Traitor's Crown (Stones of Terrene Book 3)

by RJ Metcalf

  Weston scanned the roof line as they cantered by the upscale homes, most with flat, balcony-like roofs and several with the golden domes of the truly affluent. According to Christopher, this was a safe house that he wasn’t aware of Victor having ever used, though it was in the list of locations that Victor had him memorize back when he’d first come to meet the Elph. But now that there was an arrogant advisor in the mix, maybe they’d find something.

  “Please, Your Highness, stay behind and let us go in first,” one of the Antian soldiers called back, directing his words at Abigail. His tone wasn’t exactly pleading, nor was it authoritative. More, weary. As if he didn’t expect her to obey.

  “If he’s in there, chase him out to the streets.” Abigail’s eyes narrowed as she surveyed the white buildings.

  “Yes, Your Highness.” The guard started slowing his horse in tandem with Niles and his steed. “Please wait here, Highnesses.”

  Muscles tensed in Weston’s back and shoulders as half the Antian and half the Aerugan soldiers dismounted, cautiously approaching the house to their right. Niles pointed to the front, and the Antian who had spoken earlier shook his head, gesturing to the rear and then hitching a thumb toward Abigail. Niles’s eye twitched, but he nodded, and three men moved toward the back, while he stayed on the side of the building, leaving the front door unguarded.

  “What are they—” Weston started, but Abigail hushed him, an almost-smirk gracing her face.

  “Back up so we’re not so visible,” she ordered.

  Weston followed her lead, then leaned over his horse’s neck so he could see the front door. He tapped the hilt of his sword impatiently.

  A distant bellow rang out and the door burst open. Kaius sprinted into the street, looking a little less worn than when Weston had last seen him. Concern rose in Weston at the sight of the Elph escaping, and he raised his hand at Abigail in a soundless gesture of “what now?”

  Abigail muttered something, and she waved her hands in a rolling motion from the ground up to the sky, flicking her fingers to her wrists. Earth rumbled ahead of them, and a wall of dirt shot up in front of Kaius. His head whipped around, gaze searching until he spotted Abigail. A feral snarl twisted his features, and he started toward them. The two Antian guards that had been behind Weston and Abigail moved forward, flanking them.

  Weston’s hands slipped on the reins, and his mouth dried. Kaius wouldn’t reach them, not with the guards right there, but that didn’t stop his heart from jumping into his throat.

  Niles yelled something and charged toward Kaius, the other guards converging with him.

  Within seconds, it was over, and Kaius was sprawled in the dirt, the knee of one of the Antian guards pressed into his back. Abigail dismounted with only a brief moment of difficulty and stalked over, her silver robes billowing, though the rust-brown streaks of dried blood hindered the mesmerizing flow of fabric. Weston hurriedly followed her, adjusting his sword belt. A whisper of doubt crept through Weston’s heart. Hiding behind his guards and a princess. How unleaderlike.

  But Andre would acknowledge the tactical soundness. Weston lacked the abilities that Abigail and his guards had. So why did he doubt himself?

  His father’s voice whispered in his head. Coward.

  Weston clenched his fist and willed the word away. He wouldn’t give in to the goading.

  Abigail stood over Kaius, anger hardening her jaw. “Why? Why would you betray us like this?”

  The guards jerked him up to his knees. Dirt streaks marred his otherwise pristine white sleeves and brown pants. Kaius spat at her feet. “You think I’d tell you?” He glared up at her. “If you’d like to help, you could go the way of your half-breed mother.”

  Abigail’s lips trembled, and Weston’s eyes darted between the two, trying to quickly remember past history. Her mother had died a few years ago, hadn’t she? How she died, he couldn’t remember. Murder, wasn’t it?

  He needed to step up.

  But not like his father would. He wouldn’t resort to his father’s methods. Not now. Not ever.

  “How dare you speak to the princess like that!” The guard holding Kaius jerked him back, arching Kaius’s back awkwardly.

  Kaius gave a short laugh.

  Weston stepped forward, his voice hard. “You’ve lost, Kaius. Whether you realize it or not.”

  “That’s what you think, human.” Kaius scoffed. He turned his molten glare to Abigail. “And as for you, princess, the day will come that you won’t be around to defend your weakling father, and the throne will be unsullied once again.”

  “What are you implying?” Abigail whispered. She stared down at him like she’d never met him before. “Is this because of my blood?”

  A slow smile stretched across Kaius’s face leisurely enough that Weston shuddered despite his resolve. Something about it seemed … unnatural. Kaius barely twitched his shoulder. “What do you think? Your father is weak,” he spat. “Not only did he take on a half-blood for a lover, but he married her. And had you.” Kaius shook his head, whatever inhibition to speaking he’d had earlier long-gone. “I took care of your mother, and Victor will take care of you and your pathetic father. The blood-bond will return to our lands, and all will be as it should be. There is no stopping the bond.”

  The Antian guards muttered amongst themselves, and Weston watched with growing alarm as Abigail paled, then reddened. Her hands shook as she fisted them. A ball of dirt rose from the ground, leaving a small crater in the road. She swirled her fingers, and the dirt thinned, streaming into Kaius’s nostrils and mouth, gagging him.

  “What are you doing?” Weston jumped forward, gripping her elbow above the white bandage. “You can’t kill him!”

  Tears spilled down Abigail’s cheeks as she watched her advisor choke on the stream of terrain. “He murdered my mother. He lied.” She halted the flow for a heartbeat, and Kaius gasped in air, coughing out dust. “You—you said it was a Void Born that killed her!” Abigail took a half-step back, trembling. “We trusted you, and you murdered her!” She looked up at her soldiers. “Do you agree that he deserves execution?”

  Each guard bowed and held out their right hands, palm down. Triumph twisted the beauty in Abigail’s face to something terrifying to Weston. She inclined her head to Kaius. “It has been decided.”

  Weston’s gut lurched. What was it that Andre used to say all the time—that revenge was empty?

  “Wait,” Weston pleaded. “If you kill him now, you will regret it later. Revenge is a hollow victory.”

  Misery and hate shone in Abigail’s eyes. Her entire body quivered like a leaf in a gale. “I already regret, Weston. I regret that I trusted him. I regret that he yet draws breath while my mother’s body has been returned to the sea and her soul resides in Falchion’s embrace. I won’t regret this.”

  “But you will,” Weston risked pushing against her shoulder, drawing her attention more forcefully. “If you’re going to hunt down the rest of the traitor groups that you suspect are in Antius, you’re going to need him. Alive. How else will you know who to trust? Maybe there were more who were involved in her death.” He stopped, holding his breath, praying she’d see reason.

  She stared at him, emotions warring in her face. Anger. Hatred. Sorrow. Pain. Acceptance. Fresh tears fell down her cheeks, and she gulped for air, her breath shuddering. “I—Fine.” She whipped her head to the side, hiding her grief. Her voice was light, raw. “Arrest him. And this time put him in a different prison, the deepest, darkest prison you have. He can rot there until we leave for Antius.”

  The guards wrestled Kaius to his feet and moved past them, leaving Abigail and Weston with Niles standing nearby, his back to them as he watched the street.

  “We’ll take him right away, Your Highness,” the Antian that had spoken earlier stated.

  Weston nodded his approval and four guards rode off with Kaius.

  Weston’s heart ached at the naked anguish in Abigail’s voice, and he fished a crumpled handkerc
hief from his pocket. He gently touched her elbow to draw her attention, then handed the square of fabric over, eyes averted to respect her pain.

  He coughed. “Um, we should get back to the palace.” He turned around to face the horses and offered his arm. “May I offer my arm, for you to lean on, Your Highness?”

  Red-rimmed eyes peeked at him through strands of blonde hair. She tilted her head to hide her face again as she nodded. Her fingers grazed his forearm, and a jolt passed through him. He led her to her horse and she stood there, her hand idly brushing her steed, her face still down turned while Weston and the remaining four guards waited for her to mount.

  “Would you like a hand up?” Weston tentatively asked.

  She sighed softly. “I may have been wrong about you.”

  His eyebrows shot up and he blinked. “Come again?”

  Abigail pursed her lips and shook her head firmly. She fisted her hand and a small set of earthen steps rose from the ground, giving her an easy way to mount her horse. She lifted her chin, facing the palace. “Let’s go find out what we’ve missed.”

  Chapter Fifty

  Raine

  Raine led Ben and Geist up the wide ramp to the medical rooms, her entire body tingling with the knowledge that Ben was alive. He was right behind her. Real. Alive. Whole—unlike her. Her heart panged as she recalled the thousands of questions she’d seen in his eyes. Questions that he’d held back for the moment. He’d seen her kill Simon. He’d seen her purposefully cut each artery, seen her drain him of his miserable life, seen her unashamedly rid the world of Simon’s stain.

  She wanted to look back at Ben. Wanted to reach out and feel his warmth, his pulse, feel the confirmation that he was alive.

  But she couldn’t. Now without instigating conversation. Which would reveal her shame. Her anger. Her despair.

  Andre had been right. She’d avenged herself, had killed Simon, and yet it did feel … empty. Simon was dead and wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else, ever again, and for that, she was glad. The relief seeped through her soul, giving her the strength to keep moving. Yet … she’d slaughtered him. And it didn’t take away the pain in her heart. It didn’t undo what had been done to her—to the others that he’d mentioned. But now she had his blood on her hands. Blood that she’d violently drained from him, with a vicious satisfaction that churned her stomach even as she thought about it.

  She hung her head for a few steps, remembering the cruel satisfaction she’d felt pounding through her bloodstream in that moment of his death.

  She’d executed him.

  And she enjoyed it.

  But now her stomach churned bile that she tasted in the back of her throat. She should’ve listened to Andre.

  “Are the guards always so … taciturn?” Geist’s voice broke through Raine’s awareness, and she lifted her head.

  The luminary crystals shone at full strength, illuminating the mess with the stained, dirty tables and wonky chairs, the open doorway for the medical/Artemis’s tattoo parlor. A steady line of prisoners filed in and out of the medical room, each one coming out quieter and straighter than when they’d gone in. The guards that stood by the gate stared straight ahead, stone-faced as usual, but not paying the prisoners any attention.

  Raine frowned. “That is odd.” She studied the quick turnaround of prisoners, but she saw no sign of the silent swordsman. Weariness weighed on her limbs in a steady reminder that she’d fought in the pit earlier, and hadn’t rested since. “If the exams are going this fast, Andre should have been done already. And if he didn’t come back to our room, then I’d guess that he must’ve been put on a last-minute mine detail.”

  Andre was often a favorite for mining, as he had the height and strength that was utterly invaluable for such work, so it wasn’t entirely outside the realm of possibility. But it was an unusual time to start a shift for mining. Level three should be out on their rotation, and yet she recognized a few prisoners from there in addition to a few men from her level.

  And what was with the guards? The two by the gate were never this quiet; the heavy-set one always made a point to ignore her, but talked garbage about her whenever her back was turned. The skinny one wouldn’t necessarily defend her, but he’d never participated in the hurtful comments to her knowledge, and always gave her a small nod of acknowledgment. He, at least, didn’t ignore her presence. And where was the guard that’d escorted Ben and Geist to her room? He’d been called away, hadn’t he? Was it for an exam? Why wasn’t he here too?

  Her skin prickled and the hair on her arms stood on end as she mentally catalogued all the subtle differences from the normal she’d gotten used to.

  And there were less guards here than there should be for the high amount of prisoners. That spooked her more than she could put words to. While they weren’t exactly prominent in the Hollows, they were a silent feature that was always there. Always watching. And for them to change up their routine like this? Something didn’t seem right.

  Then again, it could all just be in her head, an unpleasant repercussion of guilt from her earlier actions in the pit. While she didn’t regret that Simon was dead, she couldn’t find it in her heart to celebrate that she’d been the one to kill him. His cries, his swearing, his belated apology whispered in the back of her mind, creating a duet with her own inner voice, the one that constantly reminded her that she wasn’t strong enough, that she’d been weak, that she’d let down her Papa by letting herself be used, that she hadn’t thought to let Simon drink the water first to test it, that she had fallen for his tricks. That she’d disappoint Ben if he ever learned the truth, That she wasn’t the warrior that he thought she was, that she hadn’t been able to fight like he’d shown her how.

  Her vision blurred and she swallowed thickly, fluttering her eyelashes to keep the grief at bay. If Ben or Geist saw tears now, there’d be no way to avoid the conversation. She took silent sips of air, trying to steady her breathing.

  Maybe this disquiet she felt now with the guards and prisoners was just like the voices in her head. Maybe she was losing her mind.

  She dashed her hand by her face in a subtle attempt to clean her face of any telltale moisture.

  Ben walked past them and leaned in the open doorway of the office. He shook his head and came back. “He’s not in there.” Ben stopped just short of her, his fingers outstretched as if he wanted to touch her hand. He probably saw her shifting from foot to foot, shivering, and thought she was cold or sick.

  “Think you should go by?” Hesitant concern shone in his face. “Maybe there’s something for your arm, or anything that would help right now?”

  “No,” she turned away and started up the ramp for the top level. “If I need to go in, they’ll send someone for me.”

  The idea of going to Artemis and talking with her friend, now that Ben was here, didn’t sit well. How could she not share that her friends were here, that hope and dread tangled in her gut like the water snakes in Piovant’s Lake Chileans? Just having Artemis suspect could risk getting them all caught, even if Artemis said she was rooting for Raine to escape, there was no guarantee that she’d actually meant it. And Artemis had become too good at reading Raine’s emotions. She’d see through Raine in a heartbeat.

  Raine shook her head and gestured to the barely lit path. “Come on, let’s see if Andre’s upstairs.”

  “Can you go upstairs freely? Or will this potentially be a problem?” Ben asked, keeping pace with her. He touched a hand on his sword hilt in a gesture that spoke of a confidence in his skill that she hadn’t really witnessed from him before.

  “It’ll be fine.” Raine shrugged. “It’s not against the rules to be out and about when it’s not my shift for working or fighting. It’s just … inadvisable for me to be alone. But I’m not.” She gestured at them and their fancy black Aerugan uniforms that showed every speck of mine dust. “And I doubt too many would question me when I’m with two Aerugan soldiers.” She felt almost normal in their conversation, and she sm
irked at Geist’s discomfort when she called him an Aerugan soldier. “Since when were you two in the military, anyway?”

  “We’re not,” Geist muttered.

  They passed a group of prisoners chatting idly that fell silent when they saw Raine. She lifted her head and glided past, pretending that she wasn’t bothered or intimidated by their baleful stares. Geist’s posture stayed alert as he hustled up the ramp, walking between her and the unfriendly group.

  Once they’d completed a quarter of the ramp, safely out of earshot, he hitched his thumb at Ben. “Lover boy wanted to come in and bust you out, and I wasn’t going to let him go alone, so we’re officially here to teach the guards some new tech. Getting you and Andre out is a bonus.”

  Ben’s face flushed a crimson so deep that it reminded Raine of an angry plodder’s dark crimson plates. A matching sense of embarrassment heated her own cheeks, but she ignored it as a wave of shame drowned her. There was no value to Ben liking her now. Not when she’d let him down by allowing herself to be used. Now when she’d let wrath take over her. Not when she’d murdered in cold blood. She clenched her clammy hands, her skin remembering the feel of Simon’s slick blood running down her fingers. She choked on air and held up a hand to stave off Ben and Geist’s immediate concern.

  The circular ramp way ended, giving them the only option of the hallway that led to the main cavern. Raine’s steps faltered. Two prisoners escorted a struggling guard past them, a small gaggle of guards standing nearby, ignoring the commotion. A shiver worked its way down her spine. Something was off. This wasn’t her imagination.

  A group of prisoners looked over at her and one detached from the gaggle, walking straight toward Raine. She slid her foot back subtly, distributing her weight for a fight, but feeling ill-prepared for it. She needed to know what was happening before drawing attention to herself. The prisoner stepped under the light of a luminary crystal, and some of Raine’s stress melted from her shoulders. Jeff. She hadn’t talked to him since the dragon spider incident, but it was a relief to see him doing well. She straightened and subtly waved Geist and Ben down.