by Jayden Woods
“No, Xavier,” snapped Vivian.
A slight amount of tension went out of the assassin’s arm, so slight Nadia almost didn’t notice. She felt a chill creep down her back when she realized what had just happened. The Wolven would have slit Tristan’s throat without thinking twice if Vivian hadn’t stopped him. For better or worse, Vivian had just saved Tristan’s life.
Xavier released Tristan with a shove and stepped back. Nadia caught a quick glimpse under the Wolven’s cloak before it closed back around him. He wore a tight leather suit around his entire body, thick enough to protect him like a second skin, but thin enough to keep him quick and agile. Furthermore, the suit was full of straps and buckles, holding a multitude of weapons. She didn’t have a chance to figure out what they all were, but she suspected he wore a large number of small knives, and probably tiny vials of poison.
“Now then,” said Vivian, then took a deep breath. “That was unfortunate. But I guess most of you have never seen a Wolven before, either. Let me explain something: Wolvens kill. Whenever they get the chance. And they love doing it. Isn’t that right, Xavier?”
To Nadia’s astonishment, Vivian reached over and pinched Xavier’s shoulder. He seemed to glare back at her, but with those fierce red eyes of his, who could really say?
“Oh, I have an idea!” Vivian gasped with excitement. “Let’s show them all you mean business. Go on, then. Swear to kill whoever takes the key without my permission.”
Even the Wolven’s eyes widened with surprise. Then he spoke. And his voice was not nearly so deep and gravelly as Nadia would have expected from such a cold-hearted killer. He even sounded somewhat whiny. “Perhaps we should discuss this—”
“No discussion. I’ll pay you, you know I’m good for it. Just go ahead. Swear the oath!”
Xavier took a deep breath. Whatever this oath entailed, he seemed reluctant to make it. But Vivian seemed to possess a power for him as tangible as the one she held over the entire room. For at last he bowed his head, then pulled a knife from under his cloak.
Everyone in the room seemed to hold his breath as he watched.
“With Belazar as my witness,” said Xavier, “I will kill anyone who takes the key from Vivian without her permission, and Belazar will feast upon the blood of my victims.” He nicked his thumb on the blade, then licked the red blood that swelled from his skin. “Krenzi u morde ah Belazar.”
The entire room seemed to drop suddenly in temperature. Nadia felt her stomach turn within her. She winced as the unborn baby flailed its little limbs against her belly. She did not know how to describe the mood that swept through the room other than “evil,” as if a wind of hatred swept across the table and brushed everyone with its presence. Without a doubt, this must be the power of Belazar, god of wrath and destruction.
Whatever shadow of Belazar the rest of the room experienced, Xavier felt it tenfold. His body tensed, his head tilted back, and his eyes gaped into space until their redness seemed to glow. Then he closed them and dropped his head with a grunt of exhaustion, his entire body going limp around his spine.
“There,” said Vivian. But even her bright and perky smile had vanished during the oath. “I hope you all understand now. I am not just playing around here.”
Vivian had made her point, without a doubt. But Nadia suspected the girl was still playing a game, of some sort. Nadia just needed to figure out what.
Forcing a calmness she did not feel, Nadia rose to her feet. Then she spoke for all the room to hear. “Very well, Vivian Trell. You have made yourself clear. We can only hope to acquire the key to the Grand Keep by following your terms. In that case, what do you demand of the Royal Duma?”
“Demand?” Vivian smiled again, then released a burst of chiming laughter. “Oh, I’m not here for anything specific, Queen Nadia! I just want to make sure the right House—or the right person—gets the key. That’s all.”
Nadia repressed a small twitch of anger. “And how will you judge who this ‘right person’ is?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Vivian shrugged her little shoulders. “If any of you want the key, you just need to convince me to give it to you. It’s really as simple as that! I don’t even bite, I promise. Oh, but Xavier does, so don’t forget that.”
Nadia felt her nails scratch against the table with anger. She didn’t want to let this silly little girl get the better of her. But Vivian had already won. She wanted to play a game in which the entire Duma competed for her favor. And a game like that would not be simple at all. It could very well unravel the kingdom. As Nadia looked around the room, she could already sense the wheels turning in the heads of the nobles, scheming for a way to win Vivian’s prize.
Nadia saw only one option ahead of her. She would have to win the key from Vivian Trell before anyone else did.
*
The rest of the Royal Duma proceeded quickly. Every member’s concerns seemed insignificant in the wake of Vivian Trell’s key. For centuries, no one had bothered with the Grand Keep, or even wasted much time wondering about it. Now, nothing mattered so much as getting inside. What if it was full of treasure? Or maybe something even better? Maybe a magical substance from the gods, such as safra, which made its consumers feel happy, or something no one else even knew about?
Everyone wanted to know. And the entire Duma would tear itself apart trying to find out. All because of this Vivian Trell.
Nadia’s heart felt heavy as she left the Grand Hall and turned to go to her chambers. Normally, she stayed after the Duma to talk privately with the House Leaders, allaying any outstanding concerns. This time, she felt the need to keep her distance. She needed to get her own plan together for how to proceed. All the other House Leaders would be doing the exact same thing.
Her husband, Grand Prince Gerald, stood quietly by her side. She wanted to know what he really thought of all this. But when she asked, he only offered a predictable reply.
“The key should go to you, or no one at all. If we cannot take it from the girl, we should let no one else have it.”
Nadia shook her head. “That isn’t wise. We would alienate the other Houses beyond repair. Some of them will not be able to let this go.”
“Perhaps.” Gerald looked around. They still stood in a hallway far from their chambers. A few of the House Leaders still wandered around after the Royal Duma. “In any case, we should not discuss it here.”
Sure enough, Nadia glimpsed Tristan Jeridar down the hall, the very man she knew would not rest until he held that key in his grubby fingers. “You’re right,” she sighed. “We’ll discuss it later.”
“Later,” he agreed. Then turned and walked away without another word. She felt disappointed as she watched him leave. More than ever, she could have used some words of encouragement, perhaps even a gentle caress. But Gerald never offered such things unless prompted.
Queen Nadia remained in the hall for some time, staring out the window at the grounds of the castle, catching tidbits of the nobles’ chatter around her. Eventually, Selene Perin came to her side, as Nadia hoped she might.
“Nadia.” There was urgency in Selene’s voice. She did not even bother to address Nadia formally, which she usually did in public. “I came as soon as I heard.”
“Oh, this too shall pass,” sighed Nadia. “I just can’t help but wonder if Vivian Trell has some ulterior motive.”
“Vivian who...?” Selene shook her head in puzzlement. “You’ll have to tell me about this Vivian later. She’s not who I’m concerned about.”
“What? Then who…?” But as soon as Nadia looked up, she understood.
Further down the hall, speaking to Tristan, stood Arken Jeridar.
Nadia froze. Her breath stopped. Her heart stopped. Time seemed to stop altogether. Nadia had not seen Arken ever since she chose to marry Lord Gerald. She might have tried to explain herself to him, if she ever got the chance. But Arken had left the castle that day and not returned since. That had been almost a year ago. Tristan ha
d resumed Arken’s seat at the Royal Duma, while Arken supervised their land holdings to the south.
Nadia thought her heart had long since moved on from Arken. Often, she regretted that their relationship ended the way that it did, but she thought the pain she felt was guilt and nothing more. Now she saw him standing down the hall, his blonde hair flowing down his shoulders, his silk robes softening his muscular stature, and her heart fluttered back to life in her chest. When he looked up at her, she felt a jolt through her entire body.
Meeting his gaze, she realized that she had underestimated her own feelings for him. But the truth she saw in his own stare frightened her even more. His bright golden eyes, which had once gazed upon her with passion and adoration, burned as fiercely as ever. But they no longer burned with love. Now his fuel came from pain, regret, and rage.
As quickly as he had appeared, Arken vanished, pulling his brother with him. It seemed he did not want to look at her a moment longer than necessary. Nadia felt somehow as if he had yanked some part of her away with him, until only a shell of herself remained, weak and trembling in the hallway.
“My lady?” Selene put a firm hand on her shoulder. “Are you well?”
“No, I am not.” Nadia’s voice sounded hollow and distant in her own ears. “It seems that more than one enemy has arrived in my castle today.”
CHAPTER 2
The Man of Silk
Arken paced around his chambers, as if his footsteps would eventually lead him far from the castle and back to his cotton fields in the south. Why had he even come back to Castle Krondolee? He knew why in theory: a year on the plantations had made him yearn for his former life of luxury. But only a few hours in the castle of Krondolee had proven more insufferable than the worst days on a cotton field. Either he should never have left at all, or he never should have come back. For Tristan had most certainly made a mess of things.
Even Arken’s chambers, which should have felt grand and spacious in comparison to his country home, felt incredibly cramped—perhaps because he had not yet had the chance to enjoy them in solitude. Right now, four other souls watched him pacing: his mother Tanya, his brother Tristan, and the newest additions to their family, Lily and Kallias.
Arken had only met Lily for the first time today. The woman did not belong here; even she seemed to know that, for she remained in a state of constant uncertainty, her eyes darting about the room as if she might need to make a quick exit. Lily grew up on the outskirts of the jungle, and still knew very little about life among royalty. But Tristan had been forced to marry her many months ago, not long after Arken’s departure, when Tristan discovered that Lily had born him a son. Tristan’s mother Tanya hastily arranged their union, and even forged the paperwork so that the union seemed to take place two years ago, making baby Kallias a legitimate child.
“I don’t understand,” said Arken at last. “This Wolven put a knife to your throat and somehow... no one cared?”
“Oh, it was terrible.” Tristan rubbed his neck and stared into the crackling fire as he relived the memory. “His eyes were red... so red... as if the flames of Belazar were rising to engulf me!”
Tristan’s wife, Lily, reached out in a desperate attempt to comfort him. But Tristan just squirmed beneath her touch.
“Arken’s right,” snapped their mother, Tanya. And as he looked upon his mother, Arken remembered his most important reason for coming back to Krondolee.
The tall and radiant woman sat quietly next to Tristan—not moving, unassuming—but she lit up the room more than the fire itself. For their entire lives, Tanya had guided her sons towards power. No matter what foolish decisions they made, Tanya helped them learn from their mistakes and grow smarter. When they were small boys, Tanya cast out their father so they would never have to compete with him for power. Like a true Jeridar, Tanya did not like to share. But she desired success for her sons even more than she desired it for herself. And for that, Arken was grateful. He did not like to admit it, but he felt lost without his mother. He felt lost in many ways, lately. Now, he could only hope that his mother would help him find his way again.
“We cannot ignore the fact that someone nearly killed you today,” Tanya continued smoothly. She took a lock of her long blonde hair and wrapped it around her finger as she spoke. She did this often when forming an intricate plot. “Wolven or not, he should be punished for such behavior.”
“No, neither of you understand,” cried Tristan. His forehead was breaking into a cold sweat. “The Wolven terrified everyone in the Duma. He threatened to kill anyone who took the key without Vivian’s permission. He even swore this... this oath, of some sort. An oath to Belazar. So for shit’s sake, let’s stay the hell away from him!”
“You think a Wolven is bad,” said Arken. “I had to fight a griffin off my field a few weeks ago!”
“That’s remarkable, son.” Tanya’s golden eyes sparkled with admiration. “How did you do it?”
Arken couldn’t help but smile with pride. “I laid a trap with some bait. It took several days and nights to build, even with the help of some thirty field-hands, but we did it. And the next time that griffin landed on our crops, it got a dozen arrows through its gullet.”
“Well done.” Praise from Tanya did not come easily. For a moment, Arken felt as if he could float off into the clouds. But quickly enough, Tanya returned to the task at hand. “Perhaps we should consider laying a trap of some kind for the Wolven. First we will need to figure out what bait to use.”
“Can we just... forget about the Wolven for a little while?” Tristan wiped some sweat from his brow. “I think we should just focus on winning the favor of Vivian Trell. If she decides to give me the key of her own will, then the Wolven doesn’t matter. See?”
“Vivian Trell will never give you the key,” said Tanya.
“What? Why?” squealed Tristan.
“Because you are unavailable.” Tanya’s quick glance at Lily dripped with resentment. “And even if you weren’t married, you have never been graceful with women.” Slowly, calmly, Tanya turned her eyes towards Arken. “You, on the other hand...”
Now Arken felt himself breaking into a sweat just like his brother. “Me...?”
“You’re the Man of Silk. But I think your abilities extend beyond transforming fabric. You also have a way with people. Especially women.”
Arken’s cheeks grew hot with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “Oh really? Need I remind you why I’ve been gone for a year?”
“Forget about Nadia.” Tanya walked towards him, her silk robes whispering around her tall figure. Arken had made that silk for her many years ago by laying his hands on a shaggy blanket of wool. She reached out to grip his shoulder. “I didn’t say this when it happened, because I feared you were far too fragile. But I am glad that she betrayed you, Arken, for several reasons. First of all, I never wanted you to marry her in the first place, even if the Royal Duma approved your union. If one of my sons takes the crown, he will do so as King; not as Grand Prince. To rule as ‘Grand Prince’ is not to rule at all. Your power would only be an illusion, like Lord Gerald’s. You might have a special influence over the queen, but you would remain a servant to the ruling House, all the same.
“Secondly, your heartbreak taught you an important lesson. You can trust no one in this life, even those you love or who love you. Especially those you love. For your emotions will blind you, and keep you from achieving success. Your love for Nadia would have ruined you, had you run away and married her. I am glad that she had some sense where you did not. But I hope you would make a better decision next time.”
Arken’s fists clenched so tightly, his nails sliced into his palms. He had never felt so furious towards his mother as he did at this moment. He wanted to grab her, strike her, throw her upon the floor. But he didn’t know whether he felt that way because she was wrong, or because she was right.
Sensing the turmoil of emotions under her touch, Tanya released him. But her golden eyes
shone as fiercely as ever. “This is your chance to redeem yourself, Arken. You must meet this Vivian Trell. You must befriend her. Seduce her. Do whatever you must. Only get us the key to the Grand Keep. For the Jeridars. For Mallion.”
Arken cared little for maintaining his family’s pride. He didn’t see much reason to impress the god of greed, either. Tanya claimed to have met Mallion when she was a little girl, as she was the deity’s granddaughter. She said the experience changed her forever. The god had everything: looks, wealth, fame, women. But no matter how much he acquired, he wanted more. And he had served as Tanya’s model for living life ever since.
“I’ll do it,” he said at last, releasing a shuddering breath. Then he reached out and gripped Tanya’s hand. “I’ll do it for you, Mother.”
*
Arken remembered the Castle Commons as a dreary place, where all the nobles gathered to pretend to be friendly while pulling secrets from each other or forming tentative alliances. Even the food, roasted throughout the day and constantly stuffing the large stone chamber with aromas, tended to make him nauseous. After all, servants and lesser House members ate here as well, so the menu consisted of scraps. If the nobles desired, they could easily go to the upper balconies, where they would only encounter other House Leaders or their closest kin. But most of them chose to wallow in the mess of the Castle Commons instead, befriending those poor souls who were more desperate for power, or even gleaning precious information from the servants themselves.
Arken strongly suspected this would be where Vivian Trell chose to spend her evenings in the Castle of Krondolee. As he descended towards the dreary chamber, he steeled himself for the nauseating smells, the skull-aching sounds of nobles lying through their teeth, and the filthy appearance of a large room frequented by far too many people and cleaned by too few. He expected to feel altogether sick by the time the evening was over. And yet as he walked down the steps, he wondered if he had taken a wrong turn.
Laughter, light, and captivating music rang from the chamber below. Arken shook his head in disbelief, but his perception remained the same. Unwilling to believe it, he kept moving forward.
