The Heir of Eyria
Page 39
Arin cut Nijakim's dirty robes with a dagger holstered to his side, frowning as he saw his honor guard standing in the distance, watching. His days of leisure—of freedom—were now numbered. Would he know peace and quiet ever again? Would he feel the touch of freedom in the wind? It was hard, after living the life he had lived, to get used to being royalty—let alone a king. Him, Arin, a king. What a joke.
The scar was exactly where Richard had described it to be. The burn had healed, but not completely. Scar tissue still covered this tiny patch of skin at his lower abdomen. Arin placed the pendant in Nijakim’s fingers; it was finally where it belonged. Even in his death, Nijakim had saved him. He would receive a burial fit for a king—for a king he was.
The warrior kissed the fallen scholar's forehead one last time. A promise—that was all he lived for now. The true heir of Eyria was dead, but now it was up to Arin to honor his legacy. It meant living a lie, but he would do it—for his sake.
A warrior knelt, and a king rose in his stead.
The end