Crown of Thieves

by Peyton Reynolds

  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.

  Chapter 15

  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 t
he 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 b
eing 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.”

  Chapter 16

  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.