Of Liars and Thieves

by Gabriela Lavarello

The world tilted dangerously below Tedric’s feet as she met his gaze with an impassive stare. She was dressed in a similar fashion as the king, but instead of thick robes, her white outfit consisted of hard leather pants and a bodice with gold trimming along the sleeves. Her violet hair was loose, and it tumbled down her shoulders like a waterfall. Aeden’s green eyes pierced into his, no emotion showing through her beautiful face as she looked down upon the companions.

  “You will refer to my daughter as Your Highness, human,” King Sorren replied smoothly, his voice almost musical as he examined Tedric and his companions.

  Tedric stumbled back a step, receiving a hard nudge from the fairy guard behind him. Of course she was a princess. The way she carried herself, the way she spoke to others. It was so painfully obvious.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Tedric whispered, and he could have sworn her expression fell for a split second.

  Her throat bobbed, and she blinked at him before a devilish grin grew on her red lips. “I didn’t think it was necessary to make you even more in love with me. We all know how much you just fall to your knees for royalty.”

  Tedric pressed his lips together and forced back a groan of pain. His vision blurred at the sting of her words, but he blinked back his tears and forced his gaze up once more. The king turned to Aeden, and Tedric could see the similarities between the two of them. How could he have been so blind to not have realized it? The fairy king had visited Keadora on many occasions in recent moons, and Tedric had escorted him to and from the throne room almost every time.

  The fairy king clapped his hands in satisfaction and smiled down upon them, but Tedric could not possibly understand the smug look on his face. Krete stepped forward to stand next to Tedric, and he could see sadness clearly written across the gnome’s face.

  “Ah,” the king said, “Krete of Creonid Mountain. I must say, you have looked better on past occasions.”

  Krete bowed his head slightly. “I am in good health nonetheless, Your Majesty.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” King Sorren replied. “However, you and your two companions here have been captured for trespassing on the silver path without invitation, and for that there must be consequences.”

  Finriel stepped forward with a small curtsy. “Forgive us, King Sorren, but we have good reason to have come to you.”

  “Oh?” King Sorren replied with mild interest as he looked down his nose at the witch.

  Finriel glanced at Tedric questioningly, but all he could manage was a small gesture for her to continue. He wasn’t sure if he was currently able to speak or if only a loud string of curses and perhaps a roar of pain would come out instead. Finriel gave him a look of sympathy that made him almost as surprised as he was by Aeden sitting upon the throne before them.

  “We were sent on a quest by the Red King to recover three beasts released by the storyteller, who is, to our understanding, in your kingdom now.” Finriel shot Aeden a glare as she spoke the last words, and Aeden simply returned the look with a haughty stare.

  “My daughter has told me of your success in recovering the three beasts.” King Sorren nodded. “But that does not explain what you are doing in my kingdom.”

  “I was about to get to that,” Finriel snapped, and Tedric watched as King Sorren tensed at her casual tone. “The thing is, we were also told to—” Finriel paused and furrowed her brow as if confused, then continued, “we were told—”

  Finriel groaned suddenly and clutched at her head, and Tedric barely had time to rush to her side and take her by her shoulders to stop her from falling upon the silver floor. Finriel sagged against Tedric and groaned again. Concern filled his gut as he helped her sit on the floor, completely disregarding the etiquette he knew they were breaking.

  “Are you okay?” Tedric asked, and Finriel began to rock back and forth, her hands clutching at her temples.

  “There’s someone inside my head.”

  “What?” Tedric blanked, and on impulse looked up at Aeden.

  His heart gave a painful spasm as he found both Aeden and King Sorren gazing down upon Finriel’s crumpled form with mild interest but nothing more. Tedric tore his gaze away from Aeden, who was plainly refusing to meet his hard stare, and brought his attention back down to Finriel.

  “Who’s in your head?” Tedric asked, but Finriel shook her head.

  “I can’t … it hurts,” she whimpered.

  Krete rushed over to Finriel and knelt by her side, taking Tedric’s place in supporting her by the shoulders. The gnome bore an expression of agony, but Tedric found himself angry at him too. He’d kept Aeden’s secrets from them until it was too late. Krete gave him a pleading look, but Tedric merely shook his head and shoved down his anger toward the gnome. He would have a talk with him later.

  “Is King Sorren doing this?” Tedric growled, attempting to keep his voice as low as possible.

  “Your whispering will not stop me from being able to hear you,” King Sorren replied for Krete, who had started to respond. “But I am afraid I am not the one who has caused your friend to fall unceremoniously upon the ground.”

  Tedric clenched his fists, fighting down the roiling anger that swelled inside of him. He knew that he could not lay a hand upon the king, but he was beginning to find it quite difficult to keep himself from running onto the dais and running the man through where he sat.

  Finriel let out another scream, and a pained sob tore through her body. “Get out of my head,” she croaked, slapping a shaking hand against the crystal floor.

  The sound of commotion outside the grand white doors made Tedric jump to his feet and grip the hilt of his sword. The doors burst open, and Tedric nearly fell to his knees again as the Red King swept into the room.

  The Red King was dressed in his usual blood-red robes and his long white hair was braided back. His black eyes glittered as he surveyed the room with mild interest. The remaining members of the Ten flanked him on either side, and their faces flashed with recognition as they looked at him. Tedric’s gaze met Bordin’s, the archer of the Ten. The man clenched his jaw and gave Tedric a curt nod.

  The Red King took a step closer, and Tedric forced his body into a low bow.

  “My Lord.”

  “Ah,” the Red King said coolly. “My favorite commander has returned. Yet I see that you have returned to the wrong kingdom.”

  Tedric swallowed the lump in his throat as he rose, not meeting the king’s dark eyes.

  “My Lord, I—”

  Tedric was cut off by Finriel, who let out a rattling breath that echoed through the crystal walls. Tedric tilted his head to find her staring at the Red King with hatred in her caramel eyes.

  “Get. Out.”

  The Red King gave her a humorless smile before he looked back up to the fairy king, confusion muddling Tedric’s nerves at their exchange. Does Finriel mean that the king is inside her head? Tedric shook the ridiculous thought from his mind. The Red King was a good man, and there was no reason for him to do such a terrible thing to the witch.

  “My Lord, we were not expecting you,” the fairy king said coolly.

  “I have to admit that I was not planning on gracing your kingdom with a visit, yet I decided it was the perfect day to retrieve my storyteller,” the Red King replied. “Where is he? I know that he is within these walls.”

  Tedric frowned at the Red King’s words, unsure if he misheard the king referring to the storyteller as his. The walls seemed to close in slightly and he took a steadying breath, resting his hand upon the pummel of his sword for support. He kept his eyes upon the Red King, not daring to look up at Aeden or Finriel, who was still being held up by Krete.

  King Sorren’s smile faltered, and he cleared his throat before speaking. “How did you know of the storyteller’s whereabouts? Last time we had been informed of anything, he had been seen crossing through the Farridian forest.”

  The Red King chuckled and took another step toward the dais. “Oh, come now, Sorren. Did you really think that I
would allow for my storyteller to be brought into your kingdom without my knowledge?”

  King Sorren blinked. “I am afraid that I do not follow what you are saying.”

  The Red King gave a booming laugh that startled Tedric. He had never heard the Red King do more than let out a small sigh of amusement from time to time.

  “It is your daughter, of course, King Sorren. She has been the greatest help in keeping me informed about tonight.”

  “What?” King Sorren roared, and Tedric did stumble backwards a step now.

  Tedric forced himself to look at Aeden, who didn’t appear surprised at all by the Red King’s outrageous comment. In fact, she looked almost pleased with herself as she turned to regard her father with a cold smile.

  “Aeden, no,” Krete whispered, and Tedric looked down to find the gnome shaking with tears shimmering in his eyes.

  Finriel was still clutching at her head and seemed too occupied with the pain to realize what had just happened, though Tedric’s mind was still reeling at what the Red King meant by all of this.

  “Explain. Now,” King Sorren growled, and Aeden opened her mouth to speak. “Not you, foolish girl,” King Sorren snapped, and Aeden’s pale cheeks flushed with anger.

  “This quest was meant to clean up the mess that my storyteller created, but I decided to turn it into a little game in order for us all to gather here tonight,” the Red King began, ignoring King Sorren’s outburst. “It has worked excellently, and now in order for the game to be finished, I must ask for you to return the storyteller and pages that are in your possession to me.”

  Tedric didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t even quite sure he was still standing, as he seemed to have lost feeling in his entire body. Was the Red King saying that he was Egharis’ deadly employer? Had he truly planned their quest out of some sick desire to make war return to Raymara? Tedric tightened his grip on his sword until his knuckles turned white, the cool feeling of metal and leather biting his skin the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. He didn’t know how to feel or what to think. Perhaps the Red King was just bluffing in order to get out of this mess.

  “Now,” the Red King said, breaking the deafening silence, “where is my storyteller?”

  “I will not bring him to you, especially not on the night of our sacred festival,” King Sorren spat.

  The Red King’s black eyes glimmered with amusement. “I have no care for your holidays. Bring him to me now.”

  “I will not,” King Sorren snarled. “The pages will be safer in Proveria, locked up in a vault that no one can find.”

  “You will surely be able to find them,” the Red King replied calmly, yet Tedric noted an edge to his tone.

  King Sorren continued, ignoring the Red King, “The storyteller will also remain in my custody until further decisions are made about his future.”

  “I have the two pages,” Aeden announced, ignoring her father’s look of disgust in her direction.

  The Red King smiled up at her and nodded, indicating for her to continue with a flourish of his hand. Bile rose in Tedric’s throat as she opened her perfect mouth and spoke words of poison.

  “I also know where Egharis is. I will give him to you if you wish it, and those three have the remaining pages,” Aeden finished, pointing her finger in Tedric’s direction without looking at him.

  Tedric barely held back the rage that threatened to boil over inside as she spoke, now standing before her throne in all of her despicable glory. He did not know if he hated or was in awe of her strength as she stepped forward and off the dais, ignoring her father’s barked order to return to his side.

  Krete and Finriel scrambled out of the way as she walked toward the king, and Tedric thought he saw Krete whisper something to Finriel before he slipped to the far end of the room, where an impressive open window overlooked Millris Forest. The blood moon was beginning to rise, and the dimly lit room was slowly being bathed in red.

  “There’s nothing you can do, dear old father.” Aeden reached into her coat and began to withdraw something. “In fact, I’ll give the pages to you right now.”

  “No,” the fairy king snapped. “Guards, detain her.”

  But the guards were too late. Aeden withdrew the pages and handed them to the Red King, who nodded at her with a small smile. She took a step back and curtsied, and a sense of unease washed over Tedric at the exchange. There was something very wrong going on.

  “Bordin, take these,” the Red King said, and Bordin stepped from the line of men and took the pages from the king.

  Tedric tried to catch Bordin’s attention, but his old friend ignored his small hiss and fell back into line, his hard gaze focused upon the floor with trained blankness. Tedric cursed internally and whipped his head back toward King Sorren as the fairy king stood in a whirl of white fabric.

  “Aeden, how dare you!” King Sorren bellowed. “Guards, now.”

  The fairy guards moved at once, seizing both of her arms. She yelled and struggled against them, but they were like stone. With another gesture from the fairy king, the remaining guards began to surround the Red King, and the Ten closed in behind him.

  The Red King chuckled and shook his head. “I am afraid that you have made the wrong choice, my friend.”

  With a snap of his fingers, the Ten sprung into action. Tedric froze, unsure where to go or who to protect as the clash of metal upon metal rang through his ears and more fairy guards spilled into the throne room. The Red King was walking calmly away from the carnage, and a jolt of surprising fury ran through Tedric’s limbs at the sight of his king. Aeden continued to fight against the guards, who were now leading her away from the fighting men and back up toward the dais, where King Sorren stood with anger blazing in his eyes.

  Tedric turned and ran toward Finriel by the back wall. She was slowly rising to her feet, looking as though she might be sick. He offered her a steadying hand as she took large gulps of air that was now thick with the coppery scent of blood.

  “Are you all right?”

  Finriel nodded. “The pain is gone.”

  “What did you mean when you said that the Red King needed to get out?” Tedric asked, and Finriel’s expression turned stony.

  “He was the one using my brain as a playground,” she growled, and Tedric’s mouth went dry.

  “I don’t understand it,” Tedric breathed, and was about to ask Finriel if she could walk when she cursed and pointed at something behind him.

  Tedric whirled around and drew his blade as a stray fairy guard made her way toward them, her thin blade raised in a dangerous arc over her head. Tedric sidestepped away from her attack and disarmed her with ease before knocking her cold to the ground with his fist. He would not kill if he could avoid it. He couldn’t risk the potential of his misery getting any worse than it already was.

  “Let’s go,” Finriel said, coming to stand at Tedric’s side.

  He nodded and they set off into the heart of the fight. The world became a blur as the clashing of swords rang through his ears. A fairy guard ran toward him with his weapon outstretched, and Tedric swirled to the side, blocking the blow and slashing a shallow wound in the fairy’s side from behind. The guard groaned and fell to the floor. The thousand-year peace had undoubtedly made all races in Raymara unused to battle, but the Ten were always prepared, as they trained with each other and used the few unlucky bastards who broke the law as target practice, though never killing them. Tedric knew how to fight, and now the taste of it was swimming through his veins like a drug.

  Tedric glanced upwards at a movement below the dais, finding Krete attempting to make his way back into the throng. Tedric clenched his jaw and fought off another fairy guard, careful to avoid any members of the Ten, who looked at him warily, clearly unsure whether to consider him friend or foe. A yelp of pain sounded from behind, and Tedric whirled around with another curse of surprise to find Lorian wielding a bloodied sword as he fought off a rather small yet skilled fairy guard. The thief bore his same
easy smile as he slashed at the fairy’s free hand, causing a large pool of blood to well up and spatter to the ground, along with the fairy’s index finger. The fairy screeched in pain and fell to the ground, clutching at his missing finger with a roar.

  “Looks like you’ve dropped something,” Lorian said easily, and turned toward Tedric.

  “How in the Nether did you get in here?” Tedric bellowed, barely blocking a stray sword that slashed by his ear.

  Lorian gave Tedric nothing but a wink in response before he set off again, and was soon lost in the mass of fairy guards that had entered and now barred the front doors of the throne room.

  “Damn thief,” Tedric muttered to himself, though he couldn’t help a small smile from blooming on his lips as he entered the fight with a new sense of vigor.

  A strange sense of calm settled into Tedric’s troubled mind as he fought, blocking, parrying, and slashing whatever blade, human or fairy, came at him. He didn’t know who he was fighting for anymore, nor for what cause. He only knew that if the Red King was not lying, and he was the storyteller’s employer, Tedric couldn’t allow him to leave with Egharis or the pages.

  A harsh laugh pierced through Tedric’s ears and he turned in the direction of the sound, finding the Red King looking at Finriel with amusement as she fought off a fairy with her dagger.

  “Please, child, I know of your powers. You are just like your mother.”

  Tedric gulped and looked at Finriel, knowing that she would not be happy with the Red King’s proclamation. Tedric cursed and ducked under a slashing blade, but looked up again as Finriel promptly shoved her dagger into its sheath and stalked toward the Red King.

  “Finriel, don’t!” Tedric yelled, but it was too late.

  Finriel shot her hands out, and hot hair blew against Tedric’s face as an enormous jet of fire exploded from her hands and headed straight toward the Red King. The Red King’s smile vanished, and he raised his hands above his head before sweeping them downwards to the floor. The flame split in two a hair before it touched the king, and arced toward Tedric and the mass of fighting bodies behind him. Finriel cursed and flung her hands out toward the flame. Tedric gasped and stumbled backwards as a tendril of flame licked at his face before frigid cold air swept over the room.