All the King's Traitors

by Keylin Rivers

  “What’s going on?” asked Aurelia, pausing in her tracks. Kuba watch as she gripped at her small knife.

  “Not sure,” said Ion. The sounds of song and laughter floated through the air. Kuba looked up at Ion; he seemed hesitant as well.

  Kuba laughed and they both looked at him.

  “Are you two serious?” he said. “It’s a party.”

  Ion and Aurelia stared at him blankly.

  “Let’s go!” Kuba shouted before ambling down the beach.

  A party—how exciting! He loved when they had parties back in Zar. And after everything that had happened, it would be nice, for one night, to pretend to be back home.

  He slowed, still exhausted from his wield, and looked towards the gathering on the beach. There must have been at least forty people there. The sight of the smiling guests pushed any and all of his concerns away. How could he be sad at a party?

  Aurelia and Ion caught up to him, and then overtook him.

  “Hey!” he yelled at his companions. He wanted to be first to the party. “Wait up!”

  Ion stopped, waiting for Kuba to catch up. Aurelia continued running for another moment, but then she stopped as well. Kuba smiled. A couple of weeks ago, she would have just left them behind if they were slowing her down. The all slowed to a walk together, approaching the beach party as a unit.

  The music and chatter paused as they arrived.

  “Welcome!” Elara said over the crowd. She stood from her seat in the centre of the longest table. Her chair was the same as the others, with one exception: a beautiful vine, in full bloom, was intertwined through the lightly coloured wood. The yellow flowers, which smelled like a fresh bakery if you got close enough, looked like they were blossoming out of the chair itself. It reminded Kuba of the flowers back home.

  “Welcome to all,” she continued. “A special welcome to our new guests, who have journeyed all the way from Zar and Burrath to finally take their place among our family.”

  Kuba felt a sharp twist in his gut. What about his own family?

  “We all know their story too well,” she continued as people settled into their seats. Kuba continued standing with Ion and Aurelia.

  “A story of pain and loss. This is no longer your story!” Elara said. The crowd erupted in cheers. A giddiness welled up in Kuba, everyone seemed so happy. “We welcome you to our home, which we hope will become yours as well. Tonight, we feast to honour your hardships and to celebrate your future here.”

  The crowd erupted again. Glasses were clinking and people were laughing. Their enthusiasm was intoxicating. Kuba couldn’t help but give a little cheer as he turned to look at Aurelia and Ion. Aurelia’s face was neutral. She looked relaxed and her hand had fallen away from her sword. Ion, however, was frowning.

  He turned his attention back to Elara.

  “Come. Take your seats at the table!”

  The three of them murmured a ‘thank you’ and shuffled through the sand to the open seats at Elara’s table. As they walked, the party continued. Kuba took his seat between Ion and Aurelia and across from Elara and Gentry, whom he had met when he first woke. The smell of food caused his mouth to salivate. A large fish spilled off the sides of his wooden plate. It was surrounded by vegetables that looked as decorative as they did delicious. There were even flowers…

  “Those are edible,” said Elara as Kuba poked at them. He looked up quickly and felt his cheeks flushing.

  “No, don’t be shy. Please, eat!”

  He didn’t have to be told twice; he was starving. “Thank you!” he said through his first bite of fish.

  “Yes, thank you,” said Aurelia as she followed suit.

  “Thanks,” Ion said, almost under his breath. Kuba couldn’t understand why Ion was being so short.

  “It is customary,” said Elara, “that we prepare for a celebration the day after each bright moon. So forgive me if the food is not adequate. When the bright moon came and went, we did not anticipate visitors until next month.”

  “S’great! Shanks,” said Kuba, his mouth full of food.

  Elara laughed.

  “You do this every month?” asked Aurelia.

  “We prepare for it,” said Gentry.

  “And when no one comes?” asked Ion, and Kuba rolled his eyes. His brother could be such a downer sometimes.

  “We have a small celebration, and the extras go into storage,” said Gentry.

  “You are the first to arrive in a long while, years even,” said Elara, and Kuba looked up. She was watching them intently, not touching her food. “We are so happy you are here.”

  “Us too,” said Aurelia.

  Kuba grunted his agreement between bites.

  “We won’t be here for long,” said Ion. Kuba swallowed hard and turned to look at his brother. Ion was right, they wouldn’t be here for long. The sentiment made the celebration feel sombre.

  “Ion, now is not the time,” Aurelia whispered over Kuba’s head.

  “What do you mean?” asked Gentry.

  “They,” Elara started, “well, Ion really, is set on going back to Azanthea.”

  Kuba gulped.

  “Why?” Gentry asked.

  “To save my family.”

  Ion sat at the long wooden table. The sun had almost set, and most people had migrated towards the fire. As he watched Aurelia, who was actively participating in the festivities, he ground his teeth. She hadn’t backed him up; the only one who had was Kuba. Elara dismissed him altogether, and the party continued without hesitation. He dropped his head into his hands. What had been the point of getting to the Free-Wielders if none of them would help?

  “Hey.”

  Ion looked up at Gentry. “Hey.”

  “You’re not going to join?” Gentry sat down across from him.

  “No,” he replied. How could he enjoy a party when his family was still in danger?

  “Look, you aren’t going to save them tonight. You may as well have some fun.”

  Ion grumbled.

  “It’s not going to be easy, convincing people to abandon this life to help you.”

  “Elara already said no.”

  “Elara is our leader,” said Gentry, leaning in. “But she does not make decisions for us. We are a free people.”

  Ion raised an eyebrow.

  “You have come at a good time,” Gentry continued.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There is an appetite for action.”

  Ion’s heart began to race; maybe this was possible.

  “We should have helped during the Battle of Burrath, but when word of Wolfmere dying reached us—”

  “Wait,” Ion paused and looked towards Aurelia by the large bonfire. “You knew about the war in the North?”

  “Of course. We were allies of the Northerners.”

  “So why didn’t you do anything?” Ion’s jaw clenched. How could they have sat around knowing what Azanthea was doing, knowing what Apollyon was doing, and let it happen? They couldn’t even claim ignorance. Ion looked at Aurelia and sighed. She clearly didn’t know.

  “There were many reasons,” Gentry started. He looked down at his hands, shaking his head. “Timing, logistics, fear. And then, when we heard Wolfmere had been murdered, we knew we had put off the decision too long. None of this excuses our inaction, though.”

  Ion felt the fury stir inside him. He was angry for Aurelia, but also for himself and Kuba. Things might have been different if the North had won. Perhaps they would have pushed south. Perhaps there would have been no more reason for the conscription.

  “It is my biggest regret.”

  Ion was about to say something horrible, but the look in Gentry’s eyes stopped him. His fists unclenched slightly. The bald man was almost crying, his face droopy. He looked distraught. Ion looked back at Aurelia, who was laughing by the fire.

  “I don’t even know how I will apologize to her.”

  “You could start by telling her.”

  “Elara has asked tha
t she be the one to tell her.”

  Ion rolled his eyes. Of course she had.

  “You dislike her?”

  “I dislike anyone who would keep me from my family. And who lies to my friends.”

  “It is her job to protect us, to make the hard decisions for the group as a whole. But you are free to go whenever you like,” said Gentry. “That is what I came over here to say. We all are free to go whenever.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean your timing is perfect.”

  Ion raised an eyebrow.

  “You have heard of Vallich, I presume? Apollyon's heir?”

  He nodded. There wasn’t anyone in the whole of Azanthea who hadn’t heard of Vallich. The Conqueror of the North. The namesake of Diamonwon.

  “He wasn’t just the Commander of the Elevenths,” said Gentry, “he is also one of the most powerful Wielders in Azanthea. Some even say he may be more powerful than Apollyon himself.”

  “So?”

  “So,” said Gentry, leaning in close, “our last intel has led us to believe he betrayed the King and has fled. They preparing to host Ascension Trial as we speak to determine the next heir. But for now, Apollyon is more exposed than he has ever been, and people here have wanted action since the Battle of Burrath. Those imprisoned from Burrath would join us, as would the small rebel groups based in Azanthea. It is our time.”

  Ion’s eyes widened as he finally understood what Gentry was saying. “Look, I just want to get my family back. I have no interest in going to war.”

  “Well, war may just be your only option.”

  Aurelia clutched her mug of wine as the crowd whisked her away. She couldn’t remember a time when dancing had been a part of her life, but still, she laughed carelessly as the crowd of people surrounding her began a synchronized routine.

  The group hummed a harmonic melody. Sand flew into the air as people kicked and circled, and with each sharp movement, a cheer erupted from the crowd. Aurelia spun in a circle, taking it all in.

  This was it! She spread her arms wide. She was finally free. She kicked the sand, imitating the group’s motions.

  She closed her eyes, swaying in the middle of the circle. Through the mesmerizing chants, she could hear the clash of the ocean’s waves echoing off the water’s surface and the chatter of those who weren’t dancing feasting at their tables.

  She opened her eyes and spotted Ion, sitting by himself. Her smile faded a little. She marched towards him, finished her drink, and slammed her cup down on the table.

  His head snapped in her direction.

  “You,” she said, pointing directly at him, “are coming to dance.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of his chair.

  “What are you doing?” he said as she dragged him onward. They passed a group of men and women who whooped and cheered as they went by.

  “Helping you have some fun!”

  “You’re drunk,” said Ion as she continued to pull him by the wrist. “Stop!”

  She kept trudging forward.

  “Aurelia, stop!” Ion yelled, pulling his wrist free.

  She whirled around to face him. “What is your problem?” she demanded.

  “What is yours?” Ion took a step back. “This isn’t you. Do you even know what’s going on here?”

  “I’m just happy to be here, Ion. Forgive me for celebrating finding a home!”

  “So you’ve decided then. You’re not going to help us?” Ion said and Kuba emerged from the dancing crowd to stand behind his brother.

  Aurelia looked around; people were staring. “That’s not what I said at all!”

  “Well, some home you’ve found. You’ll fit right in.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Aurelia shouted, inching closer to him.

  “Now, now.” A voice emerged from the crowd. Elara came pushing through the whispering voices. “Let’s just calm—”

  “Oh, shut up!” said Ion, rounding on her. “You won’t help us just like you wouldn’t help Burrath.”

  “This is not the place,” said Elara, glaring at Ion. Even in the fire-lit darkness, Aurelia could see Elara was angry.

  “Not the place for what?” Aurelia asked. “What do you mean ‘help Burrath’?”

  “Tell her, Oh Great Leader,” said Ion sarcastically. “Go ahead and tell her.”

  Aurelia looked at Elara, who was silent, her head down.

  “Didn’t think so,” said Ion. “Let’s go, Kuba.”

  “Wait, Ion!” Aurelia reached towards him as he walked by.

  “Enjoy your party,” said Ion, his voice croaking. He had his back to her, and she watched as he clenched his fists.

  “Ion…” Aurelia called out to him as he walked away. Kuba whisked by her, running to catch up. She looked back at Elara and the crowd of Free-Wielders. She wanted to run after him, but she took a deep breath and stopped herself.

  This was her home now. Whether Ion liked it or not.

  Chapter 31

  Spearield, 16th Day of the Month of Warmth, 1114 A.F.F.

  Aurelia woke with a splitting headache. It was still early, but she was alone in the room. She shook her head as memories of the previous evening came flooding back to her.

  The dinner.

  The dancing.

  The fight with Ion.

  After he had stormed off, she had tried to enjoy herself, but couldn’t. She had returned to Gentry and Robert’s to find Ion cuddled up with Kuba on a makeshift bed in the main room. Robert and Gentry must have been in their daughter’s room, so Aurelia had the largest chamber to herself.

  “Ion,” she growled as she got out of bed, still feeling mad. “Making me look like a selfish pig, taking this entire room to myself.” She stumbled across the dirt floor, looking for the clothes she had strewn about in her drunken state. She pulled her shirt on and grabbed her pants off the bed frame. Then she felt a moment of panic and reached for her neck. A sigh of relief flooded over her—her Godstone was still safely secured in the pouch around her neck.

  “Where the hell is my damn knife?” Aurelia ducked under the bed and reached around in the dark. Her hand met the cold steel of her long, sword-like blade. She pulled it out from under the bed and wrapped the belt around her waist.

  Her head pulsed and her mouth felt pasty. She needed water. She moved into the main room, trying to be quiet, but she couldn’t find what she was searching for. She grumbled inwardly and walked out the door towards the village. The early morning air was humid and salty. She walked past the few wooden homes and sat on a rock on the outskirts of the neighbourhood. Fragments of her argument with Ion echoed in her mind.

  Aurelia understood why he was upset with her. If she were in his shoes, she would be upset, too. But he wasn’t even willing to listen. Why was he so determined to risk his life—and Kuba’s—for an uncertainty? Didn’t he know that there was very little chance his family was still alive?

  There were other questions to be asked, though. As Aurelia reflected, she recalled something Ion had said to Elara, something about not helping in the North.

  She stood, feeling unsettled by the memory. Clearly, there was something Elara was not telling her. Aurelia marched through the forested village. It took her a couple of minutes to get to the clearing where the island narrowed into a long sandbar that led to the rock shield.

  While crossing the sandbar to the long, massive rock, Aurelia took the time to really admire the brilliant structure. Parts of the rock sparkled in the sun and the length of it spanned almost as far as the eye could see. She recalled the long walk they had taken through the sinking sand to get around it from the beach yesterday. Poor Ion had carried Kuba the entire way.

  The early morning sun disappeared behind the rock, and she shuddered as she approached it. She paused for a moment in the shade of the western side of the rock wall. This rock kept Spearield hidden from any vessels that may have wandered off the trading routes from Sable to Azul. It truly was magnificent.

  Her eye
s followed the staircase from the top of the rock down to the sandy ground, ending right next to Elara’s small stone hut. Aurelia found it strange how isolated Elara was from the rest of the village. She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry.

  She dragged her feet through the sand, tired from walking, and knocked on Elara’s door. Her head pounded with each rap of her knuckles on the wood.

  The latch clicked and the door opened.

  “Aurelia?” said Elara. She was wearing a floor-length white nightgown, and her long hair was tousled, but it still looked beautiful.

  “Hi,” Aurelia croaked.

  “Are you alright? Come in, come in.” Elara waved her through the door. “Have a seat.” Elara pointed at the table. It was the same table where she and Ion had sat the day before, when they first arrived in Spearield. Aurelia complied and took a seat in the nearest of the six empty chairs.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “Water, please.”

  “Sure.”

  Aurelia watched as Elara glided to the only shelf in the room and grabbed a mug. She gracefully walked back to the table and gently placed the empty mug down in front of Aurelia. Aurelia felt Elara’s hand land on her shoulder. She was holding something hard in it.

  Elara leaned over Aurelia’s shoulder. Then the leader of the Free-Wielders held her other hand in front of their faces. Aurelia was memorized as Elara’s fingers danced in the air.

  Small droplets of rain fell from the palm of her hands. Their dripping echoed quietly into the mug as it filled. Elara was a Water-Wielder.

  “Thank you,” said Aurelia once her cup was full and Elara’s delicate fingers had stopped their dance. She grabbed the mug and hastily gulped the water down.

  “My pleasure,” Elara replied with a smile, taking the seat right next to Aurelia.

  “Ahh,” said Aurelia, the cold water quenching her thirst. She slammed the empty mug down harder than she had anticipated.

  “You’re here about last night?” asked Elara as she placed a hand on Aurelia’s. Aurelia looked up, thrown off by the contact. She almost pulled away, but Elara’s hand was warm, comforting.