Brandi wrapped an arm around Leith’s waist but didn’t squeeze too hard because of his healing ribs. “Thanks, Leith.” She met Jamie’s gaze across Blizzard’s back and grinned. “Thanks.”
He grinned back at her. She could read his forgiveness in his eyes, and something else. Something deep and lasting. No matter where the two of them went, Jamie would always be her friend.
As Renna entered the Great Hall, she clenched her fists into her skirts. Hopefully no one would notice her sweaty palms. She’d never attended a Gathering of Nobles. They’d been discontinued when Respen had taken the throne.
Keevan already sat on the throne at the end of the hall, a tall wooden staff in his hand. In front of him, two rows of tables with chairs had been set up on either side of the room with a single chair set between them facing the throne.
Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin as she swept to her seat near the head of one of the tables. She was Lady Faythe. She could do this.
More nobles filed into the room. Lady Lorraine slipped into a seat a few chairs away. Shadrach took the seat next to her.
Renna leaned closer to him. “Why didn’t your father come? I thought Brandi said he was all right?”
“He is. He’s wounded but healing.” Shadrach bobbed his head toward Keevan. “But he decided it’d be best to stay away from this Gathering. Some of the nobles were already suspicious of his motives for leading the Resistance. If he took part in this Gathering, some might accuse him of setting up Prince Keevan as a puppet king. Better if I fill in as his representative and make it clear that Prince Keevan is a king in his own right.”
Renna nodded. Politics. She’d had her fill of it. How would she ever have managed if Keevan hadn’t been alive? She could’ve been the one sitting on that throne. Just the thought sent her stomach skittering.
No, she never wanted to be queen. She’d much rather return to Stetterly and rebuild a life there. With Leith, hopefully. If that’s what he wanted.
Would he want that? Would he be content with a quiet life?
All around the room, the remnants of the nobles of Acktar found their seats. Not all the nobles were there. The heirs for some towns were too young to sit in a Gathering. Others, like Lord Alistair, were too wounded to come. In those cases, representatives took their places along the tables.
As Renna stared around the room, she noted the nobles that had been loyal to Respen, including Lord Norton and Lord Beregern. Lord Beregern had his arms crossed, while Lord Norton’s eyes remained as cold as a prairie blizzard. Of all the nobles that supported Respen, only they didn’t appear fazed by the proceedings. Perhaps that had been their plan all along. They allowed Respen to have the power of the throne because he also took the fall when it came.
When the last noble found a chair, Keevan tapped the wooden staff against the floor. His rasping voice rang through the room. “Quiet. I call this Gathering to order.”
Renna tried not to squirm as the Gathering plodded through all its proper procedure. First they had to recognize all of the nobles or their representatives as the legal voice of their town. Only Blathe didn’t have a representative since Respen was still its lord. Then they had to vote to recognize Keevan as the rightful lord and heir of Acktar with the power of an acting king. After that, several of the representatives presented requests to Keevan to have him decide on matters of succession.
A whole lot of rigmarole, as Brandi would’ve called it. Worse, Renna would have to attend this Gathering once a year from now on. At least, until she married and her husband became Lord of Stetterly.
She frowned. Could she really see Leith sitting here, putting up with the politics and procedure? If the other nobles knew he was a former Blade, would they even recognize him as a lord?
All worries for the future. Right now, she had to get through this Gathering.
Finally, Keevan waved to General Stewart. “Bring in the prisoner.”
General Stewart stepped to the door and called outside. Four guards led Respen into the room, chains clanking around his wrists and ankles. The guards shoved him into the chair in the center and wrapped another set of chains around him.
As they took positions along the walls, Respen cast a glance around the room until he met Renna’s eyes. She held his gaze, refusing to be cowed by him now. His unbowed defiance shone back.
Prince Keevan picked up a piece of paper. “Lord Respen Felix, you are charged with high treason against His Majesty King Leon, his murder, and all the murders committed by your Blades, including that of Queen Deirdre, Prince Aengus, Prince Rorin, and Prince Duncan. How do you wish to plead to these charges?”
Respen held his head high. “I have no wish to waste time denying the charges. You have already decided I am guilty. Let us skip to the sentencing.”
Renna clenched her fingers below the table. By now, she understood Respen all too well. By pleading guilty, Respen had momentarily shifted the control of the proceedings to himself rather than Keevan. Instead of making everyone sit through a long litany of offenses that would sway everyone to vote against him, Respen had forced the vote to be cast quickly, while everyone was still off balance and, possibly, willing to vote in his favor.
Keevan tilted his head. “Very well. Lord Respen Felix of Blathe, I sentence you to death by beheading two days hence. Nobles, please cast your vote either in favor of or against this sentence.”
Renna reached for the single sheet of paper laid on the table in front of her. Her hand shook as she drew the quill from the ink bottle and let the ink drip from the tip into the bottle for a moment. Respen’s eyes fixed on her, daring her to vote against him. She could almost hear his taunting words, as if he hissed in her ear. Do it. Vote for my death. Let my blood be on your hands.
Could she really vote in favor of his death? Her hands shook harder. All around her, the other nobles scratched their votes on their papers and folded them in half. Next to her, Shadrach scrawled his vote and folded his paper. She knew his vote. He didn’t hesitate to hand out justice to the man who’d nearly killed his father.
Justice. She swallowed and stared at her blank paper. This wasn’t about revenge. This was about justice. Justice was the reason Keevan hadn’t killed Respen outright that day in the Blades’ Tower. If he’d killed Respen, some might’ve argued that he’d taken the throne in the same way Respen had. By calling the Gathering and asking for justice, Keevan proved he was the restoration, not a rebellion.
Blood shed in justice wasn’t murder. God gave the sword to the government to punish wrongdoers. Everything about this Gathering had been held according to the law.
Gulping in a breath, she wrote her answer on the paper, folded it, and pushed it to the edge of the table. As she placed her quill in the ink, she winced. She’d been nearly the last one to write her vote.
After Lord Doughtry of Calloday wrote his vote, General Stewart collected the sheets of paper and brought them to a far corner to verify them.
Keevan pointed his staff at Lord Caren. “Please state your vote.”
Lord Caren stood. “My vote is yes.”
His face impassive, Lord Norton rose to his feet. “My vote is yes.”
Respen glared at him. He switched his glare to Lord Beregern when he also voted yes.
As he regained his seat, the next lord stood. Also a yes. Renna squeezed her hands together as one by one each lord or lady gave their vote. Each vote was a yes. Lady Lorraine stood. She voted yes.
Shadrach rose. He scowled at Respen. “My vote is yes.”
Renna swallowed. Hers was the last vote. For Keevan’s sentence to be affirmed and carried out, the Gathering’s vote must be unanimous. She pushed herself to stand on shaking legs. Respen’s dark eyes glared at her. She refused to look away. “My vote is yes.”
Respen’s eyebrows went up. He gave her a small nod. She’d surprised him. Again.
As she slipped into her seat, General Stewart nodded that the votes written on the papers matched the votes cast verbal
ly, thus confirming that none of the nobles had changed their minds once they’d heard what everyone else was voting.
Keevan pounded his staff on the ground. “The sentence is confirmed. Lord Respen Felix, I suggest you seek the forgiveness of your Maker because you will meet Him in two days.”
Renna sagged in her seat, her stomach tight. She’d made the right decision, but that wouldn’t make it easier to watch Respen die.
53
Renna tiptoed down the stairs and peeked around the corner into the Queen’s Court. She didn’t see Shadrach, Jamie, or Leith around. They wouldn’t like what she was going to do. That didn’t matter. She had to do this. She slipped across the Court and hurried through the passageway to the cobblestone courtyard.
Approaching the North Tower, she took a deep breath and strode to the soldiers guarding the door into the dungeons. “Lady Rennelda Faythe to see Respen Felix.”
The guards stared at her. “He isn’t allowed any visitors.”
“Prince Keevan is my cousin. I’m not about to free Respen. I merely wish to talk to him about the state of his soul.” She drew herself up straight. If she had to, she’d come back after she’d gained Keevan’s permission, but she’d rather not go through all the trouble trying to secure it. She had a feeling Keevan, Leith, and Shadrach would fight her every step of the way.
The guards glanced at each other in a silent debate. Finally, one shrugged. “All right. But you have to be searched for weapons.”
She held herself still as the guard, flushing red, hurriedly patted her down. She’d taken off the knife she’d had hidden under her skirt, so he found nothing. When he was satisfied, he unlocked the door and beckoned for her to follow him.
It was strange walking down these stairs under her own power. The last time she’d been in the dungeons, she’d been unable to walk because of her broken leg.
The guard halted at the bottom of the stairs. “You may speak with him.”
She nodded and inched to the barred window set into the wooden door. She’d seen it so often from the other side that it felt unreal approaching it from the side of freedom. Was the blood from the mass execution of the citizens of Stetterly still staining the wall and floor?
“Respen?”
His dark silhouette moved along the far wall. As her eyes adjusted, she could see he paced below the ventilation window set high in the wall. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I knew you’d come.”
She never would’ve guessed, when this moment came, that she’d hurt for him the way she did. Perhaps she should be here gloating or at least taking pleasure in justice for her parents’ murders. Instead, all she saw was a lonely, lost man. “There’s still time, Respen. You can still repent and ask God for forgiveness. Nothing you’ve done is beyond His power to forgive.”
“Is that what Torren did? Beg?” Respen snorted and continued pacing. “I have never bowed to anyone, and I am not about to start now. I am not like Torren. I will not debase myself. I still have my pride.”
“Leith isn’t weak. He’s found true strength and courage in God.” She leaned her forehead against the bars. Tears squeezed at the corners of her eyes. All these weeks she’d been trying so hard to reach Respen, but all her efforts died against his hardened heart. She prayed that maybe this time God would use her words to reach him. “Humility isn’t weakness. Surely Clarisse tried to tell you that.”
Respen paused beneath the window looking out into the courtyard. “Yes, she did. But humility means a loss of control. I am not willing to part with that. Besides, I have what I wanted.”
He’d wanted this? A dungeon and an execution? “What do you mean?”
He spun on his heels to face her, his hands still clasped behind his back. “I shall be remembered. Years from now, children will have to be taught about me. I am forever etched into the history of Acktar, and no one can remove that.”
“You’ll be remembered as a villain.” Renna gripped the bars. “Why would you want that?”
“Fame. Infamy. They both have the same result.” Respen shrugged. “I do not believe I will be remembered with the hatred you think I will. Why do you think I could claim the throne the way I did? Your uncle Leon was a weak king. He allowed the Rovers to overrun Acktar. Trade suffered. The country needed a strong king, and that is exactly what I gave them.”
Renna bit her lip. She’d been too young to care about politics when her parents had died. Had the country really been that bad off? “If all you wanted to be was a strong king, then persecuting your Christian subjects wasn’t necessary.”
“It was a weakness that needed to be purged.” He raised one eyebrow at her. “The churches were filled with self-righteous hypocrites who only attended the church services to be seen by others. I exposed that hypocrisy for what it was. But now, that exposure will tear Acktar apart. Neighbors can no longer hide behind their lies. The bitterness will linger. Your so-called Christians will shout for blood and vengeance. Your cousin will either give in to their demands or risk angering the very people who placed him on the throne. I predict Acktar will tear itself apart within a year.”
Was Respen right? Would Acktar tear itself apart with bitterness? She’d thought the war was over, but was it really? She swallowed. “What good does it do you? You’ll be dead.”
“And so will you, eventually. Death comes the same for both of us.” Respen’s eyes burned into her. “But the difference is that I will be remembered, perhaps even fondly, while you will not. Who will know that the infamous King Respen surrendered, not to the warriors or heroes, but to the insignificant girl whose name will not even be recorded in history?”
Renna flinched. As she’d suspected, Respen had surrendered to her. Not to Keevan. Not to Leith. But to her, for the sake of the love he’d once had for Clarisse.
His tone sharpened. “You will be forgotten. Or worse, you will be scorned as the girl who helplessly remained captured while waiting for her hero to rescue her. Your part will be overshadowed by Prince Keevan as history gives him the heroic deeds when, in truth, he did little more than accidentally survive and eventually return to claim the spoils that others won for him. No one wants to remember a useless hero any more than they want to remember strength in those who are not.”
It finally made sense to her why Respen had surrendered instead of fighting to the death or even committing suicide. If he’d gone down fighting, it would’ve been an easy, clean ending for Keevan. He could’ve claimed the throne with Respen fully out of his way.
If Respen had killed himself, he would’ve been branded a coward for not facing the consequences of his actions. It would’ve tainted the image he wanted written into Acktar’s history.
But surrendering and facing his execution without fear? That was brave. Noble, even. His death would be on Keevan’s hands for the rest of his reign. It’d begin to drive the wedge between Keevan and the nobles who’d supported Respen.
In an odd way, it gave Respen some sort of control over his circumstances. He’d forced Keevan into executing him. Respen, not Keevan, had chosen this death.
She shook her head. “Being remembered isn’t important. Not really. Not compared with eternity.”
“Perhaps.” His back remained straight as one of Shadrach’s arrows. “But I am no coward.”
Perhaps not. But he was arrogant. So sure of his own strength that he believed he could defy his Maker.
He was so blind. So hard. Couldn’t he see that only the weak gained true strength? Renna shook her head. There was nothing in this world more pitiable than a man whose heart was so hard that he wouldn’t—couldn’t—be saved.
“Then I’m very sorry for you.” She blinked at tears, refusing to let him see her cry. She whirled and dashed from the dungeons.
As the morning sunlight bathed the castle in gold, the executioner placed the block in the center of the courtyard. A ring of guards prevented the crowd from interfering, though the soldiers could do nothing to still the angry shouting.
&
nbsp; Renna paced by the window in the king’s chambers. Once before she’d witnessed an execution from this window. Her stomach churned. She wasn’t enjoying it any more this time either.
Keevan leaned against the wall, calmly staring out the window and rubbing the scar along his face. Brandi sat in one of the plush chairs by the fireplace, close enough to hear what was happening in the courtyard below, but not close enough to see. Both she and Jamie beside her had their arms crossed.
Shadrach paced the far end of the room, hand on his sword hilt. Nearby, Martyn and Ranson sat on the floor, wearing clean, nondescript brown clothing. Ranson had his arms wrapped around his knees, like he feared Keevan would order his neck to the block next. Martyn stared at the floor, as if he knew he should be joining Respen in death but didn’t trust the mercy that had been extended to him so far.
A hand slipped into hers. Renna turned to Leith, who leaned against the wall on the other side of the window from Keevan. So far, Keevan hadn’t said a word to Leith beyond the order to join him in his chambers for the execution.
Renewed shouting drew her attention to the courtyard. Two guards led Respen from the North Tower and escorted him toward the block set in front of the castle gates. As he passed below the window, he looked up. His dark, proud eyes met hers. He gave her a half nod before he continued, head high, to the block.
Renna pressed her hand to her mouth to hold back her tears. Leith’s arm wrapped around her and drew her to him. “You don’t have to watch.”
She buried her face against his shoulder, stifling her sobs against his shirt. No one else in the room would understand her tears. Not even Leith. But he held her anyway, rubbing her back and whispering soothing sounds into her ear.
The all too familiar thud of the ax chopping down flinched against her skin. She gasped a sob.
Keevan gave a long sigh. “It’s done.” His boots scuffed against the rugs. “Captain Alistair, I’d like you and General Stewart to ride out tonight to bury the body. Take it deep into the Hills where no one will ever find it. I don’t want any supporters he might have left to make a shrine out of his resting place.”
Defy (The Blades of Acktar Book 3) Page 30
