The Kingdom of Liars

by Nick Martell

The Corrupt Prince made a show of being astonished, looking around him before he said, “Excuse me, Sacrifice? What did you say to your prince?”

  “David Kingman was a hero. And I will finish what he started.”

  It happened before I had a chance to move.

  Lothar pulled a flintlock pistol out of his trousers and aimed at the prince. Before he could squeeze the trigger, Chloe’s sword chopped into his wrist, slicing away his hand in one strike. He screamed as his dismembered hand hit the ground, and it was only then that I saw a tattoo of the rebel’s red closed fist on the inside of his wrist, previously hidden by bandages.

  My father’s former best friend was a rebel, and an attempted royal assassin.

  My mind reeled, seeing in one horrible moment how clearly I could be tied to the rebel cause, evidence or not. While I attempted to calculate the potential consequences, the Corrupt Prince laughed. He grabbed Lothar by his hair, twisted him around so he was in front of me, and then forced him to his knees with a dagger to his neck as the assembled nobility watched in silence.

  “Can you believe the gall of this peasant, Michael? He tried to kill me! In front of my Ravens! In front of a horde of nobility in my own garden!”

  I couldn’t respond.

  “What do you think I should do with him? Should I kill him right now? Or should I bring him to my dungeons and have him join the legion of other rebels that go there and never see the light of day again? My educator loves a bit of fresh skin.”

  Lothar was staring at me, teeth gritted in pain.

  “Actually,” he said. “I have a better idea. I want Michael to kill him. Chloe, give him your sword.”

  “My prince,” she said softly. “I think—”

  “Did I ask for your opinion? No, so keep it to yourself, Raven. But I suppose it would be unwise to hand a sword to the son of an infamous traitor just after a failed assassination. Thus, I have a better idea.” The Corrupt Prince cleared his throat and continued, “Michael. I will let this man live if you say these exact words to me: ‘Let this man live, my prince.’ That’s all you have to do.”

  My heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Lothar’s life was in my hands. I had no love for the man after he had betrayed my family… but could I be responsible for his death? It was one thing to hate someone and wish them dead; it was another to take a life. Even if he was a rebel. Even if he had abandoned us during the riots of Kingman Keep. Even if he was already dying.

  Assuming the prince wouldn’t kill him no matter what I said.

  “What do you say, Michael? Will you condemn him with silence?” the prince taunted, tracing the muscles in Lothar’s neck with his blade.

  I mumbled to myself, uncertain what to say. My heart was being torn in two.

  “Speak up, Michael! Say the words or his death will be on you!”

  “He’ll die no matter what I say,” I said calmly. “The king would never let a rebel assassin live.”

  “Are you willing to wager this man’s life on that belief? Are you unwilling to set aside your pride to save a life?”

  Lothar wasn’t family. Lothar wasn’t even a friend of the family after what he had done to us as children. But I was the better man, and I would not have his death be on my—

  “Too much hesitation. I’ll decide for you, Michael.”

  The Corrupt Prince cut Lothar’s neck with a single stroke from his dagger. Lothar’s eyes went wide right before the Corrupt Prince shoved him to the ground so his blood wouldn’t stain his clothes.

  As the crowd around us cheered for the Corrupt Prince, I watched my father’s best friend bleed out in front of me.

  SHE WHO WOULD BE QUEEN

  There was a party afterward, with the boar from the other hunt roasting on a spit over an open flame. It was nowhere near ready, but, judging by how much beer remained, I doubted the nobility cared. I had wanted to leave the party with Kai, who had been too distraught when the Corrupt Prince declared he would imprison the dragon in the King’s Garden, but I knew Domet would never let me hear the end of it if I left. For now, I had to pretend to be the good moonstruck noble and let everyone praise me for my heroics during the hunt. If there was any comfort in the day, it was there was no doubt I would be invited to the king’s birthday party and join the Hollow Court. Having heard I had captured a piece of Celona, defeated a Wyvern, and approved the death of an assassin, the nobles were too enthralled by their new Kingman to let me fade away so easily.

  Any remaining fun in the party vanished when the Corrupt Prince began to hand out Lothar’s fingers like trophies to his favorites, who carried them proudly in whichever hand wasn’t holding their drink. The rest of Lothar’s body, with the exception of his heart, was burned in the main bonfire, bringing a scorched-bacon scent to the party. The prince and his Throne Seekers were planning to roast the heart and eat it after Ambassador Zain said it would make them stronger Fabricators.

  Just the sight of them all with butchered bits of a man made me feel sick, on top of Kai’s distress. There was no chance I could enjoy the festivities, though the girl in red was making the best of it. When it was clear my mood wasn’t going to improve, she’d gone off to dance with the first attractive person she saw. Domet hadn’t bothered to congratulate me on what had happened, a sly smile from across the grounds the only interaction I expected until tomorrow. I wasn’t looking forward to it, nor was I looking forward to another event with all these nobles or having to steal the king’s memories.

  All things considered, Angelo’s offer to help me leave Hollow was becoming ever more appealing as I watched the pride of the nobility flirt and prance around, celebrating the successful hunt, the death of a desperate assassin, and the capture of the Rebel Emperor.

  Naomi plopped down in the seat next to me, adjusting her dress. “Do you think this neckline shows enough cleavage?”

  I didn’t even look at her. “Depends who you’re trying to impress.”

  “The Corrupt Prince, and it’s a very fine line between lady and whore. Show too little, and men declare you a prude; show too much, and you’re vulgar.”

  This time I looked at her. “It’s good, then. You can always show a little more when you’re with him. He’ll definitely notice it then.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Where were you during the hunt?”

  “Official Scales business. My commander wanted a full report on our latest assignment.”

  “What assignment?”

  She gave me an overexaggerated wink. “I can’t tell you. Official business, very secretive.”

  “Fine.”

  Naomi whacked me across the back of my head. “You’re supposed to beg for more details. It’s no fun if you give up so easily.”

  “If you’re not here to return my ring, why are you even talking to me? There’s nothing I can help you with right now.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You are the hero in residence. The Dragonslayer. For once, being seen with you is advantageous to me.”

  “It wasn’t a dragon,” I mumbled. “It was a Wyvern. There’s a difference.”

  She rolled her eyes, still adjusting her dress. “Besides, wearing a mask for these fools is tiring. Sometimes I like being myself. And since I have leverage over you and don’t care what you think about me, I view our time together as a slight reprieve.”

  “Why wear a mask at all? What can’t you do as yourself?”

  She plucked a random glass of wine from the table and finished it.

  “I know you failed the Raven exam before you joined the Executioner Division. And how your mother actually died.”

  “You finally did some research. You’d have been stupid not to.”

  “What’re you after, Naomi?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked, leaning back as she gazed out over the crowd. Her face grew dark, stern, and serious. “The Ravens said I lacked conviction, had no honor and no sense of duty. They claimed I only applied because my mother had wanted me to, which does not make a good Raven. I
t made me angry—angrier than I was at the monster who killed her. So I vowed that, if they wouldn’t have me, I would make them serve me.”

  “Considering they only protect the Royal Family…” I stopped, suddenly very aware of what she wanted to do… and who she wanted to be.

  The woman who planned to be Queen rose from her seat. “If you’ll excuse me, Michael, I have a prince to seduce.”

  I watched her stride across the grounds toward the prince and his Throne Seekers and saw them welcome her with cheers and beer as she took a seat beside the prince and let him show off his trophies. She looked at me, winked again, and returned to whatever conversation she was in the middle of. It was clear that I was far too useful to her to let go.

  I didn’t want to be here anymore.

  I didn’t want to be involved in this noble society anymore, where cowards were rewarded for betrayal, selfish ambition, and kissing the ass of a parasitic Royal. I wanted out… I needed out… I needed to be somewhere else. So I left the party and headed toward the only place that wouldn’t judge me for being myself. Somewhere where I could learn if the Kingman name was worth preserving, or if I should give it up and finally move on with my life.

  THE MAN WITHOUT HIS MEMORIES

  A nurse at the asylum opened my mother’s room for me. “I’ll tell Gwen you’re here.”

  “Don’t bother her,” I said. “I won’t be long.”

  The nurse didn’t question me. “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you. Just let someone know so they can lock it when you leave.”

  “Thank you.”

  The nurse left after that, and I entered my mother’s room. She was sitting up, knees against her chest as she stared at the portrait of herself and my father on their wedding day. From what Gwen said, she did this often, so I didn’t interrupt, and simply sat on the bed next to her.

  It wasn’t long before she said, “I miss your father.”

  “I do, too.” And I did, albeit for different reasons. I missed the days when life wasn’t so complicated… the days when he was my hero instead of my shame.

  “I’m sorry for what happened to me, Michael,” she said. “Gwen tells me I don’t have many good days… but today is one of them. I’m so sorry. I should have been taking care of you all… not the reverse.”

  I put my arm around her and she nestled her head against my chest. She was so cold, and I felt my warmth slither off my body and onto her. “It’s not your fault, Ma. We never blamed you for what happened.”

  “That doesn’t make it better,” she said. “I wish I could remember… I wish… I wish… Every time I think I remember what happened I… I…,” and she trailed off, seemingly forgetting the words she’d been about to say.

  “I know, Ma. I know.”

  She lifted her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “Ma,” I began, “can I ask you something?”

  “Of course, Michael. Always.”

  I put my head down, avoiding her gaze to make this easier. “I don’t think I want to be a Kingman anymore. I can’t be a noble in this city. I can’t do it. I tried. I can’t.”

  My mother hugged me tightly. “Never feel bad about saying that, Michael.” She made me look her in the eyes. “You are a Kingman, but that doesn’t mean you have to live up to that legacy. Trying to almost killed your father when he was your age. He wanted nothing to do with it. He left Hollow for years rather than devote his life to war.”

  “But he came back.”

  “He did,” she said. “But only after his parents, sister, and Queen were murdered. If they hadn’t died then, I suspect he and I would still be… still be… ah. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that neither of us wanted a life surrounded by politics. It drove us both away from our respective countries.”

  My voice was becoming more ragged, cracking like a boy’s. “But there must always be a Kingman in Hollow. Everyone knows—”

  “Fuck them,” she snapped. “Fuck the nobility. Fuck the Royals. Fuck the city. You owe them nothing. You are my child, and if you need to leave, leave. Run as far away from Hollow as you can and take your brother and sister with you.”

  “Lyon might want to stay. He’s… found a place here. But what about you? I’ve been trying to cure you, but… but nothing I’ve tried has worked.”

  She ran her fingers through my hair. “Don’t worry about me, Michael. I’m your mother, knowing you’re safe and happy is enough for me.”

  I didn’t cry, but it was the closest I’d come in years. “Ma, I love you.”

  A smile. “I love you, too, David. Do we still have the war council with the king tonight? If so, I might have to reschedule a meeting with Edgar Naverre. He’s concerned about one of his daughter’s suitors, but it didn’t seem urgent if you want me with you.”

  My momentary happiness shattered there and then, but the memory of my mother’s words didn’t. I rose from the bed, tucked her into it, and told her not to worry about the king’s council. Then I went to find Gwen, deeper in the asylum.

  My mother was right. My family didn’t owe this city anything, and years of trying to preserve our legacy had done nothing for me. Well, except for the times it had nearly killed me. It was time to take Angelo up on his offer. Especially when he could guarantee me as much as Domet without having to deal with the nobility. I just had to convince Gwen. Whatever she thought about our father’s innocence, I hoped she would be willing to leave it behind in exchange for a better life.

  I didn’t bother knocking on the door to the room she was in, pulling it open with ease, but because of my sudden intrusion, I heard the end of the conversation. “Your father had the gun in his hand when Davey Hollow was killed, but—”

  “What?” I blurted out, confused.

  Gwen jumped up from the floor. The man she had been talking to remained still and calm inside his ring of candles. As I stared at the man, I remembered Gwen calling him Blackwell. According to the notes I had found, Colton Blackwell had been an eyewitness to the murder of Davey Hollow… and here he was, talking about it.

  “Michael,” Gwen said, “you can’t barge in like—”

  “How long have you been interrogating him? Has he told you anything?”

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Don’t play the fool. Answer the question.”

  She hesitated. “How much do you know?”

  “Enough to know who that is.”

  “I figured out who he was shortly after I started working here. He was having nightmares about our father coming to kill him.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because it wasn’t your business. Who cares if I talk to the witness who saw our father kill Davey?” Gwen turned her back on me.

  “The king would, for starters. We could all be in trouble if the wrong person learned about this, Gwen.” A pause. “Can we talk to him together?”

  “It takes patience. His mind is so jumbled by Darkness Fabrications that he doesn’t always make sense, and no one would believe anything he said. This is the best I’ve seen him in months. I just have to wade through his falsified memories to the truth of that day.”

  “Can you try again?”

  I must have sounded eager, because Gwen nodded and made her way back to Blackwell’s side. I took a deep breath to steady myself. I didn’t know what I was hoping to hear, but if we were going to leave Hollow, I owed it to myself to make sure I was leaving a guilty father behind. Otherwise Gwen would never come with me.

  “Blackwell,” Gwen said, “this is my brother.”

  “Which one?” he asked. “Michael or Lyonardo?”

  “Michael.”

  “I knew more of the Kingman children would come to talk to me eventually ever since…” Blackwell paused. “…ever since they put me here and Gwendolyn found me. Ever since it was discovered my mind had been muddled by Darkness Fabrications. Do you know what it’s like? To know your mind has been corrupted? That everything you think you know co
uld be fake? That your life could all be a lie?”

  “Can’t say I do,” I lied, not wanting to tell Gwen I had been misremembering people lately. Now was not the time for that.

  Blackwell stared at the wall behind me. “No. Not many know what it’s like. Forgotten have it easier. Most think it’s worse to not remember anything. But no… it’s worse not to trust your memories. What is a lie and what is the truth? Nothing is real. Everything is imaginary.”

  This was going to be a long conversation. I slumped into a seat against the metal door.

  “Could you go over that day again?” Gwen said.

  “That day,” he began tentatively, “Kendra had just got off a shift. We hadn’t seen each other in what seemed like forever… We were young, wanted time alone, and couldn’t wait to get home. No one was scheduled to be in the Star Chamber. David Kingman was expected to be at a meeting with the king and Davey with his sister… No one was supposed to be there. Yet, when we opened the door… we saw… we saw…”

  “What did you see?” Gwen pressed.

  Blackwell drew his knees closer to his chest, putting his hands on the sides of his head. “Haze. Darkness. A gunshot. The prince dying. David Kingman held the gun… Was his finger on the trigger?… I can’t remember… He held the gun, though. I can still feel the heat of the room on my face. The smoke burned my lungs so badly, it hurt to swallow. Kendra arrested David Kingman, and then there was chaos. So much chaos.”

  My chest felt tight, and I asked, “Did you see my father shoot the prince?”

  He shook his head back and forth quickly. “No! No… First memory I thought so, but after they put me here, things changed. He had the gun in his hand, but the finger… his finger wasn’t on the trigger. It was on the barrel. It was on the barrel!”

  I held my hand out, imagining that I was holding a gun. It would be impossible for someone to fire a gun like that. And if the gun had somehow still been fired, the heat would have left burns behind. Which was the kind of detail that would have been mentioned in the murder report. Was Blackwell misremembering this? I asked him.