Crown of Chaos

by Sarah E. Burr

  “So glad you’ve arrived.” Breathless, the Duke of Cetachi reached for her hand and gave it a kiss. “And I apologize for the strange welcome.” He turned, his expression morphing to displeasure. “Prelate, I specifically instructed you not to greet our guests without me in attendance.”

  The Knight of Grace gave Darian a conceding shrug. “Apologies, Duke Fangard. I did not know how long you’d be occupied by Duchess Tandora.” He eyed Jax and her companions. “Duchess Saphire’s reputation proceeds her. I did not think she’d enjoy being made to wait.”

  Jax’s amethyst gaze met Darian’s. The brown-eyed Duke, born of common blood, looked incredibly worn and wearied, and the War Council had yet to even start. “I hope Duchess Tandora was not causing trouble.” There was an edge to her words she couldn’t suppress. While Duke Savant led the charge against her in the clash of ideologies, it was Delphinia who had helped orchestrate a covert plan to assassinate Jax during her honeymoon. Tandora, Savant, and Beautraud had been the first three duchies to declare a secret war against Jax, one that she planned to end within the confines of this fortified estate.

  Darian’s eyes crinkled with bemusement. “Nothing I can’t handle. She’s just complaining for the thousandth time about how uncivilized it is that she’s not allowed a lady’s maid to attend to her during the War Council.” He took a quick moment to greet George, Perry, and Ivan before turning back to Jax. “For one who claims to be a stout traditionalist when it comes to the ways of the realm, you’d think she’d be more inclined to adhere to the ancient decrees.”

  Jax allowed a soft chuckle to dance across her lips. “You’d think. But I am no longer surprised by the hypocrisy of the elite.” She let her gaze slide to Prelate Brath’s rigid form. “Speaking of surprises, do you care to explain this one, Darian?”

  The Duke of Cetachi cleared his throat, as if trying to banish the blush curling up his neck. “Why don’t we talk inside? There’s a storm brewing in the east that will be here shortly.” He pointed to the dark clouds stretching across the canvas of twilight.

  George and Ivan exchanged hardened looks with one another.

  Darian noticed their reluctance. “Please, the Knights of Grace are here under my invitation. They will serve as the guardians of the War Council.” He wrung his hands as he glanced at the Prelate. “The bylaws of the War Council specifically forbid any ducal forces from being present at the actual summit. I knew that in order to appease everyone, I would need to provide some type of protection while the council is in session.”

  George stiffened beside Jax. “What do you mean, any ducal forces?”

  Darian shifted under George’s intense gaze, belying his naivete in the political arena. “Forgive me for not mentioning this sooner. It’s a detail I’ve had to keep from all the nations, for fear they might rebel.”

  Jax’s nose wrinkled in confusion. “What in the Virtues are you talking about, Darian?”

  “In preparation for the War Council,” Darian began, “I sent my advisors to every corner of the realm, digging through archives and libraries in search of information on the ancient summit. I wanted to make sure we adhered to any and all protocol precisely as the first leaders of the realm prescribed. I worried if we overlooked one little rule or custom, Savant and his associates might use it against us.”

  “How so?” Perry asked as he moved to his wife’s side.

  Darian shrugged. “I feared whatever decision might be reached by the collective group would be annulled if Savant cited War Council regulations had been broken.”

  “Regulations?” Jax frowned. She considered herself to be very well-versed on the rules of the War Council, as there were not very many to begin with. Darian’s words had her wondering what he had uncovered.

  Darian nodded. “One of my advisors found a particularly interesting tome in the vaults of the Hestian archives.” He folded his arms across his chest, a gleaming glint in his eyes. “It was the most comprehensive account of the first War Council known to humankind.”

  Jax’s curiosity warred with her suspicion. “And it just happened to be sitting in the Hestian archives?”

  A grin curled on Darian’s lips. “Apparently, the archive’s head scholar had no notion that such a valuable document was under his care. The advisor I sent found it in a crate of other scrolls and books that had been recently donated to the establishment. It was a part of a private collection from the Worlovian estate.”

  “Worlovian,” Jax repeated as her eyebrows inched upward. “As in High Courtier Worlovian?”

  “The very same.” Darian bowed his head in acknowledgment.

  Perry glanced at his wife, his expression riddled with confusion. “Am I supposed to be familiar with the name?”

  Jax tapped her chin in thought. “High Courtier Worlovian retired from Duke Hestes’s service over four years ago, having served the family his entire life. Worlovian came from a long, noble line, said to be as old as the ducal families. His ancestors were some of the first courtiers to serve once the Realm of Virtues was established.” Her attention turned back to Darian. “It seems House Worlovian had kept a souvenir from the days following the Rebirth.”

  “That is what I guessed, as well.” Darian clasped his hands behind him. “The document my advisor discovered was a handwritten account of the War Council, notated by none other than Gregor Worlovian, the right-hand man of the first Duke of Hestes.” He looked rather proud of himself. “I’ve been using it to ensure everything is in accordance with tradition.” He rolled his eyes at the word. “Most of the new details we unearthed had to do with the cadence of the summit itself, but there were other stipulations laid out for future sovereigns. The most unnerving one was the security precautions.”

  “In that we’re only allowed one escort to bring us to the gathering?” Jax prodded him onward.

  “I wish.” Darian sighed, glancing once more to Prelate Brath. “Our ancestors mandated that while one ducal escort is allowed to accompany the sovereigns to the location, only the sovereigns of the realm are allowed within the walls of the summit. No ducal escort is allowed to attend the War Council with them, in and out of session.” His gaze settled on Jax and Perry. “I’m afraid Prelate Brath must escort George and Ivan to the guardhouse for the duration of your stay.”

  “What?” George and Ivan simultaneously snapped.

  Jax held her hand up, commanding silence. “I’m not sure I understand what you are asking, Darian. Are we to be locked inside a fortress with our enemies without anyone to defend us?”

  Darian’s skin turned gray. “All ducal-sworn guards are prohibited from the gathering. The other escorts have been assigned to rooms in Fort Vyndheim’s detached garrison, where they will be kept under watch of the Knights of Grace.” He motioned to Prelate Brath, standing in his lustrous armor. “In this day and age, I knew the Ducal Guard simply would not allow their charges to be left unattended during such a tumultuous situation. And since the decrees left by the realm’s forefathers made no mention of it, I decided it would be best to hire protection that has no allegiance to any one duchy.”

  Perry’s arm wrapped around Jax’s waist, lending her some of his strength. “I thought the Knights of Grace were but a myth.”

  Prelate Brath bowed his head in acknowledgment. “A myth we have striven to keep for centuries, Duke Pettraud. We operate in the shadows, bringing justice where and when we can. Unfortunately, we often find ourselves at battle with our blood brothers of old, the Shadow Brethren.”

  Jax audibly sucked in a breath.

  Brath heard and gave her a solemn nod. “Indeed, I am aggrieved to admit the Shadow Brethren used to serve under our righteous banner, yet greed and corruption even worked its way into the purest of hearts. For centuries, we have been trying to purify those who sought the darkness, all while biding our time, waiting for the Virtues to summon us again.” Brath’s gaze slid to Darian, a look of pride eclipsing his scarred features. “When the Duke’s spies spread whispers of his nee
d of a force to protect the realm, I knew it was time to throw off the cloak of shadows we have worn for so long.”

  Darian patted the man on the shoulder. “I grew up with tales of the Knights of Grace, ghostly saviors who answered the prayers of the oppressed.” He paused, his expression turning somber. “Once, when I was a young lad, I traveled with my father to Mensina. We were there to purchase a special baking grain that merchants would not bring to the wilds of Cetachi. In the village square, we watched as a farmer was nearly run over by a nobleman atop his horse. The guards arrested the farmer for disrupting the baron’s ride through town. The farmer was sent to the stocks.”

  Jax’s stomach knotted at the cruelty.

  Darian’s dark eyes clouded with the memories of his past, so very different than the upbringing Jax had experienced. “All I did was complain to my father about how unfairly the farmer had been treated. I did nothing to help the imprisoned man.” He sighed, shaking away his guilt. “But I’ll never forget what I saw as we were leaving the market. As we walked by the stockades, I saw the farmer, his head and hands barred by wood. It all happened so fast, I thought it was nothing more than a shadow, a trick of the dying sun. The stock splintered and fell into pieces around the farmer’s feet. Then he stood up, a free man.” A sense of wonder filled Darian’s voice. “I thought it had been some divine act of the Virtues. But my father simply chuckled and said that a Knight of Grace never lets innocence suffer.” He suddenly grew bashful. “I always hoped the stories were true. That there was some secret brotherhood watching over those who had no one looking out for them. So when the time came to find someone to protect the future of our realm,” he paused, his eyes holding Jax’s gaze, “I had to find them.”

  While Jax had no doubt Darian had sought the fabled Knights of Grace with the best intentions, she would not give Prelate Brath and his men her trust so easily. “I appreciate the measures you have taken, Darian, to ensure we are well protected without the presence of our own guard.” She could almost hear George’s inner thoughts, sensing his anger and anguish from where she stood. “Captain Solomon, Saphire will adhere to the mandates set forth by the sovereigns of old.” She found her stoic resolve cracking as she met his defiant and wounded gaze. “I shall see you when the War Council concludes.”

  George’s mouth opened and closed, but his shoulders slumped in defeat. He knew the reality they faced. Darian was not wrong. If Savant found out some archaic guideline had not been followed, he could very well use the affront against Jax and her allies. She had come to Cetachi seeking peace. If parting with George was what it took, she would say goodbye to her dearest friend.

  Perry cleared his throat and followed Jax’s lead. “Keep watch over each other. Jax and I are only going to face a group of pompous pricks.” He lowered his voice, a strangled affection lacing his words. “You’ll be faced with a much more dangerous enemy.”

  Jax wished that Perry was overexaggerating, but all she could picture were the ducal escorts sworn to protect her enemies under the same roof as George. Emotion clawed at her throat as Prelate Brath motioned for Ivan and George to follow him through the massive estate doors. “This way, if you will, Captains.”

  With an unreadable glance Jax’s way, George reached for the Prelate’s forearm. “I want to hear you swear your oath to this War Council.”

  Brath studied George for a long moment before unsheathing a dagger with lethal grace. Before George could react, Brath brought the blade to the palm of his own hand. “May the Virtues poison me and my bloodline for all eternity should I break this vow. I pledge, upon my honor and my life, to protect those gathered for the War Council and see justice brought to the realm.” The long blade ran crimson as Brath sealed his pledge with blood.

  George gave a curt nod, satisfied with the display. He didn’t look back as Brath led him and Ivan inside the barricade surrounding Fort Vyndheim, into the unfamiliar to face unknown adversaries. Jax fought back the burning tears that stabbed at her eyes. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to her that Prelate Brath only made mention of protecting those attending the War Council. The Knight of Grace made no mention of protecting the escorts who’d accompanied the sovereigns during their journey. She knew the omission hadn’t been lost on George, either. Yet, he had gone anyway, his concern, as always, only for her safety. She sent a silent prayer to the Virtues that her friend would find no trouble in the days ahead.

  Darian didn’t speak until Brath and the two captains disappeared over the threshold of the massive fortress. “Well, shall we go inside now?”

  Jax tried to summon a limp smile at his little jest. “Are we the last to arrive?” She tipped her head back, noticing the scattering of stars popping up against the night’s sky.

  Darian’s brow furrowed. “We’re still waiting for Duke Crepsta. I must say, given all the news my spies have learned about his health, I do find it a bit concerning that he has not yet arrived.”

  Jax moved away from the shelter of Perry’s arm and threaded her opposite arm through Darian’s. “Duke Crepsta wouldn’t let something like old age keep him away from a war of words.” She patted his arm. As she did so, she noticed a golden band braided around his ring finger. “Goodness! Should I be addressing you as ‘Uncle’?”

  Darian missed a step, clearly startled by her astute deduction. “I see no clue gets past you, dear niece.” He squeezed her hand, his face radiating happiness. “Yes. Given all that is going on in the realm, Annette and I saw no sense in prolonging our engagement. I’m sorry we didn’t write or invite you, but we thought it best to keep the ceremony small and private.” He ran a hand through his thick brown hair. “If it makes you feel any less deceived, I only just informed Annette’s father upon his arrival earlier this afternoon.”

  A chasm of sadness opened in Jax’s chest for her aunt and her new husband as she read between the lines of Darian’s explanation. The need for secrecy stemmed from the desire to keep Annette safe and out of harm’s way from their enemies. If they knew she was now the Duchess of Cetachi, she’d be vulnerable to attack if things did not go in their favor at the War Council. Yet, they’d likely married in haste, so that if something should happen to Darian, Annette would be able to lead in his place. A wise choice, indeed, yet Jax couldn’t help but mourn that their love for one another had been overshadowed by duty and the darkness looming over the realm.

  “I hope once this all blows over,” Jax said as she patted his forearm, “that you two will be able to properly enjoy the relaxing time newlyweds deserve.”

  Darian’s brown eyes flickered to Perry, who walked in step with them. “Just like you and Duke Pettraud were afforded?”

  The irony in his words did not escape her, but Jax chose to ignore it for now. As the trio crossed over the threshold of Fort Vyndheim, she analyzed the massive stone tower rising skyward across the expansive courtyard. The moonstone structure glowed in a haunting fashion, doubling Jax’s sense of unease in the fast-approaching night. So, the fabled descriptions of moonstone were true. The valuable ore absorbed the sun’s rays during the day, allowing the stone to radiate its illuminating energy in the dark.

  It was actually the building’s inhabitants, not its appearance, that put her on edge. “What can we expect from this den of vipers, Uncle?” she asked, almost rhetorically.

  Nodding to the two Knights of Grace who manned the massive iron gate, Darian paused and watched their only means of exit shudder to a close with a resounding bash. “I’ve kept our guests sequestered while we wait for the War Council to formally commence. Once Duke Crepsta arrives, everyone will be escorted to Fort Vyndheim’s grand hall to begin the summit.”

  “Escorted by whom?” Perry asked, rather astutely.

  Jax’s arm slipped from Darian’s as he moved forward and motioned to the large courtyard that sprawled between them and the main compound of Fort Vyndheim. Small buildings with thatched and wooden roofs peppered the perimeter, in the shadows of the imposing moonstone ramparts. “In the absence of
your escorts, each sovereign has been assigned a personal guard from the Knights of Grace. Come, I want to introduce you to your sentries for the duration of the War Council.”

  Jax fell into step with Perry, her hand blindly searching for his in the growing darkness. With the sun lost to the mountains along the western border, the only light came from the stars overhead and the eerie glow radiating from the moonstone walls of Fort Vyndheim. With his fingers curled protectively around hers, her panic subsided as they followed Darian’s footsteps. As the five-story main building grew ever closer, Jax spotted two shadows looming outside the ornate bronze entryway.

  “I’d like you to meet your personal escorts for the remainder of the War Council,” Darian said with an outstretched hand, motioning the two figures forward. “Duke Pettraud, this is Acolyte Olin Huguet.”

  The acolyte of the Knights of Grace stepped forward and issued a respectful bow. In the nightly glow, it was hard for Jax to discern the features of his face, save for a thick, auburn beard and long, flowing hair the same color that spilled down over his muscular, armor-covered shoulders. While not as tall as Perry, the warrior cut a daunting figure.

  “And for you, Duchess Xavier,” Darian continued, calling Jax by her preferred formal title, “I’d like you to meet Acolyte Ziri Axesinger.”

  The smaller of the two, Ziri edged closer to Jax, delivering a sweeping bow. Long strands of ebony hair obscured the man’s face.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Acolyte Axesinger.” Jax dipped her chin in acknowledgment of her assigned Knight of Grace.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Duquessa.”

  Jax stepped back, startled by the purring femininity of the musical voice. As Ziri straightened, the curtain of dark hair fell back, revealing sharp cheekbones covered in smooth olive skin and full lips curled into a coy grin. Dark eyes glinted in the starlight, heightening exotic beauty.

  Jax’s assigned sentry was a woman.

  At her side, Perry stiffened, sending an accusing look at Darian. “Will these escorts be sufficient protection, Duke Fangard?” he asked, maintaining the formal air the situation warranted.