but you can trust mine.”
He failed to look convinced. “Even were that the case, why would I wish to serve a king who so clearly despises me?”
It was a fair question, and unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a persuasive response quickly enough. “Wait,” she then said, as he pushed to his feet.
He looked down at her. “Be wary, princess. I would never harm you…but I will mourn you.”
“Siris, please. Give me a chance to speak with Neco, and I’m certain we can work something out.”
He shrugged. “You can try. But I suggest you hurry.”
Eyeing him, she was unable to suppress a frown. The truth was, Siris wasn’t only the eyes and ears of this palace, but he also knew its every nook and cranny, a fact most recently evidenced by his startling appearance here in her chambers. She and Aharon had discussed the jester just the day before, and they’d both voiced hope that he was merely playing the part of spectator, amusing himself solely by watching the carnage unfold. Learning otherwise was therefore unsettling rather than shocking, but they could clearly add one more enemy to their list.
As the jester now began stepping away, moving toward the door, Seta looked questionably to Aya.
Should I stab him? she was asking.
Aya needed no time to debate, and responded with a slight shake of her head; given his Magic, she believed any such attack would only result in Seta’s death rather than Siris’s. Furthermore, she still thought to try and bend his loyalty, although his and Neco’s mutual hatred wouldn’t make this task easy. Even so, and because the jester would be a useful ally but troublesome enemy, she wanted to at least make the effort.
He was nearly to the doorway now, but turned and looked back when she spoke his name.
“Yes, princess?” he said in response.
“Will you at least tell me how you gained access here?” she tried again.
“No, but not to worry,” he told her in reply. “I won’t be back for you.”
Aharon spent most of the afternoon questioning various knights of the royal guard, a somewhat awkward undertaking given his contentious—and well-known—relationship with their captain. Some of these men outright refused to speak with him, but others were civil and even forthcoming, supplying whatever answers they could.
Eventually, Aharon was able to conclude that most members of the royal guard were alarmed and horrified by the ongoing situation, and were now hoping for a quick resolution, however matters fell. Many of the knights he’d spoken with had further been mourning those already lost, having served on the private guards of the five slain princes. These men all seemed to blame their failed vigilance for the deaths, rather than the brutal circumstances instigated by the king.
In the end, his questions produced nothing definitive, but they did uncover some new information and leave him with several details to ponder. He planned on discussing his findings with Aya and Neco at supper, and hoped the information would allow them to draw some further conclusions.
Now late afternoon, he was making his way through the palace when he happened across his father. Presently descending a staircase while the other man climbed upward, Aharon figured he might as well get this over with and drifted to a pause.
Othos Shai noted his stance and continued to advance, not halting until they shared the same step. With a glint of curiosity in his eye, he then met his son’s gaze.
“I’ve noticed you gawking at me these past few days,” Aharon opened, “so if you have something to say, just say it.”
The captain’s expression remained fixed as he replied. “The king didn’t summon you. You shouldn’t be here.”
“The king has more important matters to focus on, those incited by his own depravity,” Aharon returned.
“Everyone knows you’ve come to aid Neco. You place a target on your own back, Aharon.”
“How fortunate, then, that I was taught to defend myself.”
“Indeed. Perhaps now you’ll have some appreciation for my efforts.”
Aharon snorted. “You’re as fiendish and immoral as the king you serve, and no less an aberration to your station.”
“Watch yourself, son. Such words may come to haunt you.”
“I don’t think so. In fact, I imagine my presence, and all it implies, makes you rather nervous. For you can’t possibly believe Neco will continue your service under his own rule.”
The captain nodded. “Perhaps not, but nor is he reckless enough to slight tradition entirely. Turo will replace me, leaving the prestige of our line intact and our ties to the crown strong.”
Aharon smiled. “But can your pride swallow such a dismissal? I, for one, am anxious to know.”
The other man’s face assumed a glower. “You were always an ungrateful child, a shameful stance for any firstborn, noble son. Never have you shown the slightest gratitude for the blood I gave you, or the opportunities delivered by your very name. Instead, you choose to be hateful, and bemoan the savageries that are the reality of our world.”
Aharon rolled his eyes. “If that’s the case, I think it’s time relics such as yourself step aside, and allow us more civilized folk to begin making this world a little less savage.”
His father shook his head. “Still so naïve. Do you truly believe Neco is so unlike the king?”
“I know he is. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have come.”
“That’s not true. You would’ve come for Aya, and you’d do well to protect her.”
“Right,” Aharon said, “because if she dies, it’ll ruin my chances for a union with royalty, and to further elevate the status of our line.”
His father nodded. “Your betrothal to her was the only thing you’ve ever done that I could be proud of.”
Despite his hatred for this man, and the fact that he’d long ago ceased seeking his approval, the comment still stung. Regardless, he gave no outward signs of this as he delivered his final, parting remark.
“Your time’s nearly done,” he said. “I suggest you enjoy what little you have left.”
Issuing the words in a menacing tone, Aharon heard no reply as he resumed his path down the steps. Typically, his temper was slow-burning, but interactions with his father had always proved the exception, something that clearly hadn’t changed over the past two years. Muttering angrily under his breath, he passed through the courtyard and continued off the grounds, emerging into the street beyond.
Making his way toward the shore, he kept his gaze on the blue-green waters of the distant bay, noting its calm appearance. Often, the surface would be riddled with bubbles and froth, a result of the underwater volcanic fields that ringed—and sat beneath—much of the continent. Without the near-constant eruptions, existence this far north would’ve been frigid, which was why few complained when these volcanoes occasionally detonated beneath a city and caused horrendous damage.
Along a stretch of Malat’s shore ran a line of merchant stalls, some selling fruits and vegetables but most offering varieties of fish caught fresh each day from the nearby waters. Considering the state of affairs at the palace, and the fact that Prince Borohm had somehow been poisoned despite using tasters, Aharon had been coming here each day to collect food for Neco and Aya. At least this way, he could be certain their meals were safe.
After gathering a sackful of fruit, he moved to select squid and oysters for tonight’s supper before starting back toward the palace. As he moved, he cursed the circumstances and the fact that they were demanding the totality of his time. Leaving the royal grounds as little as possible, and remaining with Aya at night, he’d yet spent almost no time with his brother, and only spoken with him twice. While Zaun understood the situation and why it was necessary, Aharon felt guilty for ignoring him and now made a silent vow to make up for it just as soon as the tumult had settled.
Reaching the palace, he made his way up to Aya’s rooms and found her pacing about the lounging area. “Something wrong?” he asked, taking in her worried frown.
“Siris was here,” she told him. “I don’t know how he got in, but we had an interesting conversation.”
“What do you mean, how he got in? He was here, in your chambers?”
After she explained the jester’s sudden appearance, Aharon immediately set to searching the entire apartment for Siris’s point of entry. Since the windows weren’t an option, the slabs of iron still all firmly bolted in place, he turned to the only other logical possibility, the fireplace.
Dropping down, he turned onto his back and began feeling about the inside of the hearth. “When’s the last time you set a fire?” he asked, noting the cleanliness of the space.
Crouched down before him, Aya shook her head. “Last winter was mild, so perhaps the year before? It’s been so long I can’t even remember for certain.”
Since it never really grew cold here, the many fireplaces within the palace were mostly decorative in nature. Fully functioning, yes, but rarely used. Aya’s response therefore wasn’t surprising.
Continuing to explore the hearth, a minute later Aharon’s fingers found a latch, and upon tugging on it a small section of the wall slid back. Peering into the darkness beyond—darkness that would be no hindrance to a light-bringer—he swore.
“What it is?” Aya asked.
“Some sort of tunnel. It’s small, and the Patrons only know where it leads, but little question it’s how he got in.” Continuing to eye the opening and space beyond, Aharon tried to calculate whether he could maneuver his way inside. While Siris was small and wiry and easily capable of traversing this path, Aharon thought he might find it a tight fit.
Now pushing himself back, he retreated from the hearth and rose to his feet. “I’ll have to explore where it leads, but we should first attend Neco. It’s entirely possible there’s another tunnel connecting to his fireplace.”
Looking alarmed, Aya merely issued a quick nod before hurrying from the room. Aharon followed, and didn’t speak again until they were moving along the corridors, trailed by Molli and Seta.
“The knights had a few things of interest to say,” he told her as they wound upward.
“So did Siris. I’m afraid we have much to discuss.”
He glanced over but withheld his questions, and maintained a careful watch on the nearby shadows as they neared Neco’s quarters. Seeing no one but for some of the prince’s knights, he ushered Aya inside and saw her breathe a sigh of relief upon finding her brother unharmed and waiting for them impatiently.
“Where have you been?” Neco demanded, coming forward to take the sack of food from Aharon’s grip. “Not only am I starving, but nearly bored out of my mind.”
Like those in Aya’s quarters, the windows here had also been covered over, forcing the prince to make use of several oil lamps. Deprived of any fresh air or breeze, the temperature within his rooms was almost stifling.
“There’s been some developments,” Aharon informed him, moving straightaway to the fireplace.
“Oh?” Neco asked, trailing after him.
Aharon didn’t reply and let Aya explain as he dropped down and wedged himself into the spotless hearth. It didn’t appear the prince had made use of this space for some time either.
As Aya next went on to relay her concerning discussion with the jester, Aharon listened with mounting worry as he prodded open another section of wall and gave a long look within. Unfortunately, he could again make out nothing but for blackness.
“After I explore, we’ll need to block this off,” he finally said, pushing up from the floor. “The easiest way is to keep a fire burning, but since the windows are blocked this isn’t an option. You’d swelter.”
Neco was now crouched down, staring into the opening with a frown. “All this time, such access existed? It’s shocking Siris hasn’t killed me already.”
“You’re probably first on his list,” Aharon told him, “but he’s likely wary of facing your knights.” Four of these men were present within the chamber, and they all appeared horrified as they stared at the fireplace from across the room.
Now moving into the dining area, Aharon, Neco, and Aya settled at the table and set to unpacking the sack of fruit and fish he’d brought. Aya finally spoke while slicing into a mango.
“Knowing Siris is involved changes matters,” she said. “In fact, he could very well be responsible for some of the murders already committed.”
“That’s definitely possible,” Aharon agreed, “but let’s come back to that. First, we need to determine who he’s helping.”
She nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that since he left me, and have narrowed it to either Tosis or Padus. Nevis and Seret have always found pleasure in humiliating him, especially publicly, so it’s ludicrous to think he’d willingly be aiding either of the twins. As for Heni, Siris’s hatred for her is well-known, making her the last person he’d ever willingly align himself with.”
Aharon nodded. Like many in the palace, Princess Heni had taken an instant dislike to the jester, and she often exhibited this by throwing food at the man during mealtimes when he juggled and performed for the king. Having observed these antics personally, Aharon didn’t find Siris’s dislike of the woman remotely mysterious.
Neco dug his fork into an oyster before looking to his sister. “If Siris is helping Padus, he’d have no reason to worry for your safety, and wouldn’t have bothered coming to warn you. So it must be Tosis.”
“Not necessarily,” Aya told him. “They must all know I’m helping you, which makes me a threat.”
Aharon found himself agreeing with the prince. “Now we’ve discovered Siris’s tunnels, and learned he has a clear path to Neco, you wouldn’t present a threat, Aya. Not unless he’s helping Tosis, which means you’re a target.”
Aya frowned. “That would also mean anyone could be the next victim. To win the crown, Tosis needs all six of us to die.”
Remaining silent, Neco’s gaze turned to Aharon.
Holding the look, Aharon eventually replied with a nod. To keep both Aya and the prince safe, he would now have to eliminate Tosis, and quickly.
Aya was watching them, and apparently understood their wordless exchange. “Removing Tosis might further award us Siris’s support,” she said, before turning her focus on her brother. “Although given your treatment of him, I’m not sure there’s any real hope of this happening.”
Neco shrugged. “Once Tosis is removed we won’t need him, so it doesn’t matter.”
Aharon frowned. “We may not need him, but we could certainly use him.” He paused a moment before continuing. “But this would further imply we’d have to trust him, which I’m not particularly inclined to do.”
“Forget the damn jester,” Neco snapped. “We’ll block his tunnels so he can’t reach us, and then kill Tosis. Deprived of his cause, Siris will become irrelevant.”
Aharon wanted to argue but wasn’t sure what to say. “There’s something we’re not seeing,” he finally murmured.
“Or perhaps you’re just looking for mystery where none exists,” the prince replied. “Siris slipped up by inadvertently revealing those tunnels, it’s as simple as that. Now, let us take advantage.”
Glancing to Aya, Aharon didn’t think she was completely satisfied with their conclusions either, but he figured they could revisit the matter later. As it stood, he still had his own findings to relay.
“I spoke with the knights today,” he began, cutting off a piece of squid, “and a few of their remarks were noteworthy.”
Neco sighed. “Why are you still wasting your time on this? There are only two ways for this to end in my favor, and we have to choose one. We’ve already pressed our luck too far by doing nothing these past three days.”
“I’ve hardly been doing nothing,” Aharon returned, somewhat harshly. “Furthermore, you agreed to trust Aya and I with your life, so perhaps you should honor your word and allow us to do this our way.”
The prince gave him a long stare before finally inclining his head. “You’re right,” he said. “Obviously, the situation is beginning to take a toll.”
This was hardly surprising. Just sitting around, waiting for one of your siblings to try and kill you, had to be nerve-wracking. Particularly after weeks of this, during which time five of your brothers had been slain.
“Let’s start with Borohm,” Aharon said now, referring to the nineteen year old prince who’d been poisoned and found in his bed. “His knights,” he went on, “are convinced that whatever poisoned him wasn’t ingested. They say Borohm was intensely paranoid about his food, and used multiple tasters before he’d chance eating anything.”
“If he didn’t swallow whatever killed him, his body needs to be examined for marks,” Aya said. “Perhaps someone pricked him with a poisoned barb or needle while he slept.”
Aharon gave her a look of frustration. “He’s been dead more than a week, and is now properly entombed. Apparently your father isn’t bothering with funerals, since most of you wouldn’t dare attend and place yourselves in further jeopardy.”
She frowned. “Without the body, we’ll likely never know precisely what killed him. Perhaps we should be focusing on who might’ve gotten into his rooms and carried out the task.”
“Considering today’s events, Siris seems a likely candidate,” Aharon said.
Neco shrugged. “Only if there’s another tunnel leading to Borohm’s fireplace.”
Aharon nodded at him. “I plan on discovering that answer just as soon as we’re finished here.”
“Also,” Neco went on, “there are more ways to poison someone than only by food or barb. Perhaps someone found a way to release a scorpion into his rooms, for instance.”
Aya grimaced. “That’s an uncomfortable thought.”
“But without observing the body, we’ll never know,” Aharon added, shaking his head.
Aya looked to him. “What else did you learn?”
“I spoke to Loh’s private guard about his fall,” he answered, “and discovered that one of these men was standing just paces away when it happened.” He paused a moment and shook his head again. “The knight remains dumbfounded. He said Loh was simply standing there, looking down into the courtyard, when he suddenly pitched forward and toppled headfirst over the railing. The knight is convinced nothing struck him, since he would’ve seen it, and can’t explain what happened.”
Neco chewed thoughtfully on another oyster. “Did Loh make any manner of noise before he fell? A scream of surprise or pain, perhaps?”
Aharon met his look. “I asked that too, and the answer is no—not until he was already falling. The knight said he was about halfway down when he started screaming.”
“It sounds as though it happened so quickly that even Loh was taken by surprise,” Aya mused. Stopping a moment, she then looked over. “Is it possible he was struck by lightning?”
Aharon’s eyebrows rose. “That’s an interesting theory, but I imagine the knight would’ve seen it. As I said, he claimed he was only steps from Loh when this happened.”
“I’ve seen Siris call lightning dozens of times,” Neco added, “and it’s always visible.”
Aya issued them a flat look. “He’s a light-bringer. One who manipulates light. You think he couldn’t have disguised the glow of his own lightning?”
“You have a point,” Neco admitted.
Aharon considered. “You’re probably right in thinking he’s capable,” he then told her, “but it’s difficult to believe the knight could’ve been so close but failed to feel it.”
“Also, wouldn’t there have been some sign of this on Loh’s body?” Neco asked. “Whenever Siris executes someone, the corpse is mostly charred.”
“Perhaps he emitted just enough power to stun him?” Aya suggested.
Aharon shrugged. “I can’t say it’s not possible, which only makes another murder Siris could theoretically be responsible for.”
“He might’ve killed Selmon too, given he’s well-known for prowling the corridors at night,” Neco added.
Aharon sighed. “Perhaps we are seeking a single perpetrator. Tell me, was Siris present at the meal where your father incited this craziness, when Fermin was poisoned?”
“Yes,” Aya told him, “although he wasn’t performing. It would’ve been strange, even for him, if he’d started tumbling about following such an announcement.”
“So what was he doing there?” Aharon asked.
“Just lurking around, and being his usual nosy and annoying self,” Neco answered.
“Could he have slipped the poison to Fermin?”
“The opportunity was there,” the prince told him.
Aharon nodded. “So he’s a viable suspect in four of your siblings’ murders. I can’t say I’m all that surprised.”
“What about Buru?” Neco asked. “Can we finger him for that death too?”
“Unlikely,” Aharon said, “unless he’s secretly a master archer, which I highly doubt.”
Aya glanced at him. “Did you learn anything more of Buru’s death?”
“I spoke to his knights,” Aharon replied, “but they claimed to have caught no sight of the archer. This means he or she had to be on the solar terrace, otherwise they would’ve been spotted fleeing across the roof.”
She shook her head. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t help narrow their identity.”
Aharon reached to help himself to another piece of squid. “No, but the knights did confirm that the archer has to possess an expert skill, for it was a difficult shot.”
“That still doesn’t help,” Aya said.
Aharon nodded. “I know. Here’s hoping I find better luck in the tunnels.”
After finishing their meal, they returned to the fireplace where Aharon once again lowered himself to the floor and gave another look inside the shaft. Not only would it be a tight squeeze crawling within, he determined, but he’d also be moving into complete darkness without any idea of what might lie ahead. To say nothing of the possibly-murderous light-bringer who made use of these tunnels.
Aya looked worried as he straightened back to his feet and began unbuckling his sword harness. “Are you certain you should do this?” she asked.
“I’m certain I need to,” he replied.
Once free of his weapon, he handed the blade over to Neco. Still armed with two daggers, the blades both hanging from his belt, he collected a short, thin candle from the mantle and stowed it into his pocket alongside his steel and flint. He was assuming the tunnel widened farther within, and if so, he’d be stupid not to bring along a light source.
Edging back to the hearth, he then looked to the four knights who stood grouped along the far wall, all of them watching him. “Don’t block me in unless you have to,” he told them. “If this does become necessary, I’m sure I can find another exit.” Aya’s room presumably, so long as this tunnel did in fact connect to her chambers, which were one floor below.
Aya was now frowning at him, and probably resisting the urge to request coming along. Fortunately though, she apparently understood why doing so was simply too dangerous.
“Be careful,” she told him instead.
“Provided I don’t get stuck,” he replied, lowering himself once more, “this may take a while. I don’t want to leave any reachable areas unexplored.”
“Take your time,” Neco answered blithely. “It’s not as though we have anything better to do than wait for you.”
Aharon flashed the prince a quick, crooked grin before exchanging a final glance with Aya. Maneuvering himself into the hearth, he then pushed himself through the opening.
His shoulders just fit, brushing the smooth sides of the passageway as he edged himself within. Moving along on his stomach, he estimated there was about three inches of space above him, which wasn’t a whole lot, but enough to lend him the necessary maneuverability. Shimmying along, he peered into the blackness ahead but could make out nothing.
“Everything all right, Aharon?” he heard Neco call out a few moments later.
“So far,” he yelled back.
He’d now come about eight or ten paces, and was beginning to doubt the wisdom of entering here. What if the tunnel never widened? Would he be able to back himself out?
He thought he could probably manage, but the experience wouldn’t be pleasant. Thankfully, confined spaces had never bothered him, although he suspected too much time in this one might test his limits. He was beginning to feel like he’d been entombed.
Continuing on, several minutes passed before the shaft seemed to come to an end, emptying into open air. Still unable to see anything but darkness, he managed to drag an arm out from under himself and cautiously waved it before him.
Feeling nothing, he reached down and discovered the ground about three paces below. After dragging himself the rest of the way from the shaft, he straightened and immediately moved to retrieve the candle from his trouser pocket, thankful to find it still intact.
After lighting the wick, he held the candle upward while performing a slow turn, his eyes gradually adjusting. To his surprise, Aharon saw he now was standing in a sizable room, perhaps fifteen paces by twenty, although it was oddly shaped and completely empty. At either end was a corridor stretching farther into darkness, and as he stepped toward the nearest he saw that its floor gave way to a pronounced, downward slope. Currently on the palace’s fourth floor, he figured this must be the pathway down to Aya’s rooms.
The smell here was flat and stale, unsurprising given the lack of fresh air, and he saw no sign that Siris—or anyone else—had recently been present. Still, and unfortunately, this meant nothing. Indeed, at this point the most he could hope for was that only the jester knew of and was using these tunnels.
Since there was only one floor above him but three below, he retreated from the downward-sloping corridor as he didn’t wish to leave any unexplored territory at his back. Approaching the second passageway—which was tall enough to keep him from slouching, but uncomfortably narrow—he saw its floor appeared to remain level, or at least as far as he could make out, and that it led into the east wing.
The effort to move silently came naturally, and he started along the corridor with equal parts caution and curiosity. Needless to say, he was now very interested to know the origin of these tunnels, as well as their intended purpose. He also wondered if Ceja’s current king was even aware of their existence. Given their placement at the heart of the palace, Aharon figured they must’ve been part of its original design, and therefore fashioned roughly six centuries earlier. How many of the palace’s inhabitants had since known of them, he couldn’t answer, but if Aya and Neco were any indication it seemed possible such knowledge had been lost long ago.
He walked for approximately three or four minutes before finding himself in another room, this one much smaller, and where he could go no farther. He found another thin shaft here, akin to the one he’d followed from Neco’s fireplace, and presumed it led to a similar exit within another apartment. Furthermore, he’d spotted two more of these shafts along the way, meaning he’d found a total of three additional entrance points. Unsure of which rooms they led to in particular, he planned on asking Neco and Aya to narrow down the possibilities before he explored further.
Turning about, he retreated back along the passageway, through the other room, and down the sloping corridor. The decline grew more severe as he continued, then seemed to even out, leading him to presume he was now on the palace’s third floor.
Still holding the candle aloft—as it occasionally dripped wax on his fingers—he found no rooms on this level, only a long passageway that contained four separate shafts. The last was situated at the very end of the corridor, and unless his sense of direction had failed him, he deemed this the route to Aya’s quarters.
Frowning suddenly, Aharon came to a pause and brought the candle closer. A flash of white had caught his eye, and as he leaned in, he saw a folded piece of parchment resting just inside the edge of the shaft. He reached for it and flipped it open.
Greetings, Aharon.
You may want to have a listen at Seret’s chambers.
Swearing, Aharon lowered the parchment, shaking his head at himself. Siris had set them up.
He knew I’d find his pathway into Aya’s rooms, and then come exploring. He wanted me inside these tunnels. But why?
Uncertain of the answer just yet, he at least found comfort in knowing that the jester hadn’t been completely accurate in predicting his actions. Obviously, Siris had assumed he’d enter the tunnels from Aya’s apartment, not Neco’s, which was why he’d left his message here.
If he wanted me to find these passageways, then he also must’ve realized that I’d block his access to Neco and Aya. But why do this if he’s helping Tosis, and needs them both to die?
Not seeing any sense in the jester’s motives, he stood for a long moment, frowning in thought. He further wondered if he should take the man’s advice and use this opportunity to spy on Seret. While it was probably a good idea, he was also paranoid it might be some manner of trap—perhaps Siris had smeared poison within the shaft leading to her quarters, or else forewarned the twins so they could fashion their own defense. Furthermore, Aharon wasn’t entirely certain which tunnel led to Seret’s rooms, and didn’t fancy the idea of crawling into all of them.
Irritated, he finally started away, making his way back along the corridor. Following it upward, he returned to the first room and extinguished the candle before climbing into the shaft that would take him back to Neco’s chambers. Emerging within the fireplace several minutes later, he pushed to his feet and sent the waiting siblings an exasperated look.
“I don’t know what Siris is up to,” he told them, “but we need to figure it out.”
“What did you find?” Aya asked, taking a step closer.
Aharon explained while handing over the parchment the jester had left for him. Moving to the sofa, he then sank down while Neco took the chair opposite him.
Aya remained standing, Siris’s message still gripped in her hand. Now wearing a look of deep thought, she glanced over. “I think I may understand, but I need to know where those other shafts lead before I can be certain. Might you sketch out their locations?”
“Sure,” Aharon nodded.
Once secured with a quill and ink, he drew a diagram on the back of Siris’s note, marking the locations of the shafts and how many paces lay between them to the best of his memory. Once finished, he turned his work over to Neco and Aya.
Aya took the quill and hovered over the parchment. Between exchanged murmurs with her brother, she occasionally moved to make a note, before finally returning to Aharon and settling down beside him while handing the parchment back.
Gazing downward, he immediately saw that two of the shafts were marked as leading to empty quarters, one located on the fourth floor and the other on the third. In addition to Aya’s apartment, the third floor also held tunnels leading to the chambers of her sister Heni, and the late Prince Borohm. Aharon thought this cast an interesting light on Borohm’s death, for while it still didn’t explain how he’d been poisoned, it might answer the question of how the substance had been delivered.
The fourth floor tunnels contained an even more provocative detail. Aside from connecting to Neco’s quarters and the empty chamber, there was also access to Seret’s rooms—which wasn’t surprising, given Siris had already revealed as much in his note—as well as the king’s. Observing this final truth, clarity finally emerged and Aharon turned back to Aya.
“You think Siris wanted me in those tunnels so I’d make a move on your father?”
She nodded. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”
Neco frowned. “How does that make sense? If Aharon kills him, I gain the crown. Tosis—as well as that meddling jester—would then be exiled, unless I decide to just kill them outright.”
Aya shook her head. “That’s not what they intend.”
The prince’s look moved impatiently to Aharon. “Do you understand what she’s implying? If so, explain.”
Aharon inhaled a long breath before speaking. “You won’t be capable of exiling them until you’re officially crowned, and for this to happen you’ll need to leave the safety of your quarters and attend the coronation. I’d wager this is where they plan on killing you.”
Neco’s eyes narrowed. “Even so, Tosis would still have five additional siblings to murder before gaining the throne herself.”
“I imagine that number will soon diminish rapidly,” Aya predicted worryingly.
Aharon nodded. “Also, we’re still assuming Siris is aiding Tosis. If we’re wrong, and it’s actually Padus he’s helping, the targets become much fewer.”
The statement was met by a long silence, which Neco finally broke.
“So what is our wisest play?” he asked, taking them both in.
Aharon exchanged another glance with Aya before responding. “Our safest move is eliminating Tosis and Padus as quickly as possible. However,” he went on, looking back to the prince, “to absolutely secure your safety, everyone but you and Aya will have to die, and this needs to happen prior to the king’s death.”
Neco nodded. “I can help,” he then offered. “Perhaps by making use of the tunnels myself.”
“No,” Aharon insisted. “Should you happen across Siris in there, he’ll kill you in an instant. Don’t forget, he’s a mage.”
The prince gave a sigh of frustration. “Then it’s all on you and Aya.”
Aharon turned to the knights who remained standing at the far wall. “Block the fireplace, and keep up a constant watch. Also,” he went on, after a pointed glance at the prince, “under no circumstances allow his highness into those tunnels.” When Neco frowned but didn’t reply, Aharon moved to address Aya. “I’ll have to reenter from your rooms.”
“If you’re going back in, I’m going with you,” she issued firmly.
He hesitated a moment, but then nodded. Now having six people to kill—not counting Siris—he really had no choice but to accept her help, regardless of how he felt about it. Unfortunately, they’d also both have to live with the consequences of their upcoming actions, although he still aimed to shield her from as much as possible.
“Very well,” he told her now, settling back. “We’ll begin tonight.”
It was unfortunate that none of the tunnels led to the rooms of Tosis or Padus, for this would’ve made their targets clear. Also to consider was that Nevis and Padus would prove the most difficult to eliminate, since they were male and therefore retained a private guard. In light of these facts, and given where the hidden tunnels did lead, Aharon and Aya had fashioned what seemed the most sensible assault. If all went well, come morning Neco and Aya would have two less threats against them.
“You realize we’re still playing into Siris’s hands,” Aya now said as she paced about.
Aharon nodded. After leaving Neco, they’d returned to her apartment and were now waiting for the hour to grow late before entering the tunnels. “I know,” he said, “but we’ve little choice. So long as tonight unfolds as we hope, we can reassess matters tomorrow.”
Stopping before him, her looked turned reflective. “Perhaps tomorrow we should pursue the jester.”
“If we happen across him tonight, he won’t live to see dawn. But I imagine he anticipates this and plans to keep himself scarce.”
She frowned. “Siris has always been cunning, but these maneuvers seem too clever for him. Also, too daring.”
“Are you implying Tosis or Padus is directing him?”
“I suppose it’s possible, but I’m more inclined to the point the finger at the Jennite royal advisor. He was a guest here for two weeks, and departed the day you arrived. I was relieved to finally be rid of him.”
“Actually, I made his acquaintance at the docks,” he told her. “Our exchange was brief, but he struck me as the outspoken sort.”
She shook her head. “Outspoken with his opinions, perhaps, but his overall manner was deceitful and highly manipulative. Naturally, Siris was drawn to such tendencies and followed the man around for the entire duration of his stay. The Patrons only know how Advisor Caye may have further corrupted him.”
“I think the more important question is why,” Aharon returned. “If Siris is merely following instructions, we’d do well to learn the Jennite’s specific interest in this.”
“As a member of a foreign court, there’s only three possible answers,” she replied. “He might be looking to strengthen ties between Ceja and Jennen by aiding its next ruler, or perhaps he hopes to weaken our realm by seeing an unfit king or queen appointed.”
Aharon nodded. “And the third possibility?” he then asked.
“Interfering in our affairs might simply amuse him. After two weeks of his company,” Aya went on, “this option doesn’t strike me as unlikely.”
Aharon’s eyebrows flickered. “Whatever the case, it won’t matter so long as we foil his—and Siris’s—objective.”
“Yes.”
When she said nothing more, Aharon gave her a closer look. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? If not, I can—”
“I’m sure,” she insisted.
He nodded. While neither was happy to be carrying out tonight’s tasks, both were ready to do what needed to be done. At this point, it wasn’t as though they had much of a choice.
They waited another hour, letting the day shift from Seventh to Eighth, before finally making their way to the fireplace. Hoping to catch their victims asleep—a cowardly approach, Aharon had to admit—he’d nevertheless cautioned Aya to prepare herself for anything, while silently giving thanks for her pyromancy talent. If not for her Magic and ability to defend herself, he doubted he would’ve accepted her help no matter how much he needed it.
All three of Aya’s handmaidens had been apprised of the night’s activities, and while Seta and Ioni would be remaining here in the apartment, Molli was entering the tunnels with them. Unwilling to leave Aya undefended once they separated, Aharon had insisted on the woman’s presence.
Again pocketing a small candle, he climbed into the shaft and began maneuvering himself forward. Upon reaching the tunnel at its end, he emerged and called for Molli to follow before lighting the candle and taking a quick look about. Seeing nothing amiss, no signs of the jester or any further communications, he turned back and waited for the women to crawl through.
Molli made quick time traversing the tight space, and Aya appeared a few minutes after, looking relieved to escape the close confines. Assisting her exit, Aharon then watched as she straightened and raised a hand. A small fireball appeared in her palm, illuminating the corridor where they stood with much more effectiveness than his candle.
Aya gazed about somewhat disbelievingly. “To think this space has existed all this time…I really must try and discover its original purpose, and when this knowledge was lost.”
“Questions for another time,” Aharon said in reply, while making a quick check to ensure he hadn’t dislodged any of his weapons. Finding all as it should be, he then looked back. “I love you,” he said, rather than repeat any of the cautions and warnings they’d already exchanged.
“I love you too,” she replied, making a similar effort.
He took a step closer, kissed her forehead, then exchanged a brief glance with Molli before starting away. The assassin-trained handmaiden offered him a nod in return, leaving him fully confident that she’d sacrifice her own life to protect Aya’s, should matters come to that.
Holding his candle aloft, Aharon continued along the corridor as it sloped upward, bringing him to the fourth floor and the oddly-shaped room that contained the shaft leading to Neco’s chambers. Moving along, he passed by the following opening, that connecting to an empty apartment, before drawing to a pause at the next.
This shaft led to Seret’s rooms, which meant he’d be taking Siris’s advice after all, although his present agenda included more than merely listening in on the princess’s conversation. Also, and given what they’d now concluded of the jester’s motives, Aharon was reasonably certain that he wasn’t moving into a trap—for he very much doubted Siris had the nerve or intention of making a move on the king himself, the very reason he’d revealed these pathways to Aharon in the first place.
Extinguishing the flame of his candle, he set the item aside before feeling his way into the shaft, once more moving headfirst and upon his stomach. Taking care to creep along as silently as possible, it was several minutes before his hands found the wall, and he quickly felt about for the latch that would grant him access into Seret’s rooms.
Finding what he sought just moments later, he withdrew his hand and fell still, listening. Hearing nothing, he reached back and gave a gentle tug, just enough to create a few inches of opening, before falling still and listening again. This time, faint voices drifted forth, and he strained to make them out clearly.
They belonged to a man and a woman, he quickly noted with certainty. Seret and her twin, Nevis? This was most likely.
Wondering if he could escape these confines fast enough to take them both by surprise and overcome them, Aharon found the thought tempting, but ultimately decided not to dare it until he’d gotten a look inside the room. If the male voice did belong to Nevis, there was a good chance some of his knights were also present, meaning Aharon had best stay put if he wished to live. However, if Nevis had been foolish enough to leave his guard outside in the corridor, this might be an ideal opportunity to eliminate him.
Shifting, Aharon expanded the gap another inch and tilted his head, aiming his ear toward the opening. His eyes were also beginning to adjust to the faint light beyond, and he thought to give them another couple of minutes before chancing a look into the room.
The hum of voices remained low, which seemed to imply the speakers weren’t in the direct vicinity of the fireplace, but perhaps within the adjoining room. While this would give him the necessary cover to emerge, it still didn’t answer the question of whether any knights were inside the apartment.
Holding still, Aharon continued to listen, and began making out words as the voices eventually grew loud in agitation.
The speakers were most definitely Seret and Nevis, he determined. Moreover, both sounded frustrated, and it seemed they were trying to fashion a scheme that would lure Neco from the safety of his chambers so they could kill him. While not surprised by what he was hearing, it only reminded Aharon that he’d already wasted too much time being cautious.
“No one’s getting anywhere near Neco so long as Aharon’s alive,” he then heard Nevis declare with disgust.
“So kill Aharon,” his twin replied. “And Aya too, while you’re at it. Seeing them together makes me want to vomit.”
“You know I’ve been trying, and little question their collective loss would drive Neco into doing something reckless,” Nevis agreed. “Unfortunately though, killing Aharon makes for a difficult task.” He paused a moment before continuing, his voice growing pointed and slightly louder. “Given my own lack of success, I turned to my knights, only to discover they’re cowards who refuse to act on this particular command.”
Since the prince now seemed to be speaking directly to one or more of the “cowards” in question, Aharon could confirm a knightly presence. Although by the sounds of it, these men had no interest in killing him, which he found baffling.
Seret apparently shared his confusion. “Refuse?” she repeated. “Why?”
“Captain Shai threatened them. He said any man who kills his son will face him in open combat.”
Hearing this, Aharon was so startled that he completely missed the twins’ next exchange.
Father said that? he thought to himself in bewilderment. Why? He can’t actually be trying to protect me….
Puzzled and unnerved, he forced his concentration back to the unfolding conversation and heard Seret further encouraging Nevis to carry out the task himself.
Her twin didn’t appear to think much of her coaxing. “I’d prefer to stay alive long enough to inherit the crown,” he told her. “I’ve had no luck locking onto him from a distance, and I don’t intend to start acting rashly only to get myself killed.”
“You’re afraid of Aharon?” Seret replied, a sneer in her voice.
“He was literally raised with a sword in his hand, and I’ve seen him fight. I’m not unskilled, but nor am I a fool.”
“Fine,” she stated dismissively. “Leave it to me, then.”
“Gladly. What do you have in mind?”
“I’d prefer to discuss the matter outside the presence of your craven knights.”
Aharon shifted, hoping Nevis would take this opportunity to send these men from the apartment. For while it didn’t seem the knights had any intention of killing him, it was ridiculous to think they’d simply stand aside and allow him to murder their prince.
Unfortunately though, Nevis didn’t comply with his wishes. “I don’t care how you do it,” he now told his twin, “so long as you’re quick about it.”
“And Padus?” Seret asked in response.
“I’m still not sure it was him who put that cobra in my quarters, but he and Neco are the only males left, so I want them both dead. I’ll take my shot at Padus tomorrow. Unlike Neco, he’s not been smart enough to safeguard his windows.”
It appears we’ve found our archer, Aharon thought. This meant Nevis was responsible for at least one murder, that of his elder brother, Buru. It further sounded as though Padus would be added to his list of victims the following day, which would make one less threat Aharon had to deal with. For this reason, he wouldn’t shift his sights onto Nevis until after this task was performed.
The fact that Padus was only sixteen years old, and possibly innocent of any wrongdoing but for being born into this vicious family, was something he didn’t allow himself to dwell on.
Fortunately, Seret was another matter. Of the same age, Aharon had known this woman his entire life, and he’d always considered her a selfish and hateful person. Learning she was now actively plotting his and Aya’s deaths only gave him extra incentive to end the threat she presented, and left him anxious to proceed.
Nevis and Seret continued their chatter for another ten minutes or so, during which time Aharon discovered that Seret was indeed responsible for poisoning Fermin, the eldest prince and established heir. However, neither twin seemed to have any idea which of their siblings had eliminated Loh, Borohm, or Selmon, and because of this, Aharon didn’t have a clue either.
Finally, the twins bid each other good night, and he faintly heard the opening and closing of a door. Presuming Nevis and his knights had now departed, he continued to lie still as quiet noises of Seret moving about drifted to him, the likely sounds of her readying herself for bed. Like Aya, she retained a trio of handmaidens, but Aharon had no way of knowing if any were currently within the chamber, whether awake or asleep. He also didn’t know if they’d prove as loyal to their princess as Molli, Seta, and Ioni were to Aya, meaning he’d simply have to hope none of these women tried to interfere.
Once all fell quiet, he remained unmoved and tried to keep his thoughts from worriedly dwelling on Aya and how she was faring. Counting off twenty minutes, he then reached for the latch and slowly eased the panel the remainder of the way open, allowing him space to exit.
Sending a look into the room beyond, he saw nothing but darkness and the outline of furniture, and a faint glow shone from the next room, leading him to presume Seret had left a candle or oil lamp burning. Uncertain if this would help or hinder him, he eased himself silently from the hearth and cautiously rose to his feet.
After taking another moment to listen and hearing nothing, he edged his way to the wall and followed it to the archway leading into the next room. A glance within revealed the dining chamber, where an oil lamp glowing dully from the center of the table. Keeping to the wall, Aharon continued deeper within, his ears on alert for any sounds of movement.
Several minutes later, he’d conducted a search of the entire apartment and discovered that only Seret and one of her handmaidens were present. Unfortunately, the handmaiden was sleeping on the floor next to Seret’s bed, meaning he now had to decide what to do with her. Not wanting to kill her, he couldn’t risk her waking and coming to Seret’s defense either.
Now paused in the doorway leading into the princess’s bedchamber, he stared down at the slumbering handmaiden while continuing to ponder his options. Eventually concluding that he had none, he steeled himself, approached with silent steps, and crouched before the woman while pulling one of his belt knives. Clamping a hand over her mouth, her eyes shot open just as his blade slid into her throat, and she struggled only briefly before assuming a fixed look and falling still.
Withdrawing his weapon—his hand now slick with blood—he straightened and turned toward the bed just in time to see Seret lunging at him, her hands upraised. While unable to make out much more than her silhouette, enough moonlight shone through the window to reveal the gleam of metal in her grip, and he hurriedly dropped his own blade to intercept her downward slash, catching her wrists with one hand while delivering a punch with the other.
Connecting with her cheek, she fell back to the bed with an outraged screech, her knife dropping to the floor. Arms flailing, she then clawed at his face as he leapt on top of her and reached for her throat.
Only when his grip encircled her neck did she seem to take note of her attacker’s identity, and she croaked out his name as his hands tightened, choking off her airway. Glaring upward with fury rather than fear, she continued to struggle, her body thrashing beneath him while one of her hands clawed at his grip, the other still scratching upward. He could feel the sting of open wounds on his face, and the trickle of blood along his cheeks even as he continued strangling her, and waiting for her to die.
Her expiration took much longer than he would’ve liked, and she fought him to the end, her strikes eventually growing weaker and weaker until she had no resistance left to offer. After finally watching her eyes glaze over, Aharon relaxed his grip and sat back, feeling shaken and somewhat nauseous.
This wasn’t how he’d intended the matter to unfold. He’d killed before, but never like this and never a woman, and he now felt disgusted with himself.
Still, he couldn’t regret what he’d done either. Aya and Neco were safer because of it, and the horrific circumstances certainly weren’t his doing. Repulsed by his own behavior, he nevertheless decided he could live with it, and would perform similar acts if necessary. Until Neco wore the crown and improved their very way of life, the savage world spoken of by his father would continue to exist, and surviving it was all that mattered.
After taking another moment to collect himself, Aharon finally reached to throw the bedsheet over Seret’s lifeless corpse before pushing himself from the bed. Sparing the dead handmaiden on the floor a mere glance as he passed by, he started back to the fireplace, anxious to reunite with Aya and learn how she’d fared.
Once Aharon left to pursue Seret, Aya turned to Molli and gestured. “This way.”
Moving by the light of her small fireball, she led the other woman down the corridor. Having memorized Aharon’s sketch, she knew the first shaft they passed led to Borohm’s rooms, the setting of his mysterious poisoning, and the next to an empty apartment. The last, their destination, connected to the rooms of her sister Heni.
Aya pulled up before this final shaft and remained still a long moment. Heni was twenty, a year younger than she was, and by far the most tolerable of her three sisters—which wasn’t to say she was an entirely decent person, or completely free of the ruthless nature shared by so many of their siblings. Still, Aya’s relationship with her had never been hostile, and as children they’d been close. Their interactions had diminished as they’d grown older, however, which now left Aya with little understanding of the woman Heni had become.
Regardless, by refusing the offered exile and choosing to remain here in the palace, Heni had made herself a threat, to Aya as well as to Neco, and unfortunately Aya couldn’t let any amount of sentiment influence her position. While aiming to make it painless, indulging any further hesitation would be idiocy.
Turning back, she now saw Molli watching her.
“Would you like me to continue without you, princess?” the handmaiden asked.
“No,” Aya said, moving toward the shaft and extinguishing her fireball.
She entered first, since Molli refused to leave her back unguarded. In the event Siris was lurking about, the circumstances would’ve made it all too easy for him to happen along and lob a spell down the shaft, killing her. Molli’s position was therefore meant to shield her, although it also meant Aya would be taking the lead into Heni’s chambers. Now worming her way along and trying to stifle her unease over the close quarters, she worked to strengthen her resolve and quash any lingering feelings of apprehension.
Upon finally reaching the end of the shaft, she took a moment to listen before reaching for the latch; Aharon had made her practice this maneuver in her own chambers, which now enabled her to smoothly and silently slide the opening back. Feeling a slight nudge on her foot—Molli letting her know that she was just behind and ready to proceed—Aya then eased forward into the hearth and sent a quick glance about.
Darkness prevailed, broken only by thin shafts of moonlight streaming through the window. Once her eyes began to adjust, Aya could make out silhouettes of the furniture, and then that of a woman sitting on a chair in the corner. Unmoving, it didn’t appear this woman had yet noted Aya’s presence, nor did she seem to be doing anything more than merely sitting there in the darkness.
Having froze upon seeing her, Aya now stared at the figure, trying to determine whether it was Heni or one of her handmaidens. Uncertain, she nevertheless raised a hand, and slowly aimed her palm toward the woman.
“Sonum!” she hissed quietly.
The woman in the chair instantly slumped, her head falling to the side as the sleep-spell hit her. Releasing a shaky breath, Aya waited a moment to be sure she hadn’t aroused any notice from deeper within the apartment, then began edging her way fully from the fireplace. Molli quickly emerged behind her, and held a dagger in her hand as she straightened to her feet.
Catching her eye, Aya mimed a sleep position and gestured to the slumbering figure.
Nodding, Molli crept toward the chair, issued the woman a quick glance, then looked back to Aya with a shake of her head.
Not Heni, then.
Aya turned toward the archway leading into the next room, and while longing for light to see by, she resisted the urge to create another fireball and began a slow creep across the floor. Molli hurried past to precede her, slipping noiselessly into the darkness ahead.
Following, Aya moved only a few more steps before a crash sounded out. Springing through the archway, she called fire into her palm and by its sudden glow saw Molli wrestling with a young woman, another of Heni’s handmaidens. Trusting her assassin-trained servant to prevail, Aya watched them for only a moment before turning and speeding toward the bedchamber, bursting through the door with her flame held at the ready.
A quick scan revealed she’d definitely lost the element of surprise. Heni was sitting upright in bed, her startled expression implying she’d just been torn from sleep. Her third and final handmaiden stood protectively before the bed, her glare challenging as she held a sword aloft before her.
Aya eyed the woman, thinking she perhaps hadn’t been alone in having her handmaidens trained as protectors. Regardless, steel was no defense against flames, and as she then released her fireball she saw the other woman’s eyes widen in sudden fear.
The handmaiden shrieked before she fell, although she was probably dead before she hit the floor. The fireball had struck her chest and ravaged much of her torso, instantly causing the chamber to fill with a terrible stench. Heart pounding, Aya swallowed back a wave of nausea and turned her gaze on her sister, deliberately avoiding sight of the smoking corpse she’d just created.
Heni was staring at her with what seemed a grim acceptance. “Of all those who might have come for me,” she then said, “I would’ve suspected you last, Aya.”
The words caused her to falter, and in that moment Heni’s hand emerged from the bed sheets and swiftly rose. Unable to make out a weapon, Aya nevertheless assumed she held one and reacted without thought.
With no time to decide on a spell, her survival instinct defaulted to her pyromancy, and Heni became a living flame. As her sister then began to scream and thrash, Aya’s hands rose to her ears even while she stared in horror, and she barely noticed when Molli appeared in the bedchamber and swept past her. Halting, the handmaiden raised her dagger and threw it into the heart of the flames, mercifully silencing Heni’s screams.
“Are you all right, your highness?” she issued quickly, turning back.
Aya managed a wooden nod. “Yes. You?”
“I caught a few scratches, is all. Come, now,” she went on, reaching to turn Aya away. “We’d best be gone before someone comes to investigate the commotion.”
Aya retreated gratefully, trying to shake the sense of shock rising within her. Forcing her thoughts to realign, she brought another fireball to life so they could see where they were going, and as they hurried down the corridor she caught a quick look at the dead handmaiden laying sprawled across the floor. Clearly, Molli hadn’t found any trouble overcoming the woman.
Approaching the hearth, Aya suddenly paused and looked back as Molli started toward the figure they’d left slumbering within the sleep-spell. “What are you doing?” she hissed.
“It’s best we finish what we began, princess,” Molli replied, pulling another dagger from the depths of her sleeve.
Frowning, Aya lingered only a moment before turning her back and lowering herself into the fireplace. “Hurry, then,” she instructed, before shifting closer to the shaft.
Once within, she edged along with shaking limbs, refusing to succumb to her emotions.
It was survival, nothing more and nothing less. Right or wrong, it’s simply the world we live in.
It was a depressing truth but a truth nonetheless, and by the time she reached the end of the shaft and pulled herself into the tunnel beyond, she remained unnerved but had taken control of herself. Still, she felt anxious to retreat to her rooms and bid farewell to this trying day, a desire that left her hoping to find Aharon where they’d parted. His instructions had been to reunite with him there, and under no circumstances was she to follow him to the fourth floor. She knew he was worried the jester might appear, and while this was possible, she didn’t believe Siris would try to harm either of them before the timing was to his—or either Tosis or Padus’s—benefit.
Hearing Molli drawing near, Aya turned back and helped the other woman from the shaft. Once standing before her, the handmaiden donned a frown.
“You were supposed to let me precede you, highness,” she said. “There could’ve been trouble ahead.”
Aya wasn’t in the mood to argue. “Let’s simply be thankful we departed the scene unscathed. I admit, that wasn’t the scenario I’d envisioned.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
She nodded. “Yes. And tomorrow will prove a safer day—if only somewhat.”
“Marginally safer,” Molli agreed in a murmur.
Not replying, Aya started back along the corridor, quickly retracing her steps. Nearing the shaft that led to her own chambers, she was disappointed to discover Aharon hadn’t yet returned. But with no way to predict the circumstances he was to find in Seret’s quarters, she knew he might’ve had to wait for the woman to retire, or perhaps he’d lingered behind to search for evidence of poison. Due to such possibilities, Aya would give him a bit more time before deeming his absence a cause for worry.
Sometime later, the urge to panic was beginning to overtake her. Now seated on the floor of the corridor, she looked up at her handmaiden. “How long has it been, would you say? An hour?”
“At least,” Molli replied, glancing about.
Frowning, Aya shifted and pushed back to her feet. “He might be in trouble. We should check on him.”
“No, princess. It’s safer here.”
“I’ll stay, then. You go.”
The handmaiden shook her head. “I’m not leaving you.”
Frown deepening, Aya was considering her reply when Aharon’s voice floated out of the darkness toward them.
“It’s me,” he warned, “so don’t set me on fire or stab me.”
Engulfed in relief, Aya turned and watched him step into the light of her flame. Given his stealthy manner of moving, she thought he’d probably been wise to alert them to his sudden presence.
Now nearing, Aharon drew up and gave her a quick once-over. “Everything all right?”
She met his gaze, nodding, and observed the scratches on his face; she’d have to summon a Healer once they returned to her rooms, for these wounds were evidence that they’d be wise to conceal. “We were forced to kill Heni’s handmaidens to reach her,” she now informed him, “but all are dead.”
Seeming to note her lingering unease—he knew her better than anyone, after all—he looked frustrated while responding. “I was successful also.”
After briefly eyeing the blood on his hands, Aya looked back and spoke again. “What kept you so long?”
“Nevis was in there with her, along with some of his knights, so I had to wait for them to leave,” Aharon explained. “I also overheard some of his and Seret’s conversation, and it was informative. Nevis is our archer, while Seret claimed responsibility for poisoning Fermin.”
Aya’s eyebrows rose. “What of the other deaths?”
He shook his head. “Not their doing, which means many of our assumptions were wrong.”
She started to ponder, running through the list of remaining suspects, when Aharon took a step closer and brought a hand to her elbow, turning her about.
“We can discuss it once we’re free of these tunnels,” he told her.
While not looking forward to another uncomfortable crawl, Aya was more than ready to return to her quarters. “I think I’d prefer sleep over discussion,” she admitted wearily.
He nodded back in agreement. “It hasn’t been an easy day.”
They sent Molli into the shaft first, and once she began shimmying away, Aya looked to Aharon again. “I feel terrible,” she confessed.
“I’m not overjoyed with myself either,” he replied, “but blame the circumstances, not yourself. Or better yet, blame your father.”
“Hating him won’t help anything.”
“I find it of immense help,” he murmured.
She sighed. “You mean to do it, then?”
“At this point, I see no other option. But we still have three more of your siblings to eliminate first.”
“I’m honestly not sure I can do this again.”
“That’s fine. I’ll take care of it.”
“That’s hardly fair. None of this should’ve fallen on you.”
“That’s of no consequence now. I’ll see you through this, Aya, I promise. You and Neco both.”
She nodded. “I know you will.”
Aya believed this wholeheartedly, for aside from his recent two year absence—the reasons for which she understood, and didn’t blame him for—he’d never disappointed her, or failed to be there when she needed him. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t loved him, and now just longed for all this to be over, so they could finally marry and exist peacefully under Neco’s rule.
But while this dream was growing closer to realization, it wasn’t yet within their grasp.
“The smartest thing Neco’s ever done was summon you back here,” she told him now.
“I just wish I’d arrived sooner.”
“That wasn’t anyone’s fault. What matters is you’re here now.”
He nodded, looking distracted, before gesturing toward the shaft. “Molli should almost be through. Go on and I’ll follow.”
The thought of collapsing into her bed was unspeakably inviting, and as she turned and wedged herself into the shaft she realized just how exhausted she was. The physical exertions of the night aside, the act of committing two murders had been utterly draining on an emotional level.
She was almost to the exit when she heard Molli speak from inside her quarters.
“Princess?” the handmaiden called.
Aya paused, thinking her tone sounded strange. “I’m nearly through, Molli,” she replied. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m afraid not, highness. I need you to stay where you are a moment.”
Aya remained still, her weariness vanishing under a sudden wave of unease. “Molli?” she finally said, after several minutes of silence.
No immediate reply came, but eventually the woman answered. “Yes, princess,” she called. “You can come out now.”
Confused and unsettled, Aya hurried through the remainder of the shaft and emerged within the fireplace. Molli stood by waiting for her, and met her look with a set expression.
“What happened?” Aya demanded, quickly pushing to her feet.
“Someone was here,” Molli said. “Seta and Ioni…I’m afraid they’re dead, your highness.”
Aya stared at her in shock. “Where?” she then managed.
Molli seemed to falter a moment, and blinked quickly before answering. “This way,” she said, turning about.
Aya followed her toward the chamber’s entranceway, only to draw up in horror at sight of the two dead handmaidens. Both women lay face down, with large pools of blood seeping outward from beneath them. It appeared they’d had time to draw their daggers, but not use them, as these weapons were strewn on the floor next to their bodies.
Aya forced back her tears and averted her gaze. After years of faithful service, these women had been more than merely servants to her, but friends whom she’d loved. Seeing them butchered this way was agonizing.
Molli seemed to be struggling with her own composure as she now turned, looking to Aharon as he stepped through the archway and beheld the gruesome sight. He’d apparently collected his sword before joining them, as this weapon was now in his hand.
Observing the bodies a long moment, he then moved his gaze to Molli. “Do you know what happened?”
She shook her head. “They were stabbed. That’s all I could discern.”
Aya looked over. “I need to know who did this.”
“We’ll figure it out, but not here and now,” he returned, stepping toward her. “You’ll need to stay with Neco until this is finished.”
She wanted to argue but didn’t bother, recognizing this as the only logical option. “What of Molli?” she then asked.
Aharon looked back at the handmaiden. “It might be best for you to leave the palace for a short time. Just until this is settled.”
“No,” Molli returned firmly, and without hesitation. “I won’t leave my princess.”
Aharon nodded, looking unsurprised. “Very well. We’ll just have to convince Neco’s knights to accept you. Aya,” he then said, turning to her with a gesture.
She woodenly started forward, stepping around the puddles of red surrounding the dead.
Was this the price for taking my sister’s life? The cost my actions demanded?
The thought was disturbing and one she didn’t want to consider, or at least not presently. Moreover, she’d probably do well to keep her focus on reaching Neco’s quarters safely.
With Molli moving before her and Aharon beside, they started into the corridor and toward the staircase that would take them upward, with Aya holding to her Magic all the while.
In the end, Neco’s knights flat-out refused to allow Molli into the prince’s apartment, so the handmaiden spent the night outside in the corridor. Rising early the next morning, and with the scratches on his face now healed, Aharon left Aya with Neco and headed back down to Aya’s chambers, hoping to glean further clues into who was responsible for killing Seta and Ioni.
The dead handmaidens remained where they’d fallen, and he turned the women over to gain a closer look at their wounds. As Molli had discerned, it appeared both had been stabbed, but with swords rather than knives. This led Aharon to conclude they’d probably been slain by knights, which would further explain how they’d been overcome so easily; assassin-trained or not, the handmaidens wouldn’t have stood a chance if confronted by several of these men.
Presuming this theory was correct, only two possible culprits emerged, Nevis or Padus. Either could have commanded the knights of their private guard to pursue Aya, as well as himself, Aharon surmised, although given the conversation he’d overheard between Nevis and Seret the night before, Nevis seemed an unlikely suspect. Indeed, the prince had specifically agreed to let his twin see to this matter.
Which left only sixteen year old Padus, one of three males still living and the youngest royal sibling. With just two older brothers remaining, Aharon thought it was entirely possible Padus had sent his knights to kill Aya and himself, in hopes that the act would clear a path to Neco, his true target. Like Nevis, Padus had likely concluded that getting to Neco would be difficult if not impossible so long as Aharon and Aya lived.
But what Aharon still couldn’t answer was whether this meant Padus was, in fact, the sibling who was receiving Siris’s help. If so, it didn’t make sense that he’d strike before Aharon made a move on the king, although Siris might’ve assumed that Aharon was in the tunnels, doing this very thing, when the knights were deployed. This implied Aya would’ve been the sole target, in which case Aharon could only offer his eternal thanks that he’d brought her into the tunnels with him.
In the end though, this was all speculation. It was just as likely Padus was working on his own, and had sent his knights to kill both Aya and himself. However, this begged the question of whether these knights would’ve disregarded the threat from their captain, that which warned against killing Aharon. The men of Prince Nevis’s private guard had refused to move on him—might Padus’s knights have taken a different view?
Sighing in frustration, Aharon could ultimately conclude nothing but that a conversation with Siris was now very much in order. Unfortunately, he presumed the jester was taking pains to avoid this precise scenario, and rightly so, for in all likelihood he wouldn’t survive it.
Failing to find any further clues, Aharon left Aya’s quarters and started down to the main floor of the palace. Predictably, he found much of this area abuzz, indicating that Heni and Seret’s bodies had now been discovered. Besides Neco and Aya, only Nevis, Tosis, and Padus still remained alive of the twelve royal siblings.
Once free of the grounds, Aharon set a fast pace toward the shore. Upon reaching the string of merchants assembled there, he selected enough food to provide for both breakfast and lunch, and was in the process of paying for his items when a commotion on the nearby street caught his attention. Looking over, he spotted a swarm of Justice troopers race by, shouting to one another as they sped up the block.
Having little care for Justice, his interest in the matter was already fading as he turned back to the merchant, who’d also paused to observe the spectacle. To judge by her expression, she was annoyed by the troopers’ presence.
“What’s this about?” Aharon asked, jerking his chin toward the receding group of white-clad figures.
She looked back with an irritated frown. “Bloody Justice. They’ve been up and down this shore since dawn, scaring away my customers. They’re seeking that thief, Fajen, as he robbed another money-house last night.”
Aharon grinned, and silently wished the man a successful escape. “If he’s smart, he’s already left the city,” he said.
The merchant shrugged, while shooting a quick glance at his Birth medallion. “I don’t care what happens, so long as Justice stops disrupting my business,” she then told him.
To judge by the way she’d suddenly begun eyeing him, Aharon thought she now suspected he was Fajen. Given their shared Thieves medallions and similar looks, he was actually surprised this hadn’t happened sooner.
“I’m not him,” he informed her with amusement.
She looked to his Birth medallion again, then nodded. “The latest sketch claims his medallions are silver, not gold. You share a strong resemblance, though.”
Still grinning, Aharon thanked her for the food and started back to the palace. As he moved, he wondered if anyone else would mistake him for Fajen, and as a result set Justice on his trail. If so, he’d be making a spectacle of his own, especially if they actually tried to arrest him. While it was unlikely to think any local trooper wouldn’t recognize him by sight, the name inscribed on the back of his Birth medallion would certainly clear up any lingering confusion.
Perhaps that’s how Fajen has evaded capture. Could be the troopers are mistaking him for me.
If true, Aharon hoped the man took advantage of the circumstances to abscond from Malat, and that he did so quickly—otherwise, and case of mistaken identity or not, it would be only a matter of time before Justice caught up with him.
Upon returning to the palace, the matter of Fajen had already left his thoughts, replaced by the many mysteries currently pervading the royal grounds. Passing through the courtyard, he caught sight of his father standing and speaking with a few of his knights, and after a slight hesitation Aharon veered toward him.
Spotting his approach, the captain waved away his company and turned to meet him. “Son,” he opened tonelessly.
Aharon drew up and spoke. “Two of Aya’s handmaidens were killed last night, and their bodies remain in her quarters. Would you send someone to remove them?”
His father nodded. “I’ll see to it. I trust Aya met no harm?”
“She’s fine.”
“So four remain. If this night proves as lethal as last, our lone, triumphant heir will finally emerge.”
Aharon paused a moment. “Four remain?” he then repeated in puzzlement.
His father’s look turned dryly amused. “Your confusion implies you weren’t responsible for the entirety of last night’s slaughter. I admit, I wasn’t sure how large a role you might have played.”
Aharon regarded him impatiently. “Who was killed?” he demanded.
“Prince Nevis’s knights found him in bed this morning, his throat slit. None can answer how the assailant gained access, for all eight members of his highness’s private guard were present in his quarters throughout the night.”
Aharon worked to keep his face expressionless, even while trying to understand how this could’ve happened. “Who else was killed?” he then asked, despite already knowing the answer.
“Princess Seret was strangled in her bed,” his father told him, “while Princess Heni appears to have been stabbed and set on fire. Given the containment of the blaze, it seems likely there’s a mage involved in the affair—a pyromancer.” Falling silent, the man then sent a long glance to his son’s inverted Secondary.
Aharon sneered back at him in response.
His father nodded. “If not you or Aya, beware this person. Anyone capable of setting a princess ablaze in her own bed won’t hesitate to turn their powers on you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Aharon told him, before shifting his stance and narrowing his gaze. “I’ve heard it said that you threatened your knights against harming me. Is this true?”
“Not against harming you, no. Just against killing you,” the captain corrected.
Aharon was surprised by the admission. “Why?” he then asked.
“I thought the direction would benefit you.”
“You’ve never done anything to benefit me. So why now?”
The other man frowned. “Always so difficult, Aharon. For once, can’t you simply be thankful?”
“To you? Never.”
“In fairness, I’m not surprised. You’ve never possessed a shred of gratitude, only your mother’s stubbornness.”
“Say another word about my mother, and we’ll be having a second go of it here and now,” Aharon told him.
His father shook his head. “If this is how you insist on behaving, you’d best take yourself from my presence. But first, allow me a final warning.”
Aharon remained silent, and merely raised his eyebrows in a casual show of curiosity.
“The command I issued my knights was not a blanket protection, son. If you come for the king, I’ll strike you down myself.”
Aharon nodded. “It wouldn’t be the first time you tried,” he answered, before turning and starting away. Resuming his path through the courtyard, he heard no reply from behind him and shook his head while hurrying into the palace.
Keeping an eye out for Siris—to no avail, unfortunately—he hurried back up to the fourth floor, paused briefly to offer Molli some fruit, then entered Neco’s chambers. He found Aya and the prince waiting for him, already seated at the dining table and looking anxious.
“Everything all right?” Aharon asked, moving to begin unpacking the food.
“We were beginning to worry,” Aya said. “It’s not exactly safe for you out there, either.”
Rather than debate the issue, Aharon changed the subject by telling them what he’d discovered. Keeping a careful watch on Neco while revealing the circumstances of Nevis’s death, he felt confident the man’s surprise was genuine.
Now slowly chewing on a spoonful of melon, Neco shook his head. “The variables have become few. If neither you nor Aya killed Nevis, then Padus or Tosis has to be responsible.”
“Or Siris,” Aharon added.
“But how could any of them have gotten past Nevis’s knights?” Aya fretted, nibbling on a fig.
“If we can figure that out, we’ll probably know which one of them did it,” Aharon answered.
Neco was quiet a moment, then spoke while glancing from one to the other. “Only two remain. You need to finish this tonight.”
Aharon had already drawn this conclusion, but how he might execute these murders without getting himself killed he didn’t yet know. Thankfully, he still had most of the day to plan.
“Tosis definitely makes for the easier target,” he said now. “Separating Padus from his knights will prove a much weightier challenge.”
Aya threw him a look. “If you and I confront his knights together, we’ll stand a fair chance of making it through them.”
He frowned back at her. “I thought you said you couldn’t do this again.”
“That was before Seta and Ioni were murdered.”
“We don’t know for certain that Padus was responsible.”
She shrugged. “There stands a halfway chance of it, which will have to be enough.”
Aharon fell quiet and took a few bites of his breakfast. Reinforced by Aya’s Magic, he agreed they’d at least have a chance of making it to Padus, although the circumstances would place Aya in an incredible amount of danger. Much to his frustration, however, he couldn’t think of another option.
“We’ll talk it through,” he finally said, “and see if we can’t fashion a sensible plan.”
She nodded back at him. “I just want this over.”
“We all do,” he said.
“What of Siris?” Neco then asked. “In light of Seret and Heni’s deaths, he’s going to know you didn’t use the tunnels to go after my father. And he’ll further realize that you’re coming for Tosis and Padus next.”
“Siris is a problem,” Aharon agreed, “and I’d very much like to speak with him.”
“I’d prefer you just kill him,” Neco replied.
“Turning him to our cause would be a lot more useful,” Aharon said. “Unfortunately, you’ve treated him so horribly that I’m not sure this is possible, but if I can somehow convince him, you’ll have to honor any agreement I make.”
Neco frowned. “Would that include keeping him on as jester?”
“I can’t imagine what else would sway him,” Aharon said.
The prince looked disgusted. “He’s a loathsome creature.”
“Perhaps, but if you can stomach knowing that the cost of your crown was ten dead siblings, I’m sure you can tolerate Siris Pabst as your jester.”
Neco’s eyebrows flickered. “Harsh, Aharon.”
“He’s right,” Aya spoke up. “We’re doing what we must to keep you safe, Neco. It’s time you made some concessions, and put in a similar effort.”
The prince looked from one to the other. “As if I’ve ever won an argument once the two of you banded together against me. Fine, then. If you can turn the jester’s loyalty—something I deem unlikely—I’ll vow to honor whatever promises you make.” He paused to then display a grimace. “But I’d much rather you just kill him.”
Aharon sat back in his chair and exhaled a long breath. “It’s probably all for naught anyway. I can’t even find him, much less corner him into a conversation.”
“Why don’t you leave a note for him in the tunnels?” Aya suggested. “Ask him to meet you somewhere there’s plenty of people, so he won’t feel threatened.”
“Given current matters, I’m not sure anyone would even care if I murdered him in plain sight,” Aharon said. “Although, it’s not a bad idea and it certainly won’t hurt to try. It’s possible he’ll surprise me and turn up.”
“Or he’ll ambush and kill you,” Neco said.
Aharon shook his head. “Siris is relying on me to kill your father. For that reason alone, he won’t eliminate me unless I threaten him outright.”
“I think you’re making a lot of assumptions,” the prince told him in reply.
“Perhaps,” Aharon agreed.
Still, he would follow Aya’s suggestion, and bring a note to the tunnels after breakfast. Afterward, some reconnaissance was in order, followed by an afternoon of strategizing. And hopefully by tomorrow’s dawn, this would all be over.
After leaving his note for Siris, Aharon exited the tunnels and started for Prince Nevis’s quarters. Hoping to discover how someone might have slipped in and gotten past his highness’s private guard, he wasn’t surprised to discover much activity at the site, as well as across the corridor in Seret’s chambers. Having no desire to revisit the scene where he’d carried out murder the night before, he continued toward Nevis’s apartment and stepped through the open doorway.
There were several knights within, and none looked particularly pleased to see him. Presuming these were men of Nevis’s private guard, the reason for their animosity was clear; chances were, they suspected Aharon of committing the prince’s murder, and weren’t impressed with his temerity in returning to the scene of the crime. Still, they evidently remained wary of their captain’s threat, for his presence elicited many intense glares but no overt action.
Doing his best to ignore the hostility, he continued toward the bedchamber and entered the room somewhat cautiously, uncertain of what he might find. Glancing about, he discovered several more figures inside, along with Nevis’s corpse.
The prince was lying in his bed, on his back and atop sheets that were saturated with blood. The slit across his throat was deep and long, nearly stretching from ear to ear, while surrounding the bed stood four green-robed Healers, all holding to a silken shroud. Aharon assumed they now aimed to wrap the body, and transport it below to the royal crypt.
Also present was a familiar face, one belonging to a man who served on the royal council alongside his father. Masid Nane was the commander of Justice, and someone Aharon had known, peripherally at least, for most of his life. While having little interaction over the years, they’d shared each other’s company during countless functions and occasions.
Commander Nane was a burly man in his fifties, his hair and beard silver and his medallions Justice and Commerce. Standing over by the window, his expression turned wry as he spotted Aharon.
Aharon sent him a nod in return. “Commander,” he said.
“You’ve some nerve,” the man replied.
He shook his head. “I didn’t do this.”
“Most of those knights seem to think differently. You’d best thank your father, or they probably would’ve gutted you the moment you set foot in here.”
Aharon had no intention of thanking his father for anything, but this was hardly something he felt inclined to discuss with the commander.
“The knights can think whatever they please,” he said instead, “but I had nothing to do with Prince Nevis’s death.”
Whether the other man believed him or not was impossible to tell, but the commander responded in a conversational tone.
“I’m curious what brought you around, then,” he said.
“I was hoping to learn how the culprit gained access,” Aharon told him.
“Why?”
“To prevent the maneuver from being replicated with Neco or Aya.”
Commander Nane looked mildly surprised by the straightforward response. “I see,” he replied.
“Why are you here?” Aharon went on. “To the best of my understanding, Justice wasn’t to involve itself in this matter.”
“I’m here to dispense my expertise, not pursue Justice,” the man informed him. “The knights asked me to look around and try to determine the assailment’s point of access. As it stands, they’re all blaming themselves for failing in their duty.”
“Have you found the answer?” Aharon asked.
Commander Nane nodded while turning to the window, which lay open. “All eight men of the prince’s private guard remained within the apartment throughout the night,” he explained, “but none entered his bedchamber. This makes the window the only possible entranceway, although whoever made the climb must either possess no fear of death, or was blessed by the very luck of the Patrons. It’s a miracle they didn’t fall.”
Aharon moved to window and gave an outward glance in either direction. It appeared the commander was right; the only possible explanation was that the perpetrator had climbed either upward or downward from one of the nearby terraces, then basically slithered his or her way along the two-inch wide ledge to the prince’s window. As a professional thief and proficient climber, Aharon didn’t think he would’ve made it, nor would he have been anxious to try. As Commander Nane stated, this person either had no fear of death or was lucky beyond reason.
Or, they were just exceedingly nimble.
Repressing a frown, Aharon turned back into the room, now utterly convinced Siris was the guilty party. Evidently, the jester wasn’t so afraid of getting his hands dirty, even if this involved slitting a prince’s throat while he slept.
The commander was watching him. “Simply for curiosity’s sake,” he then asked, “would you deem yourself capable of performing such a climb?”
Aharon shot another glance out the window before answering. “Honestly, I doubt it,” he said.
Commander Nane nodded. “I suppose we both know where that leaves us.”
After holding the man’s gaze a moment, Aharon spoke again. “And might you be looking to do something about that?” he questioned.
The commander offered him a thin smile. “His majesty commanded me to remain clear of this affair, so I’ll be offering the knights my conclusion on how the perpetrator entered, and nothing more.”
Aharon nodded. Chances were, the knights would then make the leap to Siris themselves, although this probably wouldn’t absolve their suspicions of his own involvement. Regardless, he apparently had little cause to fear, while the jester had every reason; in all likelihood, Nevis’s knights would aim to butcher him. Uncertain whether or not he should care, Aharon gave the commander a nod and turned to leave.
“Wait,” the man said.
Pausing, he looked back. “Yes?”
Commander Nane took a step closer. “Did you know there’s presently a criminal in Malat who shares not only your likeness, but also your Birth dominion?”
Aharon nodded. “Fajen,” he said. “Yes, I’ve seen the sketches.”
“He’s proven to be quite the pebble in my shoe, and keeps evading my troopers as they’ve a habit of mistaking him for you.”
Aharon found this humorous. “Your men are idiots,” he said, “and I wish Fajen a successful escape.”
The commander’s smile widened. “Sorry to disappoint you, but word just reached me a short while ago. Flynn Fajen has been captured, and currently resides in our custody.”
Aharon frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Well, I plan on gaining Fajen’s confession upon arriving at headquarters, but it still seemed prudent to inform you that he’s now been apprehended.”
Falling silent, Aharon didn’t speak for a long moment. “Are you implying that I’m actually responsible for some of his crimes?” he finally returned, somewhat disbelievingly.
“I’m not implying anything,” the other man answered. “However, I imagine we can both rest easier now the guilty party’s been jailed, and by knowing no further mischief will occur.”
Aharon gave him an incredulous stare. “You honestly think I’ve had time to go about robbing money-houses? To say nothing of the fact that I don’t actually need the money?”
Commander Nane shrugged. “What’s important is that these crimes have now met their conclusion.”
Rather than reply, Aharon turned and walked away with a shake of his head. And to think, there were those who didn’t understand his contempt for organized Justice.
Leaving the dead prince’s rooms—and again ignoring the many hateful stares he received from the knights on his way out—he headed back down to the third floor and toward the corridor housing the private quarters of Princess Tosis.
Eighteen years old, and only sixteen when he’d left for the west, the only time Aharon had spent with this princess was during the private lessons they’d shared, where she’d failed to leave him with a flattering impression. While intelligent, she was also spoiled and self-indulgent, and viciously condescending to anyone who didn’t share her royal blood. Whether she was responsible for murdering any of her siblings Aharon couldn’t answer, but the revelation certainly wouldn’t surprise him. He also couldn’t yet say if it was she or Padus who was receiving Siris’s support, but either way, he hoped to end the jester’s cause tonight.
As a female, Tosis lacked a private guard, but like her sisters she retained the services of three handmaidens. Whether any of these women possessed defensive skills remained unknown, but after hearing of Aya and Molli’s exploits within Heni’s chambers, he’d obviously be wise to entertain the possibility.
Technically, Tosis had no reason to fear any of her remaining siblings; only Padus was younger than she, but male, so she wasn’t of any consequence to him. Alternatively, she needed all living siblings to die in order to gain the crown, thus making her a threat to all those still alive. This was the reason Aharon had come, and why he now began slinking about the corridors near her apartment.
Maintaining a subtle vigilance on the area for the next couple of hours, he finally started away without ever becoming certain Tosis was even inside her rooms. He’d observed no one coming or leaving, nor had he heard a sound from within while making multiple passes by the door. If the princess was inside, she seemed to be taking pains to draw no attention to herself.
Aharon approached Padus’s quarters with considerably more caution, and drew no closer than the nearest intersection of corridors. Leery of the prince’s knights—men who probably wouldn’t kill him, but likely still beat him senseless—he was unsurprised to spot three such men positioned just outside Padus’s door. Little question the remaining five were inside with the prince, and in light of last night’s carnage, Aharon presumed Padus was now following Neco’s example and not venturing from his chambers.
Nevis was planning to shoot him today, he then reminded himself. If he’s the heir Siris is supporting, it would make sense that the jester intervened to eliminate the threat.
Still, this implied Siris would’ve been aware of Nevis’s intentions, which was possible but not a surety. And without this surety, both Tosis and Padus remained dire threats.
After making several rounds of the nearby corridors but learning nothing, Aharon grew frustrated and started down to the outer courtyard. An area that constantly bustled with activity during the daytime hours, this was where his note had asked Siris to meet him, although the hour he’d suggested remained some time away. With no way to know if the jester would even find his note, much less follow his request, he settled down on a bench and resigned himself to a long wait.
To pass the time, he revisited the days’ observations and concocted various strategies for tonight’s attacks. He wasn’t too concerned about Tosis—without a guard, he didn’t expect her to prove much of a problem, even if her handmaidens did interfere on her behalf. But Padus was another matter, and Aharon was worried that he’d have no choice but to follow Aya’s suggestion. Aided by her Magic, it was possible they could overcome eight knights, but the risk was high and he’d very much prefer to find another way. Hopefully, Aya had contrived an alternative plan in his absence.
Some time later, Aharon caught sight of his brother Turo making his knightly rounds through the courtyard. Having spoken only once since his return, Aharon had received the impression that his brother was trying to keep himself distanced from all current dramas, and rejecting any involvement in the royal murders. Given Aharon’s own position in the affair, Turo’s perfunctory greeting hadn’t come as a surprise, although truthfully they’d not been close in years. Too similar to their father in many ways, Aharon had little care for this brother.
Zaun was different matter though, and as he and Turo now exchanged a curt nod while the knight passed by, Aharon was forced to stifle another stab of guilt. Once this was over, he promised himself, he’d do whatever was necessary to make up for his current neglect, and ensure Zaun received all the attention he was missing.
Remaining seated on the bench, the hour he’d asked Siris to meet him came and went. Even so, he lingered, and hoped that the jester was merely playing games and might still appear. After another hour passed, Aharon’s patience reached its limit and he finally rose to his feet, thinking he now had to return to the shore and collect supper. By this time, Aya and Neco were probably starting to worry about him.
He made it a few steps before a voice spoke out behind him.
“Leaving, Aharon? A pity, given your obvious desperation to speak with me.”
Schooling his expression, he turned and beheld the jester standing approximately ten paces back. Adorned in his usual satin attire, the man held aloft the note Aharon had left in the tunnels, and wore a smile that positively begged to be struck.
Stifling the urge to follow through, Aharon spoke. “Desperate?” he repeated. “Hardly. I merely sought to ask you a question.”
Siris was keeping his distance, as well as a sharp gaze on the courtyard’s activity. Whether he was fearful of Nevis’s knights or a possible ambush, his caution and paranoia were evident.
“What question?” the jester now asked.
Aharon moved closer, leaving perhaps half a dozen paces between them. Meeting the man’s look, he then asked, “Do you truly believe you can outmaneuver me?”
It was clear this wasn’t the question Siris had expected, and he gazed back a long moment without responding.
When the silence only stretched, Aharon spoke again. “Think it through, jester. I admit, I haven’t determined whether it’s Tosis or Padus you’re helping, but the fact is, only four royal siblings remain. Do you honestly think you can do away with Neco and Aya before I finish this?”
“I would never harm Aya,” Siris insisted.
“No, but you’d stand aside and let someone else do it. Much like what happened last night, yes?”
The jester took obvious care with his response. “You don’t know what you think you know,” he finally said, revealing nothing.
“Just answer my question,” Aharon demanded in reply.
Siris indulged in another long silence, again sending furtive glances about the courtyard. “What are you proposing?” he finally asked, looking back.
“One way or another, I’m going to defeat you,” Aharon stated. “You took a gamble revealing those tunnels, and it didn’t result to your favor. I know what you were hoping for, but it isn’t going to happen—not until Neco’s safety is secure. So unless you intend to take the action yourself, you’re out of moves.”
“Not quite,” the jester returned darkly.
The words prompted some quick thought, and ultimately gave Aharon the clarity he’d be seeking. Furthermore, the jester’s insinuation was alarming.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he finally said.
Siris shrugged back at him. “As you said, I’m out of moves. All except this.”
Aharon frowned and took a breath. The jester had essentially just admitted to helping Padus, and due to how the situation had unfolded, the young prince truly did have only one option left. To retain any hope of survival, Padus would have to instruct his knights to descend on Neco’s quarters and engage his brother’s defenders in an all-out clash, private guard against private guard. The victor of such a fight was impossible to predict, but either way the scenario would place everyone involved in extreme danger.
“This is a tactic borne of desperation,” Aharon now said.
“You can thank yourself for that.”
“It also makes no sense that you’d lend me forewarning.”
“Not unless I was confident that you asked me here to offer a different solution.”
“You’ll hear me out?”
“Not you. You’re nowhere near as vile as Neco, but I certainly don’t trust you.”
“I’m not allowing Aya anywhere near you.”
“Then it appears we’ll all be hinging our lives on the knights.” The jester stepped back.
Aharon threw him a glare. “Just give me a moment to think.”
“Fine, but time runs short, and we’ve little left to waste.”
His glare deepened. “Very well. I’ll bring Aya, but I’m staying with her. Acceptable?”
“I suppose,” Siris said. “Where?”
“The tunnels. Dawn.” Pausing a moment, he then added, “I trust you’ll make no moves beforehand?”
“While tempting, no. I don’t actually want to die, you understand.”
Indeed, Siris’s survival instinct was the only reason he was here now. If Neco’s and Padus’s knights clashed, and Padus’s men were defeated, Siris was as good as dead too.
“Two things,” Aharon went on.
“Yes?”
Taking a step closer, he gave a quick glance about before speaking in a low tone. “Will you admit to killing Nevis last night?”
“Yes,” Siris said. “Will you admit to killing Heni and Seret?”
Aharon simply nodded, not wishing to bring Aya’s involvement to light.
The jester was beginning to look impatient. “Well?” he demanded. “What else, then?”
Taking another step forward, Aharon spoke even more quietly. “Tosis remains a threat to both Neco and Padus. I expect this issue to be resolved by the time we next speak.”
The jester gazed back at him, unimpressed. “Fine,” he then snapped.
Aharon nodded. “Dawn, then.”
He watched the jester start away, then resumed his retreat from the grounds while wondering how Neco and Aya would receive this turn of events.
In light of Siris’s threat the day before—and despite his assurance that it wouldn’t be implemented before they spoke again—Aharon wasn’t partial to the idea of leaving Neco behind while he and Aya entered the tunnels. On the chance Siris was lying and aimed to have Padus’s knights attack while he wasn’t present, Aharon decided that the prince would have to accompany them.
While also a dangerous scenario for Neco, Aharon didn’t intend to reveal the man’s presence to the jester. He further instructed Neco’s private guard to remain on high alert during their absence, and to barricade the chamber’s entranceway door. Displeased with having their prince removed from their protective sight, however briefly, the knights nonetheless did as he asked.
Looking to arrive early, it was still dark when they entered the shaft within the fireplace. Aharon crawled in first, followed by Aya and then Neco. Per Aharon’s suggestion, and much to Neco’s displeasure, the prince then halted at the end of the shaft, remaining concealed within.
“This is extremely uncomfortable,” he mumbled.
“Deal with it,” Aharon replied, now standing within the oddly-shaped room beyond, “and keep quiet.”
Neco fell silent, and Aharon hefted the candle in his hand, its flame glowing dully. In an effort to keep Aya’s pyromancy a secret, she wouldn’t be accessing her Magic unless a threat arose. Given how the jester was also a mage, Aharon was very much hoping this wouldn’t happen, since any Magic-fight to occur in these tunnels was guaranteed to end disastrously, particularly when the powers involved included fire and lightning.
With Neco remaining wedged inside the shaft, his presence successfully concealed within the darkness, Aharon and Aya were left to wait, neither speaking as the minutes passed by.
The jester arrived a short time later, his figure noiselessly appearing from the downward-sloping corridor. Holding aloft a small torch, he drew to a stop on the other side of the room and gave a cautious look into the surrounding shadows before speaking.
“Princess,” he then opened to Aya, before glancing over and adding, “Aharon.”
Aya moved a few steps closer, and Aharon kept with her. “Siris,” she responded, her tone calm and inviting. “I’m glad you were open to speaking with us.”
“I was open to speaking with you.”
She nodded. “Aharon relayed your threat, and I think we can all agree that the outcome is far too risky for everyone involved. With your help, we can avoid this uncertainty.”
The jester frowned. “I know you mean to ask me to kill Padus, but before you do, there’s something you must know. Something I can only hope will give you pause.”
“I’m listening,” Aya told him.
“Padus,” Siris started, “wanted none of this. He’s not been masterminding me, but rather, I him. Besides yourself, he’s the only one of you I deemed worthy of living, much less gaining the crown, and he’s therefore the heir I chose to support.”
Aharon was frowning but remained silent, giving Aya control of the dialogue.
“What exactly are you saying, Siris?” she asked.
“After his majesty made his announcement,” the jester explained, “I went to Padus to learn his thoughts on the matter, and he confessed his horror over the situation. The very idea of murdering his siblings and father repulsed him, and he swore that he’d take no part in such brutality.”
Now Aya was frowning. “If that’s true, why didn’t he just accept the exile? Why stay and risk his life?”
The jester shook his head. “Padus is barely a man, and has known no existence but for palace life. The idea of venturing forth into the world, with no support and no experience with its workings, terrified him more than remaining here and taking his chances with Death.”
Grudgingly, Aharon had to admit this made a certain sort of sense. Still, he wasn’t yet of a mind to just believe whatever tale Siris fed them.
“Are you saying Padus has no care for the crown?” Aya now inquired.
Siris looked at her a moment, and inhaled a breath before answering. “Padus is content being a prince,” he then answered, “but with the circumstances being what they are, he wasn’t given much choice in the matter. Or so I convinced him.”
Aharon’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke before he could stop himself. “How did you advise him, exactly?”
The jester glanced at him only briefly before looking back to Aya and replying. “I told him that in order to survive, all he needed to do was keep himself safe. I knew the rest of you would turn on each other, and that the bodies would pile up as they now have, meaning Padus merely had to wait out the tumult.”
Aya spoke again. “Are you saying Padus isn’t responsible for any of my siblings’ deaths?”
“Correct,” Siris said.
“You’ve been helping that process along, though,” Aharon threw in. “Are you claiming Padus doesn’t know of your actions?”
The jester frowned, and took a long minute to respond. “As far as he’s aware, all deaths were dealt by those directly involved,” he then admitted.
Aharon exchanged a look with Aya before she spoke again. “How many of them did you kill, Siris?” she asked.
After a brief hesitation, he answered. “Three,” he told them.
“Who?” Aharon followed.
The jester shot him a glare. “As per your instructions, I moved on Tosis last night. And truth be told, sending me after her was a wise move on your part, for Tosis wore a Secondary of Magic. Unless you wear the same,” he went on, pausing to eye Aharon’s inverted Secondary, “it’s unlikely you would’ve survived confronting her.”
Not responding, Aharon silently agreed. He’d had no idea Tosis bore Magic.
“Who else?” Aya now said.
Siris looked back to her. “I slit Nevis’s throat two nights ago, as I’m sure Aharon’s told you. Also, there was Borohm. One of the tunnels led to his quarters, and I took advantage by tossing a cobra into his bedchamber. After it struck, I stunned it with a spell and removed it.”
Aharon’s eyes narrowed again. “I overheard Nevis speaking of this same thing happening to him. Also your doing?”
Siris nodded. “I hurled it through his window, but he spotted and killed it before it could make its move. I was then forced to take a more proactive approach.”
Aya looked thoughtful. “This accounts for all deaths except Loh’s and Selmon’s,” she said, before looking curiously back to the jester. “Can you shed any light on these?”
He nodded. “Tosis killed Loh—she was a mind-mover, and used this power to shove him from the terrace.”
Aya took that in with a frown. “And Selmon?”
Siris shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Selmon was the prince who’d been stabbed in the corridors following a nightly tryst. Given everything he’d now learned, Aharon still couldn’t narrow down who was responsible, as there remained numerous suspects. Not that it truly mattered at this point, he supposed.
“Wait,” he then said, straightening and looking to Siris. “Who killed Aya’s handmaidens? We presumed Padus’s knights were responsible, but if what you’re saying is true, he wouldn’t have commanded such an action.”
“He didn’t,” the jester confirmed, “but you’re right to suspect his knights. Padus’s private guard is very determined, and they came for you, Aharon. It was blind luck that you and Aya weren’t present when they arrived.”
“And did they do this at your direction?” Aharon asked, now working to rein in his temper.
“No. Padus’s refusal to engage has only frustrated the knights of his private guard, men who will go to any lengths to protect him. I’ve spent much time eavesdropping on their discussions of late, and it appears they’re done waiting and ready to take matters into their own hands. They came for you first in order to get you out of the way, so they could next target Neco.”
Aharon nodded. “My father’s threat clearly didn’t intimidate them, as it did Nevis’s knights.”
“I’m afraid not,” Siris told him. “These men are utterly committed to seeing Padus crowned, and will do whatever is necessary to achieve this—with or without their prince’s knowing.”
“And what would Padus think of this rabid devotion?” Aya asked.
The jester shook his head. “I’m not sure, but I doubt he’d be pleased.”
Aharon exhaled a long breath and shifted his stance. “You didn’t come here to listen to a proposal,” he then said. “You came to make one.”
“Yes,” Siris said. “Padus is no threat to Neco, so I’m asking you to spare him. There is nothing to be gained by his death.”
“Except peace of mind,” Aharon replied.
Siris shot him a hard look. “Are you so anxious to spill the blood of a young man who’s done nothing wrong?”
“No, but how are we to know this isn’t all an elaborate ruse to gain our trust and betray us?”
Sighing, the jester looked back to Aya. “Is this your thinking too?”
“Honestly, Siris,” she replied, “I’m not sure what to believe, and Aharon has a point. How can we be sure you aren’t just saying this so we’ll continue clearing Neco’s path to the throne, only to have you eliminate him in favor of Padus once we’ve removed all obstacles?”
“Because Padus doesn’t want the throne,” the jester insisted. “He just wants to live, and continue the only life he’s ever known.”
“If that were true, why would you reveal these tunnels to me?” Aharon demanded. “Was it not so I’d eliminate the king?”
Siris hesitated a moment. “I figured you’d try. And that you’d fail.”
Aharon gave him a humorless look as further clarity surfaced. “You didn’t need the king dead,” he realized, “only Padus’s brothers and sisters. And their protectors.”
“Yes. Padus is no threat to his majesty, and upon emerging as the final heir, it only would’ve been a matter of time before he was crowned.”
Aya nodded. “This also would’ve left your role as jester secure—first with my father, and eventually, with Padus.”
“I’m not claiming to be unselfish,” Siris told them unabashedly.
“Then why did you come to me two days ago and speak a warning?” Aya asked him. “If you truly meant me no harm, and if Padus refuses to enact any violence, why would you go to the bother?”
“Because I knew someone would make a move on you sooner or later, and due to Aharon’s return, I figured sooner was more likely,” he told her. “Whatever you may believe, princess, I’ve never wished you harm. You and Padus are the only decent ones amongst you, and I don’t care to see either of you hurt or slain.”
The jester looked sincere. He sounded sincere. But unfortunately, Aharon still couldn’t bring himself to trust the man. What he needed to know was whether Aya felt differently on the matter.
“What of Padus’s knights?” he now asked. “Before we can even entertain your suggestion, they’ll have to be dealt with.”
Siris nodded. “I’ll see to the knights, if Prince Neco will agree to appoint me his jester,” he said.
Aharon withheld a wince, envisioning his friend’s response. Thankfully though, he heard nothing from the shaft, implying Neco was at least keeping his reaction to himself.
“Step away and give us a moment to confer,” he now told Siris. Waiting until the man had retreated a slight way down the corridor, he then turned to Aya and spoke quietly. “What do you think? Can we trust him?”
Her expression was troubled. “He strikes me as truthful. But given the severity of the consequences, I’m cautious to believe him and risk making a fatal error.”
Aharon nodded. “What would you suggest?”
She seemed to think a moment, then met his gaze. “I need to speak with Padus myself. If he substantiates Siris’s claims, and truly is an innocent in all this, we’ll have no reason to kill him.”
Convincing Neco of this might be challenging, but overall Aharon agreed. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you being alone with Padus,” he then said.
She briefly brought a hand to her Secondary. “I’ll be fine.”
Contemplating a moment, he then nodded. Like all male royal heirs, Padus wore Justice and Commerce, and therefore retained little to no chance of overpowering her. “You’re definitely not getting anywhere near his knights,” he added.
“We’ll have Siris bring Padus through the tunnels, to one of the vacant apartments. We can convene with him there,” she said.
Nodding again, Aharon stepped back. “All right, we’ll see if Siris is amenable to the idea. If he is, we can decide what to do after hearing Padus’s side of things. Otherwise, there’s nowhere left to take this.”
“Agreed,” she said, before turning and calling to the jester.
Amid much reluctance, Siris finally came to accept the proposal, but only after making them both swear on their Patrons that they didn’t intend Padus any harm. Once they’d complied, the jester departed, withdrawing back into the darkness as silently as he’d appeared.
Aharon waited a couple of minutes before stepping over to the shaft where Neco lay concealed. “Still alive in there?” he issued lightly.
“Yes,” the prince replied, his head emerging as he wiggled forth, “and never in my life have I felt so undignified.”
“Your dignity is the least of my concerns,” Aharon told him. Offering a hand, he helped the man free himself, then waited for him to straighten before him. “I presume you heard everything?” he asked.
Neco nodded. “Yes, and you’re taking an unnecessary risk. Just promise Siris whatever he wants, and after he’s done away with Padus’s knights, both he and Padus will be defenseless and all too easy to eliminate.”
Aharon sent him a frown. “Wouldn’t you prefer not murdering your last surviving brother?”
“I’d prefer having this over with.”
Aharon shook his head. “Let Aya and I make our determinations. Then we can decide how to proceed.”
Neco shrugged. “If that’s what you deem best, Aharon.”
Still frowning, Aharon exchanged a glance with Aya before gesturing back at the shaft. “After you,” he invited, suddenly feeling very weary.
They’d scheduled their meeting with Padus for late afternoon, although the circumstances again left Aya and Aharon in the quandary of whether they should risk leaving Neco behind with his knights. In the end, Aya suggested that Aharon remain with her brother, while she brought Molli into the tunnels to protect and accompany her. While not appearing thrilled with the idea, Aharon grudgingly agreed, and now warned her to be careful as she wedged herself into the shaft and began crawling away.
Since Neco’s private guard still refused to allow Molli’s presence inside the prince’s apartment, the handmaiden had entered the tunnels from Aya’s rooms, and now stood waiting for her at the end of the shaft. After helping the princess to her feet, she gave Aya a tense look. “Are you certain this is safe, highness?” she asked.
“Fairly,” Aya replied, creating a small flame to see by.
Molli nodded. “Either way, this should all be over soon.”
Morbid as the statement sounded, Aya could only hope it was true. Resolution was needed, and as quickly as possible, or Ceja itself would soon suffer. Uncertainty wasn’t productive, and instability a sign of weakness. Fortunately, neither Kolasa nor Mialystin had yet tried taking advantage, and the continent’s final realm, Kathwei, wasn’t a concern. A peace-loving country, the Kathwein would defend but not attack, and overall kept to themselves.
But Ceja was the wealthiest realm in the north, as well as the hub for most intercontinental trade, so any amount of detectable vulnerability was dangerous. One way or another, she and Aharon needed to see Neco crowned, and soon. Depending on how this meeting unfolded, Neco had agreed to spare Padus, but only if the king was eliminated. All things considered, she understood his position, although this meant Aharon might still have a weighty task ahead of him.
Dagger in hand, Molli now took the lead, starting along the downward-sloping corridor that would bring them to the third floor. Stepping just behind, Aya kept herself alert for danger but didn’t truly expect it; she was reasonably confident Siris had spoken truthfully this morning, so a threat would only arise if her conversation with Padus resulted poorly. In the event this happened, she’d instructed Molli to slay the prince while she faced off with the jester.
The possibility that they were walking into an ambush, and were about to find themselves confronted by Padus’s knights, couldn’t be discounted either. Aya believed this was unlikely, but was prepared to burn them all to ash should it happen.
“Which shaft?” Molli now quietly asked as they reached the third floor tunnel.
“The second,” Aya told her, listening for sounds of Siris and Padus but hearing nothing except their own faint movements.
Molli quickly closed in on their destination, then turned to her. “I’ll call to you once I’ve determined it’s safe.”
Aya nodded. They’d argued over which of them would enter first, but in the end Aharon had intervened and insisted that the handmaiden take the lead and assess the scene prior to Aya’s appearance. Having given him her word, Aya now hung back as Molli shimmied into the shaft and started away.
Remaining still, and keeping an eye on the surrounding shadows, several minutes passed before she distantly heard the handmaiden call out.
“Come, princess,” her voice invited.
Releasing a quick breath of relief, Aya extinguished her flame and entered the shaft. Moving as quickly as possible, upon reaching the end she found Molli standing by to assist her from the fireplace.
“The prince and jester already await you,” the handmaiden said, helping her to her feet.
Stepping from the hearth, Aya straightened and glanced about. While not in current use, the apartment she’d entered was a near-replica of her own, meaning she’d exited into the main sitting room. Padus was seated over by the window, while Siris stood next to his chair. Noting the jester’s tense expression, Aya found herself grateful that he hadn’t deployed his power at Molli when she’d emerged.
“I was expecting Aharon,” the jester said now, meeting her gaze.
“We thought you’d find my handmaiden less threatening,” Aya told him, moving closer.
Siris shrugged and turned to Padus. “My prince?”
The young man nodded back. “It’s fine.”
The jester started forward. “Come with me,” he instructed to Molli while stepping past.
The handmaiden looked to Aya for confirmation, and after receiving a nod she obediently followed Siris from the room. Now alone with her brother, Aya moved to settled on the sofa across from him before meeting his look. Both products of their father’s third and final union—all three queens now long-deceased—she and Padus were full siblings while she and Neco only half. But the king’s children had all inherited his aqua-colored eyes, and she now held her brother’s gaze in silence until he spoke.
“I’m sorry for the deaths of your handmaidens,” Padus opened. “Until this morning, I had no knowledge of the deeds my knights were performing.”
Deeds? What else had they done? Or had Siris simply given them credit for the killings he’d actually committed?
“Siris informed you?” she asked him carefully in response.
“Yes. To think they were taking such measures without my knowledge or approval,” Padus said with a shake of his head. “No matter their reasons, I can’t condone such behavior.”
Hearing this, Aya silently concluded that yes, it appeared the jester had indeed shifted the blame for his crimes onto the knights. If Padus was to live, she’d have to advise Neco and Aharon not to reveal differently.
“Something needs to be done about them,” she said now.
Padus nodded. “Siris already saw to them, upon my wishes. He used his Magic, and reported that for the most part, they didn’t suffer.”
Aya gave a blink of surprise. The jester had eliminated eight knights by himself, and only since dawn? Considering Siris hadn’t appeared fatigued at all, she was forced to conclude that his Magical blessing must be quite strong—probably stronger than hers, information she deemed useful.
Padus went on. “He further spoke of his conversation with you and Aharon this morning. Have you since discussed matters with Neco? Will he agree to spare me?”
Aya gave him a short stare. “I’m sure you can understand his caution, Padus. We need to be absolutely certain of you.”
His expression turned frustrated. “Then tell me how I can convince you.”
“Do you truly have no care for the throne?”
“I’m the last born of a dozen royal children—I never expected to wear the crown, and despite the situation we find ourselves in, my way of thinking hasn’t changed. All I want is to carry on with my life.”
She nodded, now nearly convinced of his innocence. Still, she needed to be entirely sure.
“Despite all that, you’re now next in line for the throne,” she replied. “After these past few weeks, you must understand why Neco has no choice but to consider you a threat.”
“He’d be a fool not to,” Padus agreed. “Although, I’d think willingly depriving myself of my private guard makes for a good show of faith. I’ve left myself defenseless.”
Except for Siris, who single-handedly deprived you of those eight formidable protectors. You are not defenseless, brother.
“Would you agree not to replace your guard until after Neco’s coronation?” she asked him. True, Siris was the larger threat, but so long as he maintained the position of jester, he’d have no reason to desire Neco’s death. And once Neco was crowned and gained command of the entire royal guard, he’d possess more than sufficient protection.
Padus was now nodding. “Absolutely, I’d agree,” he told her. “It isn’t as though I’ll need them, so long as Neco lets me live.”
The statement was somewhat cringeworthy, but also true. Neco was the only threat Padus had left to fear.
“Then I’ve only one more question to ask you,” Aya said.
“Yes?”
“You claim to have never considered inheriting the crown, and that you don’t desire it. I’m therefore curious what you have envisioned for your life.”
The question was a trap, for the speed and content of his reply would be telling. If he’d truly never wished for the crown, he must’ve given at least some thought to what his future might hold, and therefore would have no trouble supplying a response.
Watching him carefully, Aya was surprised to observe how quickly his eyes lit up.
“My passion has always been economics,” he told her with evident enthusiasm. “I’ve studied the realm’s—and the continent’s—merchantry going back centuries, and think I’ve discovered several areas where vast improvements can be made, relating to not only foreign trade but also our domestic dealings.”
Aya’s eyebrows rose. Having taken some of their lessons together, she recalled Padus’s proficiency for numbers, but she’d never realized just how deeply this interest ran. Furthermore, if he was lying, he was the best deceiver she’d ever encountered. Faking such a genuine reaction seemed next to impossible.
“Keep to your studies, and I suspect you’ll make a wonderful royal treasurer one day,” she now told him.
Padus gave an excited nod. “Nothing would please me more. Would Neco consider it, do you think?”
Since this would essentially negate Neco’s fears that Padus was a threat, Aya thought there stood an excellent chance of this happening. Furthermore, Padus wouldn’t be the only sibling on his council, for Neco already planned on making Aya his royal advisor. While not desiring the associated power, she’d agreed to accept the position because it would allow her to officially dedicate her life to the betterment of Ceja. Having recently discussed the matter with Aharon, she’d been relieved but unsurprised to receive his full support, the conversation illuminating the path for their life together here in the palace, a life that finally seemed near to beginning.
“I’m sure he’ll consider it,” she said to Padus now, “although you’ll need to do some apprenticeships beforehand.”
“Of course,” he replied, nodding again.
Feeling the discussion had unfolded far better than she could have hoped, Aya moved to rise. “I will take this to Neco,” she told him, “but before any decisions can be made, I’ll require proof of your private guards’ demise.”
“Siris meant to take Aharon to view their bodies while we spoke,” Padus responded. “If your handmaiden isn’t squeamish, perhaps she attended in his place.”
Curious, Aya started into the next room and saw the main door leading into the corridor standing open. Molli and Siris were in view just beyond, emerging from the opposite doorway. Spotting her, the handmaiden then hurried forward.
“Is everything all right, princess?” she quickly inquired, drawing near.
Aya nodded. “Yes. Did you observe the bodies?”
“I did, and found all eight knights accounted for,” Molli reported.
Aya shifted her look to the jester. “I don’t foresee any trouble, but before any promises can be made, I must speak with Neco.”
“Naturally,” he returned, “but I implore you to make him see sense, highness. I’m offering a solution where everyone can win, so he’d be foolish to reject it.”
She briefly debated mentioning his deceitful confession to Padus, but then decided there was no point in doing so. Siris was merely trying to survive, just as they all were. “I’ll bring word,” she told him instead.
With no threats remaining and nothing left to fear from walking the corridors, she then moved to exit, and didn’t speak again until she and Molli were several paces away. “How did Siris kill the knights?” she then asked curiously.
Molli’s head turned to address her. “He brought me to the terrace, which looks down upon the practice sands. Somehow, he must’ve lured the knights to the area, then ended them all with lightning. It was a ghastly scene.”
While having witnessed the jester perform multiple executions at her father’s behest, Aya was stunned to learn that he’d eliminated all eight knights in this fashion, and in what must’ve been quick time. Again, she was grateful that she’d never had cause to confront him with her own Magic.
“And what of Prince Padus?” Molli now asked, as they rounded onto a stairwell and started upward. “Did you deem him trustworthy?”
Aya nodded. “Yes, so I’ll be advising Neco to spare him. Presuming he agrees, only one task will remain.”
“A rather daunting task, highness,” the handmaiden murmured in reply.
Aya glanced at her but made no response. Undoubtedly, the endeavor of killing her father would prove the most dangerous yet attempted, and it was a task Aharon had chosen to accept. Finding it impossible to stifle her mounting worry, Aya silently decided that it might be time to start praying.
“He’ll find a way,” she then stated confidently as they neared Neco’s chambers. “Aharon always does.”
Two days later, Aharon was walking the royal grounds with Neco. With all threats against them now laid to rest, the prince was enjoying his renewed freedom while Aharon simply reveled in knowing the danger had been thwarted. Still, overshadowing his relief was a strengthening wave of anxiety, for tonight he aimed to move on the king and finish this business once and for all.
Sunfall was upon them as they strolled over the sandy practice fields, an area devoid of activity at this time of day. Not without an agenda, Aharon waited for a lull in the conversation before moving to address it.
“Neco,” he began, “have you given any further consideration to tonight?”
The other man glanced over. “No, and I thought we already went over this.”
Aharon nodded. “I just wanted to be sure.”
“You volunteered for this, Aharon. I didn’t ask you to do it.”
“I know, but the king is eighty seven years old, and bound to die soon anyway. Moreover, you’ve no more danger to fear, so why not just wait it out?”
Neco paused and turned to face him. Now standing roughly in the center of the practice field, no one was within earshot and they’d easily spot anyone who came near. A few knights of Neco’s private guard were following at a discreet distance, and now halted approximately twenty paces back.
“I understand why that appears the more sensible course,” the prince then replied, “but my father can’t be trusted. His ruthlessness has already brought the deaths of nine of my brothers and sisters, and there’s no predicting what he might do if he finds himself displeased with the result of his scheme.”
Aharon’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re worried he’ll favor Padus or Aya over you, and take the appropriate measures to see they’re crowned instead?”
Neco shrugged. “I can’t discount the possibility. As you well know, I wouldn’t have been my father’s first choice to succeed him—Fermin and Loh always held his favor.”
“Well, Fermin and Loh are dead, and by way of his majesty’s own rules. It was his decree that stated the last of you standing would inherit the crown, and that’s you, Neco. Neither Aya nor Padus wants it.”
“Which isn’t to say my father won’t prefer one of them over me.”
“You honestly believe he’d strike at you?”
“Do you think I’d be letting you take such a risk otherwise?” the prince insisted. “Aharon, we’ve been friends our entire lives, and no one, not even Aya, has my trust as you do. The thought of what could happen tonight horrifies me, but it’s the only way to finish this.”
Aharon nodded. “Unless I fail.”
“Don’t fail. Succeed, and we can all start anew, finally free of his tainted and vicious sovereignty.”
Admittedly, Aharon thought a fresh beginning sounded wonderful, particularly since there was no guarantee that the king, if left alive, wouldn’t send him away again. While thus far ignored by his majesty since his return, Aharon felt it was only a matter of time before he was called to an audience, the outcome of which couldn’t be predicted. So, for the sake of his own future as well as Neco’s—and Aya’s—he would attempt this final task, and strive to bring peace and stability to all their lives.
“All right, Neco,” he said now. “I’ll proceed as planned.”
“Tomorrow will be a much brighter day, Aharon,” the prince responded. “Not only for us, but for all of Ceja.”
“Here’s hoping. But should it go the other way, I need your promise that you’ll see to Aya. She’s given you her loyalty, and you need to do the same.”
“I’m insulted you’d even say this. Of course you have my promise.”
“One other thing.”
“Yes?”
“The moment you don the crown, toss my father out on his ass.”
Neco laughed. “Consider it done. Furthermore, know there will always be a place for Zaun here in the palace. In fact, I expect him to follow in your footsteps and become one of my royal thieves.”
“I appreciate that,” Aharon said, his thoughts briefly turning to his youngest brother. He’d spent most of the afternoon with Zaun, and in anticipation of his possible, imminent death later tonight, he had assured the boy that no matter what happened, Neco and Aya would always be there for him. Unfortunately, the discussion seemed to have frightened Zaun more than anything else, but if the Patrons were kind Aharon would still be alive to allay those fears tomorrow. If not, at least his brother would have Aya and Neco looking out for him.
“Have you seen Siris today?” Neco then asked.
Aharon shook his head. “Nevis’s knights are still looking to kill him, so I imagine he’ll be keeping himself hidden until you take the throne and secure his safety. Why?”
The prince shrugged. “I wish to ask him something, is all.”
“You’re not still mistrustful of Padus, are you?”
Neco seemed to contemplate his answer. “I’m as certain of him as I can possibly be,” he finally said.
Aharon eyed him a moment. “I know these past few weeks have been trying, but they’re nearly behind you now.”
“Yes, thanks to you. The circumstances notwithstanding, it truly is wonderful having you back, Aharon. It wasn’t the same here without you.”
He nodded. “It’s a relief being home, and I can only hope no cause will arise to take me from these shores again.”
“Once I’m king, that won’t be a concern.”
Aharon grinned back at him. “I’m already committed to tonight’s bloodletting, so there’s no need for further convincing.”
Neco matched his look before his expression grew serious again. “Be careful tonight, and if you find the scene too uncertain, retreat. You can always try again, but only if you’re still alive.”
“Right.”
They left the matter there, for there was nothing more to say. Starting back toward the palace, Aharon left Neco in the company of his knights and continued inside, making his way toward Aya’s quarters on the third floor.
Along the way he crossed paths with Padus, who paused to shoot him a smile. “Evening, Aharon,” the young prince greeted.
After issuing the young man a brief scrutiny, Aharon replied. “Your highness. Are you enjoying your renewed liberty?”
Padus nodded. “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d survive long enough to know its pleasures again. I’m relieved beyond measure that this matter’s behind us.”
While unaware of tonight’s agenda, Aharon figured Padus was likely anticipating the maneuver, and had accepted it as inevitable. Chances were, an announcement of the king’s death wasn’t going to surprise him.
Provided, of course, this was how the situation actually unfolded.
“We’re all thankful to have regained a sense of normalcy,” Aharon now answered. “Tell me, my prince,” he then added, “if you’re privy to Siris’s whereabouts? Neco was looking to speak with him.”
Padus nodded. “I know where he’s keeping himself, and will relay the summons.”
Idly pondering Neco’s sudden interest in conversing with the jester, a man he openly despised, the matter gradually slipped to the back of Aharon’s mind as he continued upward and drew upon Aya’s quarters. After Molli let him inside, the handmaiden retreated to grant them privacy.
Aharon was unsurprised to discover Aya pacing nervously about her lounging room, and she threw him a tense look as he entered.
“I think I should come with you,” she opened, shifting in his direction.
“There’s absolutely no chance of that happening,” he returned. “You have your own part to play, and that’s how you’ll be most helpful to me.”
“Too many things could go wrong,” she argued.
“Which is why it’s fortunate I can think on my feet.”
She frowned. “I want to go over everything again.”
Having spent most of the previous night doing this very thing, Aharon withheld a sigh as he moved to one of the sofas and sank down. “As you please,” he told her.
Despite that they were merely repeating last night’s discussion, they spent the next couple of hours debating over and dissecting every aspect of their strategy, a tedious practice since their plan was quite simple. Essentially, Aharon would use the tunnels to arrive at the king’s chambers, then wait for the distraction Aya would cause in one of the nearby corridors. With luck, the ensuing commotion would draw most, if not all, of his majesty’s security away, leaving Aharon with the simple task of entering his rooms and slaying him. He would then escape back through the shaft, protecting not only his identity, but also the mystery of how he’d gotten into the king’s chambers.
Due to recent scouting, they knew his majesty currently slept with a guard of eight stationed about the door leading into his quarters. An additional three knights remained inside with him, acting as further protection in the event an attacker somehow made it through the initial line of defense. Considering the current state of matters, it was likely King Jahi was now expecting Neco to launch some manner of assault his way, although he obviously assumed this threat would come by way of the corridor. Unless Siris had betrayed them all and divulged the location of the tunnels to his majesty, none would foresee an attack sprung from within.
It was the jester Aya spoke of now. “He’s the greatest uncertainty in all this,” she fretted. “For who’s to say he hasn’t been reporting our movements to my father all along?”
“Aya, we’ve been over this,” Aharon replied, stifling his exasperation. “Even without our interference, the king isn’t long for this world, meaning it wouldn’t be in Siris’s best interests to help him. To maintain his seat as jester he needs to assist the future king—Neco. Which is precisely what he’s now doing.”
“You’re right,” she nodded, even as her hands continued to twist nervously before her. “I’m just terrified at the thought that I might lose you tonight.”
Since there existed a real chance of this happening, he didn’t do her the disservice of professing any false reassurances or promises. “I will do my absolute best to come back to you,” he told her instead.
The statement obviously did little to appease her fears, but rather than voice further worries she assumed an authoritative look and gazed back at him. “You will make it back, and finally make good on your pledge to marry me.”
He donned a grin. “It’s certainly been a long time coming. Let’s hope this represents our final obstacle.”
“Don’t you die on me, Aharon.”
Smile fading, he simply nodded.
Aiming to strike in the dead of night, it was another few hours before he finally moved to take up his sword. Maneuvering his way through the shafts with this weapon strapped to his back wouldn’t be easy or enjoyable, but he couldn’t risk leaving it behind. While hoping to avoid confronting any knights, he didn’t think this was likely, and without the weapon he’d stand no chance of surviving. In addition to the sword, he also carried a dagger in his boot, and had two more blades strapped to his belt.
Once properly equipped, he turned to Aya for a brief farewell, simply kissing her and telling her he loved her. She responded in kind, clearly aware that becoming emotional wouldn’t do either of them any good.
Crouching, he moved himself into the fireplace. “Remember,” he then said, merely as an excuse to look back a final time, “I need half an hour to get into position.”
She nodded. “Much luck, Aharon.”
Turning, he edged his way into the shaft and began pulling himself forward.
After emerging from the shaft and into the tunnel beyond, Aharon made his way up to the fourth floor and moved to the final opening, that which led to the king’s chambers. Maneuvering within—and following a brief moment of panic where his sword hilt jammed against the shaft’s ceiling before mercifully jerking free—he then started forward, inching his way along as silently as possible.
Upon finally reaching the end, he paused but made no move toward the latch. Estimating at least ten minutes remained before Aya’s distraction would erupt, he instead merely listened; presently the middle of the night, just a couple hours before dawn, he expected to hear nothing and wasn’t disappointed. Doubtless, his majesty was asleep, although just as certain was that the trio of knights in his company were not. Unsure if he could confront all three and live, Aharon wasn’t anxious to find out and therefore hoped all would withdraw from the chamber to investigate the imminent commotion.
With nothing to do but wait, he found he no longer had a distraction from his nerves and was forced to acknowledge them. He could feel his heart pounding, and his breaths, although silent, were coming too rapidly. Closing his eyes, he willed calm but found the process a struggle, for his thoughts kept slipping to everything he had to lose. With his ideal existence now finally within reach, the fear of being struck down tonight was nearly impossible to overcome.
In the end, he managed to get the majority of his anxiety under control, forcing it into a distant corner of his mind. Expecting Aya to make her move any moment now, he brought a hand to the latch and continued waiting.
Several more minutes passed before the muffled sounds of voices reached him. Unable to decipher any words, he slowly began easing back the panel, and a dim light appeared through the opening. The voices went on, but he still couldn’t make out what was being said, implying that whoever was speaking was doing so in another room. This was fortunate, since it might allow him the chance to enter the chamber unnoticed, regardless of whether the knights left to assess the threat.
After much discussion, he and Aya had decided that she would set the intersection of corridors nearest the king’s chambers aflame. Certain to draw the notice of the knights stationed outside his majesty’s door, it was reasonable to think that at least a few of them would abandon their post to investigate the sudden tumult, and then be forced to remain and battle the fire. It was also logical to presume that they’d suspect the scene was a distraction, and therefore close ranks about the king, ensuring no one made it past them and into his rooms.
What these men couldn’t know was that the doorway they guarded wasn’t the only entrance into the chamber, and that they’d instead be trapping the king inside with his attacker. Not so easy to predict was whether the three knights within would move to reinforce those in the corridor, or remain with his majesty. Aiming to proceed either way, Aharon now finished sliding back the latch and eased slightly forward, straining to hear what was being said in the next room.
Still more or less hidden within the shaft, he finally began making out some words.
“…here…if there’s cause…”
“…not happenstance, whatever the…”
“…remain and keep alert…”
Surmising that one of these men was now moving to exit the chamber and take stock of the situation in the corridor, Aharon emerged into the fireplace and glanced about, his eyes now mostly adjusted. The faint light was coming from the next room, while a short hallway branching off to his left remained dark. Cautiously pushing to his feet, Aharon slid soundlessly into the darkness, remaining along the wall as he crept slowly forward. According to Aya, he’d find the king’s bedchamber down the darkened hallway, and he briefly wondered if he could reach it without drawing notice from the remaining pair of knights.
Quickly running through the scenario, he then dismissed the idea. Even if he made it and successfully killed the king, any noise or commotion would only draw the knights to the bedchamber and potentially block his escape route. If he had to confront them either way, he thought he’d best get it over with prior to moving on his majesty.
Still slinking down the wall, he paused abruptly when voices again sounded out from the next room, now much clearer and louder.
“The corridor’s ablaze,” a male voice reported.
“Was this done deliberately?” another asked.
“Don’t be an idiot. You believe the walls just caught fire on their own?”
A third voice spoke. “Must his majesty be evacuated?”
“I imagine that’s what the fire-setter assumes we’ll do,” the first speaker said, “but the flames aren’t out of control, so it’s safer not to move him. You two remain here, and alert him to the circumstances. Little question Prince Neco’s finally making his move, but he’s going to fail.”
“Aye,” the second man said.
Next came the sound of a door slamming, leading Aharon to presume the first knight had now returned to the corridor, aiming to support his brethren in guarding the door. This left him with two knights to deal with, and while not an optimal scenario, it was probably the best he could expect.
“Go rouse his majesty and notify him of what’s transpiring,” one of the remaining knights now said. “If we do need to evacuate, best he be ready.”
The only reply was the sound of approaching footsteps, and Aharon quickly reached back and drew his sword. Confronting them one at a time would certainly lend him a higher chance for success, but also increase the risk of discovery and of reinforcements being called. He’d therefore have to strike as silently as possible.
The knight strode into view, moving toward the hallway. Shielded by darkness, Aharon remained still, waiting until he neared. He then stepped forward and swung, delivering a high backward slash.
The knight caught sight of him just before the blade met his throat, and his eyes widened in surprise. Then he gurgled and toppled, his head flopping back at the near-decapitation, and Aharon lunged forward to catch him before he crashed to the floor.
Splattered with an ample gush of blood as he eased the body down, Aharon’s grip grew slick and his sword nearly slipped from his fingers. Managing to keep his hold, the body nevertheless shifted from his grasp and landed with a pronounced thud. Wincing, Aharon quickly turned toward the doorway, already hearing the other knight’s approach.
“Itha?” the man was saying as he strode into the room.
Aharon leapt forward, his sword rising before him.
The knight reacted instantly, shifting from the path of danger and drawing his own weapon. Swinging about, he met Aharon’s slash and kicked outward, striking his knee.
Leg buckling slightly, Aharon rolled into the momentum and ducked the following assault, then swept in low, landing a slice across the knight’s thigh.
“Breach!” his opponent then bellowed, bringing his blade up for another strike.
Aharon met the attack, parried, then snatched up one of his belt knives with his free hand and plunged it into the knight’s neck. Growing still as the man then fell, he listened for a moment, fearing the sound of nine additional knights now pouring into the chamber in response to the dead man’s shout.
Hearing nothing of the sort, he cautiously crept forward. Was it possible they hadn’t heard? And what of the king—had the yell awoken him? Glancing back, Aharon observed no signs of life from the darkened hallway.
Continuing, he made it all the way to the apartment’s entranceway before noises from the outside corridor met his ears. The knights beyond the door seemed to be shouting, and after listening for a few moments Aharon deduced that the fire was now spreading this way, while the king’s protectors scrambled to battle it. Whether the encroaching danger was Aya’s design or mere happenstance, the knights had apparently been too distracted to hear their brethren’s shout, an almost unbelievable stroke of luck for Aharon. Although, if the fire wasn’t conquered and continued roaring this way, it would only be a matter of minutes before the knights decided to evacuate the king after all, meaning he’d now be wise to hurry.
After briefly debating whether he should try and barricade the door—and deciding the effort would only waste precious moments he didn’t have—Aharon retreated, hurrying past the bodies of the two fallen knights and down the hallway. Enveloped in sudden darkness, he slowed his pace and brought a hand to the wall, sliding it along until he felt it come to a door. Drawing to a pause, he remained still a moment to gather his resolve, then reached for the handle and pushed it open.
A dull glow spilled forth from within, and Aharon blinked rapidly to adjust his vision; a single candle was lit, resting atop the nightstand placed next to the bed. King Sabar Jahi was sitting upright at its edge, his feet on the floor and his form enshrouded in a silken dressing grown. Hands folded neatly in his lap, his outward stare was calm, while his crown, which Aharon had never before seen removed from his head, rested on the nightstand next to the candle.
“Hello, Aharon,” the king said.
“Your majesty.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised to find you here.”
Aharon took a step into the room. “No?”
The king offered him a humorless smile. “My protections notwithstanding, I figured it was only a matter of time before you appeared. Your loyalty to Neco has never wavered.”
“It’s your own fault that I’ve come,” Aharon told him in reply, continuing to advance. Reminding himself that he had absolutely no time to spare, he then slowly brought up his sword.
His majesty’s gaze remained steady and unafraid. “Do you truly possess the mettle to strike down your own king?” he asked.
Aharon’s eyes narrowed with disdain. “You’d best believe it,” he said, taking another step.
A third voice slid abruptly from the darkness.
“That’s close enough,” it said.
Startled, Aharon froze and moved his gaze into the nearest shadowy corner. After a moment he was able to distinguish the outline of a man, but no further details, although this hardly mattered. The voice was one he’d known his entire life, and had identified instantly.
His father now came forward, bringing himself into the dim glow. “I warned you what would happen if you attempted this,” he said, raising his own weapon.
Not responding, Aharon’s eyes shot from one man to the other. His father was armed and stood about six paces away, while the king sat defenseless just three steps forward. Having only a moment to decide on a course of action, his mind seized upon what seemed his only reasonable option.
Conclude the mission.
The move required him to take just a single step, his sword then supplying the necessary reach as it swept outward toward its target. As it sliced into the king’s flesh and sent his head tumbling downward, Aharon heard his father shout his name, his tone sounding more horrified than angry.
Aharon pivoted and spun about, bringing up his blood-streaked blade, but his father was already closing in, smashing the hilt of his weapon down upon Aharon’s sword hand. Unable to retain his grip, there came an audible crack as Aharon felt his fingers break. Aware of his weapon clattering to the floor, he was then forced to still as his father’s sword slid up alongside his throat.
Locking eyes, neither spoke for a long moment.
“Go on, then,” Aharon finally spat. “Kill me and be done with it.”
His father didn’t reply, and remained unmoved.
“What are you waiting for?” Aharon yelled.
To his immense surprise, he then caught a glimpse of something completely unexpected in the other man’s gaze, something he never would’ve foreseen under these, or any other, circumstances. Still, there it was, quite literally staring him in the face—hesitation. It appeared the fearsome Captain Othos Shai was actually hesitant to commit a violent act, never mind that it involved striking down his own son.
For some reason, seeing this made Aharon furious.
“JUST DO IT ALREADY!” he bellowed.
His father’s expression tightened, and there came a quick blur of movement before pain exploded at the side of his head, turning Aharon’s world to black.
When he awoke, his head and fingers were throbbing. Groaning, Aharon shifted and opened his eyes, trying to recall where he was and how he’d come to be there. A thin layer of straw lay beneath him, and a hard stone floor beneath that, and as he painfully rose to a sitting position his memory cleared.
He didn’t kill me. Why not?
Gazing about, the answer seemed obvious; rather than slay him at the scene, his father had opted to knock him unconscious and throw him into the palace dungeon. Little question a public execution would soon follow, unless Neco could intervene and halt it. Considering his majesty was dead and the prince’s pathway to the throne had now been cleared, Aharon hoped there was at least a possibility of this happening, although he wasn’t optimistic. Caught by the royal guard, chances were these men intended to put him to death before Neco officially donned the crown and assumed the power to free him.
Aharon brought a hand to his head and found a mound of dried blood near the crown of his skull. Three of his fingers were also broken, all swollen and crooked. Grimacing, he forced himself to his feet, and endured a long moment of intense dizziness before staggering over to the bars.
His cell looked out into a long corridor, which was illuminated by lit torches spaced high along the wall. There was no sign of any guards, nor were any of the surrounding cells occupied. Reserved for the harshest of lawbreakers, or those specifically wanted dead by the crown, the dungeons were empty about as often as not, although he appeared the only criminal to have recently earned such lofty accommodations.
Once satisfied he was alone, Aharon moved to inspect the lock securing his cell door. Figuring he could spring it in less than a minute with the proper tool, he then began a thorough search of his person, a somewhat painful process given the condition of his fingers. Eventually he stepped back, cursing loudly.
All too aware of his capabilities, his father had made certain to strip him of every piece of metal he’d been carrying, including his belt buckle, rings, and even the grommets in his vest. Nothing remained but for his medallions, which wouldn’t be of any help even if they could be removed. Scowling, Aharon sent the lock one last glare, while wondering if it had been magicked for good measure.
With nothing to do but wait, he retreated to the rear of his cell and sank down, sitting upright with his back against the wall. Only a short time later he heard footsteps approaching, and wasn’t surprised when his father moved into view. Much more unexpected was his company, a woman draped in the telling green robes of a Healer.
“Come,” Captain Shai said, gesturing him over to the bars.
Aharon gave him a long stare, but since the pain in his head was now severe enough to make him nauseous, he finally rose and started over.
Silence then reigned as the Healer reached through the bars, first mending his head wound and then his fingers. Exhausted by her efforts, she then wearily started away at the captain’s dismissal.
Aharon waited until she was out of earshot before speaking. “Were you worried I might die before you had the chance to execute me?” he asked.
“In part.”
“When?”
“Three days.”
Aharon nodded. Assuming he’d only been unconscious a few hours, today was Twelfth. Naturally, the knights aimed to kill him on Fifteenth, the day of Death, while Neco’s coronation wouldn’t occur until the day after, upon that of Justice. The timing was incredibly unfortunate, and utterly to his disadvantage.
“Why didn’t you just kill me?” he asked his father now.
“You murdered the king. All of Malat will want to see you die.”
“How did you know to expect me?”
His father shook his head. “I didn’t, not for certain, and if you recall I did try to warn you. Still, following Prince Buru’s death I deemed it wise to begin personally guarding his majesty while he slept, as I suspected you’d somehow find your way to him.”
“I presume you discovered the tunnels?” Since he’d left the latch open, a move meant to aid his speedy escape, little question his entry point to the king’s chambers had been found.
The captain nodded. “All things considered, it was a clever plan. A bold plan.”
“That almost sounds like a compliment.”
“It wasn’t. You should have heeded my warning, Aharon.”
“And you should remember on whose behalf I was acting.”
His father nodded again. “Neco is trying to save you, but until First-day arrives, he lacks the proper authority. Word of your deed has already reached the city, inciting the nobility and baseborn alike to demand your death. Nothing else will satisfy them.”
“And naturally, you’re only too happy to fulfill their desire.”
“Contrary to what you may think, I’m not deriving any pleasure from this state of affairs.”
“Follow through with executing me on Fifteenth,” Aharon warned in response, “and Neco will take his revenge on you the following day.”
“I suspect so. Alas, we’re all ensnared in our roles, and must now play them out accordingly.”
Falling silent, Aharon took a moment to study the other man. “You should’ve just killed me,” he eventually said.
His father frowned. “You believe this an easy task for me? To slay my own firstborn son?”
“You seem to be forgetting our past confrontation. If not for the Healers, we both would’ve died.”
“In that instance, you attacked me. I was merely defending myself.”
“Perhaps if you’d been a better father, defending yourself wouldn’t have been necessary. As it stands, I’m sorry I didn’t kill you, and that I’ll now be deprived of making any further attempts.”
“You truly hate me, don’t you?”
“Yes. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve wished you had died instead of mother. Probably as many times as you raised a fist to Turo and I.”
His father took that in silently. “I raised you as I was raised,” he then said. “It was all I knew.”
“That hardly makes it right,” Aharon replied, while barely containing his surprise. This was something he hadn’t known, something his father had never spoken of before. Not that it made any difference. “Nor is it an excuse,” he now added.
“Perhaps not,” the captain agreed. “Still, I did much thinking while you were away, something you might’ve realized had you been capable of putting your bitterness aside long enough to conduct a single conversation. I’m not the man you remember.”
Aharon issued him a flat stare. “If you’re trying to make amends, you’re a little late. Or are you reconsidering executing me?”
“It isn’t what I want, but as captain of the royal guard, your actions leave me no choice. You murdered the king, Aharon, and you were caught.”
“By you.”
“Yes.”
Watching him, Aharon raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “I think I’ve heard about all I can stomach of this drivel. Release me, or go away.”
The captain frowned again. “I’m making an effort to be sincere. This isn’t easy for me.”
“Either way, you’re terrible at it. Although,” Aharon went on, “if you truly possess the slightest regard for my well-being, there is a way you can prove it.”
“I can’t release you.”
Aharon snorted a laugh. “As if I truly expected this of you,” he said.
His father sighed. “What is it, then?”
“Let me see Aya.”
The captain’s frown deepened. “So she can sneak you something that will enable your escape? I’m afraid not, son.”
“Take whatever precautions are necessary,” Aharon insisted. “Just allow her to come.”
The other man seemed to consider. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Nodding, Aharon stepped back and returned to the far wall of his cell, intending this to serve as a dismissal. After settling on the ground, however, he looked back to find his father still standing at the bars, watching him.
“Something else?” he asked irritably.
The captain continued to regard him for a moment before answering. “I do wish matters had resulted differently,” he said.
“At last, we find common ground. But again, I deem it a little late, yes?”
His father didn’t reply and finally turned away, his steps echoing down the corridor as he retreated.
Aharon glared after him, finding himself largely unmoved by the conversation. Besides which, he had more pressing problems to consider, such as how he might survive past the end of the week. While fully confident Neco and Aya were seeking a way to liberate and exonerate him, he was forced to admit that the overall outlook wasn’t encouraging.
In any other instance, Neco’s authority over the royal guard would’ve been enough to free him. But because he’d slain the reigning king—with the act itself witnessed by the royal guard’s captain—the situation grew murky. Having successfully skirted the knights’ defenses and made them look like incompetent fools, Aharon figured these men now wanted him dead at all costs, and were responsible for leaking the particulars of the situation to the populace in an effort to incite a demand for Justice. If his father’s claims were true, it further appeared this gambit had paid off, which was hardly surprising given the common opinion of the late king.
While not a particularly likable person, King Sabar Jahi had nonetheless functioned as a competent ruler, maintaining safe borders as well as a flourishing economy where even the baseborn found ample opportunity to provide for themselves and their families. Consequently, the citizens’ view of the king had been favorable, implying all would now be outraged by his death and insist on Justice being served. And by supplying them the identity of his killer, the knights had now ensured the populace would only be appeased by the perpetrator’s demise.
Aharon shook his head, exhaling a long breath. Unless Aya found some manner of loophole he’d yet failed to identify, his chances weren’t promising.
A few hours passed before he again heard someone approaching, the steps sounding too light to belong to his father or one of his knights. Springing up, Aharon reached the bars just as Aya came into view, and upon spotting him she hurried forward.
Despite her calm façade, the redness of her eyes made it clear she’d recently been crying, which didn’t strike him as an especially positive sign.
“Aharon,” she started, raising a hand to grip the bars. “I will find a way to save you. I promise.”
He brought up his own hand, wrapping it around hers. “Tell me you brought something I can pick this lock with, and I’ll be free in moments.”
She shook her head, looking frustrated. “Your father instructed a female Justice trooper to search me to the skin before permitting me down here.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry you had to endure that.”
“It doesn’t matter. Are you all right?”
“For now.”
She nodded. “I spoke with your father for a time, so I know what happened. His words were…surprisingly candid.”
“Oh? So he admitted to being the one who caught me?”
“Yes. He’s not having an easy time with this, Aharon.”
He gave her an incredulous stare. “You can’t possibly have sympathy for him. I’m in this cell because of him.”
“He says you beheaded my father before his very eyes. With consideration to his station, it’s a miracle he didn’t strike you down on the spot.”
Aharon rolled his eyes. “Why would he keep my death to himself, when the entire city can celebrate it?” he returned.
Aya winced. “I know your relationship with him has been…complicated, but I truly believe he wished to spare you. Much like Neco, however, he’s bound by the limits of his position.”
“I’m going to start bashing my head into these bars if you say one more tolerant thing about my father,” he warned. “Or do you forget the nightmare he made of my childhood?”
“Of course not. But people can change, and he is your father.”
“People don’t change, or not for the better at least. This world doesn’t allow it,” he replied flatly. When she didn’t respond, he went on. “How’s Neco dealing with all this?”
“I last spoke with him not an hour ago, and found him distraught. Word spread through the city this morning, leaving us with no chance of shielding your identity.” She hesitated a moment, then added, “The populace wants you dead, and if Neco tries to block the execution, they’re already threatening to revolt against him.”
Staring back at her, Aharon strove to conceal any signs of distress. It appeared he might’ve failed at this when she then squeezed his fingers reassuringly.
“I’m not giving up,” she swore. “I will save you.”
Aharon thought she might be better off just accepting the circumstances and preparing herself accordingly—for in his experience, false hope was one of life’s greatest evils. “How well is the dungeon being guarded?” he then asked.
She shook her head. “Too well. Even if you escaped your cell, you’d never make it aboveground.”
“In that case, I’m not seeing much cause for hope,” he murmured.
She looked at him a moment, then spoke again. “There’s something else.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“It’s Padus. He’s dead.”
Aharon’s eyes widened. “Dead? How?”
Aya took her time answering. “Siris came to me this morning and confessed to poisoning him. He claims Neco sought him out last night and issued an ultimatum. He was told he could either kill Padus and maintain his seat as jester, or Neco would kill them both once he took the crown.”
Aharon was stunned. “You believed this tale?”
She nodded. “Siris was devastated, and suffering a terrible guilt. His affection for Padus was genuine.”
“Then why in all the Chasms of Fire did he do it?”
“To survive. Much as we’ve all done similar things of late.”
“Have you confronted Neco about it?”
“No. That can wait.”
Finally looking away, Aharon stared downward while considering the fact that Aya was now Neco’s only surviving sibling. Despite the prince’s newly revealed ruthlessness, however, he still believed she was in no danger, for unlike Padus, Neco had been close with Aya his entire life and had no reason to doubt her disinterest in the throne. Besides which, he had to know Aharon would skin him alive if he so much as contemplated harming her.
Unless, of course, I’m already dead.
The thought was unsettling. Was it possible Neco had masterminded this entire situation, with this specific outcome in mind?
I’m being absurd. The circumstances have clearly gotten to me, and brought on a state of paranoia.
Indeed, he refused to accept such suspicions—not of the man he’d grown up with and knew better than anyone. Admittedly, it was disturbing to know Neco had reneged on his word and eliminated Padus, but Aya was a different matter entirely. Neco would never hurt her.
Still, Aharon thought it best to be absolutely sure.
“I need to speak with Neco,” he said, finally looking back.
Aya remained watching him. “I’m not sure your father will allow it,” she said.
“Just tell your brother to come. And let him know this isn’t a request.”
After leaving the dungeon, Aya went in search of Neco but failed to locate him. Growing frustrated, she finally gave up and slipped a note under his door, relaying Aharon’s request—or demand, as it was—for his company. Not entirely certain of Aharon’s motives, she nevertheless felt confident Neco would comply.
Afterward, she retreated to her chambers and settled in her lounging room, refusing Molli’s attempts to get her to eat. Staring outward through the window—the iron slabs that had covered them now blessedly withdrawn—she breathed in the warm spring air and made a silent vow to remain unmoved until she’d fashioned a strategy that would save Aharon. Impossible as the situation seemed, she refused to submit to despair and believed a way to achieve this existed, if only she was clever enough to find it.
A few hours later, her determination was beginning to give way to panic, and she threw her handmaiden an anxious look. “I can’t devise any other option, Molli. It seems his only chance.”
The other woman was seated on a chair a few paces away, and responded to her comment in a tone of caution. “It’s a slim chance at best, princess,” she said. “I will follow you anywhere, but please reconsider.”
Aya’s look returned to the window; night had now fallen, and while the sky overhead was ablaze with starlight, she gazed outward unseeingly. Molli was right—the only plan she’d managed to come up with was reckless and incredibly dangerous, and carried almost no chance of success. But it was all she had, the only option she’d identified within a maze of impossibilities.
“Slim or not, it’s his only chance,” she finally said.
“He won’t let you do it,” Molli returned.
Aya paused. Again, the handmaiden was correct; Aharon would never allow her to take such a risk, not even to save his life. Although, once in motion, he’d have little choice but to go along with her plan.
“The knights won’t harm me,” Aya insisted.
“I wouldn’t be so certain of that. Not under the circumstances you propose.”
Frowning, the princess fell back into silence.
Unable to discern a way to liberate Aharon through proper—or even improper—channels, the only remaining option was to simply keep him alive through any means necessary. This meant not only breaking him free of his cell, but getting him safely out of Malat, and then Ceja itself, for the populace wouldn’t be satisfied until he was dead no matter who was sitting the throne. Aharon therefore needed to disappear, and Aya had every intention of forsaking the only life she’d ever known and vanishing with him. But before this could happen, they’d first have to escape the palace.
All things considered, brute force appeared their only recourse, with her Magic their most formidable weapon. Aware of a spell—diffluo—that was capable of melting the iron bars of Aharon’s cell, once he was free they’d have to battle their way past countless knights to escape royal grounds, then make their way through the streets of Malat to reach the docks. Attempting this late at night would provide their best odds, although even if Aharon were armed, his steel, her fire, and Molli’s daggers seemed a poor defense against the entire might of the royal guard. Aya didn’t believe the knights would intentionally harm her, and thought to use herself to shield Aharon, but this might be wishful thinking on her part. Particularly if she was threatening these knights with flames that would melt them within their armor.
“What other option is there?” she now asked desperately, glancing back to the handmaiden.
Molli’s expression was tense, and after a moment she shook her head. “I don’t know, princess. Perhaps if we—”
A knock cut her off, sounding from the apartment’s entryway. Molli rose to respond, and returned moments later.
“It’s Siris,” she said. “Do you wish to see him?”
Aya considered. While still upset with the jester for killing Padus, she understood why he’d felt he had no choice, and his guilt-ridden confession to her that morning had been gut-wrenching to behold. Frankly, she blamed Neco more than Siris, but confronting her brother would have to wait because saving Aharon was her priority.
“Very well,” she finally responded with a nod. “Send him in.”
The jester appeared dressed in his usual fashion, but his demeanor remained reserved as he stepped into the room and looked to her. “Princess,” he greeted.
“What is it, Siris?” she replied. “As you can well imagine, I’m quite preoccupied at the moment.”
He nodded while drifting to a halt a few paces before her chair. “Aharon’s predicament is worrisome,” he agreed. “I’ve been examining the circumstances, and fear there’s little to be done.”
She took him in somewhat dubiously. “Since when do you have any care for Aharon?”
“I don’t, really. My concern is strictly for your benefit.”
“Well, I appreciate that, but unless you have something helpful to offer, I still have much thinking to do tonight.”
Siris paused and eyed her a moment. “Actually, there is something I believe might be helpful,” he then started.
Her eyebrows rose. “Yes?”
The jester took another step closer. “Are you aware of a man named Flynn Fajen?”
Thinking a moment, she then shook her head. “No. Who is he?”
He replied while pulling a folded piece of parchment from his pocket. “The man’s a thief, one who recently put Justice through their paces trying to catch him. They finally nabbed him a few days ago, and he’s currently imprisoned at Justice headquarters.”
Aya reached to take the parchment he now held out, then felt her eyes widen in surprise as she stared downward. The man depicted in the sketch bore a striking resemblance to Aharon, so much so that at first glance, she would’ve assumed he was the subject.
“While performing some of his heists,” Siris now went on, “Fajen murdered several people, and is consequently scheduled to be executed. Commander Nane intends to carry out the deed personally, probably because Fajen embarrassed him by evading capture for so long. Interestingly, the Justice troopers kept mistaking him for Aharon, allowing for his escape.”
Aya was now staring at the jester with shining eyes. “Siris, I could kiss you.”
His lips quirked upward in amusement. “Perhaps in another life, such a gesture would prove alluring.”
She sprang up from her seat and threw her arms around him. “I won’t forget this. Aharon and I are forever in your debt.”
“Don’t thank me yet, highness. There still remains a steep hill to climb, because to pull this off you’ll need help. Official help.”
Pulling back, she nodded as her mind began to race. The first step was getting Aharon and Fajen in the same setting, which would require the cooperation of either Commander Nane or Captain Shai. Unfortunately, there was no way around this.
“Don’t bother with the commander,” Siris then said, watching her. “It’s going to take some serious persuasion to pry Fajen from his clutches, and you won’t convince him.”
“Captain Shai, then,” she responded. “Only a day ago I would’ve deemed the prospect a lost cause, but after speaking with him this afternoon I think there’s a chance.”
The jester’s head tilted curiously. “Oh?”
“The captain appears genuinely distressed by the situation. Despite all that’s happened between them, I don’t think he wants Aharon to die.”
“Interesting,” Siris murmured. “Still, and regardless of sentiment, you have much stronger leverage to apply.”
She thought a moment, then nodded again before speaking. “Neco.”
“While the shallow measure of your brother’s word has now been exposed, in this instance he’ll probably prove trustworthy,” Siris said. “If he agrees to maintain the commander and captain’s council seats, I imagine they’ll both fall in line with the scheme. Indeed, I predict this is the only way Commander Nane will comply.”
“It’s perfect,” she told him.
Siris regarded her. “You understand Aharon will have to flee, and that he can never return?”
“Yes. It’s why I’m going with him.”
Still eyeing her, he took a long moment to respond. “I know you love your realm, princess,” he then said, “so I must ask if you truly believe this would be in Ceja’s best interests?”
Aya stared back at him, first in puzzlement and then in understanding.
He’s afraid of Neco, she realized. And not only for himself, but of what her brother might be capable of. He’s afraid that once I’m gone, there will be no one left to keep Neco’s darker impulses in check.
In light of what had happened with Padus, it was easy to understand the jester’s point of view. Even so, she and Aharon knew her brother better than anyone, and they both believed he’d make a fair and just ruler. A good ruler. It was why they’d gone to such lengths to help him win the crown, after all.
Or was he simply the best choice among too many terrible options?
She frowned, her thoughts continuing in this vein.
With Aharon and I here, there’d have been little cause for worry. Neco trusts us, and accepts our counsel. But whose influence might he follow in our absence?
The possibilities were worrying. Captain Shai’s? Commander Nane’s? Whoever he chose to act as his advisor, the very role she was meant to fill? Or someone she hadn’t even taken notice of, someone who was presently lying in wait, and merely hoping to seize their own chance at power?
You’re being ridiculous, Aya then told herself. Neco isn’t an idiot, nor is he naïve. He’ll do just fine on his own.
Would he though? True, her brother wasn’t stupid, but he was about to have an immense amount of responsibility set upon him, with no one left he could unreservedly trust. Admittedly, it seemed an invitation to disaster.
Still staring wordlessly at the jester, she finally spoke. “I’m leaving with Aharon,” she stated firmly.
“If that’s your desire, princess,” he replied.
“You can come with us, if you’d like,” she then offered. While uncertain how Aharon might feel about this, she thought it was only right. For without Siris’s revelation about Fajen, none of this would even be possible.
“I’ll consider it,” the jester told her in reply, although his tone bordered on dismissive. “In the meantime, you’d best concentrate on setting this plan into motion. You’ve only a couple of days to see it executed.”
She sent him an irritated glance over his choice of words, but nodded. “Yes, of course. Thank you again, Siris.”
The jester dipped into a slight bow. “If I can be of any further help, you’ve only to ask.”
“Actually, there is something more you can do. Find us a ship, and make certain it’s ready to sail come Fifteenth-day.”
“As you wish.”
Once he’d exited, Aya turned to Molli. “Do you think I’m wrong to leave?” she asked worriedly.
The handmaiden seemed reluctant to answer, but finally replied with a similar candor. “I think you need to ask yourself which is stronger—your sense of duty, or your love for Aharon,” she said.
“That’s an impossible choice.”
“It’s an unfair choice, but it’s one you need to make. And quickly.”
Aya’s features hardened. “I’ve already made it. I’m leaving with Aharon.”
“Then I’m leaving with you, your highness.”
Aya nodded, and did her best to stifle any lingering feelings of doubt before she turned to follow in Siris’s wake. “Come,” she said. “I need to find my brother, and begin shaping the course for our new lives.”
His father brought his breakfast the following morning, saying nothing as he slid the tray through the bars. Watching him, Aharon then rose from the floor and approached.
“Are you keeping Neco away?” he accused. “I was expecting him yesterday.”
The captain glanced at him. “Neco will be along.”
Aharon gave him an unimpressed stare. “Mysterious doesn’t suit you. Where is he?”
“Making arrangements.”
“What sorts of arrangements?”
“You’ll know everything soon enough. Until then, Aharon, you can relax. Your princess found a way to save you.”
His eyes widened. “How?”
“As I said, Neco will be along to fill you in.” Saying nothing further, his father then turned and started away, much to Aharon’s frustration.
He spent the next hour or so pacing his cell with impatience, then finally turned to his breakfast. Eating mindlessly, he barely tasted the cheese and bread as he strove to identify whatever scheme Aya had apparently come up with. Unable to fathom anything even remotely viable, he eventually just accepted the fact that he was a fool for ever doubting her.
It seemed a few more hours passed before he finally heard footsteps approaching, and by this time he was practically climbing the walls. Hurrying to the bars, he looked out to see Neco stride into view.
“Where have you been?” he demanded, nearly yelling.
The prince drew up before his cell and met his stare. “I’ve been a little preoccupied trying to save you.”
“I apologize for the inconvenience, your majesty.”
Neco smirked. “You didn’t honestly believe I’d let them execute you, did you?”
“From what I’ve been told, it didn’t sound like you had much choice.”
“I had no good choices, but thankfully Aya’s found another way.”
Aharon nodded. “My father mentioned this, but wouldn’t elaborate. What did she come up with?”
“She claims Siris deserves the bulk of the praise, but either way, my sister is an exceptionally cunning woman.”
“That’s hardly a shocking revelation to either of us. Get to the point.”
“There’s currently a man in Justice’s custody who happens to share your likeness. Aya showed me his sketch, and the resemblance really is quite remarkable. Indeed, he even shares your Birth dominion.”
Aharon nodded. “Fajen,” he said.
Neco looked surprised. “You know of him?”
“Siris seemed to find the situation amusing, and made certain I was aware. I was disappointed to learn Fajen was apprehended.”
“Well, you can start thanking your Patrons that he was.”
Aharon stared back a moment. “You’re going to switch us out and kill him in my place,” he then realized.
“The populace is demanding the death of Aharon Shai, and we’ve no intention of disappointing them. You get to live, and the masses won’t revolt against me for sparing you.”
“But an innocent man will die for a crime he didn’t commit.”
Neco rolled his eyes. “Flynn Fajen is by no measure innocent. Commander Nane was already planning on executing him for the murders he committed during his robberies.”
“Oh,” Aharon said. Considering briefly, he then nodded. “I suppose it’s of no matter, then.”
The prince gave him an exasperated look. “It never mattered. He’s a criminal.”
Aharon frowned, but decided this wasn’t the time for a morality debate. Also, and considering his own recent actions, he probably wasn’t in the best position to be making this sort of argument.
“To pull this off, you’ll have to expand our confidence,” he said instead. “Commander Nane, for one.”
“Yes, as well as your father,” Neco nodded. “I promised them both council seats in exchange for their cooperation and silence. They agreed.”
Aharon gaped at him. “You did what?”
“Oh, do shut up, Aharon. I know you wanted your father stripped of his station, but perhaps you’ll consider being grateful for once. And for what it’s worth, I suspect he might’ve agreed even without the bribe.”
Stifling further protests, Aharon replied. “Who else knows?”
“Just Aya and Siris, and the men of my private guard. They’re the only knights who don’t want you dead, and can therefore be trusted. In fact, they have every reason to celebrate your actions, since they won me the crown.”
Aharon nodded. “I presume Fajen will be brought here?”
“Yes, tonight. Your father’s overseeing his transport, during which time Fajen will reportedly escape custody.” Pausing a moment, Neco then gave him a short stare before continuing. “You’ll be assuming the identity of a notorious criminal, Aharon. You can never return here, not as Fajen or as yourself.”
Despite having already concluded this, it wasn’t easy to hear. “You could pardon me—Fajen, I mean,” he suggested.
Neco shook his head. “If you ever show your face here again, everyone will realize what we’ve done, and I simply can’t have that. I’m sorry, and I wish there was another way, but this is our only option.”
“So I secure your throne, and in return you banish me?”
“You think I want this? Or that I’m happy knowing the crown cost me my closest friend? I don’t, and I’m not. But you got caught, Aharon. I can save your life and give you a new one, but the future we’d hoped for is no longer possible. Besides which…you knew the risks, and chose to accept them.”
While everything Neco said was true, Aharon sent a glare through the bars. “We need to discuss Padus,” he then said.
The prince seemed to sigh, but straightened and met his look. “I don’t feel good about that either, but I couldn’t trust him. He could’ve changed his mind about wanting the throne at any time, and begun plotting my death.”
“You gave him your word. You gave us all your word! And making Siris carry out the act was exceptionally cruel.”
“It was a test of his loyalty, which I’ve now rewarded by dismissing Nevis’s knights. The jester is walking about freely and safely again.”
“Don’t muddy the matter. What you made him do was loathsome and unnecessary.”
“I’m sorry you see it that way.”
Aharon’s glare deepened. “And what of Aya?”
“What of her?”
“Well, I’ve found myself wondering what might happen should your delusions start lengthening in her direction.”
The prince looked genuinely startled. “What?”
“She’s the only sibling you have left, and it’s clear your paranoia’s beginning to get the better of you.”
“Are you implying I’d hurt her?”
“If you do, best believe I’ll be back for you, whatever my identity. And I’ll serve you the same fate I gave your father.”
Neco gave him a brief stare of shock before his own anger surfaced. “I would never hurt Aya, and find it appalling you’d so much as suggest otherwise. Perhaps check your own paranoia, Aharon.”
“I’m not the one who failed to honor my word.”
“Always so self-righteous. Even now, while locked in a cell and awaiting execution.”
“I earned this position by shouldering your cause.”
Neco matched his glare. “A cause you chose to pursue.”
Unfortunately, he couldn’t argue with that, and therefore just maintained his glower.
Neco gazed back a long moment before finally speaking again. “I don’t want to argue with you.”
“Then swear on your Patrons that you’ll never harm Aya.”
Frowning, the prince brought a hand to his golden medallions, those displaying Justice and Commerce. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” he said, “but very well. May Anniah and Ozveld both forsake me should I ever cause Aya harm.”
Satisfied, Aharon relaxed. “Thank you for that.”
Neco gave him another stare before eventually replying. “There’s a final matter we need to address, and I’m afraid it also concerns my sister.”
Aharon straightened. “Yes?”
“She’s determined to leave with you, but you must understand why I can’t allow that.”
Falling silent, Aharon couldn’t claim surprise over either revelation. He was also torn over how to respond.
Still watching him, the prince appeared uncertain at his silence. “You’re taking on the identity of a known criminal, a man we know nothing about and who may have countless enemies,” he then continued. “Aya can’t be brought into such uncertainty, and deserves better.”
Aharon still didn’t reply.
“Furthermore,” Neco went on, “I need her. Once you’re gone, she’ll be the only one I can safely trust, to say nothing of the fact that she’ll make an invaluable advisor. I can’t let her leave, Aharon.”
Looking back, Aharon finally spoke. “You’re right, but also wrong. I agree she deserves better than whatever life I can presently give her, but she also deserves to make this decision herself. She’ll hate us both if we make it for her, and rightfully so.”
Neco sighed. “Then what would you suggest?”
He took a long moment to think. “Five years seems fair,” he then said. “In that time, I can resolve any troubles in Fajen’s past, and create an existence worthy of her, an existence where she’ll be safe and happy. Then, and presuming she’ll still have me, you’ll need to let her go.”
The prince gazed back wordlessly.
“Five years is plenty of time for you to settle in as king, establish your rule and locate someone worthy of taking her place as advisor,” Aharon went on. “And in such time, you’ll have found others whom you can trust.”
“Yes,” Neco protested, “but she’s my blood. The very last of it I have left.”
“You should’ve considered that before you had Padus killed,” Aharon told him. “Besides which, in five years’ time you’ll be married and secured with at least an heir or two of your own, so Aya won’t be the last of your blood. Not by then.”
Neco sighed once more, but followed this with a grudging nod. “All right,” he said. “I’ll agree to release her in five years, but not because your arguments swayed me. The truth is, I simply can’t imagine either of you being happy without the other.”
Aharon wished he felt as similarly confident. “She just waited two years for me. Expecting her to endure another five is probably ludicrous.”
“No. She’ll wait, and she’ll go to you.” Neco paused a moment. “But she won’t let you flee the city without her, so a deception will be in order.”
“I know,” Aharon said, rather wearily. Envisioning Aya’s rage upon discovering this, he thought waiting five years before having to face her might be to his benefit. And even then, he doubted he’d escape her wrath unscathed.
“I truly am sorry about all this,” Neco then said. “I can’t imagine how it feels to be facing such an unknown future.”
Truth be told, the prospect was rather daunting. Although, he thought there was a way he could make it a little less so.
“I need you to send my father back down here,” he told the prince, “and before he brings Fajen.”
“Why?”
“Because I have to learn everything I can about Fajen’s life prior to assuming it, which means I need to entice him to talk. I want to know if he has a family waiting for him somewhere, the names of any enemies he has, or if he’s sought by Justice in other parts of the world. But he won’t tell me these things if he realizes why he’s here, and what we aim to do.”
“I still don’t understand where your father comes in.”
“The moment Fajen sees me, and notes our similar look, he’ll at least suspect what we intend. I therefore need this truth…obscured.”
Neco frowned in understanding. “We could just put a hood on you.”
“That would hardly invite personal conversation. I figure a few bruises should do it, and can’t imagine my father refusing to deliver the necessary damage. He’s certainly had ample practice.”
The prince’s eyebrows flickered. “Very well, I’ll send him down.” He stopped a moment, then added, “I do wish you all the fortune your Patrons can spare you. This isn’t what you deserve.”
“I’ll manage, but there’s one more thing I would ask of you.”
“Yes?”
“Whatever you truly intend for Siris, I want you to spare him and keep him on as jester. By now, you’ve no cause to doubt his loyalty—or at least, his survival instincts.”
Neco grimaced. “Why?”
“Because he’s the reason I’m not going to be executed in two days’ time. Also, he’s devoted to Aya.”
“Fine,” Neco agreed. “I’ll leave him be.”
Aharon took in his expression before emitting a quiet laugh. “Don’t look so disappointed. At the end of it all, he’s no worse or better than the rest of us.”
“I suppose.” Neco glanced away a moment, then looked back. “This is the last time we’ll speak.”
Aharon nodded. This is why he took so long to come, he then realized. He knew it marked our final farewell.
Still holding the other man’s gaze, Aharon gave a small, sudden grin. “Who can know for certain? Perhaps out paths will cross again one day.”
Neco looked doubtful, but also amused. “Perhaps,” he said.
“Either way,” Aharon went on, before stepping back and dropping into an elegant bow, “I wish you a lengthy and prosperous reign, my king.”
While Aharon could only make his best guess at the time, it seemed the middle of the night when Flynn Fajen was dragged into the dungeon, his wrists and ankles shackled. Escorting him was the captain, as well as a few knights who Aharon recognized as men of Neco’s private guard. It appeared they hadn’t wanted to take any chances of Fajen actually escaping, although come morning, this is what everyone in Malat would be led to believe.
Having been dozing, Aharon now pushed himself into a sitting position and watched the activity with a curious eye, his gaze lingering on the man whose identity he’d soon be appropriating. Fajen was presently cussing out those transporting him, and making their task as difficult as possible by refusing to walk on his own, forcing the knights to literally drag him along. Also, his face displayed a few fresh-looking bruises, and Aharon wondered if this was the result of his behavior, or perhaps a further attempt to deceive those who’d be observing the execution and knew precisely what the real Aharon Shai looked like. For while he and Fajen certainly shared a resemblance, Aharon now noted, they were by no means identical—even despite the similar pattern of bruises presently showing on both their faces.
In addition to Fajen’s slightly wider nose, he saw the man’s eyes were also more hooded than his own, and his chin less pointed. Their complexions and hairlines were similar enough to pass, and both kept their black hair cropped short, but Aharon thought the man stood at least an inch shorter than himself, possibly two, and as he’d already known, Fajen’s medallions were silver while his own were gold. Furthermore, Fajen had a prominent and nasty-looking scar running along the side of his neck, a notable white streak upon brown flesh and a fixture Aharon had no desire to replicate on himself. Those overseeing the execution—his father and Commander Nane, presumably—would have to somehow conceal this very notable identifier.
After removing his shackles, the knights threw Fajen into the cell next to Aharon’s. The captain then secured the door, sent his son the briefest of glances, and then turned to lead his men away, the sound of their steps echoing down the corridor.
In a further attempt to conceal their resemblance, Aharon kept himself in the shadows as he watched Fajen push himself to his feet and observe his new surroundings with a glare. Catching sight of him, the man then spoke.
“What are you staring at?” he snapped.
“You must be Fajen,” Aharon replied.
The man looked surprised. “You’ve heard of me?”
Aharon moved a hand to his Birth medallion, and leaned forward slightly to bring its surface into the flickering torchlight. “All local Thieves have heard of you. You made some impressive heists before Justice nabbed you.”
Fajen moved to the bars connecting their cells and looked to the medallion before nodding. “I did,” he agreed. “And now they think to execute me, simply for being true to my nature.”
Eyeing him, Aharon noted that the man’s Secondary was inverted, like his own, while his eyes seemed a much lighter shade of blue. Furthermore, he thought Fajen looked older than he was, by perhaps two or three years.
“I think they mean to execute you for the murders you committed, not the thieving,” he then said.
Fajen scowled. “And what do you know of it?”
Aharon shrugged. “Nothing, really.”
“Then shut up.” Fajen turned and stepped away to inspect the lock securing his cell. After fiddling with it a moment, he swore, turned back, and then systematically began testing the strength of every cell bar, pulling on each as he rounded about the space.
Aharon watched the process in silence, until Fajen finally started back his way. “You think I didn’t try that?” he asked the man.
Fajen ignored him, and went on to complete his unsuccessful attempts before retreating to the straw that lined the far corner of his cell. Sinking down, he turned his back and was snoring in minutes.
Withholding a sigh of frustration, Aharon followed his lead, stretching out in his own cell and deciding he may as well get some sleep. Even so, and despite closing his eyes, he lay awake a long while, trying to discern how he might persuade Fajen to talk. Eventually sleep came, and he drifted off while hoping he’d find better luck in the morning; he had only one day to learn everything he could about the man’s life, for the following day was Fifteenth and would see Fajen executed in his place.
He awoke to the sounds of breakfast being delivered, the trays pushed through the bars by one of Neco’s knights. The man didn’t speak, and retreated immediately without acknowledging either him or Fajen. Rising to his feet, Aharon stretched in an attempt to overcome the stiffness in his limbs, then moved to collect his tray while being mindful to keep his face in the shadows as much as possible.
Settling down with his food a minute later, he glanced into the other cell to see Fajen casually munching on a wedge of cheese. Noting his look, the man then spoke.
“So, what atrocity did you commit to deserve the honor of my company?” he asked.
“I killed a knight,” Aharon told him, having already concocted his cover story. Since Fajen had now been incarcerated for several days, it was unlikely he even knew the king had been slain, thus leaving him with no reason to suspect Aharon’s true crime—or identity.
Fajen was now nodding. “I suppose that means you’ll be dying along with me. Here’s to the condemned,” he added, hoisting his flagon of water.
“You seem to be handling the situation quite well,” Aharon observed.
“Actually, I’m confused. Commander Nane’s been going on and on about how much he looks forward to killing me, when suddenly I’m removed from his custody and dragged to the palace dungeon in the dead of night. I don’t see the sense in it.”
“Given your reputation, they were probably worried you were going to escape. Unfortunately, this setting is much more secure.”
Fajen seemed to consider, then nodded. “I suppose that could explain it, although not why the royal guard acted as my escort. I thought they only involved themselves with royal matters.”
“They do, but since you’re on royal grounds, their presence isn’t a mystery,” Aharon told him, hoping to quash his curiosity. “You’ve only been in Malat a short time, yes?” he then asked.
“A few weeks,” Fajen nodded.
“Where do you call home?”
“Isa.”
Isa was Ceja’s home city of Destiny, and located far to the north. Bolstered by this information, Aharon continued in a casual tone. “What brought you here to the royal city?”
Fajen shrugged. “I’ve never left Ceja, and decided it was time for some adventure. I thought to take ship to Swythe Island, and was simply lining my pockets to fund the voyage.”
“Word is, you successfully robbed multiple money-houses before you were caught. You should’ve had plenty of money to afford the fare.”
Fajen issued an irritable nod. “I admit, I grew greedy. I should’ve left after the second burglary, but I had such an easy time of it that I couldn’t resist carrying on.”
“Robbing money-houses was easy?” Aharon repeated, somewhat wonderingly. Because Cejans loved their gold and generally took every precaution to protect it, this statement, if true, was rather impressive.
The other man now smirked at him. “Provided you’re not afraid of doing whatever is necessary,” he said.
“If I was, I wouldn’t be here,” Aharon reminded him.
But rather than view this as an invitation to reveal his pilfering designs, Fajen’s look shifted to one of unease as he tossed away his empty breakfast tray. “Have you any idea how they mean to execute us?” he asked. “In Isa, such things are usually carried out by beheading, but I’m curious to know if the same holds true here in the royal city.”
“Beheadings are common,” Aharon informed him, “but when the event is intended as a public spectacle, the king usually instructs his royal jester to enact the deed by way of his light-bringer abilities.”
Fajen grimaced. “Lightning? All things considered, I think I’d prefer the axe.”
Having witnessed the application of both methods, Aharon had to agree; he too would choose the axe. But since Neco would want Fajen’s corpse—or more specifically, his face—as unrecognizable as possible following the event, little question Siris’s Magic would be tasked for the duty.
“Speaking of beheading,” Aharon then went on, looking over again, “that’s an impressive scar. Might I ask how it was received?”
Fajen grinned, bringing a hand to his neck while emitting a brief laugh. “My wife,” he said by way of explanation.
Aharon’s eyebrows rose. “Your wife stabbed you in the neck?”
“She was an ornery cuss.”
“Was?”
“I suppose I should’ve said late wife.”
Aharon paused slightly. “How did she die?”
“How do you think? She tried to kill me.”
“I see.” He was beginning to form the opinion that this man would soon receive the Fate he deserved. Fellow thief or not, Fajen’s very nature seemed malicious, which made the circumstances much easier to accept. Still, it felt strange to be conversing with a man who’d be dying in his place the following day, as did trying to lure him into revealing all relevant details of his life.
“Any children?” Aharon now followed conversationally.
Fajen shot him a look that bordered on annoyance. “No. What’s with all the questions?”
“I’m just trying to distract myself. I’ve been imprisoned down here for days, and find it a relief having someone to talk to.”
Fajen seemed to accept this and nodded. “At least you know you’ll be dying in good company,” he said.
Aharon resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and decided flattery would probably prove his best strategy. “Considering your reputation,” he now said, “I’m inclined to think you’ve led a terribly exciting life, filled with thrilling heists and countless dangers.”
Fajen smiled and nodded. “More than you can imagine,” he agreed.
“Would you speak of these exploits?” Aharon asked. “It’ll help pass the time, and keep my mind from dwelling on our impending dooms.”
“Very well,” Fajen said, settling in.
A few hours and countless stories later, Aharon was convinced that Flynn Fajen wasn’t only an unsavory character, but also a whopping liar. Every tale he’d told had been more outlandish and unbelievable than the one before, and were even half of them true, this man would’ve been notorious throughout the entire continent, if not the world. Which he most certainly wasn’t.
Unfortunately, and since everything he’d said was most definitely untrue, this meant Aharon hadn’t learned anything further of the man’s past. However, if Fajen’s life had actually been the slightest bit interesting, these lies wouldn’t have been necessary. This seemed to imply he’d led a more or less boring existence, particularly when coupled with the fact that he’d already admitted to never leaving Ceja, much less the continent. Because Aharon planned on fleeing the north and never returning, it therefore seemed he’d be free to begin his life anew without worry of Fajen’s past rearing its ugly head.
Upon drawing these conclusions, Aharon finally began shuffling back across his cell.
Deep in the telling of his latest fabrication, Fajen cut himself off and looked over. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t take anymore,” Aharon told him. “Your stories are the things of dreams and make believe. Did you actually expect me to swallow this rubbish?”
Fajen gave him a blank stare before his expression turned to one of anger. “You wanted to hear this!” he insisted.
“Yes, but had I known what I was truly inviting, I would’ve begged for a speedier execution,” Aharon replied. “The only thing I don’t understand is how you successfully robbed those money-houses, because you’re clearly too stupid to have done so on your own. I suspect you had inside help, probably from the men you’re now accused of killing.”
Fajen gaped at him a moment, then leapt to his feet and charged at the bars separating their cells. “Count yourself lucky I can’t reach you,” he hissed, clutching the iron in his fists.
Aharon didn’t respond, and simply turned his back on the man.
A short silenced followed, before Fajen began shouting further threats, and trying to entice him toward the bars. Aharon did his best to ignore him, and settled in to wait for his new life to begin.
They came for Fajen a few hours after breakfast the following day. By this time, Aharon was more than happy to see him go, and didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty over the man being executed in his stead. All in all, he’d found Flynn Fajen to be an all-around unpleasant individual.
Fajen’s escort once again included several knights of Neco’s private guard, as well as their captain. Remaining silent, Aharon watched them clamp the shackles on Fajen’s wrists and ankles, then as his father affixed a strip of leather to function as a gag. This would keep Fajen from questioning why Aharon wasn’t being chained and hauled off with him, and more importantly, prevent him from screaming the truth once he was presented to the populace as “Aharon Shai.” Aharon presumed Neco would be overseeing the event personally, and he tried not to dwell on the fact that thousands of people would soon be cheering his supposed death.
A couple hours after Fajen was dragged away, Aya appeared. Aharon moved to the bars to meet her, while inwardly dreading the deception he now had to spin.
“How went my execution?” he greeted lightly.
She sent him a frown. “Don’t be callous. Having to witness that wasn’t easy for me, despite knowing the truth.”
“Sorry.”
She nodded. “I suppose one could deem the affair a success, although Fajen obviously realized the truth once Neco proclaimed the charge of regicide and spoke your name. He began thrashing about and trying to shriek through his gag, but he was already chained to the platform by this time and given little time to react. So, while I’m afraid you appeared somewhat cowardly in your final moments, no one seemed to question your identity.”
“I’m not sure how to take that. I assume Siris performed the honors?”
“Yes, and he made quite a show of it. There wasn’t much left of the body.”
“All the better.”
“Were you able to learn much about Fajen’s life?” she questioned.
Aharon nodded. “I learned enough, and don’t foresee any problems.”
“Good. I’ve had Siris working on finding us a ship, and he believes he’s located a crew that’s more interested in coin than in asking questions. How do you feel about the east?”
Since he’d already traveled the western continent as himself, Aharon thought east was probably a wise choice. Swythe Island was also an option, but since he didn’t wish to be trapped at sea for weeks on end, the east emerged as the logical answer.
“It’s perfect,” he told her. “When do we depart?”
She paused and eyed him a moment. “Neco revealed that I intend to go with you?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not going to argue?”
“That never results in my favor. Besides, I want you to come with me.”
Aya looked back, and a gleam of uncertainty lit her eye. “Are you worried over what might happen if we both leave Neco?”
Watching her, Aharon suddenly realized that she wasn’t entirely sure about this—not because she didn’t want to go, but because she was hesitant to abandon her brother. Or rather, abandon Ceja to her brother’s whims.
“Do you want to stay?” he asked her.
“No,” she stated firmly.
“Do you feel you need to stay?” he amended.
She gave in to a long pause. “Yes,” she then said, “but even so, this isn’t what I intend.”
Aharon took a long minute to think, feeling grateful that the boundaries of their relationship invited such blatant honesty. It certainly made things easier, not having to guess where she stood.
“I was planning on leaving without you,” he then confessed. “I’m sorry.”
The revelation didn’t seem to take her by surprise, but she definitely wasn’t pleased. “Why?” she demanded.
“Because Neco needs you, as does Ceja. And because you deserve better than whatever life I can presently give you.”
“I deserve better?” she repeated incredulously. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re all I ever wanted, Aharon.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re a princess.”
“You speak of duty?”
“In part. And also that a life on the run simply wasn’t meant for you.”
Aya glared at him. “So you thought to disappear, and vanish from my life forever?”
“No, not forever. Neco and I discussed it, and thought five years was fair.”
“Five years?” she repeated, her tone evincing her mounting fury.
Nodding, Aharon inwardly braced himself. “We deemed this enough time for you to help Neco establish his rule, and for me to fashion some manner of decent life for us. It was then I would’ve sent for you.”
Her glare deepened. “You just assumed I’d wait for you another five years?”
“I didn’t assume, but hoped. I understand if you’re unwilling.” When she made no reply, he eventually went on. “Also, let’s not forget how strange it would look, you vanishing just days after I was supposedly killed. The truth would have been obvious.”
When she still remained silent, his unease grew.
“Aya?” he finally prodded. “I’m sorry I meant to deceive you. I was only trying to do what was best for you, and keep you from making a decision you might come to regret.”
She gazed at him coldly. “Had you done this, I never would’ve forgiven you.”
When he opened his mouth to respond, she cut him off.
“As it is,” she continued, her voice raising in both tone and volume, “I’m furious that the two of you decided this without even asking me how I felt, or what I thought. Your audacity is disgusting, and utterly disrespectful.”
Aharon said nothing, now deeming this his wisest move.
“I can believe such behavior of Neco,” she went on, “but you shock and disappoint me—emotions I’ve about had my fill of lately.”
Despite himself, his eyes now flashed back at her. “This past week hasn’t been easy on any of us. And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one being forced to abandon my home, and the only future I ever envisioned for myself. A future that included you, Aya.”
“You’re only proving your own foolishness!” she shouted back at him, her temper finally exploding. “You didn’t lose everything, because you still had me! I would’ve gone with you, and had every intention of doing so. But you made the decision for me, assuming you knew best!”
He strove to harness his own rising agitation. “In this matter, I do know best. You have no knowledge of this world beyond Ceja’s borders, whereas I’ve experienced and explored it. You don’t understand life outside this palace, and expecting you to confront such a vast unknown wouldn’t have been fair to you. Not until I’ve had the chance to secure whatever existence I was bringing you into.”
“That wasn’t for you to decide! With or without you, it’s my life, Aharon, and I’ll choose where and with whom I will spend it!”
“You don’t know what you’re saying, or the realities that await us!”
“And you don’t know my heart! How dare you speak for it?”
Sighing, he took a step back from the bars and shook his head. “Can you please try and view this rationally? And perhaps remind yourself that leaving you is the last thing in the world I want to do?”
Her eyes grew small. “You think I’m being irrational?”
“I just meant—”
“Enough!” she exploded. “Take your presumptions and have a wonderful life in the east, Aharon. A life that you should’ve spent sharing with me.” She turned and strode off.
Staring after her with wide eyes, he was too stunned to speak for a moment. “Aya!” he then called.
Ignoring him, she continued on and quickly fell from sight. Swearing, he shook his head again, thinking he might’ve been better off just keeping his mouth shut after all.
No, he then decided. If I’d done that, there would’ve been no chance of forgiveness.
As it stood, he could only hope Aya would return once her temper cooled, because he couldn’t possibly leave while matters between them remained so ugly. A further uncertainty was when he was going to be released, for with Fajen dead, there seemed no reason to keep him locked up. Brimming with frustration, he retreated farther into his cell and mumbled irritably under his breath.
He was still pacing about sometime later when his father appeared.
“I hope you’ve come to release me,” Aharon snapped, moving toward the cell door.
The captain drew up and shook his head. “In keeping with the pretense of your demise, I’ve pulled all security from the dungeon, but I’m not to free you until tomorrow evening. Everyone’s focus will be on the coronation ceremony, so it should be relatively easy for you to sneak off the grounds without being seen.”
Furious, Aharon slammed a hand against the bars. “Another day in this cage?” he yelled.
His father took him in. “Are you still complaining?”
“I’m dirty, I’m sore, and I just had an argument with Aya. So yes, I’m still complaining.”
The captain displayed a slanted, half-smile. “If you’re seen and apprehended while escaping, we won’t be saving you a second time.”
“You were hardly a component in saving me the first. You merely did was what necessary to preserve your council seat.”
“Is that what you think?”
“Yes, that’s what I think.”
His father shook his head. “Is this truly where you wish to leave matters between us?”
Aharon gave him a blank stare. “I fail to see an attainable alternative.”
The captain sighed. “Stubborn to the end, I see.”
“Not stubborn,” Aharon replied, bringing a hand to his Secondary medallion and flipping it over. “Just vengeful.”
After eyeing the golden circle a moment, his father’s gaze shifted back to him. “I’m obviously wasting my breath trying to reason with you.”
“You most certainly are.”
“As you please then, Aharon. But understand, this is the last time we’ll ever set eyes on each other.”
“At least one of my prayers has been answered.”
The captain frowned. “Is there no shred of forgiveness in you?”
Aharon regarded him a moment, debating another snappy reply, before finally speaking. “Actually, there is one thing you can do, one thing that would mean something to me.”
“Yes?”
“Zaun,” he began.
His father nodded. “I’ve not struck him since you confronted me two years ago.”
“I know, which is why you’re still breathing,” Aharon told him. “Now, I need your word this won’t change.”
“You have it.”
“Also, perhaps consider seeking Zaun’s forgiveness. I don’t need you now, but he does, and he’s still young enough that he might forgive you.”
“Yes. I will try.”
“Furthermore, stop blaming him for mother’s death. Women die during childbirth, and it wasn’t his fault.”
“I know this. You’re right.”
“He’s going to be angry and hurt that I didn’t bring him with me,” Aharon went on.
“I’m surprised you haven’t proposed this.”
“I thought about it, but it would look too suspicious if he disappeared now. Once he’s fifteen I’ll send word, and invite him to join me wherever I am.” Conveniently, Zaun would reach this age in just under five years’ time, which led Aharon to hope that Zaun and Aya would reunite with him collectively. Although, and considering the mess he’d just made of his and Aya’s relationship, this presently seemed like a wildly-optimistic imagining.
“Sensible,” his father replied to him now.
“If he decides to join me, don’t try to stop him,” Aharon warned.
“Fine.”
Aharon nodded and took a step back. “Farewell then, father. I hope the remainder of your life delivers everything you deserve.”
The man responded by unhooking a ring of keys from his belt and stepping over to the cell door. “Remain here in your cell until late tonight, then sneak your way into the tunnels,” he instructed. “Say a proper farewell to your princess, then depart tomorrow during the coronation.”
Aharon watched him turn the key in the lock before replying. “Telling me to await a late hour is kind of silly when I don’t have a window.”
“It’s almost Eleventh-hour now. Count it down.”
Aharon nodded.
“Also,” his father went on, “be careful making your way to the docks. Everyone in the city believes Fajen escaped custody two days ago, including Justice, so you can’t let yourself be spotted.”
“I think I can handle that.”
“Then farewell, my son. I wish you much fortune, wherever you may land.”
Aharon didn’t reply, watching in silence as his father turned and retreated.
Once more alone, he returned to his pacing, and impatiently began counting off the minutes while willing time to hurry.
After storming from the dungeon, Aya’s intention was to hunt down her brother and relay her opinion of his behavior. Eventually, and much to her irritation, she learned he was enclosed in a meeting with a few of his future council members, and with much effort she stifled the impulse to interrupt. Instead, she roamed the palace grounds, cursing the situation in general while Molli walked beside her, saying nothing.
Too annoyed to bother with supper, Aya finally reentered the palace and was heading for the nearest staircase when she caught sight of Neco emerging from his meeting. Shifting direction, she veered toward him and latched onto his arm, ignoring those in his company as she pulled him into the nearest room and slammed the door shut behind them.
“How dare you?” she demanded, turning to face him.
He took her in. “If you’re expecting an answer, you’ll have to be more specific.”
“Aharon told me about this five year plan of yours. You’re both reprehensible.”
“Ah,” he nodded. “So he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, then? I’m not entirely surprised.”
“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”
“No. Aya, you’re the most level-headed woman I know, but when it comes to Aharon your emotions overtake your sense. And you’re only giving further proof of this now.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, tomorrow I will become the king of Ceja, and must therefore begin acting in the realm’s best interests. Unequivocally, this includes having you as my advisor.”
Aya paused and gave him an assessing stare. “Do you truly think so highly of me?” she then asked.
“Yes. I’m smart enough to know—and admit—that I’ll be a better ruler with you at my side, and that I’ll need you, at least during the initial years of my reign. So think me selfish and reprehensible all you like, but don’t expect an apology. My motives speak to the betterment of Ceja.”
She shook her head at him. “Why didn’t you just say this to me, rather than plot a deception?”
“Because as I said, you become irrational when matters involve Aharon. I couldn’t take the risk of you leaving in spite of my explanations.”
Falling into a contemplative silence, she was annoyed to discover that his point of view made sense. It was also very much like Neco to dismiss any negative repercussions his actions might cause, so long as his goal was met; indeed, his tendency to focus on the result and ignore the details was one of the reasons she was wary of leaving him. Regardless though, and because her desires happened to be the details he was presently ignoring, she couldn’t completely stifle her anger.
“You should’ve just come to me and explained yourself,” she told him now.
Neco was beginning to look irritated. “The fact that you even contemplated leaving reveals your present lack of sense. Did you not consider how suspicious it would look? Your betrothal to Aharon is hardly a secret, and if you’d vanished just days after I supposedly executed him, talk of conspiracy would certainly follow.”
“As would your fears of a revolt.”
“Yes. Use your head, Aya.”
She frowned. “It’s a stupid argument in any case. I could’ve just followed after him in a few weeks, or staged my own death. Given the recent carnage dealt our line, I doubt anyone would’ve questioned my demise, however it supposedly occurred.”
“This is all beside the point.”
“Is it?” she challenged.
“You can’t possibly still be considering leaving with him. Or is he less reprehensible than I am?”
“At least he told me the truth.”
Neco gave her an exasperated stare. “You’re beginning to try my patience, so let me be clear,” he then told her. “You’ll be remaining here in the palace, and will serve as my advisor for the next five years. If you still wish to reunite with Aharon following this, you’ll be free to do so with my blessing. But until then, you are to fulfill your duty and issue no complaint.”
Aya took a step closer. “You aren’t my king yet. And if I choose to leave, you can’t stop me.”
“Oh, I very much can. And should you try, be advised that you’ll be risking Aharon’s safety.”
Her eyes widened. “You dare threaten him? After all he’s done for you?”
“I dare nothing, since you insist on making this decision yourself. Choose wisely, sister.”
A long silence followed.
“Perhaps you’re more like father than I ever realized,” she finally responded.
“I suppose only time will tell,” he returned with a shrug.
She left the room feeling dazed, and made straight for her private quarters. Upon arriving, and at Molli’s instance, she nibbled on some fruit, cursing her brother all the while. A knock announced Siris’s arrival a short time later, and Molli rose to admit him.
“All is in order with the ship, your highness,” he reported. “The crew have been paid for their readiness and discretion, and will be awaiting Aharon’s presence at the wharf tomorrow evening.”
“Excellent, Siris,” she told him.
“Still to be relayed is whether they’ll be transporting one passenger, or three,” the jester then added, his glance moving to include both her and Molli.
Aya felt her rage resurface at the inquiry. “Aharon will be departing alone,” she informed him. “Neco’s left me no choice.”
“Oh?” Siris said.
“He threatened Aharon. I can’t risk it.”
The jester didn’t respond for a moment. “Perhaps it’s for the best, princess,” he then murmured quietly.
She sent him a glare. “That’s hardly the point, Siris.”
“Of course. Might I be of any further assistance?”
She thought. While still plenty angry, the entirety of her fury had now shifted to Neco, leaving her somewhat desperate to speak with Aharon and assure him that she still had every intention of joining him in five years. She also felt it might be best to alert him to Neco’s threat.
“I need to see Aharon,” she said, moving to rise.
“Don’t bother visiting the dungeon,” Siris told her. “Captain Shai already released him.”
She shot the jester a look of horror. “He’s gone? He was supposed to sneak off tomorrow, during the coronation ceremony!”
“You honestly believe he would’ve left without seeing you?”
Given how they’d left matters, she had to entertain the possibility. Aharon possessed many wonderful qualities, but forgiveness wasn’t one of them.
“What are you saying?” she now insisted. “Where is he?”
“In the tunnels,” the jester told her. “He was instructed to wait for a later hour before leaving his cell, but he claims to have grown impatient.”
“How do you know this?”
“I was slinking about myself when I encountered him. He asked me to alert you to the fact that he’ll be along shortly, so don’t be startled by his presence.”
Exhaling in relief, she threw a quick glance at the fireplace before looking back. “What is he doing?”
“He asked me to gather a few items for him—some clothes, coin, and his sword—and at my suggestion, he’s presently tending to his cleanliness.” The man paused to wrinkle his nose. “The result of spending several days in a cell wasn’t flattering, neither in a visual nor odor-related sense.”
“All right,” she nodded. “Thank you for your help, Siris.”
He dipped into a slight bow before moving to exit. “Until tomorrow, highness. Sleep well.”
Following his departure, Aya had nothing to do but wait. Eventually she dismissed Molli, sending the handmaiden off to bed, before settling on the sofa nearest the fireplace. A short time later, she heard the familiar sound of the latch being unclasped and quickly rose to her feet.
“Aya?” Aharon’s voice ventured uncertainly.
“What took you so long?” she hissed in return.
He dragged himself into the hearth and sent her a cautious look. “I was a little worried you might set me on fire.”
She shook her head and reached to help him to his feet, noting that he’d apparently taken Siris’s advice to heart; he looked a lot cleaner than he had earlier today, and had even made the effort to shave.
“I’m not angry anymore,” she told him as he now straightened before her. “Or not at you, at least.”
He looked surprised. “I’m relieved to hear that, but what possible force cooled your fury?”
Frowning, she stepped back to the sofa and sank down. “It’s hasn’t cooled, just shifted focus.”
“Neco?”
“Yes,” she said, before going on to give a thorough reiteration of her recent conversation with her brother.
By the time she finished speaking, Aharon had settled beside her, and he didn’t look especially pleased. “You realize he only threatened me because he knew it would prevent you from leaving?” he then said. “By doing this, he could be sure you wouldn’t so much as try.”
“That doesn’t excuse the fact that he said it.”
“No, but I doubt he even considered taking such action. He knew he’d have no cause to.”
“I can’t believe you’re making excuses for him,” she stated with disgust.
He didn’t immediately reply, and as she studied him, Aya began to identify subtle signs of anger. Eyes narrowing, she went on to wonder why he was trying so hard to conceal this.
So you won’t hate the last of your kin, and the man you’re to spend the next five years serving.
Expression hardening, she spoke again. “If he’s only posturing, why not call him out on it?” she challenged. “We still have time to discern a way for me to escape with you.”
Aharon looked to her, meeting her gaze but saying nothing.
Holding his eye, she began to nod. “So you’re not so certain, after all.”
He sighed. “Not entirely.”
“Well, much as I appreciate your attempt to preserve mine and Neco’s relationship, I’d prefer your honesty.”
“Fine. The truth is, I’m not sure what he’d do if we challenged him,” Aharon admitted. “Also, it needs to be said that I still basically agree with his thinking. You’ll do much good here as his advisor, while I’m establishing a life for us in the east.”
“Five years is a long time, Aharon.”
He nodded, somewhat tiredly. “I’m aware, and if I lose you to someone else in that time, I’ll understand. Expecting you to wait—and reject your royal standing—is unfair, but I’ll be hoping for it all the same.”
“You always mattered more to me than this life. I’ll wait,” she vowed.
“I’m sorry it all unfolded this way.”
“I know, but there’s really no blame to be had. We’ll simply have to make the best of it, however we can.”
“Does that mean I have your word that you won’t try sneaking after me?”
After issuing him a flat look, she nodded. “Yes, but know I’ll be anticipating your summons. Come spring of year 1623, you’d best not keep me waiting.”
“If I do, you can probably assume I’m dead, or else caught up in some horrible calamity,” he replied.
She sent him a stricken look. “You think I’m willing to wait five years only to learn you died? Don’t even jest about it, Aharon. In fact, promise me it won’t happen.”
He grinned. “I think this is what Neco meant when he said you’re not always sensible when it comes to me.”
She smacked his shoulder. “You owe me this.”
“I promise to do my absolute best not to die before laying eyes on you again.”
“Not good enough,” she returned with a shake of her head.
“Aya, I can hardly—”
“Do you really want to spend the entire night arguing?” she interrupted.
Aharon’s grin resurfaced. “All right. I promise not to die. Happy?”
“Hardly, but it’ll have to do. What of Neco?”
Briefly, he met her gaze. “What of him?”
Her returning look turned sly. “You’re not fooling me. You’re angry, and want him to know that he overstepped by making that threat.”
“Sometimes it’s annoying that you know me so well. But in this case, I think I’d be wise to just let the matter go.”
“I’ve known you my entire life, and have never seen evidence you’re capable of that.”
Aharon smiled. “Even so.”
She eyed him. “You already have something in mind.”
“Maybe.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Incredibly. It’s also guaranteed to cause Neco much humiliation.”
Aya smiled. “Tell me.”
Awakening, Aharon looked over at Aya and found himself hoping this wasn’t the last time he’d be experiencing this moment. He then lay still, and worked to assemble his thoughts in order to tackle his rather daunting goals for the day.
A short while later Aya stirred, and they rose to share a leisurely, private breakfast before deploying Molli to summon Siris. Speaking with the jester for some time, once they finally dismissed him they were forced to confront their farewells, a moment Aharon had been dreading. Afterward, he crawled his way back into the tunnels while Aya began preparing for Neco’s coronation, as well as her induction to his royal council.
At only twenty one years old, she was to become the youngest royal advisor in Ceja’s history, if not the world’s. Regardless, Aharon was confident she’d flourish in the role, and serve the realm to its greatest advantage. Indeed, it was one of the reasons why he was so intent on her staying.
As far as Neco’s threat was concerned, he felt it was unlikely the man would actually follow through if challenged, but as he’d confessed to Aya the night before, neither was he completely free of doubt. In any case, and if for no more reason than menacing his sister in this fashion, some form of retribution was now in order, a retribution Aharon had every intention of delivering prior to his departure. Having schemed late into the night, he and Aya had fashioned a course of action that, if successful, would carry his idea to fruition, and utterly humiliate Ceja’s new king.
Honestly, and whether he’d meant his words or not, Neco should’ve known better.
The coronation ceremony was meant to begin late this afternoon, and was being held within the Great Hall of the palace. The Hall was vast, and easily capable of seating the entire body of local nobility which numbered approximately a thousand. Once all were gathered, entertainments arranged and presided over by Siris would commence, followed by the official crowning of the king and establishment of his council. A meal would then be served, where Neco’s subjects could feast and celebrate in his honor.
Throughout Siris’s procession of amusements, the royal crown would be resting on a pedestal, set upon the stage at the head of the chamber and awaiting placement on the brow of Ceja’s latest ruler. At some point during the festivities, Aharon planned on swiping it.
Neither he nor Aya was entirely sure how Neco would react to this gesture. He was certain Aya would bear no repercussions, not only because her involvement would remain unknown, but also due to the fact that Neco valued her too highly, something the prince had already proven by way of his words and actions. Furthermore, Neco would recognize this as Aharon’s handiwork, and understand precisely why he’d done it. How he’d choose to respond was the only remaining mystery.
In any event, Aharon hoped to be free of the royal grounds and well on his way to the wharf before his crime was discovered. Otherwise, matters wouldn’t end well for him, namely because he wouldn’t be escaping execution a second time. Perceiving this risk, Aya had made an effort to talk him out of the scheme, but by that time he’d already been too captivated by the idea and wouldn’t be deterred. Accepting defeat, she’d helped him plot a path to success instead, and supplied various details necessary to the task.
Now in the tunnels, Aharon moved to collect the items he’d left on the floor above, those delivered by Siris the day before. Included was a hooded, linen overcoat, a couple purses containing gold and silver coins, a small satchel stuffed with a change of clothes, two belt knives, and his sword. Gathering these items into a large sack also brought by the jester, he returned to the third floor and climbed into the shaft leading to the vacant apartment.
Having to shove the sack along before him, his progress was slow, but since he had plenty of time to spare this was more annoying than worrisome. Still, he could at least be grateful this would prove his last pass through these horribly confining shafts, their very reason for being still unknown to him. The day before he’d asked Siris if he could shed any light on their original purpose, but the jester hadn’t known any more than he did, claiming to have stumbled upon one of the entrances by happenstance about a year earlier.
In any case, Aharon had more important matters to focus on.
Finally reaching the apartment, he crawled into the hearth and then spent the majority of the next few hours pacing about nervously. Eventually, he moved to the window and watched the hordes of nobility start streaming onto the grounds, the lords and ladies all dressed in their expensive finery. When late afternoon at last neared, he moved to the sack and began suiting up.
The overcoat was far too warm, and would appear horribly out of place, but since concealing his identity was significantly more important than his comfort, he’d just have to deal with it and try not to be seen. Once the garment was fitted into place, he strapped on his belt knives and money pouches, then cautiously moved onto the terrace to survey the area.
The outer courtyard sat below, and was now almost devoid of persons since the guests had all moved inside to congregate in the Hall. Several knights remained posted about the perimeter, and Aharon watched them for several minutes, timing his actions before stepping to the edge of the terrace and dropping his sword and satchel into the large bed of anemones below.
After waiting another moment to be sure he’d drawn no notice, he retreated and moved to the apartment’s main door. Unfortunately, there was no path to the Hall but through the palace corridors, meaning he was about to put his stealth to the ultimate test. Having deprived himself of his sword, he thought his knives might grant him the upper hand over a single knight, but if two or more came at him he was probably done for. Remaining unseen was therefore his utmost goal, aside from making off with Neco’s crown.
Motionless, he remained at the door another long minute, running through his planned maneuvers a final time. He was also trying to settle his nerves, which were now jangling even worse than before his assault on the king. Taking several deep breaths, he finally felt he’d gained control, only to find himself questioning his own sanity.
If you’re smart, you’ll just leave and head straight for the docks. Only a madman would attempt this and expect to survive!
Aharon couldn’t disagree, but his inner monologue seemed to be missing the point. This had nothing to do with his mental stability, and everything to do with his Secondary blessing. Neco had angered him, and leaving without enacting a fitting form of Revenge was essentially asking the impossible. Aya had recognized this and quickly abandoned any attempt to dissuade him; knowing Aharon no less well than his sister did, Neco really should’ve taken better care with his words.
In any case, and despite that he probably appeared off his hinges for pursuing this agenda, Aharon’s resolve proved stronger than his nerves as he finally reached for the door handle. Easing the door open, he peered outward, saw no one, and slipped silently into the corridor.
Because the entirety of the day’s excitement was to occur on the ground floor, he wasn’t expecting to find much activity here on the third, and wasn’t disappointed as he maneuvered toward a rarely-traveled stairway. Slinking downward, he eased to a stop upon nearing the bottom and took a moment to listen.
Nothing.
This was also anticipated, since the stairs had brought him to the ground floor’s far west corner, nowhere near the Hall or any other commonly-populated area. Edging forward, he started down the hallway, creeping noiselessly.
After winding past several turns, he stopped again and sent a quick, silent prayer to Katrien, the Patron of Thieves. He knew that after rounding the next corner there’d be any number of knights to watch out for, and his intention was to just slip around them and avoid their notice.
Fortunately, his plans didn’t necessitate having to enter the Hall by way of its actual entranceway, which would’ve been impossible without being seen; instead, he was aiming for the adjoining room, an oratory reserved strictly for the use of any and all royal persons. Since this space wasn’t technically a temple or devoted to a specific Patron, he’d have no trouble crossing its threshold, although he was a little leery over the damage he planned to cause. But best to worry about that when, and if, he made it that far.
Now cautiously rounding the corner, Aharon immediately spied three knights in the area ahead, an open space where several corridors intersected. One of these corridors led toward the Hall, where several dozen more knights were undoubtedly stationed, their purpose being to watch for threats and prevent any guests from taking it upon themselves to go exploring. Presumably meant to reinforce these efforts, Aharon studied the three knights currently before him and thought they looked bored. He further noted that his brother Turo wasn’t amongst them, not that this especially mattered. He then wondered if Turo even knew he was still alive, or if he’d been left to believe Aharon had been executed the day before. He then supposed this didn’t really matter either.
Still watching the knights, he searched for a pathway that would bring him into the north-branching corridor, which would lead him around the Hall and to the oratory. Unfortunately, he saw there were yet too few shadows to use as cover, but he thought a simple distraction would grant him enough of an opening to slip past.
Edging as near the knights as he dared, he dropped a hand to one of the money pouches at his waist and extracted a coin. Taking a moment to aim, he then threw it in the opposite direction he wished to go, hitting one of the iron torch brackets set high upon the wall. The contact produced an audible clang, and all three knights reflexively looked toward the sound.
While diverting their attention for only a moment, it was enough time for Aharon to slink about the corner and into the north corridor. Keeping against the wall, he hurried away, his boots gliding silently along the polished floor.
Slowing as he neared the next intersection, he found another pair of knights and used the same tactic to move past them. Once clear, he closed swiftly on the door leading into the oratory, but found it locked. After removing one of Aya’s hairpins from his boot where he’d tucked it that morning, it then took him only moments to spring the tumblers and push his way inside.
Closing the door behind him, he allowed himself a quick breath of relief while glancing about; not being of the royal persuasion, he’d never before entered here, but quickly deemed Aya’s description accurate. With enough light coming through the windows to give him a clear view, he made a quick scan of his surroundings while starting forward.
Not a particularly large room, at least by palace standards, a section of open space led to a slim stone alter, while unburnt candles of various colors—but mainly white and gold, representing Justice and Commerce—lined the shelves to either side. Beyond the alter sat a simple wooden bench covered with silk cushions, and decorating the wall just beyond were two large paintings, one depicting a likeness of the Patron Anniah, and the other Ozveld.
Aharon now eyed these images a moment, hoping he wasn’t about to elicit their subjects’ wrath, before sliding the wooden bench aside and exposing an empty slab of wall. Also revealed was the large, two-handed hammer Siris had left for him earlier today, a blunt and heavy tool designed to smash rock. Moreover, this wasn’t the only aid the jester had provided, and Aharon was forced to admit that he probably couldn’t have proceeded without the man’s help.
Initially, he’d been surprised by—and suspicious of—Siris’s willingness to assist with the scheme, and namely because if Neco so much as suspected his involvement, he’d kill the jester without a second thought. Much like himself, however, Siris’s motives appeared rooted in a desire for vengeance, a result of his lingering grief for Padus. Whatever his reasons though, Aharon had agreed to trust him only because Aya had insisted he could.
Sending another glance to the window, he determined it was now slightly past Thirteenth-hour, meaning the celebration in the Hall should be well underway. Fortunately, many of the acts Siris had solicited to perform involved the accompaniment of music, sounds Aharon was counting on to drown out any noise he was about to make. Moving into position, he hefted the hammer and focused his gaze on the faint scorch mark Siris had left to indicate where he needed to aim.
Under typical circumstances, Aharon thought he probably could’ve pounded away at the wall all night without causing much damage, for the stone blocks were large and thick and had been nestled in place for centuries. Interestingly, however, he’d recently been informed that lightning had the capacity to corrupt and weaken a stone’s composition, and provided this was true the section before him should now crumble with significantly greater ease.
Bracing himself, he tightened his grip on the hammer and swung, aiming for the scorch mark. Not certain what to expect, he then nearly lost his footing when the head of the hammer smashed clear through the stone, creating a generous hole and lending proof to the jester’s claims.
Three more hits and he’d broken through to the other side, creating a passageway large enough for him to crawl through. Tossing the hammer away, he retreated to collect a candle—even managing to locate one that was dark blue, the color of Thieves—before returning to the hole and sending a look within.
Beyond the wall lay the forefront of the Great Hall, or more specifically, the stage area. Upon crawling through the opening he’d just created, Aharon could now enter the space beneath the stage, which was sizable and typically reserved for storing celebratory adornments such as banners, tablecloths, and various other items typically only put to use when the royal family hosted an event. Generally, one could enter this space only through a small door located at the side of the stage, or by way of the trapdoor in its ceiling. Having now made his own entryway, Aharon moved through the hole, holding his lit candle out before him.
He immediately began hearing faint sounds of music, the volume increasing as he pushed forward and leaving him confident that his strikes with the hammer hadn’t been noted. Glancing about and seeing nothing but cobwebs and dust-covered wooden trunks, he continued on and began casting his light about in search of the trapdoor. Finally spotting it, he halted beneath it and paused a moment, forced to crouch since there wasn’t enough room to stand.
Listening, he heard the music continue, and then shift into another song. Uncertain how much time he might have, he moved to set his candle aside and then reached upward, grasping the handle of the trapdoor. Ever so slowly, he began easing it upward.
The door opened on the very surface of the stage, and was positioned at its center. Unfortunately, this put his current action in the direct sightline of everyone in the Hall, but also behind the pedestal currently displaying the crown. Only a few paces wide as its base, the pedestal would shield him from much of the audience, but not its entirety, a fact which forced him to rely on the distraction of Siris’s entertainments.
Propping the trapdoor open just enough to gain a quick view, Aharon swept his eyes about before ducking back down. The pedestal sat dead ahead, approximately five paces from his position. Beyond the stage, a handful of musicians regaled the audience with their voices and instruments, while numerous tumblers writhed and leapt all about them. Farther back were the tables upon tables of nobility, and the dais where Neco sat with those who’d soon become members of his royal council. The lighting in the Hall was painfully bright, but much less so about the stage, since this area wasn’t meant to be the focus of attention until Neco came forward to speak his oaths and don the crown.
Fighting back another onset of nerves, Aharon waited a couple of minutes before risking another quick look. Noting that the setting appeared unchanged, he retreated again and strove for patience.
Wait for the fire-masters, Siris had told him. They’re always guaranteed to mesmerize an audience, and will grant you the best chance of going unnoticed.
As he waited, he dug into his trouser pocket and retrieved a tiny scroll, its message written while he’d been killing time in the vacant apartment on the third floor. Now wedging the parchment between his fingers, his lips twitched into a brief smirk as he envisioned Neco’s reaction upon reading it.
The song changed again, and then once more, before Aharon eased upward for another look. Gazing outward, he immediately caught the flash of fire, drawing his focus to the men and women now cavorting about the floor before the musicians, flipping and leaping through the air even as they twirled their flaming batons.
Aharon continued staring at the fire-masters, suddenly transfixed by a wave of uncertainty—and, if he was to be honest, fear.
This is it, he then told himself. Now or never.
Forcing away his anxiety, he pushed upward and didn’t pause while slipping up through the trapdoor and executing a fast crawl toward the pedestal. Not hearing any shouts of alarm or outrage, he held himself against the marble pillar for a moment, confident his body was presently shielded, before snaking his arm upward along the length of the pedestal.
Quickly finding the satin cushion at its summit, he reached farther while dropping the scroll from between his fingers. Finding the edge of the crown, he then tugged it toward him, over the side of the cushion and along the body of the pedestal. Shoving it down the neck of his overcoat, he then listened, heard nothing alarming, and slithered back toward the trapdoor.
Given his haste, he plummeted through the opening headfirst and landed on his face. Also, his hand came down on the candle, which not only burned his palm but extinguished his light. Too overwrought to dwell on either misfortune, he hurriedly turned about and crawled as quickly as he could back toward the hole.
Emerging into the oratory moments later, he scrambled to his feet and brought a hand to his stomach, feeling Neco’s crown resting beneath the linen of his coat.
I did it. I stole his crown from beneath his very nose.
Reminding himself that he wasn’t free yet, he then hurried toward the door.
Mercifully, reaching the outer grounds wouldn’t force his steps anywhere near the Hall, instead calling for a rapid retreat down the corridor and into the royal library. Executing this maneuver without incident, he continued moving to the rear of the spacious chamber, prised open a window and vaulted through, landing on the sand below.
Sunfall had arrived swiftly, and it was now nearly dark as he began racing across the rear practice fields. Finding the area blessedly deserted, he passed over the expanse without spotting a single knight and eventually came to the outer wall, positioning him at the very rear of the grounds. Not yet hearing any uproar from the palace, he assumed his crime hadn’t yet been detected, although he anticipated this happening at any moment.
The wall before him was a dozen paces high, and easily climbable—for him, at least. He’d performed this maneuver countless times in his youth, initially just to prove that he could and to show off to Neco, but then later to escape the rigorous practices his father forced him to attend. Granted, some years had passed since his last attempt, but this seemed not to matter as he quickly began pulling himself upward, his fingers and feet effortlessly finding the wall’s familiar grooves and edges.
Wishing he’d had the foresight to reposition Neco’s crown because it kept getting in his way, he nevertheless reached the summit in minutes. Pausing to catch his breath, he looked back and again neither saw nor heard any signs of commotion from the palace, leading him to hope that his luck held out for just a short while longer.
Turning back, he gazed downward briefly, then shifted and dropped himself over the side of the wall. As experience had taught him, the pond below was shallow, but plenty deep enough to cushion his fall.
Surfacing, he waded out of the water and performed a quick check to make sure he hadn’t lost anything during his plummet and brief swim. Finding all in order, he then hurried into the vast gardens that encompassed the pond, their shadowy depths silent and unmoving.
While the surrounding foliage made up just one of Malat’s several public gardens, this garden in particular was vast and took him nearly ten minutes to exit. Finally emerging onto the city streets, he immediately took note of the heavy presence of Justice, spotting its troopers in every direction. Presumably, they were hunting for Fajen.
Darting into the nearest alleyway, Aharon followed it to its end, scaled a wall, and kept to traversing these backstreets for several blocks. While confident he could get himself to the docks by way of avoiding the outer streets entirely, he still didn’t think doing this unseen would be easy.
Continuing along the alleyways, he was forced to stop and wait several times while a nearby presence of Justice passed by, and upon finally nearing his destination he estimated nearly an hour had passed since he’d left the palace. This made it a near-certain bet that Neco’s missing crown had now been discovered, meaning he really needed to be on his way.
Jogging onto the docks, he scanned the lettering on the ships as he moved, and eventually slowed before a vessel bearing the name Air Dancer. Before its lowered plank stood a lone figure, a long, gauzy shawl wrapped about her head and shoulders.
Aharon moved toward her, and reached to take the sword and satchel she’d collected and brought from the bushes where he’d dropped them.
“Thank you, Molli,” he said.
The handmaiden gazed back with a look of relief. “I’ve been waiting some time, and was beginning to fear the worst. Was there trouble?”
He shook his head. “Just avoiding Justice.” Pausing a moment, he then asked, “Were you there when they noticed the missing crown?”
Her gaze gleamed with amusement. “Yes. The event was followed by the predictable excitement, but there was something more that you might find noteworthy.”
“Yes?”
“It wasn’t until he ascended the stage to speak his oaths did Prince Neco—or anyone else—take note of the missing crown. He snatched up your note and read it, then seemed to smile a brief moment before setting the knights on you—or rather, on Fajen.”
Aharon laughed quietly. “I do consider that noteworthy.”
Molli’s look turned curious. “My princess wishes to know the content of your message.”
His smile widened as he replied. “I wish you a lengthy and prosperous reign, my king. Your devoted subject, Flynn Fajen.”
The handmaiden grinned while taking a step back. “May you find much success in the east, Lord Shai, and I hope we meet again.”
He nodded. “Tell Aya I made it out safely, and that I love her. Watch over her, Molli.”
“Always,” she vowed, before issuing a nod and starting away.
Turning to the plank, Aharon started upward and found the captain of the ship waiting for him on deck.
“You’re late,” the man greeted, starting over.
“Sorry,” he replied, “but be advised, we’d best depart as quickly as possible.”
The captain shot him a knowing glance before turning toward the helm, and he began barking orders at his crew as he took position.
Aharon followed after him, doing his best to conceal the fact that he had a crown wedged inside his overcoat. Pausing next to the captain, he then issued the man a brief study, but was unable to narrow his race by way of his appearance or accent. “I was told we’re traveling east,” he then said.
The captain nodded. “My men and I are far overdue, and longing for home.”
“Where’s home?”
“Dhanen’Mar.”
Pondering a moment, Aharon then nodded. While he’d been toying with the idea of settling in Navosa, thinking he’d appreciate its desert clime, the thought of Dhanen’Mar wasn’t displeasing. Said to be a land of superstition, he figured this realm would at least make for an interesting setting, and he could always move on if he found it too strange.
“The name’s Quelin Froy,” the captain now introduced himself, “but you’d best just call me captain.”
After pausing a moment, Aharon responded. “Flynn Fajen,” he said, wondering how long it would take to get used to giving another man’s name.
Captain Froy nodded. “Alright, Flynn. I’ll advise you to keep to yourself, avoid starting trouble, and in no way mess with my crew. Easy enough?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You can find your quarters belowdecks.”
Deeming the conversation over, Aharon sent the captain a nod before starting toward the rail. As he moved, the ship lurched beneath him, beginning the process of venturing from its slip and out toward the open ocean beyond. Somewhat to his amazement, it was only then that he realized just twelve days had passed since his return from the west—twelve days to completely destroy the only life he’d ever known.
Turning to gaze back toward Malat, he envisioned the tumult that must be unfolding as Justice and the royal guard tore the streets apart looking for him. Surprisingly, the thought brought him no pleasure, and after a moment he caught himself shifting his eyes away.
There’s no sense in looking back. Aharon Shai is dead, and that existence is over.
Yes, he decided, better he look forward, toward Dhanen’Mar and whatever future it held for Flynn Fajen. A future that was yet unwritten, and comprised of untold possibilities.
Holding to this thought, he reached up and flipped his Secondary medallion, revealing its dominion of Revenge for all the world to see. For unlike Aharon Shai, Flynn Fajen had no cause to conceal this truth.
Looking back to the water, he stared forward and welcomed whatever was to come.
The Legends of Dhanen’Mar
will continue in
Echoes of Infinity
2019
And
Flames of Prophecy
2020
The Legends of Dhanen’Mar
Auguries of Dawn
Tides of Fortune
Veils of Destiny
Shadows of Illusion
Web of Portents
Shades of Death
Sea of Omens
Path of Stars
Seeds of Betrayal
Legacy of Blood
Dreams of Mist
Binds of Fate
Coils of Eternity
Tangle of Thorns
Trail of Masks
Labyrinth of Myths
Crown of Thieves
Aharon Shai
Thieves/Revenge
Royal thief
Aya Jahi
Justice/Magic
Princess of Ceja
Neco Jahi
Justice/Commerce
Prince of Ceja
Siris Pabst
Arts/Magic
Royal jester
Othos Shai
War/Justice
Captain of the royal guard
Zaun Shai
Thieves/Unchosen
Aharon’s youngest brother
King Sabar Jahi
Justice/Commerce
Reigning king of Ceja
Prince Padus Jahi
Justice/Commerce
Prince of Ceja
Flynn Fajen
Thieves/Unrevealed
Criminal sought by Justice
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