* * * * *
The King was still tucked in his tower, though now he had more hope for the future.
Rhimaldez had been a problem, how to punish him without causing a revolt amongst his loyal guards was a difficult quandary, but Valaira was just as evil and devious as he, and determined it was his family who would have to suffer. That suited Idimus just fine; punishment was punishment in his eyes. He had even ordered those loyal guards to do it. Granted, they had not been informed who they were attacking, only told that the people occupied land that the King wanted—which was all the information Idimus usually revealed on such matters—and told them to leave no survivors, woman or child.
Problem solved.
“And now, Lord, about the more dangerous issue…Grahamas.” Valaira began, walking behind Idimus and dragging one long, slender finger along his throne. “Every hero is drawn to tragedy,” the King’s face turned, marking his disgust at the use of the word hero, but he kept his mouth shut. “Create enough of it, destroy enough towns, burn enough villages, kill enough people and I guarantee you will drag him out of hiding. Have anyone in mind that is destructive and cold-hearted enough to create such pain?”
The King bowed his head slowly—thinking, “One…Drogan. But I will surely send soldiers with him as well.”
“Good,” she whispered, sashaying her way around the room. “And what will you tell them to orchestrate such catastrophe?”
Idimus clinched his jaw as he tumbled around in his mind. He would most certainly not tell them everything and potentially cause paranoia to rupture from his throne room and out amongst his constitutes. Yet he could not keep them entirely uninformed. While they would willingly plunder anything he asked, murder anyone he requested—all without question—if Grahamas were to surface he may slip through their grasp were they not aware he was to be captured. A bind, certainly.
“My Lord?” Valaira asked, obviously growing impatient.
The King maintained his blank stare and tense features, still struggling. Finally, through gritted teeth he muttered “As little as possible.” Which was all he could surmise. More than likely a simple request would work—though it would require manipulation and deception. Perhaps he would advise those recruited they were trying to expose a kind-hearted traitor, and to capture any who interfered.
“Are you sure that’s wise, my Liege?” Yet her tone sounded more taunting than concerned. “Grahamas can be quite deadly.”
Idimus cared little for that. His regard for other lives was non-existent, and as such he was willing to sacrifice them to further his own goals. “Aye.” His black beady eyes twitched in an aggressive manner, but his body never moved. “Yet even he is not invincible. If I send enough, even he will be overwhelmed…if he’s alone, that is.”
Valaira strutted around his throne, idly dragging her nail across his black hair, then again to the granite backing. “He is, Lord. Do not worry.”
“How could you know that?”
The woman rolled her shoulders, as if the answer was inconsequential. “Do not concern yourself with such trivial things, Sire. Just know that Grahamas is by himself, somewhere in this land. Though, do not let that allow you comfort. He is still perhaps far more formidable than anyone else in your regiment. And if cornered—pressured—he will fight to the death to save one life, even if it’s one he does not know.”
The King scoffed, then full on snarled. “I would welcome such a thing.”
Valaira’s gaze flared with an unexpected rage, yet softened almost immediately. “For you, King, that would suffice. But remember we had a deal. They are to be taken alive.”
Idimus’ almost snapped his retort, but knew better of it. “I believed that was only Elryia.”
“Each may have something I want,” Valaira cooed, returning to her lackadaisical stance “and until that is verified, they are not to be harmed.”
On the surface the King seemed calm, but his insides felt as though they grew spikes—a piercing, steel rage at having to take orders that could potentially rip him apart. Yet for the sake of his crown, however hollow it was, he held. “And what of Elryia?”
“Watched, no matter where she goes.” Valaira soothed back behind Idimus throne. “We will have her again.” Valaira’s cryptic answers had now whittled Idimus’ patience beyond tolerance, but before the tirade could exit his mouth, she ran a long thin hand down his head, leaned to whisper in his ear “Shhh. Just trust me.” And once more, the King was rendered powerless.
In A Time Of Darkness Page 22
