“Emergency council meeting? What for?”
With a sigh, Marc produced a small, golden key and jammed it into the keyhole. The door swung open, accompanied by the groan of rusty hinges. “Come inside.”
Marc disappeared into the office with Joel on his heels, but Kirk hesitated in the doorway. Should he follow? Was he privy to whatever the dean was about to say?
Joel waved him forward. “Come on, Kirk. Hurry.”
Biting his lower lip, Kirk slunk inside. He cast a wary gaze in Marc’s direction, but the dean was paying him no attention whatsoever.
Joel closed the door without being asked and turned wide, frantic eyes onto Marc. “What’s going on? What happened in the council chamber?”
Marc slumped down in the plush chair behind his desk, clasping his hands so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Koal and I tried to fight the order. We tried to prevent it. But those bastards, Neetra, Morathi, Anders Malin-Rai—they got exactly what they wanted.”
Joel pressed his back against the door. Kirk wondered if he was trying to fall through it. “What did they do?”
Marc shook his head from side to side, as if in a state of disbelief himself. “The High Council has deemed it necessary that a member of the royal family ride with the army. Normally, that responsibility would fall upon the king, but since Arden is without—” Marc paused when his voice wavered and it took several agonizing moments for him to regain his composure. “Since Arden currently has no king, the High Council is instead calling upon a royal prince to go.”
“A royal prince? You mean Deegan?”
Kirk took a gulp of air only when his burning lungs begged it of him. Crown Prince Deegan was King Rishi’s only heir to the throne, and he was being thrown into combat? The idea seemed ludicrous. What if something were to happen to the young prince? What if Deegan were killed? What would become of Arden then?
Marc sighed. “I’m afraid so.”
“But Hasain is going! He’s Rishi’s son. He’s a Radek. Surely he can represent the royal family.”
“You know as well as I that Neetra and his cronies won’t allow a bastard to represent Arden, regardless of how qualified Hasain may be.”
“Deegan’s still a boy! He’s too young for war. Not to mention he’s the only eligible heir King Rishi has left. They can’t send him to die in Shiraz. At least here in the palace, he has some measure of protection.”
Marc offered an unconvincing smile. “Your father will keep him safe. Having Deegan there is mostly for show anyway. He’ll just be there to inspire the troops and keep morale high. Koal will see to it that Deegan doesn’t come within twenty leagues of the enemy.”
“Oh? Which enemy? The Shirites or the ones lurking within our own ranks?” Joel smashed a fist against the wall. “I know what this is about. They’re trying to eradicate the Radek bloodline.”
“Joel, I don’t think—”
“No, it’s the truth and you know it. My uncle will do anything to keep the crown for himself, and the wolves on the High Council want things to go back to the way they were before the Radeks came into power. Look at what’s happening! First they got rid of Rishi and now Deegan—”
“Careful,” Marc hissed, and for the first time since entering the office, he glanced at Kirk. “Watch what you say, Joel. We don’t know who we can or can’t trust.”
Kirk recoiled. Got rid of King Rishi? What were they talking about?
“That’s actually the reason I came today.” Joel moved closer to Kirk. “With my father and so many other allies leaving, you’re going to need help, Marc.”
“Help with what?”
“Digging up enough incriminating information to dethrone my uncle, of course. If it’s as we fear and Neetra truly is trying to discredit or eliminate the Radek bloodline, he cannot remain in power. We have to find a way to get him off the throne before it’s too late.”
“It’s not that simple,” Marc replied. He folded his arms over his chest and let out a huff. “Even if we find enough dirt on Neetra to justify removing his title, do you really think the High Council will vote in our favor when it comes time to elect a new steward? Remember, they voted Neetra into power in the first place.”
“I know.” Joel’s delicate voice wavered when he spoke. “But if you can find any kind of information to use against Neetra, at least it’s something to start with. We’ll have to come up with a plan to deal with the others as well.”
Marc furrowed his brow. “Yes. Especially your brother. How Liro got voted onto the High Council—it’s not right. In the chaos surrounding the King’s death—everything fell a little too neatly into place. It was planned. It had to be planned.”
“The seat should have gone to Hasain,” Joel agreed. “Speaking of Liro, he paid Kirk and me a visit earlier. He interrupted our magery lesson and pulled Inan out of class.”
“What? Why?”
“Neetra’s orders. He thinks Inan should no longer be schooled with commoners, so he’s hired private tutors and forbade Inan from stepping foot outside the palace walls.”
“If you ask me, it seems like Neetra’s trying to mold that boy into what he and the High Council want. Tell me something. If the Radek line were eliminated, who would be next in line for the throne?”
Joel’s face pinched. “There isn’t anyone else. If they won’t allow Hasain or Gudrin to rule, they’d have to elect a new king. Someone from a different bloodline.”
“Right. And look how convenient it is that Neetra Adelwijn is already sitting high and mighty as steward, with an heir waiting in the wings.”
“Then it’s even more crucial that Neetra be dethroned and Deegan kept out of harm’s way.”
Kirk’s head spun in a whirlwind of confusion. He’d been desperately trying to follow the conversation, but the longer he listened, the more perplexed he became. Joel had mentioned in the past how corrupt the High Council of Arden had become, of course—the way the newly elected steward chose to run the country was proof enough of that. But what was this about the Crown Prince being in danger? Were people out to get Prince Deegan? And why did Dean Marc and Joel speak of the late king as though his death wasn’t his own doing? Was there more to the story than what the public knew?
Kirk jumped when he felt a hand grip his shoulder. Craning his neck, he found it difficult to breathe when he discovered Joel was staring at him. The mage’s sapphire orbs were ablaze, as if some kind of internal battle raged within him.
Kirk’s heart thudded to a stop. He’d meant what he said when he’d promised to do anything Joel asked—no matter how perilous the task might be—but was he really ready to hear whatever Joel had to say?
“My friend, you saved the lives of my father, my brother, Hasain, NezReth, and me. Without your help, I have no doubt we wouldn’t have escaped the Northern Empire. I hate to ask even more of you—”
“You know you can ask anything,” Kirk whispered. “I haven’t forgotten what you did for Kenisha and me either.”
Joel’s gaze faltered, falling to the floor. “Marc has already agreed to search for information—anything that can be used against Neetra or his supporters—anything that might help us remove the steward from power. There are others who are willing to help, too, but they are under constant scrutiny, making it quite difficult. With my father, myself, and so many others leaving, Marc will need someone he can trust—someone to help him dig for evidence. Can you do this for me? Can you be Marc’s right hand man while I’m gone?”
“Yes,” Kirk replied without allowing himself time to think about the possible implications of such a request. “Of course I can.”
Marc shifted in his chair. “Joel, are you sure? It’s a terrible risk, bringing any outsiders into this mess. Are you certain you know his character? Are you certain we can trust him?”
“I’ve already trusted Kirk with my life once. He won’t betray us. You can’t do this on your own, Marc.”
“And he knows if Neetra gets wind of what we’re doing, th
e repercussions will be—severe?”
Joel opened his mouth to respond, but Kirk beat him to it. “With all due respect, Dean Arrio, the Emperor of the land I came from was so cruel that he forced his own people to battle to the death in an arena—for sport—and anyone thought to be plotting against him was tortured and executed without warning or fair trial. I know the consequences of defying those in power, and I certainly know danger. I’ve lived in it my entire life. If Joel thinks I can be of service, I want to help. I came to this country to escape tyranny. If there’s anything I can do to prevent such heinous acts from happening in Arden, it’s worth the risk.”
Marc remained quiet in his chair, tapping the cherry armrest with one finger. As Kirk waited with bated breath for an answer, it was as though the world itself had come to a grinding halt. Would Marc accept Kirk’s help? And what had he actually agreed to anyway? Would he even be able to help? He was just a mage! He didn’t know anything about Ardenian politics or the men who ran the country.
“All right,” Marc said at long last. He slumped farther down into the cushion and let out a defeated sigh. His eyes reflected hardships too dark and terrible for Kirk to comprehend. “So be it.”
“Thank you,” Kirk whispered.
Marc laughed—an eerie, broken sound that sent chills down Kirk’s spine. “Don’t thank me just yet, Kirk Bhadrayu.”
Head down and heart racing, Hasain stormed through the palace halls. He didn’t slow to glance at the royal portraits because he still couldn’t bear the weight of his father’s measured gaze. Even now, when Hasain believed he was doing the only honorable thing left by going to war, he was still certain he didn’t deserve Rishi’s approval.
Hasain’s shoulder was still heavy from the weight of Aodan’s hand moments before, and the soft echo of Dahlia’s well wishes continued to ring in his ears. They’d sent him off with all the warmth a family could bequeath, yet Hasain still felt utterly alone. It seemed no one could help lift the gloom in his heart.
How much longer would the grief suck all vigor from his soul? Weren’t two moonturns spent in mourning enough? Shouldn’t the fog of despair inside his head begin to clear by now? This couldn’t go on forever, could it? His father was never coming back. But would Hasain? Would he ever be more than a shadow of his former self?
He gritted his teeth.
I have to push past the grief. I have to focus on keeping Deegan safe. It’s not fair he should have to ride to war. He’s only thirteen, for Daya’s sake!
Law mandated the head of the country lead his troops into battle, yet the coward who sat upon the throne had chosen to send his boy-nephew instead. If Neetra had any honor at all, it would be him going. Hasain nearly laughed from the absurdity of such a notion. Neetra wouldn’t know honor if it jumped up and bit him in the arse. He was too busy trying to strip the remaining Radeks of their power.
Hasain shook his head. Thinking about how much he hated Neetra would do him no good. He needed to pull himself back together, so he made an effort to recall the good things in life he still possessed. There were his fine rooms inside the palace; Neetra hadn’t yet attempted to toss Hasain out of his home. The servants still treated him as they always had, when he’d still been the respected son of the King. He had a fiancée, Dame Naida Cordula. She was less than he’d hoped for in a wife, but his father had arranged the courtship himself, before he’d died, and Hasain had not the heart to fight the marriage any longer. Besides, it wasn’t as though Kezra had turned to him, even after her fallout with Nawaz. If Hasain couldn’t have what he wanted then he’d settle for what his father had provided.
The great stairs came into view ahead, and he smoothed his battle robes without thought. Cut short above the knee, the robes were tailored to allow better movement in combat. Likewise, he would be able to carry a sword with ease. It wasn’t typical for a mage to carry such a cumbersome weapon, but Hasain had his doubts as to whether he could hold his ground with magic alone. Frankly, he wasn’t sure whether he could hold his own with a sword either. His lack of skill in both magic and weaponry was yet another reminder of his inadequacy.
His father had always tried to convince Hasain to study harder, to hone his magic and finesse his weaponry skills, but instead Hasain focused his time and energy into becoming a politician. The King had also gone above and beyond to ensure his children were trained with a blade, even taking time to schedule private lessons with Weapons Master Roland. If Hasain had even once taken the training seriously, perhaps he’d be better prepared now.
Hasain tried not to think anymore, lest he fall further into the pit of self-pity. Thinking would do nothing but slow his footfalls. In a flurry, Hasain bounded down the carpeted steps, more than ready to be out of the palace. But first he had to collect Nawaz so the two of them could ride to the gathering field together.
Just as Hasain’s boot hit the bottom step, a piercing voice rose from within the throne room, echoing off the painted ceiling and down the hallway. Hasain curled his nose. Such an offensive shriek could belong to no one else but Neetra Adelwijn himself.
Hasain hesitated at the base of the staircase. He could hardly stomach the idea of having to look upon the man who’d just sent Deegan into danger, but morbid curiosity propelled him forward. Who was the steward so viciously scolding? Holding his breath, Hasain crept closer until he could peer around the corner and into the throne room.
Neetra perched upon the dead king’s throne as if he belonged there, pompous, arrogant. Scowling like a rabid dog, he leaned forward, knuckles white as he dug his fingers into the velvet armrests. The target of his fury, Nawaz Arrio, stood limply before his stepfather, eyes downcast and back slouching.
“If you do this, Nawaz Arrio, don’t think you can simply come crawling back at war’s end— should you live—and beg to be reinstated. Your title and my blessing are not so lightly renounced.”
Hasain clutched the wall as he eavesdropped. Renounced? What was going on?
Nawaz lifted his reddened face. Dressed in his Healer jerkin with a crossbow strapped to one shoulder, he was prepared to tend wounded soldiers or fight as needed. He’d bravely elected to march for Shiraz even though he could have easily escaped such a fate. Hasain couldn’t comprehend why Neetra would have any cause to belittle the young lord.
Nawaz pulled a golden ring from his finger—the crest of the Adelwijn family—and clenched it in his fist. “The title never meant anything, and if I’d ever once had your blessing, I wouldn’t be doing this.”
Heat rose to Hasain’s face in an angry wave. Neetra was stripping Nawaz of his title? Why? On what grounds?
Across the throne room, Nawaz’s brother and sister stood with their longtime servant, Bailey. Hasain hadn’t even noticed them until Inez broke away from the other two and reached for Nawaz with a trembling hand.
“Don’t do this,” she gasped. “You don’t have to go to war. You can stay here with us and be safe.”
An indignant growl escaped Neetra’s clenched jaw. He issued his daughter a cold glare, but Inez only glowered back at him with equal ferocity. Hasain’s spirit dared soar, if only for the moment.
Inez turned back to her brother. “Think of your wife and unborn babe, Nawaz. They need you, too. You still have the ring. Just—”
Nawaz shook his head and stared down at the golden band. “This ring never made him want me. He never accepted me as a son. Truthfully, this changes nothing.”
“Well put,” Neetra scoffed. “So hand it over and be gone already!”
Inez whirled on her father so quickly Hasain jumped back a step. “Shut your mouth! You’re the reason for this! You’ve driven our family apart!”
Neetra leapt to his feet, his face an ugly red. “Don’t you dare speak to me in such a way! You forget your place, girl. Don’t forget, I can take away your title as easily as his!”
Inez reeled back, visibly shaken by Neetra’s threat. Her painted lips fell open several times, but it appeared her voice had been stunned awa
y. Bailey swept over to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, shielding the young girl from her deranged father.
“Disowning two children in one day, Neetra Adelwijn?” the servant spat. “I should think such conviction would require a spine. Be done with this. Send away the stepson who only ever sought your approval so you may dismiss us as well. We grow nauseated with the sight of you.”
Hasain gasped. How could Bailey say such things and not lose his head?
Neetra’s face darkened from red to purple, and his clenched fists and bulging eyes were only further testament to his rage. For a moment, Neetra faced Bailey as if he might engage the servant, but ultimately, the steward turned his attention back onto Nawaz.
Pointing a savage finger at his stepson, Neetra’s roar reached all corners of the room. “Choose!”
Hasain waited breathlessly to see what his friend would do. Thinking back, he couldn’t remember a time when Nawaz hadn’t been Neetra’s stepson. Their relationship had always been strained, but Hasain never imagined it would end like this. Nawaz had done everything Neetra had ever asked. He’d gone to Academy to become a Healer, despite having no interest in the profession. He’d married Heidi even though it meant giving up the woman he truly desired. The only thing Nawaz had done wrong was be born someone else’s son. Insanity! There truly was no way to please Neetra.
Nawaz lurched forward, face set like stone, and placed the ring at Neetra’s feet. Before Hasain even had a chance to process what was happening, it was over.
A hard lump formed in the back of his throat. He’d just watched Nawaz give up his title. He’d just watched his friend’s disownment.
Letting out a sob, Inez ran to Nawaz with her arms outstretched. “You’ll always be our brother. Come back to us alive and well.”
Weeping as openly as Inez, Bailey put his arms around both of them. His voice was muffled by distance, but Hasain could still hear the servant’s words. “You’re my son, if you’d have me. Remember, we love you. Be safe.”
Nawaz’s shoulders shook as he leaned against his remaining family. Blotchy red pigmentation turned his ears cherry red and seeped down his neck. But he didn’t completely lose his composure. Not in front of Neetra.
Battle Dawn: Book Three of the Chronicles of Arden Page 5
