A severe frown crossed Gib’s mouth. “King Rishi is dead and your uncle has Arden under his thumb, right where he’s always wanted it. It’s hard to imagine things getting any worse than they already are.”
Joel opened his mouth to respond but was cut short by the squeal of hinges as the front door flew open. A burst of wind surged through the hall, tempting the flames inside the hearth to dance higher yet. Footsteps rushed from deeper within the house, and a moment later, Joel could hear his mother’s alarmed voice rise in the foyer. “Koal, what is it? What’s happened?”
The heavy door slammed shut. Joel felt his body go taut even as Gib sat up straighter on the lounge. Their eyes met briefly, and seeing the terror painted across Gib’s face, Joel’s blood ran cold. Putting a hand to his mouth, Joel stared into the shadowed corridor, listening and waiting, all the while knowing something was terribly, terribly wrong.
“What happened? Koal?” Mrifa’s soft tone had gone shrill.
The seneschal’s troubled voice drifted down the corridor like a breath of winter air. “Neetra just declared war. Arden will march on Shiraz.”
The music and merriment of the Rose Bouquet was lost on Gib. He sat at a table far to the back of the tavern, a drink in hand, and watched as people danced around the open space beneath the stage. On the raised platform, a quartet of musicians played crisp, jolly music. The melancholy whine of the fiddle and rhythmic beating of hand drums mingled in Gib’s ears like they’d been created to be together. The sound should have brought peace to his weary soul, but he could find none tonight.
News of the impending war had spread through the city like wildfire. Some people reacted with fear and hysteria. Others were making sure to live each moment to its fullest. Life at the tavern seemed to carry on as normal, though perhaps it was only that way because the ale clouded people’s judgments and made it easier to forget war was upon them.
On the dance floor, Nia Leal held Nage as if he were the only person in the world as he swept her around in his arms. Gib traced the top of his mug and tried not to envy his friend. He was happy for Nage and truly hoped the soldier had found happiness. Hopefully Nage and Nia would never have to second guess their love. With any luck, distance and war wouldn’t break them, leaving them shattered and devastated, as it had done to him and Joel.
Tarquin cleared his throat from across the table. He’d been quiet all evening. “Where did Zandi get off to?” He wasn’t really curious, Gib could tell by the tone, but it wasn’t in Tarquin’s nature to endure grim silence.
“Over at the bar, with his librarian friend.” Gib nodded vaguely but felt no more detail was needed. After all, neither of them really wanted to be having this conversation. He could tell by the uncomfortable shift of Tarquin’s weight and the slant of his mouth that he was thinking heavily on something. This war may well be his end before they ever marched.
At long last, Tarquin leaned across the table. “It never seemed real before, you know? When I signed up to be a sentinel trainee, I never thought I’d actually be faced with war. Father says we all let our guard down. We grew too accustomed to King Rishi’s peaceful rule.”
Gib grimaced, wishing he felt more inclined to indulge his friend’s worries. “I suppose so. I wonder how all the councilors feel about voting in Neetra now that he’s declared war.”
Tarquin pulled back, his face pinching with offense. “I have no proof one way or the other, but I seriously doubt my father’s vote was for Neetra.”
Gib rubbed his face. He hadn’t meant for his words to sound so snide. “Damn it. I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I’m just—my head’s full right now. You understand, don’t you?”
The blotchy crimson on Tarquin’s face began to drain. He slumped back in his seat and sighed. “Yeah. I guess. We’re all on edge, aren’t we? It won’t be long before we march for Shiraz.” Tarquin drummed his fingers on the tabletop and gazed around the tavern. He opened his mouth to say more, but at that moment, his attention was captured. The young lord went red all over again as his troubled eyes locked onto something past Gib’s head. Muttering about refilling his mug, Tarquin quickly scooted out of the chair and trudged away.
Gib turned to call after him but stopped short when Kezra dumped herself into the seat Tarquin had just vacated. Her eyes were red, her cheeks wet, and her tankard empty.
Gib blinked, raising his eyebrows in shock. “Kezra? Are you all right?”
She shook her head at first, unable to speak. When she finally opened her mouth, her bottom lip quivered and she had to wipe at her puffy eyes. “You ever worry you chose wrong? What if—what if you said or did something and now it’s too late to go back?” Her raw voice tugged at Gib’s heart.
Gib took a deep breath. His mind drifted back to the sight of Nawaz crumpled over in the palace hall, mourning the same loss Kezra was now. When Gib tried to think of something to say to her, anything that might be of use, he kept coming back to himself and Joel. Was this all there was in life? Did he really have to sit here and tell her no, she wouldn’t ever actually get over Nawaz, but she might get to the point where they could pretend to be friends again? Was it even worth it to pretend?
“We all make mistakes,” Gib heard himself whisper. “And not everything in life goes according to plan. I guess we just have to figure out how to live with it.”
The words weren’t as heartfelt and supportive as he’d have liked them to be. Some part of him really did want to hug her and tell her everything would look better tomorrow. But he wouldn’t do it. Not to Kezra. Even a gentle lie was no good for a friend such as her.
Kezra huffed a wry chuckle. “With Neetra in charge, I guess we probably won’t have to live with it too long, eh, Gib?” She wiped her nose with the back of a sleeve. “I suppose at least I can look forward to that. Nawaz will be safe here. He can keep his nobility and have his family. I’ll go and do what I’ve told myself I wanted to do since I was old enough to hold a wooden blade. He’ll have Neetra’s favor, and I’ll no longer be a source of shame for Anders. Everyone wins.”
Gib smiled—a sad, defeated beam, but a smile nonetheless. It seemed the wrong sort of thing to laugh at, yet here he was, lifting his mug and chuckling along. “Here’s to whatever comes. May we meet it head on, with bravery.”
Though her own drink was empty, Kezra inclined her head and joined him. Their tankards clanked as they met. “May we embrace the nightfall as warriors. And with any luck, live to see a new dawn.”
Arden stands on the edge of the sword. Neetra Adelwijn has taken rule as steward and declared war on Shiraz. The Radek bloodline has kept its secrets so far, but with the King dead and family broken, they may not be able to hold onto their power—and what lies inside one little box could seal the fate of not only the Radeks, but the entire country. What terrors await Gib, Joel, Kezra, and their friends when they march to war? Battle Dawn: Book Three of the Chronicles of Arden, is coming in fall 2015!
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Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden Page 47
