Shattered Throne (Book 1 of The Shattered Throne Series)

by Cate Dean

  That smile crossed his face as he walked to Micah. “You didn’t need to crawl out of a warm bed just to see us off.”

  “I wanted to say goodbye, get any last minute orders.”

  “Trust Joseph, and let Mother deal with the petitions. You don’t need to be doing any of that, Micah.” His voice lowered. “I want you to work on the projects with Damian.”

  Swallowing, Micah nodded. Damian had discovered several foreign spies, and put them on alert. Liam wanted to use them, and left Micah instructions to help Damian with access to whatever he needed to establish an information network. It did sound better than spy ring, but both of them made him nervous. Father stayed out of court intrigue, and anything related to it, with good reason.

  “—listening, Micah?”

  “Sorry.”

  Liam laid one hand on his shoulder. “I talked to Ari about this, and he agrees. It is time for you to start sword training.”

  Panic jolted him. “Liam—”

  “I know you are concerned about your hands. Ari will work with that. Until we return, Thomas is going to start you out. He will go slowly, so stop frowning at me.”

  “Liam—I don’t—” With a sigh, Micah finally admitted what he only acknowledged himself late at night, in his mind. “My hands are not improving.”

  Liam cradled the back of his head, his blue eyes sober. “I know, little brother. You hide it well, but I pay attention. Ari thinks sword training will help, and I agree. Promise me you’ll try it.”

  “All right.”

  “Good. We can reassess when I return. Just don’t give Thomas too much flack.”

  Micah managed a smile. “I won’t. Please be careful.”

  He wrapped his arms around Liam, tears stinging his eyes.

  “Hey, little brother.” Liam rubbed his back, his voice gentle. “I’ll be home before you know it. Build me a fantastical invention.”

  Micah leaned back. “Do you mean it?”

  “Absolutely. What you create, out of nothing—it amazes me. I may not tell you often, but what you can do is incredible.” He kissed Micah’s cheek. “I’m proud of you, little brother.”

  Before Micah could get his voice past the tears in his throat, Liam strode to his horse and swung up, as graceful as always. He gave Micah a left handed salute then fell in behind Ari. Xander flashed him a smile before he joined them, flanking Liam.

  Micah followed them to the gates, and watched as they rode down the steep road, turning away from the city when they hit the base of the hill. This was the safest way for Liam to travel. From a distance they looked like a merchants, plainly dressed, weapons hidden under bedrolls, or inside saddlebags.

  No amount of disguise would stop anyone determined to attack.

  “Stop it,” he whispered, rubbing his arms against the chill. It didn’t help; the chill was inside, wrapping itself around his heart. “Please come home safe, Liam. I can’t be anything more than the second son.”

  “You underestimate yourself, milord.”

  He swung around, not really surprised to find Thomas behind him. “I simply know my limitations. Politics bores me to distraction. If I had been firstborn, I most likely would have run away, to avoid it at all.”

  A rare smile lit Thomas’ face. “And I most likely would have been sent after you.”

  “Now you show a sense of humor.” But Micah felt better for the teasing. “I supposed that won’t be in evidence when we begin sword training.”

  Thomas joined him as he headed back inside. “That will depend, milord, on just how badly you fumble during our lessons.”

  Micah’s laughter echoed in the courtyard.

  ~ ~ ~

  Micah’s first lesson with Thomas was even more of a disaster than he anticipated.

  The weather turned the night before, and he started the day with aching hands. By the time he met Thomas at the training yard, he knew it was not going to be one of his good days.

  “Ready, milord?”

  “Let’s begin the torture, so I can be done with it.”

  Thomas held out a wood practice sword. “We will start slowly, so I can determine your potential.”

  “I can tell you that without the lesson part. I don’t have any.”

  A smile tugged at Thomas’ mouth. “Allow me to be the judge, milord. You know the stance?”

  Micah nodded. Hours of watching Liam practice gave him enough knowledge to be dangerous. He bent his knees, held the sword out, free hand on his hip.

  Thomas tapped the tip of his sword. “Good fight.”

  Before Micah was ready Thomas swung at him. He stumbled back and tripped over his own feet, landing on his back.

  Not a promising start.

  Thomas offered him a hand up, and waited for Micah to gather himself.

  “You need to be ready, from the moment the sword is in your hand. Your opponent will not wait for you, politely, while you ready yourself for the fight.”

  “Right.” Micah ignored the ache in his right hand as he tightened his grip.

  This time he was ready when Thomas struck. The blow yanked his sword out of his hand.

  “Pick it up, milord.”

  “Thomas—”

  “We begin again.”

  With a sigh, Micah obeyed. It was going to be a long morning.

  ~ ~ ~

  By the time Thomas finally took pity on Micah and let him go, he hurt everywhere.

  As he limped to his rooms, he wasn’t certain which hurt more—his body or his pride. He had barely held the sword for more than a few minutes at a time before Thomas knocked it out of his grip, or he dropped it on his own.

  Kres waited for him, stretched out in front of the fireplace in his sitting room.

  “It was a disaster, Kres. Worse than I expected.” He gasped when he tried to unbutton his shirt, his hands on fire. “And I’m useless for the rest of the day.” Micah lowered himself to the worn sofa, staring at his angry, swollen fingers. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to live up to Liam.”

  “You are not your brother, milord.” Thomas’ quiet voice had him jumping to his feet. “Trying to fight like him only hinders you.”

  “I wasn’t…” He let his voice fade. “I was. He is so skilled, Thomas. I thought if I copied what I saw him do, I might have a chance. But I don’t have the skill, or the strength.”

  Thomas gestured to his hands. “May I?” Surprised, Micah nodded, sat with him on the sofa. Thomas cradled Micah’s left hand in his palm. “My granddad suffered from a similar affliction, and being close to Black Lake made his hands worse. But it did not stop him from becoming a good fighter. You need to learn to adjust for your abilities.” Letting Micah go, he stood. “We will start again in two days. Wear your gloves if you feel you need them, and I will do what I can to ease your way into the lessons.”

  Before Micah could argue one way or the other, Thomas strode out, closing the door behind him.

  With a sigh he slumped back on the sofa, Kres crawling up to lay his head on Micah’s thigh. “Thank you for the company, my friend.” He used his less painful right hand to rub between the drake’s ears, smiled at the hum of pleasure. “I hope Liam’s journey is going more smoothly than these bloody lessons.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Three days into their journey, Liam’s right shoulder ached so much it woke him at night, and jarred into painful life every time they moved faster than a brisk walk.

  He knew Ari was anxious to reach Veran, that every day on the road gave whoever attacked Liam a chance to try again. But sheer exhaustion forced them to stop sooner than Liam wanted. Today, he pushed himself, to reach the safe camp Ari had scouted ahead to find.

  An angry shout yanked him out of his thoughts. The clash of swords had him urging his horse into a gallop, Xander right behind him. The road curved here, lined with tall evergreens, and Liam could not see the skirmish until he almost rode straight into it.

  “Get out of here!” Ari fought two cloaked figures at once. “Xander—ge
t him out!”

  Liam didn’t need a second warning. He jerked his horse around and took off, headed into the trees, Xander behind him.

  “Go, milord! I’ll stall them.”

  He glanced back, saw Xander pull up, several riders appearing out of the forest on the other side of the road.

  More than one of them pursued him, and he almost smiled at the cursing that immediately followed the snap of tree branches. He rode low, pressed against the side of his horse’s neck. Growing up on the back of a horse, and hunting this forest more than a few times with his father taught Liam how to avoid low hanging branches.

  Movement to his right told him that his pursuit was trying to get ahead of him. Once that happened, he was trapped.

  “Come on, Star.” He rubbed the sweat laced neck, urging more speed from him. The gelding was fast, and agile, two of the reasons Liam chose him for this journey. “Give me a little more.”

  He did, and Liam pulled ahead. At some point he needed to make his way back toward Ari, before he reached the edge of the forest—and the edge of the land mass.

  Something flew past him, so close it brushed his right cheek. An arrow thunked into the trunk of the tree just ahead of him. He made himself as small as possible and dug his heels into Star’s sides.

  The horse screamed, and stumbled, righting himself before they both tumbled forward. Liam glanced over his shoulder and cursed when he saw the arrow in his right flank.

  “Damn them—” He yanked at the reins and sent them speeding to the left, away from the source. “Just a little more, Star, and I’ll get that arrow free—”

  They burst out of the trees—and Liam frantically reined him in. They halted inches from the edge of the cliff. With no time, he turned Star and raced along the trees, reaching back to pull the arrow out. Thank heaven it was a shallow blow, just the tip penetrating his hide, and not something that might cripple him.

  Just a bit farther, and he could veer back into the trees, make his way around his pursuit.

  Without warning, Star reared, and Liam’s aching right arm finally gave up on him.

  He fell, hitting the ground so hard it knocked the breath from him. Even then he kept moving, rolling away from whatever spooked her. Pushing off the ground, he ran for the trees, his right arm throbbing and useless.

  Once he hit the dim interior of the forest he slowed, and tried to control his breathing. It echoed through the trees, revealed his position.

  He pressed his back against the rough bark, inched around the trunk. Star stood in the clearing, shaking but unharmed. All Liam had to do was get back to him—

  Two figures strode into the clearing, hoods thrown back. One of them caught Star’s reins, calming the horse as he led him away. The other turned, and Liam’s breath lodged in his throat.

  Gareth—one of Liam’s most trusted guards. A man who should have been at the castle, as part of Micah’s protection.

  “Milord.” He stilled when Gareth’s voice filtered through the trees. “I know you hear me. This can be pleasant, or it can be painful.”

  He swallowed, eased off the trunk. Careful to avoid the dry cones littering the ground, he crept forward, using the trees for cover, aware of every sound, every movement. His shoulder was an unwanted distraction, a hindrance if he needed to fight. He slid the knife off his belt, holding it lightly in his left hand, thankful for Ari’s lessons. They may just save his life now.

  A flash on his left sent him in the opposite direction. Any thought of sneaking away disappeared when shouts filled the trees around him. Now his only goal was getting back to Ari alive.

  He skidded to a halt when a cloaked figure appeared out of the shadows, Xander in his grip. A knife flashed at Xander’s throat, blood already staining his skin.

  “I’m sorry, milord.” He let out a low cry as his captor pressed the blade into his jaw. Fresh blood slid down his throat.

  “Stop. He has nothing to do with this.”

  “Drop the knife, Liam, and I will see he comes to no harm.” Gareth’s voice filtered out from under the hood. He must have been who ran past Liam earlier. Gareth sighed. “I know this is difficult for you. But you need to understand—this will bring Palamar forward, give us the chance to finally put forth a claim for the throne in Veran. The throne your father stepped away from.”

  Those words froze him. His father—heir to the throne? He could not have claimed it. They were of the wrong line…

  The secrets of his father’s family poked at him. Secrets his father took with him in death.

  Gareth’s voice jerked him back. “I will not ask again, Liam.”

  His fingers loosened on the hilt, and the knife dropped to the ground. “Let him go.”

  “Just one small detail left, my—”

  Xander shouted over him. “Behind you, Liam!”

  He spun, knowing the warning would cost Xander. Another hooded man rushed him, shoved him against the nearest tree, and drove a knife into his right shoulder. One hand covered his mouth to muffle his scream. Whatever edged the blade turned his blood to fire.

  It leached his strength, leaving him none to fight his captors. Gareth moved into his line of sight, his hood thrown back, regret in his eyes. “I wanted to keep this in reserve, as a last, desperate measure, but you refused to listen, and forced our hand.”

  Liam found he did have strength enough to struggle when he heard the distinct rattle of iron chain. The movement scorched his arm, left him gasping against the hand at his mouth. His eyes widened when he saw another of his own guards hauling it.

  The soldier avoided his gaze, and closed the shackle over Liam’s left wrist. “Sir?” He addressed Gareth, the other shackle in his hand.

  “Both wrists. It will be required once we hand him over, so he might as well adjust to them now.”

  Liam stared at Gareth, sweat stinging his eyes. There was only one reason for him to be chained. Slavers—

  The shackle closed over his right wrist and he screamed at the contact.

  “Hold him.” Gareth appeared on his right side, fingers wrapping around the hilt of the knife in his shoulder. “This is going to hurt more coming out, Liam.” He didn’t sound sorry, just matter-of-fact. As if he were telling Liam about the next day’s guard schedule. “The eldar on the blade will be in contact with your wound this time.”

  Eldar. Gods—no wonder his arm was on fire. Uncut, the liquid burned like fire oil, right before it knocked out the victim. Already he felt the effects seeping into his blood, every breath heavier than the last.

  He braced himself for more agony—and bucked against his captor as Gareth slid the blade out of his shoulder.

  “—hear me, Liam? Hand me the waterskin.” Cool liquid trickled down his throat. He pried his lids apart, met Joseph’s eyes. “Your shoulder has already been bandaged.” Did he pass out? Where was Xander? If the lying bastard harmed him— “The eldar will work its way out of your system.” Eventually. “I really am sorry it came to this, but you gave us no choice.”

  “Gareth.” Liam’s raw whisper had him leaning in. “Touch Micah—and I will hunt you down.”

  He must have sounded more fierce than he thought; Gareth paled, putting space between them. That Liam was the best tracker in the Western Realm gave substance to his threat.

  Gareth turned to two of the cloaked men standing beside him. “Take him to the designated meeting spot, wait until after nightfall. You’ll be met then.”

  Liam knew this was his last chance, his last appeal. “Gareth—”

  “Gag him. He can talk his way around any argument. I don’t want you tempted by anything he might offer you.” Gareth handed a long silk scarf to one of them, watched as he moved behind Liam and forced the fabric between his teeth, tying it so tightly his jaw ached from the pressure. “Goodbye, my lord Duke. Your rule was cut short, but this will pave the way to a brave new government, and new power for the Western Realm.”

  Gareth stepped back. His betrayal shook Liam’s faith to its
foundation, and any trust he had for the people in his life shattered around him.

  Liam’s captors hauled him forward, his feet dragging over the uneven ground. He barely had the strength to breathe. But he would find the strength to survive, to fight if he had to.

  He would find his way home, and destroying Gareth was his single, burning goal.

  ~ ~ ~

  Ari ran his sword through the last traitor, watched him die—and finally allowed himself to feel.

  Five men lay scattered around the camp. It took longer than it should have to kill them, and his distracting thoughts for Liam’s safety didn’t help his focus. He started for the trees where he last saw Liam, and halted, his left arm shouting at the movement. The knife sticking out of his bicep might have something to do with that jabbing pain.

  Cursing, he jerked the blade out, ripped off a piece of his tunic to use as a bandage, and stalked toward the trees as he tied it off. Liam was on horseback, but his pursuit may have remedied that one detail.

  He whipped his sword up when he heard footsteps.

  “Sir—” Xander stumbled into view. Ari sheathed his sword and caught the man, careful of the blood on his left leg. “I’m sorry, sir, I couldn’t stop them—”

  “Stop apologizing and talk.”

  “They took Liam—that damned highbrow advisor and Gareth took him—”

  “Where?” Ari gripped his shoulders. “Where, Xander? We may not have enough time.”

  “They didn’t know I was conscious.” He took a deep breath, met Ari’s eyes. “They mean to sell him.”

  Cold settled around Ari’s heart. “Round up two horses. I’ll grab the supplies. Move, Xander.”

  His harsh voice snapped Xander into action. Ari would worry about apologizing later. After they retrieved Liam.

  If he got as far as the border to the Kahlri, he was lost to them.

  ~ ~ ~

  Rough hands dragged Liam through the shadowed forest.

  He knew by the angle of the setting sun that they headed north, toward the far edge of the forest. Away from Ari, from any help.