by Ben Wolf
“It is a very Murothian thing to do,” Kent said. “Reclaiming Inoth has been Muroth’s goal for centuries. And taking over the entire country would mean the eradication of mages or anyone Muroth deems ‘cursed.’ These terms are tantamount to a death sentence. We simply cannot accept them, Aveyna.”
Kymil shot Kent a look, but Kent didn’t bother correcting his wording. Aveyna would soon be his wife, and Kymil would have to adjust eventually.
“I agree. We must see if there is room to negotiate,” Aveyna said. “Thank you, gentlemen.”
Aveyna stepped forward again and stood before Graeme, and Kent and Kymil turned around and stood behind her.
“I cannot accept your terms, Prince Bouwen,” she said. “They vary wildly from my original offer. I had hoped that my appearing in good faith would signify a willingness to discuss fair terms with you.”
“We believe these are fair terms,” Graeme said. “Your original proposal was insulting. 100,000 gold coins, a handshake, and a mutual apology? Preposterous.”
“I also suggested the establishment of open trade and commerce routes between our nations, which would certainly enrich us both, seeing as we would no longer be forced to trade solely with Govalia and Caclos, and on occasion Urthia and the rest of Aletia. Muroth would then have easier access to Caclos and the Tahn Sea as well.”
“We have ready access to both Caclos and the Tahn without Inoth’s aid.” Graeme shook his head. “Queen Aveyna, your country has harassed and abused our southern border for decades. Your offer falls far short of what it would take to truly restore ‘good faith’ between us.”
“We cannot and will not pay 500,000 gold each year to Muroth,” Aveyna said. “And we cannot and will not cede any of our lands to you. What is to stop you from continuing your incursions farther south?”
“By ceding the lands and paying Muroth tribute, you will have purchased the peace you desire,” Graeme said. “Muroth will become not only a peaceful neighbor but also your closest ally. We will protect you, and likewise, your military will come to our aid when we request it.”
“I am willing to form such an alliance with Muroth, but not at the cost you have proposed,” Aveyna said. “Would you accept a one-time reparation of 300,000 gold, no ceding of lands, the establishment of open trade and commerce between our nations, and the mutual protection treaty you just described?”
“I am not authorized to accept anything less than the terms I have already proposed,” Graeme replied, his face stoic.
Aveyna scoffed. “So you didn’t come to broker peace at all, then? You came to sneer in our faces and insult us?”
Kent bristled. Aveyna certainly wouldn’t make headway with that approach. Muroth would just further recede into its armored shell.
“The insult, Queen Aveyna, was yours in the making, by thinking you could pacify us with empty words and the pittance you offered,” Graeme fired back. “You are addressing a proud, noble nation, one declared righteous in the gods’ eyes, uncursed and unquestionably superior to yours. Muroth bows to no one.”
“Perhaps I ought to just surrender and let you take all of Inoth,” Aveyna spat.
Graeme smirked. “We would gladly accept those terms.”
“Aveyna,” Kent said from behind her.
She turned back, and Kent motioned her over.
Aveyna faced Graeme again. “Would you kindly excuse me once again?”
Graeme nodded.
Aveyna took the same position as before, facing Kymil and Kent.
“Forgive my interruption,” Kent said. “But the negotiations are faltering.”
“To say the least,” Kymil muttered.
Kent shot him a glare but continued, “Muroth is negotiating hard. We have failed to offer them anything they truly want, and we have little leverage to bend them to our will aside from the idea of continuing the war between our countries.”
“That is not an option I wish to entertain,” Aveyna said.
“I understand, but at the very least, nothing will have changed. Inoth has survived for a long time in spite of the war,” Kent said.
“Surely it’s better than bending to their whims,” Kymil said.
Aveyna’s jaw tensed again, and her brow furrowed. “The whole point of this endeavor is to pursue lasting peace. Returning to our old ways will achieve nothing.”
“This does not have to be the final negotiation between our nations,” Kent said. “We can bide our time and try again. Perhaps after the emperor dies, his son Wye will be more amicable to the idea of forging peace with us.”
“So you’re saying I should end the negotiations?”
Kent nodded. “At this time, I believe it is wise to conclude,n if only for today.”
Aveyna sighed.
“We can offer to meet again tomorrow. They are already here, and so are we. Perhaps they will soften overnight.”
Aveyna looked at Kymil. “What do you think?”
Kymil nodded toward Kent. “He’s the Murothian. He would know.”
Kent resented Kymil’s tone and his insinuation, but at least he had agreed.
Aveyna sighed again. “Very well.”
She approached Graeme again. “Prince Bouwen, it is clear that we will not reach terms today. I invite you to stay, and we can discuss this further tomorrow.”
“We will only stay to oversee the secession of these lands to our control,” Graeme said. “Our position will not change, no matter how many nights pass. And if we leave, we will return in an entirely different manner than how we came.”
Kent’s fists clenched. Another harsh negotiation tactic—Muroth was forcing Aveyna to make a sharp decision by declining to discuss the treaty further.
“You are free to do what you will, but I assure you that we are ready for any manner of ‘return’ you are suggesting,” Aveyna said. “It’s in both of our nations’ interests to stay and talk through these terms until we can agree.”
“I do not see it that way, but thank you for meeting with me, Queen Aveyna. Your beauty almost lives up to the tales told about you in northern Muroth. I imagine they were true in your youth.” Graeme gave her a smug smile, turned, and walked toward his advisors.
Kent had kept his calm the whole time, but those final words made him want to crack Graeme’s skull open.
Aveyna scoffed and turned toward Kent and Kymil again. “He is insufferable.”
“He is Murothian,” Kymil muttered.
Kent ignored Kymil’s slight. “Surely there must be more we can do?”
“We must prepare for more war,” Aveyna said.
War. She’d finally called it what it was.
“Then I will do everything I can to help ensure that we win it,” Kent said.
“Queen Aveyna?” Graeme called from behind her.
The three of them turned to look at him.
He started toward them again and held one finger up. “There is one other way we can resolve this dispute.”
Aveyna glanced at Kent, who nodded, and then at Kymil, who shrugged.
She stepped forward to meet Graeme in the middle. “I’m listening.”
“If you are willing to abdicate your throne to your son, then we will negotiate different terms with him.”
Aveyna stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
Graeme repeated, “If you abdicate your throne to Prince Kymil then we will negotiate different terms with him.”
Aveyna stared daggers at Kymil. “What have you done?”
Kymil walked over to her, kissed her cheek, and then stood beside Graeme, nearly shoulder to shoulder. “Mother, will you do this? For Inoth and our people?”
Kent gawked at the farce playing out before him. Something had gone wrong, somewhere, and Kymil had known about it.
No, he’d caused it. Perhaps it had even been his idea in the first place.
But it didn’t make sense. Why would Kymil allow Muroth to install him, even if the terms were more favorable? Inoth would still languish under the w
eight of Muroth’s demands, and her people would suffer all the same—
Unless Kymil just didn’t care.
“Perhaps some people are better used as sacrifices to secure greater power,” Kymil had said during the hunt.
Kent had disagreed with it then, and Kymil had brushed it away by claiming that criminals and invalids could pay the cost of greater power, but that wasn’t what Kymil had in mind at all.
He meant to sacrifice the entire country of Inoth for his own personal gain.
“Absolutely not,” Aveyna replied. “I am Inoth’s queen, and I will remain her queen until the day I die.”
Graeme nodded, and he turned toward Kymil. “Far be it from me to meddle in the affairs of Inoth’s royal family. We will not intervene.”
Kent’s body tensed. Intervene in what?
Kymil raised his left hand.
Someone grabbed Kent from behind, and two men in black armor grabbed Aveyna. Kent pulled away, but something swept his feet out from under him, and he hit the ground on his side.
As Kent repositioned himself, Grak thrust his sword toward Kent’s face, stopping just short.
“Don’t move another inch.”
Kent didn’t move.
In that moment, it all made sense. The nights he’d seen Kymil and Grak at the mausoleum. Furtive meetings in the castle’s halls. He’d seen Kymil talking to Grak several times, but he hadn’t ever thought of it as anything but routine. After all, Grak’s job was to guard Aveyna and Kymil—some degree of communication between them was necessary.
But now Kent knew what they’d been talking about in hushed tones since his arrival. All he could do was hold out hope that they hadn’t won over the rest of the elite soldiers accompanying them.
Two of Aveyna’s royal guards hauled Kent up and held him in place, and two more held Aveyna in place.
“Grakios?” She stared at him with stunned eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Something I should’ve done a long time ago.” Grak drew his sword over his head ready to bring it down onto Kent.
Kent closed his eyes and tensed.
“Halt!” Kymil ordered.
Grak froze, and he stared at Kymil.
“You remember our agreement, do you not?” Kymil asked.
Grak sighed and lowered his sword. “Yes. Fine.”
“Agreement?” Aveyna glanced between them. “What are you talking about? Grak, you’re supposed to be protecting me.”
“Not anymore,” Grak said. “Now I serve His Majesty, King Kymil of Inoth.”
“This is absurd!” Aveyna shouted. “I command all soldiers loyal to Inoth to come to my aid. Do your duty to your queen and your country!”
None of the elite Inothian soldiers moved. Kent’s heartbeat accelerated.
It was a coup.
“You traitors!” Aveyna screamed. “You swore fealty to me! To Inoth!”
“Your reign has come to an end.” Kymil started toward her. “And if you think it’s premature, then just imagine what Father thought when you poisoned him.”
Aveyna gasped. She started to stammer a response, but Kymil silenced her.
“Don’t bother trying to explain,” he said. “You murdered your husband. You are unfit to rule the Inothian people.”
Aveyna shook her head. “How could you possibly know?”
“Divination. Before you burned Father’s body, I summoned his spirit from the Underworld. He told me what you did, and I found the poison in your chambers later that day. Later, as he died, Archmage Ivelsted confirmed it.” Kymil glared at her with cold eyes. “I loved my father. And I used to love my mother. Now they are both dead to me.”
“Kymil,” Aveyna uttered, “you can’t begin to understand—”
“That he hurt you? That he made you feel worthless?” Kymil snapped. “I know about all of it. But none of it justifies his murder.”
Aveyna broke into tears, and Kent wanted nothing more than to tear free and crush Kymil’s head in his hands. But doing so would achieve nothing. He’d never even reach Kymil, not with dozens of Inoth’s finest soldiers surrounding them, and not with Grak standing in Kent’s way.
“And you, Lord Etheridge.” Kymil sneered. “I confess, your loyalty to Inoth has transcended my expectations. Had you not allowed your impulses toward my mother to guide you, perhaps you could’ve become one of my advisors instead.”
Kent locked his eyes on Kymil. “I would have sooner returned to Muroth and faced my fate there.”
“Whatever the case,” Kymil continued, “bedding my mother has proven where your true allegiances lie. As such, you will endure the same fate as she.” Kymil leaned in close to Kent. “But it will not be my hand.”
As Kymil straightened up, someone emerged from among the Murothian soldiers behind him. He wore a long, green cape attached to triangle-shaped fasteners on his matching jacket and green trousers.
He looked exactly the same as he had nearly a year prior when he’d murdered their father, except now he wore a black patch over his right eye.
Fane.
Chapter Sixteen
“Hello, brother.” The words slithered out of Fane’s mouth, then his countenance changed to mock embarrassment. “Oh. I forgot. You are not technically my brother anymore, are you?”
Kent glowered at him. His brother had shown up after all. And that meant Kent had a chance to kill him, even if only a small one.
“Not pleased to see me? Or is it that you do not recognize me?” Fane tilted his head. “I wore the same clothes as the last time we saw each other to make sure you knew it was me.”
Kent said nothing.
“Ah, Kent.” Fane smiled. “You have not changed whatsoever, though you have missed much since you fled the family estate.”
“Apparently, I did not miss your eye.” Kent realized he must’ve hit it with his sword’s backswing on his way out the window. It would’ve explained Fane’s scream at the time.
Fane frowned at him. “Yes. An unfortunate loss, but it pales in comparison to the good fortune of learning you were still alive. You have our mutual friend Prince Kymil to thank for relaying that information to me.”
Kent clenched his jaw tight.
“I admit,” Fane stepped toward him, “I was not surprised to hear that you had found your way to the upper echelons of Inothian society. You always did have a cunning mind and a gift for charisma.
“Though it surprised me to learn that you elected to flee to Inoth, of all places, rather than to Govalia, or Caclos, or somewhere secluded in Muroth. Then again, I suppose it does make sense, given the way you butchered our father before my very eyes.”
“Why bother perpetuating the lie now, Fane? There is no one here to impress, and you already have me at your mercy,” Kent said.
Fane grinned and drew the dagger hanging from his belt.
Kent recognized it immediately. It had once belonged to him, and Fane had used it to kill their father.
“You raise an excellent point. You are mine to do with as I please.” Fane’s voice lowered. “Finally.”
As Fane raised the dagger, Aveyna shrieked.
An explosion of white light hit Kent’s eyes, and though he shut them, it blinded him nonetheless. Just like when he’d first arrived in Goldmoor and fought Trag at the Temple of Laeri.
The soldiers around Kent yelled and hollered, and the royal guards released their grips on him. It did him little good, as he couldn’t see anything but brilliant light, brighter than the sun above them.
Something touched his shoulder, and the light vanished. He opened his eyes to find Aveyna staring at him, her eyes pleading.
Everyone around them still clutched their faces and tried to shield their eyes. An aura of light sizzled through the air amid the soldiers, but it had already started to fade.
“Kent!” Aveyna shouted. “We need to flee!”
He nodded, but before he’d gotten three steps toward the fortress, someone grabbed his ankle, and he tripped. He hit the grou
nd hard, but he recovered quickly.
One of the royal guards had gotten ahold of him.
“Kent!” Aveyna yelled again.
He drove the heel of his other boot into the royal guard’s forehead, and the royal guard released him. Kent scrambled to his feet, only to find the Inothian elite soldiers forming up around Aveyna and him.
Aveyna drew a white line in the air and pulled her sword of light from it, just as she had when she’d anointed Kent her advisor, only far quicker. She glanced at him and nodded.
Kent pulled a crystal from one of his pouches with his left hand and let his magic begin to flow.
Aeron saw the blast of light from his spot atop the fortress’s wall, and it stunned him so much that he almost fell over.
By the gods… it’s the signal.
Earlier that morning, Queen Aveyna had told Aeron to watch the meeting, and if something should go wrong, she’d signal him with a bright light to come to their aid.
He blinked away the spots in his vision, snatched up his spear, and ran down the stairs to the second story along the wall that framed the courtyard. The closer he got, the more he could sense Wafer’s presence, and Aeron conveyed his urgency through their bond.
“Wafer!” he shouted, mostly for his own reassurance that Wafer would be ready. “We’re leaving!”
Aeron shoved past a pair of Inothian soldiers walking toward him along the wall and jumped from the second story of the courtyard. Wafer met him before he could hit the ground, and he landed in the saddle on Wafer’s back.
Together they launched into the skies above the fortress and shot toward the queen.
Kent had too many choices.
He could attack Fane and try to claim the vengeance that had already eluded him for so long.
He could attack Kymil, whose betrayal had cast Aveyna and Kent into this fracas.
He could attack Grak, who had sided against Aveyna and who posed a greater physical threat than either Fane or Kymil.
Or Kent could focus solely on protecting Aveyna and himself with the hope that they could somehow escape.
