by Nick Martell
“This is it, Kingman. Are you ready?” the Corrupt Prince asked with a devious smile.
I tapped my fingers against the table, then slowly loaded my dice back into the cup. It was suddenly clear, as if my name had been called in a crowded room: I knew I would lose if I continued. My pride had dragged me into the game, and I wasn’t willing to give the Corrupt Prince anything without knowing his intentions.
Kingman Keep wasn’t worth it. Without our legacy restored, it was merely a museum for memories.
“I’m leaving,” I said as I rose from the table.
“Sit back down! Roll the dice!” the Corrupt Prince shouted.
“No, I’m done. I know when to walk away.”
“Don’t you want Kingman Keep back?”
“I have no use for it.”
The Corrupt Prince exhaled through his nose, face turning red. “History repeats itself. You ran when Davey tried to talk to you about a piece of Celona before he was murdered. Do you remember the morning before Davey died, Michael?”
I did. I’d spent the morning in a haze, having been unable to sleep that night. Sword practice with Lyon, Gwen, and the Royals had been disastrous, all of them defeating me with ease. Our studies had been little better, my mind unable to find the answers the tutors had been seeking. In fact, it had been such a bad morning, I’d decided to skip the rest of my obligations in favor of exploring the castle.
No one found me until nightfall. I had returned from my adventures and snuck into the kitchen to find something to eat, and heard what my father had done. It had been my last day of innocence. For years I had wished for a redo, so I could have found out with others, because from then on, the weight of my family’s legacy had been on my shoulders and mine alone.
None of which I was going to say to the Corrupt Prince.
“You weren’t with us the night before, when a piece of Celona fell, so I’ll tell you what happened,” the Corrupt Prince began. “It struck in the Royal Gardens, and Davey rushed out to see if they truly spoke. He swore it did, but your father took it away before I or my sister could hear it too. Davey claimed it said the eldest had to die for the country to flourish. He thought it was funny… but, sure enough, he was murdered the next day.”
“Goodbye, Adreann.”
“Run away again! Your father will always be a child-murdering traitor. All that can ever change is why. Was he a fanatic? A lunatic? Obsessed with power? One day we’ll know.”
I kept walking away, and when they thought I was out of earshot I heard the Corrupt Prince scream that the party was over and order everyone out. I should have been pleased to win our bet and ruin his evening, but his story was stuck in my head and I didn’t feel like a victor. He’d wanted to put me in my traitorous place. Why else tell that story but to make me feel guilty and ashamed of my father?
I should have walked away to begin with.
Naomi was waiting for me outside. “How’d it go?”
I held up the piece of Celona. “Well enough.”
“I can see that. You realize he’ll still come after you—indirectly.”
“I’d expect no less,” I said. “I’ll take my ring back, though. Your position in noble society is currently higher than mine, and I’ve more than held up my part of the agreement we made while you had a crossbow pointed at my chest.”
“Have you?” she said, twisting my father’s ring around her finger. “I’m not so sure. You’ve barely given me anything, and I’ve saved you from drowning in a river. If anything, I think I should hold on to it for a little longer. Besides, you’ll need to know what the Corrupt Prince is planning, won’t you?”
“Aren’t you with the Throne Seekers? What do you gain out of telling me what the Corrupt Prince is planning?”
Naomi brushed her hand against my cheek. “I’m guaranteed a win. It’s as simple as that.”
Abruptly, I had the feeling Naomi could be significantly more dangerous than the Corrupt Prince. At least I knew where he and I stood, but with her… I’d have no idea what she wanted until she either embraced me or stabbed me in the back. Or did both. I’d never met someone ambitious enough to con a Royal and blackmail a Kingman at the same time. I’d have to be careful.
“Once the Endless Waltz is over, I want my ring back.”
“Fair,” she said, walking away with a wave. “But, for now, I like how it looks on my finger.”
“So do I. But I’m surprised, Naomi. Don’t you want to know if a piece of Celona speaks?”
Naomi kept walking. “I’ve listened already. It’s quite interesting. Don’t worry about escorting me home, Michael. There is nothing in this city that scares me.”
As I watched her walk away, I couldn’t help but shiver. There were plenty of things in this country that scared me. There were probably things in this city that scared the king and his Ravens, too. But not her.
I turned my attention to the stupid rock that caused so such trouble, to see if it spoke for myself. I held the piece of Celona up before my eyes, uncertain how I was supposed to hear it relay its secrets, and stared at it for a few moments, concentrating on the stone and the warmth that accompanied it, wondering if they could truly be messages from God or if it was a story made up by someone over the generations—
The message came like the wind, subtle and rustling off in a distance, until it was strong enough for me to hear it fully. In a deep, formal voice, I heard the words:
“The king’s man is a traitor. Cut off his head.”
A FOSTER FATHER
I didn’t try to run away from Angelo in the morning. Trying would have been in vain, since he was up before first light and waiting for me in the kitchen. Even more surprising than his early rising was the fact he was cooking bacon, something he had never done in all the years he had been my foster father.
“Bacon?” I asked suspiciously as I entered the room.
“Bacon,” he said.
“Wasn’t I supposed to cook breakfast?”
“You can start tomorrow.”
I took a seat at the table with Dark’s envelope in my hand, thankful I had left it at home before the first event. The river would have destroyed it otherwise. “What’s the occasion?”
“Well,” he said, “it was supposed to be a celebration of sorts, but considering Gwen is already gone for the day—”
“Already? It’s so early. Gwen normally doesn’t wake up until midday if she can help it.”
Angelo scraped the sides of the pan, the bacon continuing to sizzle. “She’s starting another job. Or applying for one. But, as I was saying, this was meant to be celebrating Gwen working for the asylum for three years, Lyon having a child, and—”
“You knew about that? Was I seriously the last person to find out?”
“Will you stop interrupting me, Michael?” he barked over his shoulder. “This was meant to be a celebration for all of you. We don’t indulge often, and I wanted to recognize how you’ve all matured recently. Sometimes I barely recognize the people you’re becoming.”
Angelo took the pan off the stove and moved it onto the table. He handed me a fork and took another one out of a drawer for himself. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to you about the Endless Waltz.”
I had assumed as much. I speared a piece of burnt bacon out of the pan and put it into my mouth. It was fatty and smoky and wonderful.
“Honestly, Michael, are you sure this is the best decision for you to make?”
I waited until I was done chewing. “I don’t know. But it’s the one I made.”
“What do you hope to gain by participating?”
“A better future for myself and our family,” I said. “Last night I was one roll of the dice away from reclaiming Kingman Keep.” None of it was a lie. Working with Domet had already offered me so much, including more trouble. But soon my family would be taken care of for the future, and maybe, if I was lucky, our family’s legacy would be restored, too.
Though, after listening to the
piece of Celona last night, it had all started to seem unlikely. Its words had been stuck in my head, a nightmare I couldn’t escape from. Especially when I was uncertain what had spoken to me. It had sounded like the wind and I refused to admit it was a message from God. But whatever or whoever the words belonged to, its message was clear.
The Kingman is a traitor. Cut off his head.
Those words could only be about one person.
“You know what you’re risking, right? The nobility doesn’t play fair,” Angelo said. “If they get the chance to destroy you, they will. They might even come after our family, too.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I said, taking more bacon.
“What makes you think they’ll give you the opportunity to fight back? If they realize you’re on probation, what’s to stop them from inventing a connection to the rebels—or, worse, framing you—and then watching alongside the city as you get executed?”
I held my tongue. I doubted Angelo would be reassured to hear I had Domet on my side, who could prevent the nobility from discarding me too easily, or that I’d won a wager against the Corrupt Prince last night, which ensured a little safety. Participating in the Endless Waltz was dangerous.
“There’s nothing I can say to dissuade you, is there?”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I’m doing this.”
Angelo leaned back in his seat. “Have I ever told you why I wanted to foster you three?”
“Not really.”
“I have issues with some of the nobility,” he declared. “Which is probably no great surprise to you. We all do. But in my youth I saw what they did to those below them and it… repulsed me. That raw, uncontrollable hunger for extravagance. Regardless of the cost. After what happened with Davey, I saw your father as the pinnacle of noble arrogance. That the Hollow Court had been foolish enough to think that the one they held so high was exempt from the greed they all thrived on. When I was at the execution, I expected to cheer for the death of a monster. Instead, I saw a man full of regrets who just wanted to make sure his children were taken care of when he was gone.”
Angelo twisted the rings on his fingers. “I had lost my wife and our unborn child some time before that, and that unfettered love resonated with me. So I went to my commander and asked to foster you three, away from all the cutthroat politics. Maybe it’s my fault that we didn’t have much over the years and you’ve felt this is the only option you had left… but what if I could offer you an alternative to the Endless Waltz?”
I looked up at him.
“I received a letter from an old friend yesterday. He’s interested in taking you on as a steward for a Gold Coast clan. He’s willing to teach you everything he knows from swordsmanship to sailing. With time you may even be able to become a knight for the household.”
“Angelo, we talked about this—”
He held up a hand. “He’s willing to take in your mother and Gwen, too.”
A cold sweat overcame me. Right up until this moment, I had believed Angelo thought our mother was dead. None of us had ever told him otherwise, letting the rumors that she had died in the Kingman Keep riots go unchallenged. Stammering, I asked, “How?”
“How did I learn she was alive? It was an accident. I went to visit Gwen in the asylum about a year ago and asked for the Kingman in residence. Imagine my surprise when they didn’t take me to Gwen.”
The bacon had lost its flavor. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Honestly? I didn’t know how to. I felt like I was invading an aspect of your lives that you didn’t want or need me involved in. Even if we’re family, I know we’re not related by blood, and there are some things I will never understand because I lack the Kingman name. But recently I feel like I have to intrude to protect all of you from that legacy.”
“What are you offering me exactly?”
“A way out of Hollow. My friend will take the three of you in on the Gold Coast. The king and the Royals can’t get you there, and you’ll be able to live in peace far away from Hollow politics and grudges. He would have taken Lyon, too, but… he’s found his own place in Hollow. Even if it’s not as a Kingman.”
I didn’t know how to respond.
Angelo’s offer was as good as Domet’s—maybe better—for far less risk. I would be safe. My family would be safe. I wouldn’t have to worry about Gwen’s hatred of the Royal Family and what she might do one day. My mother wouldn’t have to live in secrecy and shame for the rest of her life, and I could continue to investigate ways to cure her. It was as close as I could get to a perfect life, and all I had to do was forsake the slim chance of redeeming my father.
The voice from the piece of Celona repeated in my mind.
The Kingman is a traitor. Cut off his head.
“Who knows,” Angelo laughed, “maybe I could come, too. I don’t miss the flooding, but the food and scenery were divine.”
“Angelo, this is all…” I trailed off into nothing.
“Think about it.” He stood and put his hand on my shoulder. “You have time to consider what you want to do. But once you’re in the king’s sight, your options will be severely limited.”
“I know,” I said, much less confident in my choices.
“No matter what you choose, I’ll be here for you, Michael. Always remember that.”
“Thank you.”
A nod and then he cleared his throat. “One last thing, Michael. About that girl who brought you back here… How much do you know about her?”
“Naomi? Not much. Why? Do you know her?”
A pause. “I read Naomi Dexter’s application to Scales years ago. I probably still have a copy of it somewhere, though it’s classified, so you wouldn’t be able to look at it even if I remembered where it was.” He glanced toward a pile of papers on the kitchen table. “Be careful around her, Michael. She’s ambitious.”
I nodded, understanding what he meant.
“I’m going to get changed for work. Finish the bacon off for me, will you? And make sure everything is back in its proper place.”
“Of course.”
With a smile, Angelo left me in the kitchen. The moment he was back in his room, I searched through his papers for any mention of Naomi. Most of it was half-written letters, invoices, and an estimate for a painting of his late wife.
Then I found her evaluation.
Naomi Dexter has made multiple applications to the Raven and Scales. Inadmissible to the Ravens, having failed the first stage of the exam, this is her third attempt to join the Scales—this time with the considerable influence of her father: Bryan Dexter, Commander of the Evoker Division. It should be noted that her mother, Evie Browne, was a victim of the Heartbreaker serial killer, and since her death Naomi has focused on opportunities to protect the citizens of Hollow.
She is clearly bright and capable. I suspect she is a formidable liar, most likely taught by her father, and is a highly adept Wind Fabricator who could be an asset to the Scales. She is evidently ambitious and may only embrace a position in Scales as a means to her own ends. But, in this interviewer’s opinion, Naomi Dexter should be invited to join Scales in either the Executioner or Warden Division. With guidance, and so long as we are sure her objectives are aligned with ours, she has leadership potential. In any instance where this may not be the case, she should be confined to a role in which her skills can be put to use but she has no influence over her colleagues.
Naomi’s evaluation for Scales only confirmed my suspicions about her. And proved she had lied to me about how her mother had died. I’d have to be even more careful around her and figure out what she truly wanted before it was too late. With one report to Scales, that she had seen me at Kingman Keep, she could have me arrested and potentially dead by first light. Or maybe dusk, depending on the king’s mood.
I put all the papers back the way I had found them, gathered Dark’s envelope and hid the piece of Celona, ate the rest of the bacon, cleaned up the kitchen, and then left the house before
Angelo was done getting ready for work. It was still early and I had a lot to do. Including visiting Domet.
On my way I stopped at a bakery near the Hanging Gardens and once again discovered nothing. It only made me worry about Sirash and his family more, but with the Militia Quarter destroyed and the East Side still in chaos it made sense he might not be able to travel far. I kept telling myself that reassuring lie as I walked to the Upper Quarter.
Everyone I passed seemed to be huddled around fliers or chatting in skittish groups. The city seemed quieter than it usually was, silenced for the first time in generations. There were even fewer Advocators on patrol. It was unsettling.
By the time I arrived at Domet’s house, I had grown even more concerned with what was going on within the city. The Upper Quarter resembled a graveyard, the songs of birds the only thing that floated through the air in this city of stone. Domet was waiting for me on the steps of his house in his natural state, cane in one hand and a bottle of rum in the other.
“Did you hear the news while you were slacking off in bed, Michael?”
“Are we going to war with New Dracon City again?” I joked.
“No,” he said. “Scales caught the Rebel Emperor. They have him in custody and are setting a date to try him for high treason.”
“What?”
He took a swig from the bottle. “Did I stutter?”
“How? When?”
“Rumor says they caught him shortly after the attack on the Militia Quarter but have kept quiet about it until now.”
I remembered the man who smelled of lemons from the graveyard. The man who was responsible for the fall of Naverre and for killing Jamal. I hoped it was true and that this rebellion would be over soon. I was tired of seeing innocent people hang for their supposed crimes against the government.
“When’s the trial?”
Another swig. “Day after the king’s birthday celebration. The king wants the entire Hollow Court to witness it.”
“You don’t seem very pleased they got him.”
“Heh, I am. But I’m worried what will happen when the nobility lacks a common foe. The Old Blood will remember their vows, but the New won’t. If war can be credited with anything, it’s bringing people together.”
