The King paced in his chamber.
So close.
He inhaled the dank scent of the room, the musty old foot smell sweet in his nostrils.
The Bear is almost mine.
The nearness of his quarry made his palms itch. He always felt it when a Questing Knight drew near, but this time it was becoming nearly unbearable. He rubbed his hairy palms against the rough fabric of his robe.
So strong. Because the Bear is the last of the Knights?
“My lord.”
He looked up from his pacing to see a Billman in the doorway. He had sent all his minions away, preferring to savor his imminent victory in private.
“You bring good news.” The king’s words were not a question. His soldier dropped to his scaly knees.
“The Knight will be delivered shortly.”
A raised eyebrow invited the Billman to continue.
“We . . . um . . . set up an ambush, and there’s nowhere else to go. It should be . . . very soon.”
The king rubbed his gnarled hands together. “Very good.” It was a clear dismissal, but the Billman didn’t leave.
“Um, my lord . . .” The Billman hesitated.
The king made a mental note. First thing after freedom, get smarter minions.
“Just say it, duck.”
The Billman sank lower, looking like he was trying to melt into the stones. “Um . . . my lord . . . it’s Boris.”
Oh for the love of . . . “What’s the oaf done this time?”
“He’s . . . um . . . got himself killed.”
That made the king pause. “How?”
“They said there’s a girl. With a gun.”
A gun? Most interesting.
He smiled and rubbed his hands together. Could I really be this fortunate? The princess that Trent had claimed was here . . . Emerald. One of five daughters of the usurper to his rightful throne. The Forgotten King needed one of pure blood. Most precisely, he needed the blood of one of pure blood. The Consul made it very clear that if one of the daughters could be relieved of all her blood, the reward for the king would be golden indeed. Well, crystalline, to be precise.
And now there was a girl in the Downs. A girl with a gun.
Of course, she could be any girl.
But the itching in the king’s palms intensified. He nibbled on his fingertips, scraping goat-teeth against the skin.
“You will ensure their safe delivery to my chamber.”
The Billman nodded, bowed deeper, and ran from the room.
The Bear approaches. And possibly . . . the Crown.
Could this be the day? After a millennium in darkness, could this long night finally be nearing its dawn? Will I walk free this very night? But of course, he wouldn’t simply walk. He would march with an army of twisted kodama at his back. Before the sun rose again, he would march for Crystalia Castle. And this time he would claim his rightful throne.