“What is—?” Gib’s eyebrows knitted as he pushed aside the fabric, revealing the Adelwijn family’s copy of Tales of Fae. He recognized the frayed binding and faded cover from the many nights he’d spent reading from the book. “I don’t understand. How did you get this?”
Liza shrugged. “I found it. Cal must have slipped it into my pack when you two paid me a visit in the barracks. You know him. He probably thought we would find comfort in reading from it.”
“As if either of us has time to read out here.”
“I’ve stumbled my way through a few of the stories here and there, as time permits. I think you should have it now though. The Two only know the next time I’ll see you.”
Gib cradled the book against his chest and bit his tongue. He knew Liza understood his duties must come first, but it didn’t make him feel better about the fact he’d barely seen her since the army’s mobilization. “I’m a horrible brother. I’m sorry.”
“Stop it. I know you’re busy.”
“I could still make time to see you!”
Liza cocked her head to one side. “Really? When? You’re the seneschal’s understudy, for Daya’s sake! Give yourself a little slack.”
“But you’re family, Liza. Family should always come before duty. I don’t want you and the boys to think I’ve abandoned you.”
“There’s nothing you could ever do to make me think that. Tay, Cal, and I—we know how much you love us. Don’t ever doubt that. The four of us might go days, sennights—hell, even entire moonturns—without being together, but that doesn’t matter. Love doesn’t just wither away and die. The boys and I know that, and I know you do, too.”
It took Gib every ounce of strength he possessed to will his voice not to tremble. “You’re right. I do know. But you can’t blame me for always wanting to do more. I’m stubborn to a fault.”
Liza chuckled. “You get that from Da. He was the same. He wouldn’t pause to think about himself until everyone around him was taken care of.”
Sudden and crushing grief tugged at Gib’s heart. “He was a good man.”
“Aye. He was. And so are you.” Chestnut eyes twinkling alongside her smile, Liza reached out and clasped Gib’s shoulder. Her touch was firm, reassuring. “I know I’ve already said it until I’m blue in the face, but Ma and Da really would be proud of the man you’ve grown into.”
Gib didn’t know what to say, so he merely nodded.
For a time, they stood side by side, both staring aimlessly at the far riverbank. Flecks of sunlight danced across the blue-green waters, beautiful and serene, reminding Gib of his childhood. Had the rugged landscape instead been draped in grass, he and Liza could almost be standing along the bank of the Tempist River, in the fields behind the farm.
Memories of splashing through the shallow water after a long day’s work warmed Gib’s heart. He could still hear Tayver and Calisto’s gleeful laughter as they played hide and seek among the reeds. Liza lounged beneath the shade of the old willow tree where both of their parents had been laid to rest, a fishing pole in hand. She always caught a good bucketful of fish from that spot, enough for all of them to eat until their bellies were bursting. Perhaps such luck meant their Ma and Da were still watching over them, in some small measure.
“I came to say goodbye. I’m going to be gone for a few days.”
The words pulled Gib back to the present. His brow creased as he turned to face Liza. “Goodbye? What do you mean?”
“My troop has volunteered to accompany a scouting party to the village of Ashvale. I’ll be gone at least four days, possibly more. I just wanted to let you know, so you aren’t running circuits around camp looking for me.”
“N–no,” Gib blurted, his chest and lungs seizing. “You can’t go.”
“Why not? What’s wrong?”
Gib took Liza’s hand before he knew what he was doing. “I just—it’s a feeling I have. The mayor was talking about how Ashvale had gone dark. There’s been no word from the village in entire sennights now. The mayor even sent a messenger, and he didn’t come back. You could be riding into trouble! Please, stay here.”
“We were forewarned to be on guard. You have every right to be concerned, but please, try not to worry. I won’t be going in there blind and unarmed. And if we do run into trouble, believe me, we’re well trained. My troop has been stationed on the eastern border before. We spent half a wheelturn fending off Shirite raids outside Winterdell, remember?”
Gib shook his head, unwilling to accept her words. “I can talk to Koal. He can make it so you don’t have to go—”
“No. Gib, this was my decision. I volunteered. I want to go. You’re not the only person in Arden willing to defend her.”
Gib tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. He wanted to fight her decision, to somehow force her to stay behind or to argue with her until she changed her mind—but he knew she wouldn’t. Liza was just as determined as he. Stubborn to a fault.
“All right, fine,” Gib heard himself say. His voice sounded foreign in his ears. “You’re right. I can’t force you to stay, and it’s selfish to ask you to choose the coward’s way out. Just—just promise me you’ll be careful. Stay alert out there, and if anything happens—”
Before he could speak another word, Liza pulled him into an embrace. “I promise. I’ll remain vigilant. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”
Gib hugged her fiercely. “I love you, Liza.”
One of Liza's hands rested atop his head, stroking his curls. “And I you.” She released him, holding him by the shoulders at arm’s length. A faint smile played on her lips. “And when I return, you must formally introduce me to your new catch. That Zandi Malin-Rai is quite lovely to look at.”
Gib could feel his cheeks burning. “I–uh–if you want to.”
“Of course I want to,” Liza replied. Her left eye twitched in what was perhaps a subtle wink.
Gib took the water bucket in one hand while gripping Tales of Fae in the other. “Take care of yourself out there. I’ll try to hold things down here while you’re gone.”
“You always do, Gib. Always.”
Liza squeezed his shoulder one final time. Her grip was firm and steady, like Gib remembered their father’s to be. It gave Gib the hope he so desperately needed. Liza was right. Everything would be fine. They’d made it this far together. Luck, fate, or perhaps even the will of The Two had allowed them to survive until this point. Surely they wouldn’t be abandoned now—would they?
Chapter Seven
Kirk forced himself not to sneer when Otho came into view down the corridor—quite a distance down, to be exact. It would seem none of the students in the hall dared get too close to him. Indeed, they all went out of their way to give the homely man a wide berth. Otho either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he remained steadfast at his post beside Dean Marc’s office door.
Kirk thought to offer a greeting as he stopped beside Otho but opted against it when Otho didn’t even grace Kirk with a glance of acknowledgement.
Fine, Kirk thought, scowling. Two can play this game.
Leaning against the wall, he folded his arms across his chest and waited in silence. Clearly the Weapons Master’s assistant hadn’t taken it upon himself to learn any manners since they’d last crossed paths.
Nearly two moonturns had come and gone since Marc had held that first meeting. Kirk had begun to wonder if the entire thing had been a dream or something his ever-present paranoia had conjured up. Both Prince Didier and the dean had insisted the time to act against Neetra would be soon, yet Kirk hadn’t heard a single word on the matter since. As the sennights turned into fortnights and then entire moonturns passed by, it seemed probable Marc and the others had chosen to move forward without Kirk. Perhaps entrusting the Imperial mage was too much of a risk for them to take, despite Joel’s assurance that Kirk was an ally.
Kirk begrudgingly accepted it. He’d known trust would be hard-earned because of his former ties to the Northern
Empire. He’d known making a life for himself in Arden would be an uphill battle. But he hadn’t anticipated the loneliness. With Joel gone to war and Kenisha outside Silver, he had no one else to talk to.
So when the hastily-scribbled message from Marc had arrived just after dawn that morning, Kirk almost hadn’t believed his eyes. Meet me at my office before the midday bell tolls was all the note had read, with Marc’s signature scratched into the parchment beneath.
Kirk’s first inclination was that the dean needed to discuss something Academy related. This couldn’t have anything to do with Neetra, could it? They’d obviously found Kirk unsuitable to be privy to such information. Though, with Otho Dakheel also present, what else could this meeting really be about?
They stood in silence for what felt like forever. The midday bell rang, the singsong sound reverberating off the vaulted marble ceiling. Finally, when the melody had ceased and they stood alone in the abandoned hall, Kirk couldn’t take it anymore.
He sighed and glanced over at Otho. “Are we guarding the door?”
Otho openly aired his disdain. “He’s not here yet. Door’s locked.”
“Are we early?”
“No. He’s late.”
Kirk chewed on his bottom lip, caught between the urge to further ignore Otho and the need to validate himself. Why did Otho insist on treating Kirk like he was some kind of deviant? He had every intention of making Arden his new home, and he’d be damned if some ill-mannered weaponry apprentice was going to make him feel unworthy.
Luckily, Kirk didn’t have to suffer Otho’s company alone for much longer. Marc rounded the corner and hurried down the corridor toward the two young men.
The dean’s face was grim as he approached, and he didn’t waste time with formalities. “All right, good. You’re both here. We’re probably not going to get a better chance than this. Follow me.”
Kirk’s heart raced when the trio entered the royal palace half a mark later.
Marc didn’t bring them through the main entrance. The door they used was modest in both height and stature and was guarded by only a single man donned in plate armor. Marc said not a word, and the sentinel allowed him to pass through with nothing more than a hasty nod, leaving Kirk to wonder if this was normal protocol. Surely it couldn’t be. He’d lived inside the Imperial grounds in Teivel for nearly half his life and never were people allowed to come and go without thorough questioning. Was this all part of the “chance” Marc had cryptically mentioned?
“Stay close,” Marc warned, motioning for Kirk and Otho to follow.
Kirk had no complaints with the order. He hadn’t been inside the palace since he’d first come through the portal, and he had no intentions of becoming lost now. If he were separated from Marc and Otho, he’d never be able to come up with a plausible explanation as to why he was there. He’d probably be thrown into the dungeons, or worse.
Marc directed them down one narrow hallway after another. The darkness seeping from within the corridors made Kirk leery. Every room, hall, and courtyard in Teivel had always been illuminated by mage-orbs. He wasn’t used to creeping around in the shadows.
“Where are we going?” Otho finally asked.
Marc hesitated, slowing so Otho and Kirk could catch up. He kept glancing around wildly, as if he might be expecting an ambush at any given moment. “We’re going to the council room. Come on. I’ll explain more once we’re inside.”
Marc continued to guide them, often peering around corners before stepping fully into the corridor. Kirk held his breath and tried to keep his footfalls light. What might happen if they were caught? He hoped Marc had a good excuse as to why he and two underlings were sneaking around the palace should someone stumble upon them.
They ascended a steep, spiraling stairwell, the dean leading the way and Kirk bringing up the rear. He was nearly out of breath by the time he set foot on the floor above. Marc drew to a halt only after a few paces. A polished wood door barred the way, and they could go no further.
“This leads into the gallery above the council room.” Marc’s hand went around the brass handle, and leaning his shoulder against the bulky hardwood, he pushed the door open.
Otho cocked an eyebrow. “Should have been locked.”
Marc motioned for the underlings to go through first. “There are still some royal guardsmen who are loyal to the King.”
Kirk’s breath caught as he passed beneath the doorframe and into the room beyond. If someone had told him a wheelturn ago he’d be sneaking into the chambers of Arden’s High Council, he would have laughed aloud and called them mad.
The chamber inside was murky and encumbered by shadow, though had the heavy curtains lining the gallery been drawn open, the entire space might have been bright and inviting. A stale scent hung in the air, like the smell of an old chest filled with linen and mothballs. Three rows of chairs smothered in worn velvet were arranged into a crescent and overlooked an oversized roundtable below.
Kirk swallowed. So this was the place where Arden’s laws were forged.
Marc turned his back long enough to secure the door. “All right. We need to do this as quickly as possible. There’s no council meeting scheduled today, but that doesn’t mean we have time to dawdle.”
“You still haven’t informed us why we’re here,” Kirk said, following behind Marc as he trudged down the carpeted steps leading from the gallery to the chamber’s base. Kirk could hear Otho’s light footfalls at his back.
Marc waited until they’d reached the bottom floor to respond. “Before Koal left, he mentioned Neetra’s election. If we can find some kind of proof that it was rigged—”
“Would it be enough to get him off the throne?” Otho asked darkly.
Marc met each of the underlings with a troubled gaze. “I—I don’t know.”
Otho let out a groan and shook his head. “Everyone knows the seneschal should be on the throne until Deegan is old enough to rule. Why was a vote even needed?”
“Because something isn’t right. That’s what we have to try to figure out.”
Kirk shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You don’t sound very sure of this plan.”
“I’m not. But Koal is my friend, and he’s asked me to do this for him. I’m not going to fail another friend.”
Kirk couldn’t imagine what Marc meant by that but didn’t have time to ponder. The dean pulled a crate of files out from a shelf beneath the table and passed it to Kirk. A moment later, he handed a second box to Otho and kept a third for himself.
“I’m not sure what’s in any of these, so we’re just going to have to divvy them up and go through all of it.” Marc set his own crate onto the table with a sigh. “Diedrick Lyle—the High Council’s Records Keeper—is in charge of documentation, and he doesn’t tend to divulge where he files everything away.”
Otho snorted. “Lyle is a known supporter of the new steward. What’s to say he hasn’t conveniently made anything pertaining to the election ‘disappear’ already?”
“That thought has crossed my mind,” Marc admitted. “But it’s still worth looking.”
They set to work in silence. Kirk emptied his crate and leafed through his assigned stack of paperwork, taking pains to make sure everything stayed in its proper order. Neetra couldn’t suspect what they were doing. Kirk’s heart continued to hammer in his chest, no matter how many times he told himself to calm down.
Most of the documents he passed over were of trivial nature: tax receipts, rejected petitions, and other documents Kirk barely understood. He set them aside and dug deeper into the crate. Still he found nothing. As the minutes flew by, Kirk began to doubt any of them would find useful information. Perhaps Diedrick Lyle had indeed purged all records of the election. Had they risked their safety sneaking into this chamber all for nothing?
Otho cleared his throat. “Marc. Election ballots.” He waved a handful of loose parchment slips in the air.
The dean stepped around the table and came to stand
over Otho’s shoulder. His face darkened as he read through the paperwork. “It was so close.”
Kirk crept closer, examining the documents for himself. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. “Seneschal Koal lost by one.”
“One vote is all it takes. But now with Liro on the High Council, we’ve lost the numbers advantage completely. Neetra knew full well his brother was his only real competition. I’m sure he bought off or bribed everyone else to vote for him. But without proof, our hands are tied.”
“Were there any swing voters?” Kirk asked. “People who normally voted with the seneschal but went against him that time? Can you tell who cast which ballot?”
“The vote was supposed to remain confidential, but let me see.” Marc silently went through each of the thirteen pages, scrutinizing them with a critical eye. At last, he fished one from the pile and held it close to his face. “I’m pretty sure this one belongs to Joaquin Aldino—his handwriting is so flowery and all. He typically voted with us. Though lately, he’s been voting alongside the likes of Anders and Liro.”
“Could you interrogate him? Ask him if he voted for Neetra instead of Koal?”
“I don’t know. Joaquin is usually pretty laid back, but he might start asking difficult questions if I go to him.”
Kirk nodded. That made sense. Perhaps they could search for evidence of this Joaquin Aldino being bought off before the vote took place.
A noise from the hall caused all three men to freeze. Beyond the closed door, footsteps rapidly approached, and Kirk could hear two voices snarling back and forth.
“Put everything back!” Marc hissed, scrambling to gather the scattered parchment.
Kirk’s heart pounded as he threw his pile of paperwork back into the crate and shoved it beneath the table. His thoughts leapt to his sister on her new husband’s farm with so little protection. If he were caught, would Kenisha also stand to be punished?
The voices in the hall were growing louder.
“Where do we go?” Kirk squealed.
Battle Dawn: Book Three of the Chronicles of Arden Page 14
