by Ben Wolf
“The question is,” she continued, “are you worthy of that grace?”
“I am, Your Highness,” Ronin said. “I promise I am. My job is to collect wanted criminals and help bring them to justice. I only have Inoth’s best interests in mind.”
Queen Aveyna cast a lingering glance at Kent, then she refocused on Ronin. “Then I want you to prove it to me.”
“Anything, Your Highness. I’ll do anything.”
Kent’s shoulders stiffened. He could see where this was going, and Ronin had just committed to it unknowingly.
Queen Aveyna leaned forward. “I want you to execute Mr. Etheridge.”
Kent looked at Ronin again, and he saw the expression he expected to see.
Ronin rose to his feet, his mouth hanging open, silently staring at the queen. He finally managed, “Your Highness, I—”
“Mr. Etheridge is an admitted interloper and sworn enemy of Inoth,” Queen Aveyna said. “He is unquestionably guilty, and I now formally find him as such. I am sentencing him to death. You have sworn allegiance to me and to Inoth. Now you must prove your loyalty by fulfilling my sentence on Mr. Etheridge.”
“By…” Ronin swallowed. “By executing him.”
“Yes,” she replied.
Prince Kymil sneered at Kent and rubbed his hands together.
Little prick. Kent scowled in return. I could snap your neck in three seconds, if given the opportunity.
Queen Aveyna asked, “Will you prove your patriotism to us all, here and now?”
Ronin cast a long look at Kent. Then he turned toward the queen and extended his shackled wrists. “If someone will unlock me, Your Highness, I will comply.”
Something inside Kent shriveled. He understood Ronin’s predicament, but Ronin’s acceptance of his charge dug deep into Kent’s core. Ronin had been his only true friend since he’d fled Muroth.
It felt like getting betrayed by Fane all over again.
Queen Aveyna nodded to Grak, and he ordered, “Unlock him.”
The soldiers behind came around Ronin and unlocked his shackles. They clanked to the marble floor at his feet, and he stepped over them.
“How do you want it done?” Ronin asked.
Grak stepped forward. “Give him fire.”
Ronin’s eyes widened. “You want me to burn him alive?”
“He is an enemy of the state. No punishment is too severe,” Grak said.
Ronin paused, then he nodded.
One of the soldiers in brown leather headed to one of the golden lamps standing nearby and picked it up. He carried it over, and Ronin reached into the flames.
His right hand ignited with swirls of blue and orange fire just like the soldiers’ hands had in the dungeon.
The soldier then approached the five elite guards posted in front of the platform and offered the fire to each of them. They each let the fire wash over their hands in waves of blue and orange, and then the soldier returned the lamp to its spot.
Ronin furrowed his brow and looked at Grak.
Grak smirked. “Consider it insurance.”
Ronin glanced at Kent again. “I’m sorry.”
“Apologies mean nothing at this point.” Kent straightened his posture.
Ronin closed his eyes hard for a moment, then he opened them and stared at Kent again. “I have to do it.”
“I know.” Kent stood firm, fully aware that he would die thoroughly unsatisfied.
Fane still lived, and if Kent perished, his treacherous brother will have won once and for all. The thought enraged him more than anything else.
Ronin extended his fiery right hand toward Kent. Then he put his left hand on his right shoulder and nodded at Kent.
It meant something. Kent didn’t know what, but it meant something.
Ronin had no good reason to touch his right shoulder while throwing fire at Kent. It made no sense.
Kent’s eyes narrowed, and he watched.
“What are you waiting for?” Grak rumbled. “Get on with it.”
Ronin nodded again. Then he whipped his left hand toward Kent.
A glint of blue metal slipped out of Ronin’s sleeve and careened toward Kent.
The key to the shackles.
Chapter Nine
Kent caught the key in his hands and immediately began to unlock the shackles.
Stupid, Ronin. Reckless and stupid. But Kent appreciated it nonetheless.
Meanwhile, Ronin let the fire in his right hand extinguish, and he dropped to his knees again with his hands up.
Grak must not have caught on right away, because he just stood there glancing between them, his face painted with confusion.
But when Kent’s shackles clanked to the floor, Grak screamed, “Kill him!”
Ronin stayed still, but the five elite soldiers started toward Kent, their hands flaring with huge, vibrant flames.
Kent had nothing to fight back with. They’d taken his pouches long ago, and he was in the middle of a grand throne room with plenty of empty space around him.
He had only one choice. And if he failed, he would die.
Kent kicked the shackles away, dropped to his knees, pressed his hands flat against the red marble tile, and concentrated on the technique from the parchment. He flooded the red marble with magic and cycled it back into himself, just like he’d done to his cell wall.
Flames roared toward Kent from the elite soldiers. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, totally focused on the red marble tile beneath him.
Fire seared the top of his head and washed over his shoulders and back, then it cascaded down his neck and under his chin. It washed over his chest and stomach, and it consumed his legs and feet.
Brilliant heat enveloped every inch of his body, and he felt his clothes burning away.
He stopped moving, stopped hearing, stopped breathing. The world went quiet, and the heat subsided.
Kent raised his head and opened his eyes.
The elite soldiers stood there, their hands devoid of fire, their faces filled with shock.
Behind them, Queen Aveyna and Prince Kymil stood behind Grak and the four guards also in black armor, and they all stared at Kent.
He stood, slowly, scanning the throne room around him for other threats, ready to take them on.
The soldiers in brown leather who’d escorted Ronin and Kent from the dungeon marveled at him from across the throne room. Ronin still knelt on the floor, but he’d lowered his hands to his sides.
The crowd of people among the pillars watched him in stunned silence with fear written on their faces. No one approached him. No one threatened him. No one moved at all.
As Kent faced the queen again, he realized he was naked. He looked down at himself and saw shining red marble instead of skin. The technique had worked perfectly.
He wondered how long the effect would last. Since he’d bent down, he’d been continually activating his magic.
He wanted to keep circulating it, to test how long he could keep it up, but he was still in the Inothian throne room, surrounded by enemies on every side. He couldn’t waste time.
Then the red marble receded from his skin, leaving him pink and cream-colored, like usual. A measure of fatigue hit him. He’d experienced it before when pumping out a lot of magic all at once, but he resisted its effects and maintained his focus. He had to—he still wasn’t safe here.
A ring of ashes—his clothes and boots—encircled him. At his feet, two deep impressions in the shape of his hands dug into what remained of the red marble tile beneath him.
The entire tile now sat lower than the other tiles around it, as if he’d sucked half of its essence away. Then again, he had sucked half of its essence away.
Kent looked up at the queen and thought he should cover himself, but he decided against it. She had allowed this to happen, and she would now reap the consequences.
“Incredible,” a voice said to Kent’s left. Ronin’s voice.
Kent glanced at him, then he faced Queen Aveyna again.
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Grak drew his sword and started toward the end of the platform. The four royal guards accompanied him.
“Wait, Grakios.” Queen Aveyna’s gaze lingered on Kent.
Grak stopped. “Your Majesty, I mean to fulfill your mandate and execute this brigand.”
“No. You will stay your hand.” Queen Aveyna threaded her way between Grak and the other royal guards.
“Your Majesty, please! It isn’t safe.” Grak tried to hold her back, but she moved him aside with a stern look and nothing more.
Grak sighed and motioned to the other royal guards. Two of them accompanied him, following close behind her as she walked toward the edge of the platform.
The other two remained with Prince Kymil, doubtless protecting the future of Inoth’s royalty if their comrades failed to protect the queen.
Queen Aveyna advanced to a set of steps before the throne and descended toward Kent. Grak and the two royal guards followed only two steps behind, ready to spring into action if Kent so much as moved.
“Mother?” Prince Kymil called from behind her.
“Be silent, Kymil,” she said as she continued to approach Kent.
As Queen Aveyna drew nearer, Kent smelled a sweet, floral aroma. Some sort of perfume.
It smelled lovely, but he refused to let it faze him. She had just ordered his execution by the hand of his only friend, and her soldiers had nearly reduced him to charred bones.
Queen Aveyna stopped ten feet away from him and ordered, “Someone get Mr. Etheridge some clothes.”
Kent squinted at her, still tense and ready for anything. He would drop to his knees and turn to stone again if anyone made any threatening moves.
But no one did. Instead, a rotund man from the crowd came forward at once and removed the elegant purple robe he was wearing. He approached Kent from the side and extended the robe toward him, and Kent accepted it with a nod.
The man gave Kent and the queen a slight bow and then receded back into the crowd.
Kent donned the robe, his wary eyes fixed on Queen Aveyna the whole time. The robe didn’t have a drawstring or a belt, so Kent held it shut with his left hand, leaving his right hand free for action if necessary.
“Mr. Etheridge,” Queen Aveyna began, “I believe I owe you an apology.”
Kent said nothing.
“I am sorry for ordering your execution. Your skill with magic is remarkable.”
Kent glanced at Ronin, who shrugged at him.
“Yet I find myself unsure what I ought to do with you.”
So I am still your prisoner. Kent’s eyes narrowed. “Let me go.”
Queen Aveyna shook her head. “I’m afraid I cannot do that.”
“Why not?”
“The sight of the sort of magic you just demonstrated is a rarity, even in Inoth. Many archmages I’ve met lack skill to achieve such a feat. Thus, you are simply too valuable of an asset to release.” Queen Aveyna took a few steps closer to him, closing the distance between them to less than five feet. “And one does not simply throw away an asset.”
Her reasoning made sense—to a point. Kent said, “I thought you found me untrustworthy.”
Queen Aveyna smiled, and Kent admired her. She was even more radiant when she smiled.
“I stand by my claim,” she said. “You are untrustworthy. You are an enemy of the state.” She paused. “But I want to believe what you said earlier.”
“I said a lot of things earlier.”
“Specifically, you said you mean neither Inoth nor me harm.” Queen Aveyna tilted her head. “Did you mean that?”
Kent inhaled a slow breath and glanced at Grak, whose snarl hadn’t changed since he’d stepped off the stairs. Kent refocused on Queen Aveyna.
“Your Highness,” Kent said, “if I had wanted to, I could have used the power I just demonstrated and attacked you or your men. I could have used it to walk out of here. I could have used it to bring down this palace on top of everyone in this throne room.”
Perhaps that last bit was an exaggeration, but Kent didn’t care.
“But I refrained from doing any of those things,” he continued. “If that does not demonstrate the truth of my words, then I do not know what will.”
Queen Aveyna nodded. “In that case, I am willing to learn to trust you, if you are willing to learn to trust me. I would like to invite you to remain in the palace as my guest so that we might begin to get acquainted.”
“Mother!” Prince Kymil snapped from behind her. “He is Murothian! A Murothian lord! He will slit our throats while we sleep!”
Queen Aveyna whirled around. “Be silent, Kymil. I have made my decision, and you will abide by it.”
Prince Kymil’s mouth shut, but rage burned in his blue eyes.
Queen Aveyna turned back to Kent. “Will you accept my invitation, Lord Etheridge?”
Kent shook his head. “I am no longer the lord of anything, Your Highness.”
“From now on, I refuse to acknowledge you as anything else. You are clearly highborn, and as the Sovereign in Inoth, I choose to recognize you for what you are.”
“Your Highness…” Kent started, but he couldn’t say anything else.
That she of all people, the queen of his homeland’s sworn enemies, would in some small way restore his title to him, baffled him.
But it also filled him with boundless joy and pride, as if the last six months hadn’t been a waste. As if he’d regained a minuscule, yet essential piece of himself that he thought he’d lost.
What’s more, she was offering him yet another chance to pursue his revenge on Fane, and, perhaps, the beginnings of some essential connections that could help him succeed. How could he say no?
Kent cleared his throat and regained his composure. “Your Highness, I would be honored—under one condition.”
“And that is?” she asked.
“That Ronin Shroud be allowed to go free and with your blessing,” he replied. “I assure you, again, that he had no idea of my true identity. He is perhaps the most loyal Inothian in your kingdom. He deserves to be rewarded, not punished. As a compromise, I ask that you grant him absolution from all of his crimes and set him free.”
Queen Aveyna looked past Kent at Ronin. “Mr. Shroud, come forward.”
Ronin complied, and he stood next to Kent. They exchanged a glance of disbelief and then refocused on the queen again.
“Kneel,” Queen Aveyna said.
Ronin knelt.
Queen Aveyna closed the remainder of the distance between them, and her guards came with. She placed her right hand on Ronin’s head. Blue light shined from under her palm, and then it turned white.
“With my blessing, I release you.” She pressed her glowing forefinger on Ronin’s forehead. “And with this mark, I absolve you of all crimes, and I anoint you as a true Inothian patriot. Never again will your loyalty to Inoth be questioned, and anyone who dares to question it will be subject to my judgment.”
Ronin blinked, and his lips spread into a wide, almost idiotic smile.
Queen Aveyna removed her finger from his forehead. “Rise.”
As Ronin complied, Kent noticed a hexagonal mark glowing on his forehead. He glanced back at Queen Aveyna. Was she a practitioner of light magic?
“I hereby order that any and all confiscated property be returned to Mr. Shroud, and I order that he be paid a sum of ten thousand gold pieces as a reward and recompense for his troubles.” Queen Aveyna looked directly at Ronin. “Mr. Shroud, you are free to go.”
Ronin’s jaw unhinged, and he stammered, “Th-thank you, Your Highness! I… I don’t know what to say.” He bowed to her and then faced Kent. “So… what happens next?”
“I will send word once I know more.” Kent grinned. “Go. Enjoy your freedom.”
“Will you be alright?” Ronin asked, his voice low.
“I believe so.” Kent extended his hand. “Thank you for all you have done for me thus far. I am certain we will meet again.”
Ronin took Ke
nt’s hand, shook it, and pulled him into an embrace. “I know it. We still have to go to Caclos together.”
“We do. And we will.” Kent released him. “Thank you. You are the brother I never had.”
“And you as well.” Ronin grinned. “Alright. I’ll see you around, I guess.”
Ronin bowed to the queen once more, and then he turned back and headed toward the throne room’s doors with a fresh bounce in his step.
Kent watched him go, partially because he’d miss Ronin, but mostly because he needed to be sure Ronin got out of the throne room alive. No one followed him out, and no one brandished any weapons or used any magic from what Kent could see.
He hoped Queen Aveyna would remain true to her word. At this point, he couldn’t do anything else but trust her.
Kent turned back toward her and waited in silence.
“I imagine you must be hungry,” she said.
“I am.” Kent hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning, prior to when Ronin received the notice. He’d spent the entire day in the dungeon, and they had neglected to feed him.
“My servants will attend to you and provide you with more suitable dining attire,” Queen Aveyna said. “Then you shall join my son and me for dinner once you are refreshed. My servants will show you the way. Dinner will commence within the hour.”
Kent gave her a slight bow. “Yes, Your Highness.”
With that, Queen Aveyna turned and walked between her royal guards toward the platform stairs. They followed her, but Grak shot a long glare back at Kent as he walked.
Kent didn’t return the animosity this time. He didn’t know how long he might manage to stay in the queen’s good graces, so further antagonizing the head of her personal guard would only prove harmful.
As Kent watched the queen and her entourage disappear into the passageway behind the throne, he noted that Prince Kymil didn’t so much as make eye contact with him—yet another person Kent didn’t want to aggravate if possible.
The wall closed over the passageway behind the throne, and the throne room again bustled with conversation—probably mostly about him, if he had to guess.
Then a trio of female servants approached Kent and ushered him out of the throne room. They escorted him through the palace to a private, ornate chamber where they measured his proportions for clothing and drew him a hot bath.
