Alec raised his injured face, and for the first time looked Nolan in the eye. “I should’ve listened. I should’ve gone to Galva with the others. I should’ve been there when they brought Taryn to her parents. The only thing I proved was that I’m no better than a murdering Rol’dan.”
“You have been better, Alec,” Nolan said, breaking out of his shock. “Kael was cruel.”
“I murdered him, Nolan. Not self-defense, but murder. How is that not cruel? I wanted him to curse me and spit on me as he died. Instead, he said he was sorry about Taryn. He told me the better man had won. He turned out to be a better man than me …”
“Now stop, Alec—”
“No! I should be the one lying here. By Brim, it should have been me days ago if Taryn hadn’t been stupid enough to save me. And what kind of friend am I? I killed your brother, for Brim’s sake! Leave me be, Nolan. I’m no friend to you.”
“You’re right. You’re no friend.”
Alec’s face jerked toward Nolan. He stumbled back a step.
“You’re more like a brother.”
His emotions surged, going first to shock, then to denial. “I’m nothing.” Alec yanked his sword from the ground. “I have to go.”
“Where?”
“Crows, Nolan. I don’t know. Away from here.” From his expression, Nolan knew he meant, away from you.
“Don’t go.” Nolan’s eyes stung. “We need you here.”
Alec snorted. “You don’t need me.”
“I need you.”
Surprise flared in Alec’s emotions. He quickly hardened his expression.
“I’ve already lost one brother,” Nolan whispered. “Please. Don’t let me lose two.”
Alec fidgeted, avoiding Nolan’s gaze. Finally, he met his eyes. “All right. I’ll stay. But only because you asked me.”
Nolan nodded. It wasn’t much, but it would do for now.
The sun finally broke through the horizon, and orange and pink hues glowed over the walls of Faylinn. With the morning light, a caw sounded overhead. Slowly, the sky filled with circling black birds. Another call drew attention to a crow perched on the edge of a barracks, staring at Kael’s corpse, waiting to have its fill.
Nolan’s stomach lurched. He reached to his holster, his fist closing around the cold steel. With a flick, he threw his last spike. A shower of black feathers erupted over the rooftop.
Chapter Thirty-Six
SOLDIERS PARTED, making way for Nolan as he carried the body of their general. Shock pulsed from them and around them, filling the entire crowd. Nolan blocked their thoughts as best he could; it was hard enough dealing with the warring emotions battling within his own mind.
Everything had gone better than he’d hoped; he never believed he’d actually defeat the king. But the death of his brother, after he’d hoped for his freedom, crushed any happiness he had.
Alec limped behind him, a shell of his former self. From the moment he’d broken through the trees in the village holding Taryn’s limp body in his arms, he wasn’t the same. Shame and sorrow oozed from him, making Nolan’s sadness seem small in comparison. Nolan wanted to comfort him … somehow. But he just couldn’t. Not with how much his heart ached.
The main entrance to Faylinn Castle was large and lavish, but not gaudy. Antique paintings and precious gem-inlaid heirlooms adorned the gray stone halls.
Nolan continued past the hanging treasures, needing no directions; the Stone of Healing called, showing him which way to go. He would mourn his brother, his cousin, and his friends later. Right now, a whole battlefield of lives needed him to be able to heal.
As they continued, a set of huge wooden doors, at least two Guardians high, loomed ahead. They stood open wide.
The smell of blood permeated the throne room when they entered. Against the wall, Emery and Maska stood, their backs pressed against the wall, their necks secured with shiny, silver bands. Hakan and Vikas hovered, trying to figure out how to free them. None of them had noticed Nolan and Alec enter.
Nolan carried Kael to the center of the throne room underneath the light of the new morning sun. He stepped around the dark stains on the floor and gently set Kael’s body down.
Alec lingered in the doorframe, staring at the dried blood. Trepidation and foreboding hung from him.
“It won’t budge,” Vikas said, his voice echoing in the chamber.
“Maybe we can use a sword or something,” Hakan suggested.
Vikas slid his sword out and attempted to pry the band loose from Emery.
“Won’t that cut Emery’s throat?” Nolan asked.
Vikas and Hakan whipped around.
Hakan broke into a huge smile. A large gash ran across Hakan’s forehead with traces of dried blood caked on the wound. Bruising covered a portion of his face, disappearing into his dirty beard. The front of his blood-soaked tunic was torn, revealing almost as much hair on his chest as his beard.
Nolan scanned the room and his chest tightened. “Where’s Megan?”
“Resting,” Hakan said. “She was hurt pretty bad.”
Nolan relaxed. She’s alive!
Vikas sheathed his sword. “Sorry, Emery. The collar won’t budge.”
“Here. Let me try.” Nolan closed the distance and stepped in front of Emery. Emery cast him a feeble smile. His clothes were torn, his face was bruised and sunken, and his lips were cracked and bleeding. He’d aged, somehow. Nolan summoned Strength, and light flared in his eyes. He grabbed the band and pulled; it resisted him, only slightly. With a flick, the metal groaned and broke.
“By Brim’s light,” Hakan said. “Did you just … ? How can you … ?”
Nolan forced a smile. “It’s kind of a long story. I’ll tell you later.”
Emery released a breath and touched his raw neck. “You have no idea how good it is to see you, Nolan.” He took a step, but his feet buckled as if he’d forgotten how to walk.
Nolan caught and steadied him. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
Maska grunted as he struggled against his own bonds. Sorrow flickered behind his gaze. Nolan hesitated. Was Maska actually sad? Nolan freed him, and he nodded in thanks.
“Where’s Garrick?” Alec asked. He came inside the chamber, still staring at the bloody floor.
The others’ eyes jerked toward him. Their emotions were more than shocked. The last time they’d seen him, he’d been dead. Even Maska’s bronzed skin went pale.
“Alec?” Emery said. “For the light of Brim … how did you—”
“I didn’t,” Alec said. “Taryn came after you were captured.”
Emery started to smile, but it quickly faded. “Dear Brim, tell me she didn’t.”
Alec didn’t answer. “Where’s Garrick?” he asked instead.
“He’s dead,” Nolan said softly. “I saw him during the battle. He was a Dor’Jan. He’s resting now, at least. The stones released his soul, as well as most of the other Shay powers Alcandor stole. Except for Healing. I didn’t have that stone. Speaking of … I need to find it.”
Emery’s brows furrowed. “You released his powers? Nolan, how?”
“Like I said, it was the stones.” Nolan circled the room, and the Healing stone pulsed. Where is it? I can feel it. Nolan stood in the center of the room. “It should be right here.”
The sun sent his answer; the light of Healing shone directly on him. Nolan flinched, more surprised than anything. He relaxed as the Shay of Healing worked inside him. Green lights danced, filling Nolan with Healing power. Nolan panicked when his feet left the ground. What will happen when I gain all the powers? But something inside him, perhaps the Shay of Healing, told him all would be fine.
When the light diminished, everyone stared.
“Nolan?” Emery finally asked. “How are you?”
The other Shays had left him in pain—thrashing, head hurting, unable to function for days. But now … well … he didn’t feel anything. Maybe it hadn’t worked. Maybe five powers were all he could hold. There was
one way to find out.
He strode across the stones, his footsteps reverberating in the large throne room. Before Emery could object, Nolan touched his cheek, and the Shay of Healing responded.
Pleasant warmth filled Nolan until small points of pain shot through his body. His arms. His legs. Scrapes and cuts that must’ve been covered by Emery’s clothes. Aching bruises swelled on his face and his throat. Then the discomfort faded, covered with a soothing warmth.
Emery met his eyes. “Thank you, friend.”
Nolan nodded. The Healing still thrummed inside him, making him unable to speak. He turned toward Hakan and, before he could object, Nolan touched his leather-worn cheek. Pain shot though Nolan’s senses. Several cuts. Cracked ribs. Crows! His injuries were worse than Emery’s. Doesn’t the man feel pain? Nolan suppressed a groan when he finished, relaxing as the soothing warmth took its place again. He exhaled. Healing would take some getting used to.
Hakan grinned. “Thank you, lad.”
Nolan smiled. “Glad I could help.”
“Where is Alcandor?” Emery asked.
“Malik is taking him to a dungeon.”
Emery’s brow furrowed. “Malik?”
“Jared’s nephew … er, sort of.” Nolan shook his head. “You’ll have to see for yourself.”
Lieutenant Kat Connelly entered, Nolan’s bag flung over her shoulder. “It’s done, my lord.” She handed the bag to him. “Greer will be here shortly.”
“You’re done already? They’re all healed?”
She winked. “We work fast.”
Nolan ran a hand over his chin, relieved. He hadn’t been looking forward to healing a field full of victims. “How many dead?”
“Too many,” Kat said. “Most of them Dor’Jan, but some Rol’dan as well. Most weren’t fatal wounds, but they’d bled out before we could reach them.” Her eyes traveled across the room, meeting the body of Kael. “For the light of Brim …”
“He’s dead,” Nolan answered her silent question.
Alec tensed, fresh guilt oozing from him. Nolan swallowed back the lump forming in his throat; his own grief wouldn’t help Alec now. He eyed Alec’s slashed face, and dread welled up inside him. A horrible, raw-looking wound. Hakan’s injuries weren’t half as bad, and they’d been painful. Nolan squared his shoulders, flared his Healing, and reached for Alec.
Alec yanked back. “Don’t touch me.”
Nolan stared, and then reached again. “It will only take a minute.”
“Stop it, Nolan. I don’t want healing.”
“You don’t what?” Nolan hadn’t heard him right. But when he reached for him a third time, Alec smacked his hand away.
Alec glared at him in warning, even as the Guardians entered, all three shining with their brilliance. Hakan and Emery backed away, shock and fear coming from them.
“Master Nolan, forgive me,” Greer said. “The soldiers outside grow restless.”
“Sweet father of light,” Hakan said. “What are they?”
Greer bowed. “It is good to see you well, Hakan.”
Hakan’s mouth dropped open; he stammered, then said nothing at all.
“The Rol’dan are confused,” Greer said to Nolan. “In their eyes, since you defeated Alcandor, the throne belongs to you.” He held the king’s circlet in his open palm. “It is yours, if you wish it.”
Nolan stared at the circlet, the same one the king had worn since Nolan could remember. “No … no … no. I can’t be king.”
“They are expecting you,” Greer said as he offered the crown again.
Nolan took the crown and fingered the stone and the delicate intertwining gold band. This is ridiculous. Sure, the Rol’dan would be afraid of me; I hold all the powers, just like Alcandor did. I barely have myself together, let alone the skills to be a king. They need someone to respect, not fear. They need someone who knows how to lead.
Emery had sacrificed himself, giving up power and leadership to leave the Rol’dan. He risked his life daily for others, uplifting them, leading them, empowering them. It was an obvious choice.
Nolan held the crown to Emery. “This belongs to you.”
Emery’s eyebrows went up. “Nolan? You defeated Alcandor, not me.”
“But don’t you see? They only want me because I have all the powers.”
“Yes, you are powerful. But you also have leadership abilities. I’ve told you—”
“No. They’ll follow me because they’re afraid of me. They’ll follow you because you’re a great leader.” Nolan held out the gold circlet.
Emery paled. “I can’t take it. I’m a traitor here. They’d rather have Alcandor back on the throne than me.”
“Once, a good man told me, ‘Many times, the most humble people make the greatest leaders of all.’ Emery, Adamah needs you, not me.”
Emery searched the room as if desperately seeking disapproval. His gaze locked on Alec’s, questioning him. Everyone’s emotions shifted. They all saw Emery’s potential, too. Everyone except for Emery.
Alec pulled his sword and knelt, holding back a grimace. “My sword belongs to you.”
Maska lowered to his knee. “And I would serve you with pride, my king. You are the obvious choice.”
“You have my sword as well.” Greer drew his glowing sword and bowed; the other Guardians followed. Emery gawked at the Guardians and took a small step back.
Nolan handed the crown to Emery. He took it, though hesitantly.
“I’ll do this,” Emery said as the purple light of Empathy shone from his eyes. “I’ll do it only because someone needs to.” He placed the circlet on his head, his dirty hands trembling. “And if the army doesn’t accept me, my reign might be the shortest in the whole history of Adamah. And please … stand up. Let me take this one step at a time.”
They smiled as they rose. Maska congratulated him while Greer waited his turn.
Alec approached Nolan, curiosity on his emotions. At least his sorrow was distracted, for now.
“You don’t want the throne?” Alec said.
“Why? Should I have taken it?”
Alec snorted. “Darkness, no! How am I supposed to beat you in swords with you wearing a crown? Wouldn’t that be considered traitorous or something?”
“Definitely,” Nolan said. “Then I’d have to kill you.”
Alec laughed, though it sounded forced. “You’d try to kill me,”
“I could do it,” Nolan said. “I defeated a Guardian on my own. I think I could take you on.”
“A Guardian?”
“Alcandor is a Guardian.”
“Alcandor is a … Guardian?” He whistled, but stopped, wincing with pain. The cut across his lip pulled open, oozing fresh blood.
“Crows, Alec. Let me heal you.”
Alec took a step back. “I told you: I don’t want to be healed.”
“Why not?” Nolan asked, frustrated.
Alec’s eyes drifted to Kael, and guilt flowed from him. “I want to look at myself in the mirror and remember to never lose my temper again.”
“Your Majesty,” Greer said to Emery, “you should address the Rol’dan before their patience breaks any further.”
“Yes, I suppose I must.” Emery stepped toward the exit, Greer following at his side.
Emery paused, obviously startled by the Guardian standing next to him, but curiosity laced his emotions. “Forgive me, sir,” Emery said, “but what are you?”
Greer laughed. “I am a Guardian.”
“A Guardian? How remarkable,” Emery said. “All these years I wanted to believe Jared, but found it harder and harder to do so.” He paused to study Greer. “I know it may seem odd, but I feel as if we’ve already met.”
Greer laughed again. “Master Emery, I am sure you will be surprised at how true that observation is.”
They left, their laughter echoing down the corridor. Alec turned to follow, but Nolan grabbed his arm. Self-loathing and guilt was so thick on his emotions. “Alec, can you do me a favo
r?”
Alec shrugged him off. “What kind of favor?”
“In the center of the dome there is a place where all the stones fit together, one on top of another. Back at the village, I put a few stones in and I found a message hidden in the light.” Nolan shrugged, feigning indifference. “Perhaps it’s nothing, but Greer thought it was important, that the stones must be combined. Can you do it for me?”
“Why can’t you do it?”
“I should stay out of sight for now.”
Alec nodded, irritation oozing from him. He yanked the bag from Nolan’s hand. “Sure. I’ll do it … in a bit.”
“And take the Stone of Healing to Alcandor and Megan.”
Alec sighed and swung the bag over his shoulder. “I’ll tell you what happens.”
Nolan watched the others leave. Hopefully, the Rol’dan would receive Emery well. He had a hard road ahead of him; some would still look at him as a traitor. How long would it take before one of them tried to kill him? Where would Adamah be then? Leaderless. Kingless. They didn’t even have a general.
Nolan studied Kael’s broken body. If Kael were still alive, would he protect Emery? Would he lead the army to follow? Nolan remembered the tower and how Kael had strangled Emery. Maybe Kael would kill Emery himself; he sure didn’t like him.
He’d gone through so much before death. Nolan knew that now. He only wished it could’ve ended differently. He wished he could’ve saved Kael, somehow. Kael had still wanted to be good; Nolan felt that from him in the end. He would’ve done the right thing, despite his feelings for Emery. Nolan was sure of it. But it was too late now. Kael was dead.
Nolan stared down at his blood-smeared hands as an epiphany stirred inside him, making his blood run cold. Though Nolan couldn’t be Emery’s general—the Rol’dan would treat him as king even though Emery wore the crown—Nolan could help. Emery needed Kael.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
ALEC DEVERELL TOOK OFF with Speed, beating the others outside. He stopped abruptly, staring at the largest gathering of Rol’dan he’d ever seen. The courtyard teemed with soldiers. They crowded around the base of the steep steps to the castle and continued on, filling the space until they met the huge walls. Even without Empathy, Alec felt tension in the air. He could see it on the Rol’dan’s faces and their uptight postures, and by their loud-mouthed groans and complaints. Alec huffed. He still hated the Rol’dan.
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