Crown of Chaos

by Sarah E. Burr

  The barren soil afforded him no cover, so George remained alert to his surroundings, fearing he might be spotted by a scout. Luckily, his soot-covered clothing blended into the endless gray landscape, offering him a bit of camouflage. Forced to move slowly and cautiously, George crept low to the ground. Following the growing sounds of chatter and laughter, he wondered if he’d simply come upon one of Cetachi’s infamous nomadic tribes. Before Darian Fangard rose to power, Cetachi had been a fractured region, prone to hosting hordes of wild folk who raided civilized villages. Since his ascension, Darian had united many of the different tribes and communities under one banner, but just like the rogue noble houses that had resisted the structural changes Jax brought to Saphire, Darian had encountered the same type of defiance from certain clans.

  Yet, as George stalked his prey, instinct forced the hair on the back of his neck on end. Something more malicious was at work here. Despite their resistance to Darian’s rule, the rebelling nomadic tribes wouldn’t murder a lone foreigner in cold blood. No, someone else had purposefully ended the Knight of Grace’s life.

  Barely breathing, George could now make out figures wandering between the fossilized trees in the distance. Tall, broad men clad in steely armor. These were no nomads.

  From behind a large tree trunk, George assessed the situation with growing dread. He spotted banners flying in the wind, bearing the crests of Savant, Beautraud, and Tandora. Somehow, the Coalition of Right had infiltrated Cetachi’s borders.

  George quickly tallied their number. He counted over one hundred soldiers in this one encampment alone. Who knew how many others were out there?

  The pounding of horses’ hooves came from the left, and George ducked behind another tree, watching a frenzied rider race into the fray.

  Seizing the opportunity created by the commotion over the rider’s arrival, George crept closer to the outer edges of the military camp. From his new spot behind a hay-filled wagon, he could eavesdrop on what was happening inside the encampment without being seen.

  “What news do you bring?” a gruff voice demanded, his accent unmistakably Savantian.

  “Fort Vyndheim’s right gate just came down. It looks like they are trying to make it passable.” George assumed that was the voice of the rider.

  “No doubt, they will try to evacuate soon.”

  “Yes,” the rider responded. “The fire has gotten out of control.”

  “Just as our Captain intended.” Pride radiated from the gruff man’s voice.

  George stilled, fighting against the rage boiling in his chest. Had the Captain of the Savant Ducal Guard purposefully set the blaze to force the sovereigns out of Fort Vyndheim into this trap? He hadn’t seen the man himself while confined to the guardhouse, but he knew the Savantian captain had been the one to escort the traitorous Duke to the War Council.

  “Then we must be ready to attack. Break camp!” The raspy command rang throughout the forest. “Alert the eastern battalion, as well. We cannot miss the window the Virtues have given us. Duke Savant demands the blood of his enemies and anyone else who gets in the Coalition of Right’s way!”

  George didn’t wait a moment longer. Backing away from the enemy, he darted through the forest, retracing his steps back to Cragmire Cavern.

  Ivan and Leopold shared worried expressions as he burst into view. “You were gone for ages,” Ivan said, “I was just about ready to go looking for you.”

  In response, George leaped on Mortimer’s back. “We need to get out of here, now.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jax pressed her fingers against Amyra’s neck, the simple act, more than the woman’s icy skin, sending a shiver down her spine. Death, in all its finality, never ceased to unsettle her.

  Perry stood at her side, his hand on her back in support. “What in the Virtues is going on here?”

  Jax shared her husband’s confusion. She analyzed the gaping wound in Amyra’s chest. Based on the amount of blood caked to the Duchess’s nightgown, it had taken quite some time for her to bleed out.

  “Why didn’t she call out for help?” Ziri asked, standing at the foot of the woman’s blood-soaked bed.

  Guiding Perry’s hand that wielded the flickering torch, Jax moved to examine Amyra’s head. In the warm glow, she could just make out the impression of a handprint, left by dried blood, plastered across the woman’s chin and lips. “Someone held her mouth shut.” The barbarian act stoked her anger.

  As she said the words out loud, a memory flared in her mind. She pictured Florian’s hand, covered in dried blood that had not been his own. “Virtues, I think we’ve been going about this all wrong.”

  Perry tilted his head to one side. “What do you mean?”

  “We’ve been operating under the assumption that Florian wounded his attacker,” Jax explained.

  Ziri’s dark eyes widened as she caught on. “The blood on the Duke’s hand and sword. It belonged to Duchess Kwatalar!”

  Jax nodded, her gaze drifting to the deceased Duchess. She pulled from the knowledge her royal physicians had shared with her during past run-ins with death. “Given the chill here in her chambers, I’d guess the Duchess has been dead for well over two hours.” With her assessment made, Jax tugged free a bedsheet and respectfully placed it over the Duchess’s marred body.

  “So, Florian stabs Amyra, holds his hand over her mouth while she bleeds out, and then somehow winds up dead not long after?” Perry raised an eyebrow.

  Jax wrinkled her nose in thought. It did appear to be a wild turn of events, but all the evidence pointed to Florian being the one to deal the death blow. “I’m sure we could verify his blade was used, if we clean up Amyra’s wound a bit.”

  Ziri’s nose wrinkled, too, but for a different reason. “We may not have the time for such measures, Duquessa.” She sniffed the air, the sound audible.

  Jax followed suit, noting a rank sharpness. “Smoke.”

  The acolyte’s gaze pooled with worry. “My brethren haven’t been able to control the blaze.”

  Jax rushed to the small window, the smoky odor growing stronger and stronger as she neared the pane. Outside, dark clouds swirled all around, muting the faintest stirrings of pink dawn in the veiled sky. “What do we do?”

  Ziri was already at the door. “I must find the prelate. There has to be some type of plan for evacuation.” She stopped and turned to Jax, tossing a glinting piece of steel her way. “For your protection. Do not leave this room, Duquessa.”

  Before Jax could make any promises, the acolyte disappeared.

  Fingering the sleek dagger Ziri had pulled on Perry not long ago, Jax eyed Amyra’s covered body. Instead of simply standing around and waiting for the acolyte’s return, she could at least puzzle out the mystery at hand. If she was correct about Florian killing Amyra, the big question was why? Why had Duke Hestes killed one of his newfound allies?

  Her hand was on the bedroom door when her husband cleared his throat. “Where do you think you’re going?” Perry’s lavender gaze held none of its usual mischief.

  Jax tapped her foot impatiently. “None of this adds up. What reason would Florian have to kill Amyra?”

  “I agree, dearest.” Perry moved to her side, the flaming torch in his hand casting shadows all around. “But what if the answers died with them?”

  “What if they didn’t?” Jax countered. “We still haven’t searched Florian’s chambers. Perhaps there’s something in his belongings that might shed some light on why this happened.”

  Perry cocked his head. “Why do I get the feeling you already know why this happened?”

  She smiled. Ever the perfect partner, Perry was extremely perceptible to her moods. “Savant had been wooing both Amyra and Florian to his side for several months to no avail. Then suddenly, they agree to join the Coalition of Right?” She gripped the door handle. “I want to know what he promised them.”

  “But how? Ziri locked Florian’s chamber, too, remember?”

  Jax pointed to the br
ass door handle. “It looks like she might have left in too much of a hurry.”

  Perry eyed the master key still sticking out of the lock. “Ziri doesn’t seem the type to make a mistake like that. I can’t help but wonder if she left the key behind on purpose.”

  Jax smiled and pulled the master key from the lock, slipping it into the pocket of her gown. “Come on.”

  Sighing, Perry followed her into the hallway, illuminating the corridor with his torch. “So, what do you hope to find in Florian’s room?”

  Jax shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. Just any indication as to why he’d target Amyra so boldly.”

  “Boldly?” Perry scoffed. “Nothing about sneaking into a sleeping, unarmed woman’s room and stabbing her through the chest screams bold to me.”

  “But inside a fortress full of guards?” Jax pointed out. “He would have had to skillfully avoid the Knights to enter her room unnoticed.”

  “Not if they’d already been summoned by the fire.”

  Out of sight, out of mind. Jax cursed herself for foolishly forgetting about the threatening inferno raging outside their vast tower. Based on what Ziri told them about the fire’s origin, it was possible Florian had waited to kill Amyra until the Knights had been summoned to combat the blaze. Her time of death aligned with the fire’s initial outbreak well over two hours ago.

  They arrived at Florian’s door, and Jax made quick work of the lock.

  “Let me go first.” Pushing her behind him, Perry held his torch like a protective club, taking a determined gulp. “Stay behind me.”

  Doing as he instructed, Jax sucked in her breath as Perry pushed open the door, steeling herself for what might lay on the other side.

  Silence greeted them. The dark chamber appeared empty.

  Taking the lead, Perry stormed through the doorway and hastily waved his beacon of light around the room. “Virtues,” he said with a grimace. “Looks like someone beat us to it.” Defeated, he tossed the torch into the small hearth, the room blossoming with an amber glow.

  Jax seethed at the sight the firelight revealed. The bed and pillows had been ripped apart with feathers littered everywhere. Florian’s saddlebag had been upended; the contents spilled all over the floor. Someone had clearly been looking for something, but had they found it? And how had they gotten access? The master key had not left their sight since Prelate Brath had dropped it into Ziri’s hands.

  Jax knelt next to a ream of yellowed parchment strewn across the floor. A quick glance revealed them to be reports from the Hestian Ducal Guard. “Looks like Florian had prepared a detailed dossier for Savant regarding the strength of his forces.” She handed a few of the papers to Perry.

  He whistled. “Wow. He managed to recruit three thousand new soldiers since joining the Coalition.” His gaze crinkled with worry. “That nearly doubles the size of the Hestian armed forces.”

  Jax nodded absently, tabling that worry for another time. Whoever took up Florian’s mantle would certainly wield substantial military power.

  She grew more discouraged as she rifled through the Duke’s belongings. “Nothing here other than mementos and keepsakes from his children.” She placed a poem written by the Duke’s youngest daughter reverently on the ground, away from the mess. The girl had been but twelve when she’d been swallowed by the sea.

  Perry sighed. “Well, whoever was in here earlier could have beaten us to it.”

  The timeline made her head whirl. “Whoever it was, they moved incredibly fast.”

  He looked to her for further explanation.

  “Well,” she began with a shrug, “think about it. We discovered Florian in the grand hall and within twenty minutes, all the sovereigns were locked in their rooms. Could one of the sovereigns have murdered him in the grand hall, made their way back to the northern wing of the fortress, ransacked his room, and made it back to their own chambers in such a short amount of time? All without being seen?”

  “When you put it that way, it does sound doubtful.” Perry stroked his chin. “Could Florian have ransacked his own room?”

  Jax considered the idea. “Why would he do such a thing?”

  His eyes glowed at the challenge. “What if it was all a part of a plan to make it look like both he and Amyra were attacked? He ransacks his room to make it look like there was a struggle, then kills Amyra, in the hopes of pinning her death on the phantom who assaulted his room.” Perry seemed to grow excited as his theory continued to unfold. “But then he’s attacked in the grand hall before he can raise the false alarm.”

  When Ziri locked Florian’s chamber earlier, none of them had taken the time to shine a light inside and assess its state. It could have very well been ransacked beforehand. While farfetched, Jax didn’t want to write off her husband’s notion that Florian had torn apart his room himself. It made sense, given that the door had still been locked when they arrived.

  “You might be onto something, my love.” She kissed his cheek in reward. “If Florian did this himself, he might have done so with the intention of hiding anything of value on his person.”

  “Does that mean what I think it means?” Wariness tinged Perry’s expression.

  Jax nodded. “We have to take a closer look at Florian’s body.”

  ‡

  With Ziri’s dagger clenched tightly in her hand, Jax trailed behind Perry as they retraced their steps. By now, the moonstone around them had begun to glow, the rays of the morning sun penetrating the smoke outside to activate the rock’s ethereal power. With the celestial light all around them, they found their way back to the locked infirmary entrance in no time.

  As Jax pocketed the master key once more, she noted the infirmary torches still burned from their earlier visit. The outline of Florian’s body cast a long shadow across the room, the sight eerie and uninviting.

  Together with steeling breaths, Jax and Perry pulled back the sheet covering the fallen Duke.

  The sight of his split neck awakened a chorus of dancing nerves in Jax’s stomach. “Let’s be quick about this and then find Ziri.”

  “She won’t be pleased that we disobeyed her and left Amyra’s room.” Perry gave her a lopsided grin.

  “Do I detect a tinge of fear? Good. You should be afraid of her.” Jax chuckled. Leave it to Perry to make her laugh in the darkest of times.

  Perry searched Florian’s right side and went through the man’s pockets. Jax did the same on the left, running her fingers over the silky material, searching for any clues that might help them figure out his motive for killing Amyra. Had someone somehow witnessed him killing her and sliced his throat in retribution? How had Florian himself become a target?

  Her fingertips grazed a stiff square in the chest of Florian’s dress coat. “I may have found something,” she hissed with excitement.

  Perry paused his own search and watched as she pulled a folded document from Florian’s breast pocket.

  With careful fingers, she opened the yellowed paper and fought to keep her voice steady as she read aloud:

  With my bloodline muddied by descendants of noble birth, I have no direct heir to assume my mantle upon my passing. Given the state of the realm, I must ensure my legacy and my nation are left in good hands. This agreement is binding, and effective immediately upon my death. With Qylvard Savant as my witness, I invoke the Code of Succession and declare Florian Ignatius Hestes the heir to my kingdom, the Duchy of Kwatalar and all its holdings.

  “‘Signed, Duchess Amyra Shadha Kwatalar.’” Jax’s voice trailed off, a stunned silence settling around them.

  Shaking his head in disbelief, Perry stared down at Florian’s lifeless body. “He killed her for her kingdom?”

  Jax noted the date of the agreement. “This must have been what convinced Hestes to join the Coalition of Right. It’s dated merely two weeks after his heirs were lost at sea.”

  Perry gingerly took the parchment from his wife’s hands and read it for himself. “Why would Amyra agree to this? Why would she nam
e a rival Duke as the successor to her throne?”

  Jax puzzled out the question, closing her eyes as she replayed the words of the pact in her head. She knew them to be written by the Duchess’s own hand and not forged, as she recognized Amyra’s writing from past political correspondences. Given the state of the realm, I must ensure my legacy and my nation are left in good hands. Why Florian? When Amyra wrote this, she surely must have known it would put her life in jeopardy unless…

  Jax gazed down at the lifeless Duke. “Amyra would never have simply named Florian as her successor. She was a shrewd politician, always skirting the boundaries of neutrality. She would never have given her duchy away without getting something in return.”

  Perry nodded agreement, handing the document back to Jax. “What did she get out of siding with Savant, you mean?”

  Jax pocketed the parchment in her gown. “I think I know.” She pointed to the gash across Florian’s throat. “I think another document exists, much like this,” she said as she patted the side of her dress. “Only the Code of Succession states Amyra will inherit Hestes and its holdings, should Florian die.”

  Realization dawned in Perry’s gaze. “Savant brought them on board with the promise of gaining power should the other die. He pitted two allies against each other, knowing whoever was left standing would still command the ducal forces of the other. Savant used their own greed against them to make the Coalition of Right stronger.” He glanced down at Florian’s throat. “So, how did they both end up dead? We concluded Amyra died first, so how could she have killed Florian?”

  Jax frowned. Perry had pointed out the biggest flaw in her logic. What was she missing here? Amyra and Florian had sold themselves to the Coalition of Right. Savant had tricked two duchies into joining his cause with the promise of growing their own power—

  “Virtues!” She rounded on a heel and darted toward the infirmary’s entrance. “Hurry, Perry. I think I’ve figured it out!”

  Chapter Fifteen