Gerlene was talking before she’d even made it past the first of the Denorian soldiers, her eyes gleaming behind her spectacles. “How are you, my boy? Excited? I can barely contain myself, even after the spectacle you made of yourself this morning. I’ve been waiting for this moment for the entirety of my career. Your grandmother would be so proud.” She straightened the collar of her jacket. “Shall we?”
I nodded, though I was a little frustrated at her mention of my losing control of my temper.
“Wait! Wait!” she cried. “Where’s your sister? Where’s Vi? I assume she won’t want to miss all the fun.”
Vi, having slipped farther into the soldiers’ ranks, radiated caution, but she was all ferocious charm when she strode up to Gerlene and embraced the solicitor. Then she moved to my right side, and we strode into the palace together.
We found Rylain in the throne room, seated on Runa’s throne. My throne. The Suzerain stood behind her, flanked by three anchorites on either side, all their faces impassive. Their fine silk robes were embroidered with gold thread, and they were laden with jewels that sparkled in the dim light of the sunlamps.
Just as I was opening my mouth to greet Rylain, someone in Shriven white stepped forward, and my mouth went dry. For a moment, I felt as though I was seeing a ghost.
“Claes.” I breathed the name, hoping against hope that my eyes were deceiving me. If this man in Shriven robes standing before me really was my first love, then were his whispers what had been driving the atrocities of Rylain’s reign?
The man’s eyes flickered to me, and he gave me a triumphant smile, freezing my guts. It was Claes. He was alive. And now he was one of the Shriven.
From time to time, I’d imagined what might have happened if Claes had survived his sister’s death, but the thought of him joining the Shriven had never even crossed my mind. Though my love for him had died the moment he betrayed Vi and me, the shock of seeing him alive shook my resolve more than a little.
Claes was soon joined by eleven more, most of their faces worn with age, but nevertheless possessed of the same catlike intensity that all of the Shriven seemed to inhabit. I knew that at any moment, they could spring forward, slit my throat and be back in their place before I even realized I was bleeding. More frightening than the promise of violence, though, was the light in their eyes that told me they yearned for blood in ways I couldn’t ever manage to dream up. And if Claes was one of them now, they knew my every insecurity, my every weakness.
The room was cold, the hearths swept and empty, and we had only been allowed a phalanx of ten of our soldiers to accompany our core group of leaders and Gerlene. Though I had hoped we might meet Rylain in front of the greatest possible number of witnesses, it seemed this would have to do. Beside me, Vi was a beacon of self-possessed fury, and I drew strength from the power of her emotions.
“Cousin Rylain.” I projected my voice loudly enough that even the servants with their ears pressed to the doors outside the room would have no trouble hearing me. As I spoke, I tried to keep my eyes trained on Rylain, but I could feel Claes’s steady gaze boring into me. “I appreciate the great sacrifices you’ve made in caring for our empire during my absence. But as you can see, I have returned, and I will, from this point forward, take on the duties of the king and emperor as my grandmother intended.”
Rylain’s gaze flicked to the Suzerain before she regarded me with a critical eye.
“You are quite bold, young man, to appear before me impersonating my much beloved and murdered relative. I ought to have you arrested and tried before the citizens of Penby for treason. But, as you’ve caught me on a merciful day, I’ll simply tell you to go back to whatever hole you crawled out of and stop wasting my time.”
I clenched my jaw and pushed up my jacket’s sleeve. My cuff, the same one Runa had locked on to my wrist when I was declared her heir, glinted in the dim light, and the metal glowed with the soft warmth of genuine gold.
“There is only one key in the whole kingdom that can unlock this cuff, and unless you’ve managed to find and move it, it is in a secret compartment in the seat of my throne.” I paused, an eyebrow raised. “The throne upon which you sit being mine, in case that was, for some reason, unclear to you.”
Rylain’s face remained implacable.
Claes scoffed. “Anyone could re-create that cuff, and the key’s location is no secret.”
“In that case, show us where it is,” I said mildly, spreading my hands wide. “Unlock my cuff, and you may be relieved of your duty as regent. You can go back to your books.”
Jaw tight, Rylain said, “I’ll thank you to stop wasting my time. Be gone. Guards! Take these pretenders away.”
Gerlene stepped forward. “Madame—”
Rylain cut her off. “Queen Regent, if you please.”
“No, madame. I’m afraid not. You see, the law of the empire clearly states that there may be no regent if the monarch is both of age and present.”
Fists clenched on the arms of the throne, Rylain started to speak, but Gerlene plowed on ahead. The mouths of both the Suzerain had compressed to twin lines, and Claes, standing just behind Rylain, glowered at me.
“Speaking as the official solicitor to the crown, I may assure you that this young man is, in point of fact, Ambrose Oswin Trousillion Gyllen. King of the Alskad Empire, Duke of Nome and Junot, Count of Sikts, Baron of the Kon, Protector of the Colonies of Ilor and the Great Northern Waste. Should you further wish to confirm the veracity of my statement, do as His Majesty has commanded. With the key, you should find a sealed envelope, which contains the inscription made upon the interior of the cuff by the jeweler. Since the jeweler is the only person who has ever seen the interior of the bracelet, aside from our dear, departed queen, a quick glance at the inscription on His Royal Majesty’s cuff should suffice as proof of his identity, should you wish to continue this charade of pretending he is not exactly who he claims to be.”
Pure, unabashed admiration warmed me through and through. I couldn’t possibly have a better advocate, a better scholar of the law, on my side. And the fact that she had the gall to talk over Rylain, when the woman’s position was backed not only by the strength of the council, but by the High Council of the temple as well... Her bravery lent strength to my resolve.
“Well?” I asked. “Are you going to sit there and pout, or are you going to let me prove my point?”
Rylain rose and felt along the arms of the throne, looking for the switch that would open the secret compartment. Vi grinned at me. I’d told her about the compartment during our journey from Denor as we’d talked through all the possible reactions Rylain might have to my return. Vi tapped her boot on the stone floor, and Rylain’s back twitched at the sound.
“Need a hand with that?” Vi asked.
“As if a common mercenary would have any idea about the secrets of the Alskader throne,” Claes snapped.
Amler, the female Suzerain, put out a hand, and Claes stepped back, cowed.
Vi started to saunter toward the dais, and in a blink, three of the Shriven were in her way. Curlin’s reactions were just as quick, though, and she was beside Vi, palm flat against the chest of the Shriven in the center of the formation.
“Step aside, Sakira,” Curlin snarled. “On my honor, she’ll do the pretender no harm.”
“What honor could a traitor and defector possibly claim?” The Shriven flicked the end of Curlin’s hair, grown to chin length and braided away from her face in glossy, auburn twists.
Curlin grinned savagely. “More than a bitch who uses bribe money to fund her gambling and defends a slubbering moldwort like Rylain Trousillion. Out of her way, or I’ll lay you out. You’re not nearly quick enough to take me on anymore, old woman.”
Vi muscled her way past the Shriven, who stood their ground, glaring at Curlin. They made no move to stop her, and in a matter of moments, Vi had elbowed Ryla
in out of the way, found the switch and opened the hidden compartment.
The Suzerain watched her with unreadable looks on their still faces as Vi pulled out a stack of envelopes, each one more yellowed than the last, and a familiar set of golden keys on a long chain. Vi riffled through the envelopes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
“Ooh, look,” she said. “Here’s one for you, Rylain. Care to see what the inside of your cuff says? I’ll bet it reads, ‘Turns out she’s a surly, fundamentalist traitor with no sense of humor at all.’”
“Vi,” I cautioned. “Let’s get on with it.”
My sister rolled her eyes, obviously enjoying peacocking around in front of Rylain and the Shriven. I didn’t know how she could be so blasé about the Suzerain, though. Their mere presence in the room made me nervous, and all the more so with Claes watching me, suddenly back from the dead. It wasn’t the history of our romance that made my blood go cold, but all the years he’d spent scheming for me, getting to know every last detail about me and my life. If anyone in the world knew my every weakness, it was Claes.
“Fine. Here’s yours, Bo. Shall I open it, or would you like to do the honors?” Narrowing her eyes, she tossed me the chain of keys. “Actually, you know what? No one’s ever given me any jewelry, so I’m going to do it. Fair’s fair.”
She stuffed the sack of envelopes under one arm, ripped open the one in her hands and pulled out a single sheet of paper. Her face split into a grin as she read, and she handed the stack of papers to Gerlene.
“Bo, this really is too good. Turns out Granny was a firecracker.”
Behind her, Claes’s jaw went tight and his eyes narrowed—a look of irritation I knew all too well.
I thumbed through the keys until I found the one bearing my initials, then slid it into the lock on my cuff and turned the key. The cuff snapped open, and I held it up to the light, trying to see the inscription. I had to turn the thing over in my hands twice before I caught the right angle and was able to read the words my grandmother had chosen.
“The First Twin King. Champion of Justice. Harbinger of Peace.”
I crossed the room and showed the inscription to both Rylain and the Suzerain before locking the cuff back on my wrist. I wasn’t about to let Rylain get her hands on the thing. Claes snatched the paper away from Vi and scanned its contents, then thrust it at the Suzerain.
Castor and Amler exchanged a glance, and after a long moment, Amler spoke. “So it’s true. Not even singleborn, and yet you claim the right to be king.”
“I do,” I said, keeping my voice even.
“And where’s this twin of yours?” Rylain snapped. “Do you plan to share the throne with her, then?”
Vi tapped Rylain on the shoulder and offered her a hand to shake.
“Obedience Violet Abernathy. But don’t let the name fool you. I’m not known for being particularly agreeable.” She jerked her chin at the Suzerain standing on the dais. “This lot keeps trying to have me killed, or locked away, or made into a dimmy with their poison—Oooh, look at her face, Bo! I told you she had to at least know about the vile stuff. All that to say, I haven’t exactly rolled over and let the temple do what they will to me, so I wouldn’t go expecting that to change anytime soon.”
Rylain, Castor and Amler stared down at Vi’s hand, their faces twisted in disgust. Claes exchanged a look with one of the Shriven standing beside him.
“But say you’re willing to do the right thing,” Vi mused. “Say you’re willing to put your obviously enormous ego aside and allow my brother to take his rightful place on the throne? Then I do believe that you and I might be great friends. We’re family, after all, and I’ve always wondered where the scheming, backstabbing part of my personality came from.”
No one in the room moved. My breath caught in my throat, and I wondered if Vi might’ve gone too far. For the first time since I’d met her, I was genuinely worried for her safety. There was something reckless, something akin to but so far past anger that it was unrecognizable. It scared me.
“Is it the tattoos?” Vi wiped her palm on her trousers. “It must be. I’m not Shriven, but I just couldn’t let you lot go having all the fun, now could I?”
A vein on Claes’s forehead bulged. He took a step forward, fists knotted, but once again, a gesture from Amler stopped him.
Rylain, clearly fuming, shoved past Vi and resumed her seat on my throne.
“A twin does not, nor will they ever, have the right to rule Alskad,” she spit at me. “However, I’ll allow you to go back to your estates in the North and live out your days in peace. I’ll see that the High Council doesn’t prosecute you for the criminal deceit you’ve committed against the Alskader people.”
Gerlene stepped forward, already flipping through a leather-bound book as thick as the palm of her hand.
“Actually, if you’ll refer to the third amendment to the fourteenth law passed by Her Royal Majesty, Queen Emerezine, in the year 207, you’ll see that the succession is, in fact, passed down through contractual obligation as well as the ritual that the temple oversees. Both elements must be completed and affirmed by witnesses.”
Rylain exchanged a glance with Claes, who shook his head. Gerlene, seeing the look, handed the book of laws back to Pem and bent to shuffle through the leather satchel at her feet. She came up with a sheaf of papers and riffled through them. In a powerful, booming voice that was surprising coming from her slight frame, Gerlene launched into a fast and impenetrably complex diatribe that, from what I understood, drew together the laws and precedents that would allow for my ascent to the throne.
Despite several attempts by various anchorites and the Suzerain, as well as Rylain and Claes, to interrupt, Gerlene hardly paused for breath for nearly ten minutes. When she finally finished, she looked up from her papers, her face aglow.
“And so, you see, while the custom of the guiding religion of Alskad may frown upon the idea of a twin king, there is, in point of fact, nothing illegal about the ascent of King Ambrose. Rylain is, according to the law of Alskad, a pretender to the throne.” She quirked an eyebrow at my cousin. “No offense, of course. That’s just the legal terminology.”
In a low, powerful voice, Amler said, “It may be that the High Council finds all of these laws, contracts and details in order, but it will take time for us to review the records and decide how we must proceed. In the meantime, it is in your best interest that you, Prince Ambrose, be kept under the supervision of the temple, along with your sister.”
“King Ambrose,” I corrected. “And while you may believe that I am a naive child who may be swayed to your whim, I will remind you that I was raised to lead this nation and will not be told where to go and what to do. Under no circumstances will my sister or I give ourselves over to temple supervision. The throne is mine, Rylain. Get off it, or I will remove you by force.”
Castor said, “In that case, we will have to assume that you do not actually believe the lies you are spewing about your ascendance to the throne, and we will not waste our valuable time reviewing your claims.”
Rylain stood. “Seeing as you’ve just more or less admitted to falsifying your claim of being singleborn, and you’ve threatened my person and my right to rule, I see no other option than to arrest you for treason.” She gestured to her guards. “Seize them!”
Claes couldn’t keep the smirk off his smug face as a squadron of royal guards stomped toward us, a phalanx of Shriven just behind them. Claes had obviously planned this gambit, and I’d walked right into it, ego and bravado on full display. I looked at Gerlene, whose brow was furrowed in concentration, as if she was scanning the pages of her law books in her head.
The guards closed in around us. Sweat trickled down my back. Then Vi stepped in front of me, her hands in the air.
“Wait,” she said. “If I agree to give myself over to the temple’s supervision until the High Council ha
s made a proclamation about Bo’s ascendance, will you let him go safely back to our ship to collect his companions, and then on to his home in the country?”
The Suzerain simultaneously put up their hands, and the guards stopped. Claes scurried toward the throne, where he conferred with Rylain and the Suzerain in low whispers.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked.
“Saving your ass,” she whispered back. “You can’t do anything from inside the temple, and they’re not about to let both of us walk out of this room. You worry about your crown. I’ll take care of myself.”
Claes resumed his place on the dais behind the throne, and Rylain cleared her throat.
“We will accept Obedience as collateral, but only if the deserter Curlin agrees to give herself over to the temple’s custody, as well.”
Vi glanced at Curlin, wide-eyed. “That’s not part of the deal,” she said. “I won’t bargain her life away, too.”
Amler put a hand to her chest, clutching the pearls that hung there. “We would never—”
“Shut up,” Curlin spit. “We all know you would. But I’ll go with Vi.”
“It’s settled, then,” Castor announced. “Take them to the temple. The rest of you may go.”
Vi flung her arms around me and pulled me in for a rib-cracking hug. “Get your throne back, Bo. Don’t worry about me. I love you.”
“I’ll have you out of there in no time at all,” I promised, blinking back tears.
The Shriven, led by Claes, wrenched her out of my arms and dragged her to the door.
I would kill him. I’d loved him and mourned him and forgiven him for his betrayal, but now I hated him. He’d held on to life for one reason, and one reason only—he wanted, more than anything, to be the power behind the throne.
And now he had my sister.
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