Killing had never bothered Darmik before. He’d always been able to detach himself from the actual act of it. But for some reason, the unnecessary death in the village town disturbed him. Yet, it wasn’t the king’s fault the woman died—it was Darmik’s. The army was under his control, and his own soldier had pierced her body with a sword. It was how they always operated. No mercy. So why did it feel so wrong now?
While training in Emperion, Darmik was taught to instill fear in order to maintain control. However, Darmik no longer felt that fear was necessary. He no longer wanted control that way. There was value in listening to the citizens, in treating others with respect and compassion . . . as Rema had done.
Since meeting Rema and witnessing her kindness to strangers, Darmik rethought the necessity of killing and the harshness of his army. Was there another way to rule? And again, that nagging question in the back of his mind—would Rema be a better ruler?
Darmik shook his head, forcing his thoughts to remain hidden. He had to focus on the task at hand. The army entered the compound, and he dismissed his soldiers to the barracks.
****
Sitting at the desk in his office, Darmik rubbed his face with his hands.
“Are you sure?” he mumbled. This was one headache he wasn’t prepared for.
“Yes,” Neco replied. “They haven’t returned.”
It was only a half-day’s journey to Trell’s home in Werden. Darmik’s elite squad should have been there and back already.
“I can go,” Neco offered.
“No.” Darmik leaned back in his chair. “We’ll both go tomorrow. Tell no one.”
Neco laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
A knock sounded on Darmik’s door. “Your Highness,” a mousy voice crooned. “May I please be granted entrance into your office, so I may deliver a message from His Majesty?”
Darmik growled. What was Arnek doing here, delivering messages for the king? He hated Arnek, who was, after all, Lennek’s personal steward, not the king’s.
Neco raised his eyebrows. “Is he for real?”
“I wish he wasn’t,” Darmik seethed. “Enter!” he yelled loud enough for Arnek to hear.
The short, mousy man came in carrying a sealed letter. “From the king, Your Highness.” He held the letter out.
Darmik plucked it from Arnek’s hand. “You’re dismissed.” Breaking the seal, Darmik quickly read the hastily written letter. “I’ve been summoned,” he said to Neco. The king was hosting a dinner tonight and requested his son’s presence.
Neco stood. “Does that mean you’ll be busy this evening?”
“Unfortunately.”
“May I have the night off?” Neco softly asked.
There was only one other time Neco asked for time away from his duties. “Same girl?” Darmik asked with disbelief. Neco was not known for relationships. He took the occasional woman to his bed, but never the same girl.
The corner of his mouth rose. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” Neco said, “but yes, the same girl.”
It never occurred to Darmik that Neco would eventually marry. Neco cleared his throat, waiting for Darmik’s answer.
“Of course,” Darmik said. “Just be packed and ready to go tomorrow morning before the sun rises.”
****
After quickly bathing and changing into his silk tunic bearing the royal family’s crest, Darmik headed to the Dining Hall. He had no desire to be around his father and brother this evening, but there would be other people there, helping to relieve the tension he felt around his family.
Turning a corner, he heard someone crying. He stopped to listen so he could locate the person and offer assistance.
“Please,” the young woman pleaded, “don’t do this to me.”
A man laughed. “Don’t do this to you?” he chided, the voice familiar. “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one that can’t keep your legs closed. If you think I’ll share you, you’re wrong,” Lennek said.
The girl was crying. “Please,” she begged. “I love you.”
Darmik slid against the wall and walked toward the voices, wanting to remain unseen.
Lennek laughed, the sound echoing down the corridor. Darmik was almost to an intersection.
“You take plenty of women into your bed,” the girl said.
“What I do, and whom I do it with, is none of your business,” Lennek seethed. “I will not share a bed with you any longer. Get out of my sight.”
Footsteps echoed from the hallway to the right. Darmik quickly turned so his back was to the intersection, and he walked down the corridor, away from the voices. Lennek must have walked in the opposite direction. Once Darmik no longer heard footsteps, he spun around and headed back to where his brother had been. Sitting in the corridor was a servant girl. Darmik went to her and knelt down.
“Are you okay?” he asked. It was unheard of for royalty to aid anyone, especially a servant. But Darmik wanted to know what his brother was up to.
“I’m fine,” the girl sobbed. She looked up at Darmik, recognition flashing in her eyes. She abruptly stood. “Can I assist you with something, Your Highness?”
“Where are you stationed?” Darmik asked.
“I’m a chambermaid, Your Highness.” Her dress indicated so, but she wore an apron over the dress, which chambermaids did not do.
“And your business with Prince Lennek?”
She glanced down to the ground, her cheeks turning a brighter shade of red. The girl folded her hands together in a nervous gesture, pulling her apron tight, revealing a small, bulging belly. She was with child.
“Nothing,” she whispered.
“I’m demanding you tell me.”
“He took me to bed. That is all.” She wouldn’t meet Darmik’s eyes.
“And the child you carry?” If it was Lennek’s, Lennek was sure to kill the baby shortly after birth. He would never allow a servant to father one of his children.
The girl’s eyes flew to Darmik’s, blinking several times. “Not his,” she said, her voice cracking.
Darmik stared at her a moment. She was lying. He was sure of it. “I have healers at the military compound. If you need anything, please come see me. I will make sure you get the care you need.” He stood and walked away, leaving the girl shocked and alone in the corridor. He would have to address this matter in greater detail, to ensure Lennek did not discover the child was his.
****
Arriving at the entrance to the Dining Hall, Darmik nodded to the sentries, and the doors swung open. The sentries’ staffs hit the ground, causing a boom to echo through the room. Silence fell, and hundreds of eyes turned to stare.
“His Royal Highness, Prince Darmik,” the sentry on his left announced.
Everyone bowed, and Darmik entered the room. He headed toward his father, who was sitting in a chair on the dais, watching over his subjects as they mingled about the room, socializing. Walking through the dining hall, the sounds and smells assaulted Darmik. After weeks in the mountains and surviving on very little, the opulence astounded him. Perfumed bodies clad in silk, bulging hemlines and chests, and people laughing without a care in the world encompassed the room.
The king stood. “Now that both of my sons are here, let’s eat.”
Everyone moved to the tables and chairs situated throughout the room. When Darmik reached the dais, he saw Lennek off to the side, his head bent toward a wealthy landowner’s daughter, her face flushed.
“Darmik,” the king said. “Nice of you to join us. I sincerely hope you have some good news.”
Lennek was instantly at his side. “Yes, brother, do tell.”
The brothers took their seats on either side of the king. Servants brought in plates with steaming food towering on them: chicken, potatoes, and carrots. Wine was poured. After the royal table was taken care of, the servants served everyone else in the room.
Darmik chugged his wine. “Progress has been made,” was all he said.
“Ha
ve you found her?” Lennek asked, hatred radiating from his eyes.
“I can hardly discuss such matters here, in public, before these people,” Darmik responded.
“These people,” the king said, “are responsible for financing the army. They aren’t the enemy.”
Lennek chuckled. “Brother, you really need to be around more. Then perhaps you’d have an idea of things.”
Darmik tensed. “And if you left the comfort of the castle a little more, perhaps you’d see how the people of this kingdom are starving and running to join ranks with the rebels.”
“Enough,” the king said. “The two of you are ruining my dinner. We will discuss this matter later. For now, let’s enjoy ourselves.”
Darmik had no appetite to eat. Faces filled with hatred plagued him. Sunken-in faces, people starving and dying for no reason. And here Darmik sat, his plate piled high with food—food from the very people who were starving. No wonder they hated him. He hated himself right now.
When the king finished, he stood, and everyone stood along with him. They exited the Dining Hall and entered the adjacent room. Musicians played, and people paired up, dancing and laughing. They had no idea that citizens were withering in pain, starving, while food sat in the other room, discarded like trash.
The king took the hand of a wealthy landowner’s wife, and led her to the dance floor. Lennek was also dancing. Of course he was. He always did. No lack of partners awaited him. The prince’s head fell back, laughing. The young girl he was with twirled around him, her hand tracing a line across his back and chest. Lennek pulled her to him, whispering in her ear. The girl’s face reddened.
Darmik slid into the shadows of the room, leaning against a wall, hoping to be left alone. He pulled the collar of his shirt, taking a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. The song ended, and another one began. Lennek released his partner, and turned to another young girl, pulling her into his arms. He was shameless.
Now that Rema was out of the picture, would Lennek choose another to marry? Would he align himself with a wealthy landowner’s daughter, or pluck a poor merchant girl and use her to further the king’s political agenda?
The king was no longer dancing, and instead stood off to the side, talking to several people. One in particular caught Darmik’s attention. He was a wealthy landowner from Lumen named Barek. The gentleman was far way from home and rarely visited court. The king and Barek moved away from the group and stood alone, talking. Darmik decided to join them.
“Father, Barek,” Darmik said, erring on the side of familiarity rather than formality, hoping to gain Barek’s confidence.
“It’s good to see you, Commander,” Barek said. He was a tall man with sharp features, giving him a shrewd look.
“We were just discussing a little business,” the king said. “It’s good you decided to join us.”
“How can I be of service, Barek?” Darmik asked. He knew the use of his title as commander was no accident.
The king said, “Barek is going to be paying a little extra in taxes to ensure the safety of his land. Isn’t that correct?”
Barek laughed. “Yes, to guarantee the safety of my family and land.” He focused his attention on Darmik. “Can you do this? I hear stories of the rebels running wild like animals. Are you capable of handling them?”
Darmik treaded carefully. “The situation is under control.” He wouldn’t guarantee the safety of anyone right now.
“And you’ll send extra soldiers home with Barek,” King Barjon said. “They will be stationed on his land. At least, for as long as the extra payments are made.” The king laughed, grabbing a glass of wine from a serving tray.
“As always,” Barek said, “it’s a pleasure doing business with you, Your Majesty.” He bowed and left.
King Barjon put his arm around Darmik’s shoulders. He never showed affection toward his son, and Darmik stiffened by the contact. “See how much better things are when you’re working with us?”
Darmik remained silent.
“These rebels may prove to be of use to us,” the king chuckled. “Still, I want Rema’s head on a silver platter. Are we clear?”
Looking into the king’s black, cold eyes, Darmik nodded.
Lennek joined them, a girl draped on each of his arms. “Darmik, you must join us.” He passed one of the girls over to Darmik, and then returned to the dance floor.
“You Highness,” the girl said, curtseying. “I’d be honored.”
Having no choice in the matter, Darmik led her out among the dancers.
“What’s your name?” Darmik inquired.
“Silvena, Your Highness.” Her arms slid around Darmik’s neck, and she pulled her body against his.
Silvena appeared to be about twenty years old. Her black hair was pulled back, away from her plump, round face. Darmik couldn’t wait for the dance to be over.
“Thank you for dancing with me,” she whispered in Darmik’s ear, her breath smelling of fermented grapes. “I’m glad for the change of partners.” Silvena tilted her head back, looking up into Darmik’s face.
There was a clarity to her eyes Darmik hadn’t noticed before. They stepped away from one another, twirling, and then rejoining as the dance required.
Silvena pulled herself closer to Darmik, as if she was trying to hug him. “There is someone out in the corridor who wishes to speak to you,” she whispered. Then her body went slack, and she spun around him, appearing tipsy from alcohol.
When her eyes locked on Darmik’s, he gave a curt nod. Her cheeks slightly rose as if she were trying not to smile.
“Where are you from?” Darmik asked.
She smiled now, shaking her head.
Glancing over to Lennek, Darmik recognized the girl his brother danced with as the governor of Adder’s daughter.
“My cousin,” Silvena said, following his line of sight. “And now you know more than you should.” Her voice was clear, articulate. Obviously, she wasn’t drunk.
“Or you’re a good actress.”
She rested her head against his shoulder, laughing softly. “You’d be surprised how many are acting. A lot are joining the rebels. Tread carefully.” The music ended, and Silvena slipped away.
Darmik slowly made his way to the corridor outside the Dining Hall. A few people stood about, sentries still posted at the doors. He moved down the hallway, trying not to look over his shoulder. Rounding a corner, a hand shot out and grabbed him, pulling him into a dark archway.
“Is she okay?” a female voice urgently demanded.
“Who?” Darmik asked, his hand sliding into his pocket to find the dagger strapped to his thigh.
“Rema,” the girl whispered. “Did she get out unharmed? There was so much blood. We didn’t think she’d hit the platform.”
Darmik grabbed the girl’s upper arms, pinning her to the wall. “What do you know about Rema?” he demanded.
“I was her chambermaid,” she answered.
Darmik pulled the girl forward, toward the hallway, trying to see her face in the light. “Ellie?” he asked.
She nodded. “I just want to know if she’s okay.” Darmik didn’t answer. “And I have a message for you,” she continued. “You’re wanted back at the compound. Neco said a package has arrived that you’ve been waiting for.”
Trell? Darmik wondered. “Why did Neco send you?”
“I volunteered,” Ellie answered, trying to wiggle free.
Darmik released her, and she slipped into the hallway, hurrying away.
****
Entering his office, Darmik found Evek and Chrotek from his personal guard. “You’ve returned,” he said, taking a seat at his desk.
Neco entered, closing the door behind him.
“What’s going on?” Darmik asked.
“Branek and Traco are guarding him now. We’ve hid him in the interrogation room.”
They must have slipped in through the tunnels. “And no one knows he’s here?” Darmik asked.
“No
one, and Trell wants to keep it that way. He’s been waiting for you to return before he let your squad bring him in. He wants to see you.”
“He has surprising strength for one so old.” Evek chuckled. “We had to leave behind the rest of your guard. He wanted to ensure his house was protected.”
“I suggest a few more soldiers be sent as reinforcements,” Chrotek added.
Under Trell’s house was a vault with priceless and irreplaceable artifacts. “See to it,” Darmik said. “Send a unit from the First Company.”
“Yes sir,” Everk and Chrotek replied. They took their leave.
Darmik was alone with Neco. “How do you know Ellie?” Darmik asked.
Neco looked at his friend. “Care to tell me what’s going on with Rema?”
The friends sat there staring at one another for a minute. “Is Ellie the girl you wished to see this evening?”
Neco didn’t respond.
And Darmik had no intention of revealing his feelings for Rema. Yet.
Rema
Rema sat at one of the long tables in the mess hall, Vesha and Audek on either side of her. She hadn’t seen Savenek since the race. The room was packed with people eating their midday meal, which consisted of a vegetable soup and bread.
Audek chuckled.
“What?” Rema asked.
“Just remembering the look on Savenek’s face when you crossed the finish line first,” he answered.
Vesha tried suppressing her smile. “I’ve never seen him lose,” she said. “Not a race or a fight. He’s always been the best at everything.”
At first, Rema was worried Vesha might be mad at her for beating Savenek, but so far, Vesha seemed fine with it.
“I hope he’s not too upset,” Rema said. After all, she still needed Savenek to train her. “Will he make good on the bet?”
“Yes,” Vesha said. “No matter what you may think of him, he’s an honorable man.”
Good, because Rema wanted to begin training as soon as possible. She could almost feel Darmik closing in on her.
Red (The True Reign Series) Page 10
