Koal’s muted voice carried through the hall. “In here, Deegan.”
The youngest prince was ushered inside. Deegan blinked, looking from one person to the next. Much as Joel had, once he spotted the King, the Crowned Prince couldn’t tear his eyes away. “F–Father?”
King Rishi had just turned toward his youngest son’s voice when there came a deafening crash from the hallway, followed by racing footsteps and the sound of Koal and Bailey shouting in unison, “Gudrin, no!”
It was too late. The door flew all the way open, knocking into Joel, and Gudrin raced through. Joel instinctively tried to grab her, but she was too fast and much too agile. She’d always been like a little cat, darting and twisting with almost super-human agility. In a glimmer of blue dress and dark hair, she whipped past Joel and only came to a stop when she stood beside Deegan. Her victorious grin fell away in an instant.
Koal and Bailey both crashed through the door a moment later, but the damage had already been done. Gudrin’s eyes were fixed on the King. Her bottom lip trembled as she took a tentative step forward. “Pa–Papa?”
King Rishi tried to lift himself up onto his elbows, but he couldn’t. “No,” he rasped, his face stricken with grief. “She wasn’t supposed to see.”
Aodan leapt from his seat and rushed at the young princess, but Gudrin saw him coming. Letting out a shriek, she made a mad scramble for the King. “No! Papa!” She launched for the bed and, even in his shock, Joel had to wonder how the little girl could jump so far.
Aodan reached her an instant later, lifting her from the bed. “No, Gudrin. Papa’s sick. You’ll hurt him!”
Gudrin grabbed hold of the blanket, refusing to let go. She screamed unlike anything Joel had ever heard before and shredded the heavy blanket with her bare fingers—or something. He squinted. That couldn’t be right. For just a moment, Joel had sworn he’d seen claws on the ends of each stubby digit.
Aodan snarled something at the flailing princess, and Joel just about fell on his backside when Gudrin growled back—not the growl of a small child, but that of a wild cat or other vicious creature. Her eyes were wide and terrified as she tried to break free from Aodan’s grip. “Let go! What’s wrong with him? Papa!”
“Calm down!” Aodan said, leveling the princess with a fearsome scowl. “Calm yerself an’ I’ll let you go to ’im. But ya can’t be climbin’ all over ’im, Gudrin. He’s sick.”
Gudrin went limp at that, any growls or snarls giving way to whimpering cries. Joel’s heart slowed just a little. As the princess softened, so did Aodan. He went from restraining her to cradling her in his arms. Together they wept as he took her to the bedside and allowed her to see her father. Gudrin nuzzled against his side and the King rested his cheek atop her head and whispered sweet words to her.
Deegan joined his sister, standing beside the bed. He reached out and placed a hand on King Rishi’s arm, and at last, tears began to cascade down his cheeks. Dahlia swept over and wrapped her arms around Deegan’s shoulders, crying with him. Behind them, Hasain and Diddy leaned on one another as they wept. Marc sat at the back of the room, his head in his hands, and Gib continued to pat the dean’s back.
Joel clenched his jaw, caught between sorrow for the loss of their king and the apprehension of what had just taken place with Gudrin. His eyes darted around the room, wondering if anyone else had noticed the frightening behavior but found no answers, only tears and heartache.
“All right.” Koal’s voice cut through the silent suite. “The only others we’re waiting on are the Blessed Mages and Roland Korbin, and then I’m going to explain everything. No questions until I’ve said my peace. Not everyone who’s here was meant to see this, but secrecy is going to be a must if we’re to succeed.” His heavy gaze fell onto first Gib and then Joel. “I’m afraid I haven’t good news and our time is short, so listen well and keep your mouths shut.”
The bright sun shining through the temple windows was a lie Gib could feel in his core. He could find no warmth, no comfort. Not today. All around him stood people. Some were strangers. Some he only barely knew. Others were people who’d become his second family over the past three and a half years. Hearts heavy, they all waited together to say their final goodbyes to King Rishi Radek.
Three nights prior, Gib had watched in horror as the King fell victim to his treacherous opposition. He’d been poisoned, and this time Gib hadn’t been in the right place at the right time to prevent the assassination. No one had.
The people in the kingdom knew none of this, however. Even as King Rishi took his final breaths, he made Koal promise to see to it that Marc wasn’t prosecuted. The world couldn’t know it was the Healer’s vial, laced with deadly wolfsbane, that had poisoned the King. Gib’s stomach rolled. The ugly rumors of how the King had hung himself in his bedchamber made him want to retch. King Rishi had been brave, even in the end, but no one here would ever know. They couldn’t know the truth, or Marc’s life would also be jeopardized.
Gib folded his hands in front of himself and watched as countless people shuffled through the temple, an endless procession of foreign dignitaries, Ardenian officials, highborns, and courtiers. Each stopped at the foot of the grand, marble tomb where the deceased king had been laid out and dressed in fine clothing. In death, King Rishi looked peaceful. His hair was woven into a loose braid with a golden crown perched atop it. With clasped hands resting on his still chest and sealed eyelids, Gib could almost convince himself the King merely slumbered.
The Queen and the immediate royal family stood to the side of the tomb, as was custom. After each guest said their final goodbyes to King Rishi, condolences were given to family. Gib watched with wet eyes as Dahlia, her bodyguard Aodan, and the royal children struggled to keep their composure. Crowned Prince Deegan stayed by his mother’s side while little Gudrin clung to Aodan, grasping the bodyguard’s hand. Diddy stood behind her, gently rubbing his sister’s shoulders and somehow managing to keep his own tears at bay. Gib was so caught up watching he barely realized Hasain had approached.
Eyes bloodshot and olive skin an unnatural pallid hue, the young lord glared at the procession line. “Look at them all,” Hasain said, the tremble in his voice betraying his anguish. “Saying their goodbyes as if they knew him. Of all the men who’ve passed through the temple thus far, I could name only a small handful. I hate this. He would have hated it, too.”
Gib nodded his agreement. He could almost hear the King’s disapproving snort. “My pa’s funeral was so small it was over in a mark. It was just my siblings and a few neighbors. Nothing as grand as this.”
“It’d be better if only our family and loved ones were here. Father wouldn’t have cared for all of these politicians looking at him. They’re only here to discuss what will happen tomorrow anyway.”
“Tomorrow?” Gib hadn’t bothered to think that far ahead yet.
Hasain wiped his face with a sleeve. “They’ll seal him away today. Tomorrow, who knows what will become of Arden. The council will meet to decide who will rule in his stead.” His bottom lip trembled, but he covered it with his hand. Gib pretended not to notice.
“Rule in his stead? Until Prince Deegan is old enough to take the crown?”
“Yes. They’ll vote in a steward.”
Gib’s heart thudded to a stop. “Wh–who would qualify for that? Will Koal—?”
“The seneschal would be the first choice.” Dark despair lined Hasain’s voice. “But the High Councilor would be another option. Father had no surviving brothers.”
Gib had to concentrate to stop his knees from knocking together. The High Councilor? Neetra? He can’t run Arden. “What about you? Aren’t you old enough to take the crown? Even if it’s only until—”
A broken, desperate laugh cut through the air. “Allow the bastard son to take the crown? The temples would collapse.” Hasain shook his head. “No. Kieran and I don’t exist to them.”
Gib’s brow creased. Kieran? Who the hell was Kieran?
&nbs
p; He had no opportunity to question Hasain, for Nawaz had approached without making a sound and was giving Hasain a hearty clasp on the shoulder. Heidi was by her new husband’s side, her powdered face buried in a kerchief.
“Oh, Hasain,” she gasped through sniffles. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe he’s gone.”
Hasain inclined his head, nodding stiffly. “Thank you. Both of you.” His eyes flicked from Heidi to Nawaz, and it seemed he was having a difficult time meeting his best friend’s stare. Was that guilt flashing behind Hasain’s dark eyes? Through the grief, it was hard for Gib to tell.
The four of them waited in silence; the only sounds to be heard were the shuffling of feet and the buzz of whispers echoing off the stone walls. Gib stared at his boots so he didn’t have to meet Hasain’s pained eyes or witness Heidi’s damp cheeks. Likewise, he was frightened to look upon the tomb again. Another glimpse of the King’s lifeless, sallow form might be enough to do him in completely.
He couldn’t escape it for long though. When the chamber at last began to clear, Gib found himself swept into the procession and edging slowly toward the open tomb. His mouth went dry at the prospect of having to say goodbye to King Rishi. He wasn’t ready. He’d probably never be ready.
Up ahead, Neetra and Liro were taking their turns to pay their respects. As expected, each gave the least they could, opting only to bow to the dead king and spare no words for the mighty ruler who’d brought so much good to the land. Gib knew he was powerless to do anything, but the sight of Liro’s smug expression made his temper flame. How could he be so heartless?
“Take strength, Aunt,” Liro said as he stopped before Dahlia. “Despite the teachings of the Blessed Son of Light, perhaps one so clever as Rishi Radek will find a way out of eternal damnation.”
The Queen squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Gib had to wonder where she found the strength to remain courageous in the face of such adversity. “King Rishi Radek. And you will never convince me that any soul desperate enough to end their own life would then be condemned for eternity. Perhaps your Blessed Son of Light isn’t the best example to be followed, nephew.”
Gib was sure he witnessed a tinge of pink blossom on Liro’s cheeks as he bowed to Dahlia. Surely he’d leave without stirring up further trouble—but no. Instead of walking away, Liro turned next to Aodan, and Gib could hear Liro’s artful voice, muted as it was, all the way from where Gib stood. “With no king left to guard, you may consider packing your bags, Derr.”
The color drained from Aodan’s face. For once, the bodyguard’s untamable fury seemed to have abandoned him. Clenching his jaw, he looked away from Liro and tightened his grip on Princess Gudrin’s hand. Liro curled his mouth into a sinister smile and finally took his leave.
A moment later, Gudrin began to cry, the desperate sobs tearing at Gib’s heart. Dahlia and Aodan held her tight and whispered comforting words, but the young girl had reached her capacity. Everyone had. Diddy and Deegan wept with the others.
Hasain breathed a deep sigh, tears pooling in the corner of each slanted eye. “We’ll await tomorrow and see what happens. Drastic measures may have to be taken.”
Gib watched the young lord make his way up to the tomb. He didn’t know exactly what Hasain meant, but he thought he understood. As Gib waited for his turn to bid farewell to the King, a feeling of duty sprung to life deep inside his core. He didn’t know what he was going to say to King Rishi, but in his heart, he made a promise—a promise to do all he could to keep Arden whole.
Chapter Fourteen
Gib held onto the wall as he made his way toward the council room, taking care to go slowly so his heart didn’t fail from overuse. This was it. Today the High Council would choose a steward to rule Arden.
His mind attempted to whirl away from him, to entomb him in panic, but he locked his jaw and firmly refused to despair. Koal was the seneschal of Arden, the dead king’s Right Hand since well before Gib had even been born. Why wouldn’t Koal be chosen to be steward? He was the only logical choice.
But Neetra was cunning. The High Councilor had many supporters. If anyone were to give Koal a run for his money, it would be his younger brother.
Gib’s jaw was clenched so tightly it began to ache. Letting out a whoosh of air, he attempted to loosen his stance. He couldn’t worry over this now. In just a moment he’d be inside the council room, where Arden’s fate would be decided. He needed to stay focused and have a clear mind.
Turning the last bend in the hall, a new anguish washed over him. The grand oak doors leading to the council chamber were closed, and Hasain and Diddy stood beside them, looking confused and worried. Gib knew something was amiss. They’d never bothered to wait for him outside the chamber before.
Hasain paced back and forth with his arms wrapped tightly around himself. Diddy remained as still as a statue, with one hand pressed over his mouth and eyes staring vacantly. When he took notice of Gib, the prince snapped out of his trance.
“Gib!” Diddy called as he came within earshot. “Where’s Koal? Has he told you to join him inside today?”
Gib furrowed his brow. “I haven’t seen him yet. Join him inside? I always sit in on the council meetings. You know that.”
Hasain drew to a halt and spun around. His hair and clothing were in utter disarray. “Not today, Nemesio. Neetra has commanded no understudies be present.”
“What?” Gib asked, mouth falling open. “How can he do that? It’s not—does he have that authority?”
“Today he does.”
The three young men turned toward the new voice.
Koal strode down the corridor, his face set in a hard grimace. He kept one hand on the hilt of his broadsword while the other swung freely at his side. Red cape billowing in his wake and steel blue eyes narrowed into fierce slits, the seneschal had never looked more intimidating. Marc trailed close behind, the usual twinkle in his dark eyes and crooked smile nowhere to be seen.
Gib took an unwilling step back. “You look like you’re going to war, not council.”
Koal’s dismal gaze speared the understudy. “Today it is war.”
“If anyone has prayers, say them now,” Marc added gravely.
As Koal passed, he extended a hand and clasped Hasain’s shoulder. “You know what’s to be done should our worst fears come to realization. Be sure to stay here.”
“Yes.” Hasain glanced around the empty corridor. “The others will come along as they can. We’ll be ready.”
Gib’s mind piqued with curiosity, wondering what they were speaking about, but he held his tongue. Now wasn’t the time for questions. If he’d learned anything while being Koal’s understudy, it was that secrets couldn’t be forced to light. If they needed him, they would ask.
Koal and Marc left without a word of goodbye. The bang of the heavy doors slamming shut echoed down the hall until unnerving silence was all that remained. With nothing else to do, Hasain, Diddy, and Gib sat on the marble floor and waited.
Perhaps a mark later, Gib looked up when he heard light footfalls. Joel and Nawaz trotted toward them, confusion etched across each of their faces. At the sight of Joel’s flowing robes, Gib blinked and his heart twisted against his will. It’d been so long since he’d seen the mage. Why did it feel like Gib was looking upon a near stranger?
“What are you guys doin’ here?” Nawaz asked. The young lord had donned his healer’s jerkin, and he could have been on his way to the pavilion if not for the crossbow strapped over one shoulder. The sight of the weapon caused Gib’s blood to run cold. What use would there be for it inside the palace?
Joel’s eyes scanned the corridor, looking from one face to the next yet avoiding any prolonged gaze directed at Gib. “Why aren’t you all inside?”
“We’ve been banned,” Hasain choked, on the verge of tears. “The other understudies already wandered off.”
Joel and Nawaz exchanged glances before moving to flank Hasain.
Nawaz shook his head. “It’s already
starting. Neetra won’t be happy until he has Arden under his thumb.”
“We must hold onto hope,” Diddy insisted. “The councilmen aren’t imbeciles. They have to vote for Uncle Koal!”
“Not imbeciles,” Joel said. “But they are misled. Anything could happen in there.”
Nawaz set his hand atop the butt of his crossbow. “We’re prepared.”
Gib bit his tongue. Prepared for what?
More time passed before Kezra stormed through the corridor. Since she was still clad in her sentinel tunic and breeches, her sword was slightly less unsettling when she came to a stop before them. With one cool scan, she chose to ignore Nawaz and instead turned her attention to Hasain. “What’s this then? Why is everyone outside?”
Something dark flashed in Hasain’s eyes as he launched himself to his feet to greet her. As he explained their plight yet again, Gib couldn’t help but glance over at Nawaz. The young lord kept his red face inclined, yet every time Kezra spoke, his eyes would dart toward her. Gib took a deep breath. He understood. Gods, he understood. His own gaze kept treacherously returning to Joel.
Kezra leaned against the cold wall. “So, we wait for the fate of Arden to be decided?”
“What else can we do?” Hasain offered his hand, but she hardly even acknowledged it. When he realized she had no intention of taking hold, he went back to his place. “Would you sit with me?”
Kezra folded her arms. “I’ll stand.”
Once more during their wait, newcomers joined them. Weapons Master Roland and Tular Galloway approached, side by side. The master’s face was set in a stone mask, but Gib was still glad to see him. Somehow, it was comforting to have an authority figure present.
Roland cast shrewd, calculating eyes around the ragtag group. “The bastard’s already changed the rules, I see. Fantastic.” With a grunt of displeasure, he leaned against the wall and fell quiet.
Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden Page 44
