by Nick Martell
“Is your company not as stimulating tonight?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Just needed a breath of fresh air.” A pause. “Why are you here, Michael?”
“The same reason. There are only so many times I can listen to noble conversations about how this family got their money or what that family’s most recent scandals are.”
“If you dislike it, why did you return? I never understood why you would when you clearly hate everything about noble society. And it’s not just because I was blackmailing you… You were already a participant when I caught you outside Kingman Keep.”
“It was what I wanted at the time.”
“Was it really?” she asked, sipping some of her wine. “I don’t believe you, but it’s not my place to question. We’re not friends or anything. Though I wouldn’t judge you if you told me the truth.”
“If I did, that would make us friends.”
Naomi puckered her lips and looked away from me. “Better not, then. I wouldn’t want to ruin a good thing. Oh, and before you ask, I’m not returning your ring this evening.”
I didn’t expect her to, but I still asked the question she wanted to hear. “Why not? Tonight marks the end of the Endless Waltz. After this, it’s pointless to blackmail me.”
Naomi played with my father’s ring, her back to the railing. “Would it really be pointless? I’ll visit you tomorrow morning and return it then. When the Endless Waltz is officially over.”
That was oddly nice of her. Which meant it probably wasn’t happening. In fact, if everything went according to plan, I’d probably end up leaving Hollow without my father’s ring. I suppose it made some sense to leave it behind, if I was abandoning the Kingman legacy.
“Thank you,” I said.
Naomi walked away, dismissing me with a wave of her hand. “No thanks needed. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go talk to my Raven friend over there before I return to my future beloved’s side. I’ll see you… I’ll see you tomorrow, Michael. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
Before I had a chance to respond, Naomi initiated a conversation with the guard on the balcony. I don’t know if she had intended to give me a distraction, but there was no time to ponder it. I had to get to the upper balcony, and this was the best opportunity I’d have. I stepped onto the railing and looked up the wall, parts of which were broken off or chipped away. There was no need for me to look down; I was already fully aware a sheer drop awaited me if I fell.
I began my climb, gripping an old brick where the mortar had eroded away, and pulled myself upward, trying to remain as straight as possible. With every new handhold I found, my foot slid into an old one, and I crawled upward. My forearms tightened and my fingertips went a little more numb with each new hold, and by the time I neared the upper balcony, I was covered in sweat and all my muscles burned. Worse, the remaining distance between me and the lip of the balcony was perfectly smooth. I couldn’t see any handholds.
I would have to jump for it.
I took a breath and launched myself up into the air. My grip left the indentation I had been using, and for a moment I was weightless, floating upward. My hands slapped against the bottom of the railings and I hit them hard, my body falling forward and my fingers nearly slipping. I tightened my grip on the bar and hung there, breathing deeply. I couldn’t stop shaking as I pulled myself up and over.
Everything hurt, but I had made it. I exhaled toward the sky. Something, for once, hadn’t gone wrong. It was a good feeling, and as my breathing returned to normal, I gathered myself and entered the bodyguard balcony.
It was a whole new world.
Within seconds of stepping into this place, despite obviously not belonging, two different people pressed tankards into my hands and told me to drink. They were both filled with the sweetest liquid I had ever tried, and it was significantly better than the wine the nobles were drinking. I finished one quickly and put the empty tankard on a table as I continued to wander around the balcony. Despite the fact everyone seemed to be indulging excessively, none of them seemed to be drunk.
There were bodyguards playing Three Brothers in a corner as others looked on, betting knickknacks, small vials of exotic spices, and whatever else caught their fancy. I snagged a delicious roast chicken leg from a plate as I passed, seeing heaps of buttery mashed potatoes and glazed green beans up for grabs as well. I ate with relish, far preferring this hearty fare to the fancy dining and foul rhubarb pie I had left behind. It was such a contrast to the world down there.
But it couldn’t be all good. There were Mercenaries from three of the biggest companies up here.
They were having fun together, swapping stories and showing off different currencies. Mercenaries from Machina Company, the Black Company, and Regal Company all mingled together without a care for name or rank or fashion. They were playful in their antics and words, taking nothing seriously. Yet, they made sure everyone around them knew what company they were in and what their position in it was. As if it were more important than their own names.
As I clanked glasses with a Machina Company Mercenary, others began to gather near the ledge over the Grand Ballroom. A few of the bodyguards were leaning over, laughing together. I joined them as I drank and saw the dancing was beginning in earnest now, the ceremonial first dance having finished a long time ago. From up here they looked like little spinning puppets. All that was missing was the strings.
Domet was nowhere to be seen.
I finished my second drink and reluctantly headed toward the exit. I would have stayed there if someone put another drink in my hand. No one did, though, and the door slammed behind me, cutting off the laughter from the balcony. I was alone and unseen, and as I walked down the lavish hallway headed toward the staircase and the Royal Tower, I felt a little bit lighter on my feet than I normally did. Domet had kept his end of the deal: there wasn’t a single guard in the hallway.
The third door on the right had been left slightly ajar. As I made my way up the staircase, I tried to come up with a name—any name that would make sense to Domet as the shrine arsonist. Ideally someone linked to the Rebel Emperor. Needless to say, I didn’t have an answer by the time I entered the royal living quarters.
Compared to the rest of the castle, which was elegant beyond reason, this area was plain—bland, even. The walls in the circular entrance chamber were unadorned, and the hardwood floor was dull and scratched, with well-worn paths to each of the seven doors. The first was marked Dining Room and the second Conference Room, followed by the rooms that belonged to the Corrupt Prince and the princess—both locked. Then there was the fifth door without any marking to indicate what it was, but I had a nagging feeling that it had been Davey’s. The last room was the king and queen’s quarters. And, for whatever reason, it was unlocked.
I stepped into the king’s personal chamber. Like the entrance, it was plainly decorated aside from an intricate tapestry showing the various stages of a red-haired man’s life, from birth to the moment a heavy crown was placed upon his head. I glanced at the details, seeing the same man married, celebrating the birth of his three children… mourning the death of his son. The only king who fit the tale was Isaac Hollow. Did the king use this tapestry to record his—
Someone put the barrel of a gun against the back of my head and interrupted my thoughts.
“Michael, how many times do I have to warn you not to fuck with me?”
It was Dark. He had come for me. Inside Hollow Castle no less.
“I searched for you in Kingman Keep this morning,” I said, unable to move my head at all.
“If you had been there last night, you wouldn’t have had to.”
“Something came up. There was an emergency and—”
Dark grabbed me by the neck and slammed me against the wall. I could turn my head and see his face now, and it was too calm for someone who was being so hostile. “Do you think I care why you didn’t show up? Do you not take me seriously enough, Michael? Have I been too generous
? Have I been too lenient? Should I have killed your brother the first time you fucked with me and your sister the second time?”
He was choking me, so I couldn’t respond; nothing came out but wheezes and gurgles.
“Where is my envelope?”
He released the pressure on my neck and I collapsed to the floor on my ass. When I could, I said, “Home.”
“Your home?”
I nodded as I tried to get my breath back.
Dark put his gun back in the holster. “Inconvenient, but… but I can deal with the consequences if we’re seen together. How did you think you were going to get away with this?”
“Didn’t. Planned on giving it back. Accidents happened. Wasn’t intentional.”
“Imbecile,” Dark said as he hauled me back up to my feet. “Come with me. We’re getting it now. I’m not waiting any longer for you to do it on your own.”
“I can’t, I—”
Dark punched me in the jaw and I was back on the ground, everything blurry. In hindsight, it wasn’t a good idea to say no to a Mercenary. He probably hadn’t heard the word before.
“Willing to try that again?” he asked.
“I need to find something in the king’s study first.”
“And?”
“Let me search it before we go.”
“Not a chance.”
“If I don’t—”
Dark’s face was expressionless as he held a finger gun to my forehead. “I don’t care. You’re coming with me.”
There was nothing I could do but follow Dark. I hated it. I hated that my decision to save Arjay meant I had forgotten my meeting with Dark, and now he was ruining everything. Without the gun that killed Davey Hollow, Gwen wouldn’t come with me to the Gold Coast. And without the king’s memories, I was making a lifelong enemy of an Immortal and relinquishing any hope of clearing my family’s name. At least I could still give Domet a name. Maybe he’d understand if I explained what happened. It was doubtful, given how desperate he was to die.
Every step we took away from the king’s bedroom made my heart sink further into my stomach, and by the time we made it back to the Grand Ballroom, I was in despair. The king and most of the Ravens were nowhere to be seen. Only two remained, both guarding the Corrupt Prince. The bodyguard balcony had cleared out, the once-lively affair only containing a faint memory of what was once there. The noble’s party, however, was still going strong, with drunk patrons enjoying a performance from Azilian fire dancers.
“Say goodbye to your friends,” Dark said at the exit. “I don’t want them to be suspicious.”
I did as I was told, trying to formulate a plan in my head. Kai and his brother were nowhere to be seen, and as I walked past the lower balcony, I paused, hearing a conversation I could barely make out. My sister and High Noble Margaux were drinking wine and laughing together. I couldn’t even remember the last time Gwen had laughed. Months? Years? I wasn’t sure.
I didn’t linger. It was clear they were having a good time and they didn’t need me to ruin it. They probably hadn’t noticed I’d been gone—and they were the only people likely to. All the same, I did one last lap around the ballroom just to make sure. As I passed by the Corrupt Prince’s table, I saw who his new friend was: a brutish man with a broken nose that whistled every time he breathed.
I froze mid-stride, recognizing him instantly. He was talking to Trey with a huge grin on his face and a glass of wine in his hand, and though he’d somehow concealed the rebel tattoo on his neck, there was no mistaking him. Trey was talking to the man who had killed his brother. I had no idea how a rebel got himself invited to the king’s birthday party as a guest of the prince, or if he would recognize me.
Dark was waiting for me, and I knew what could happen if I disobeyed him again… but I didn’t have a gun to my head right now, and I wasn’t about to let the rebel who had murdered Jamal go unpunished.
The only problem was how.
There were dinner knives on the tables that hadn’t been cleaned up yet. I could sprint toward the Corrupt Prince’s group, jump the table, and stab the rebel in the throat with one of them. But with a weapon in my hands, at that table, the Ravens would cut me down. I wouldn’t escape with all my limbs attached.
There had to be another way. Something that didn’t put me in as much risk.
The Mercenary was at the exit to the Grand Ballroom and still had a gun. If I could steal it from him, I could take a shot across the room and… No, that wasn’t any better. If by divine intervention I could steal Dark’s gun, I’d need another miracle for the bullet to hit the rebel and not one of the dozens of innocents in the way.
I had to do something. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing while Jamal’s murderer drank and ate and laughed with Trey, and my legs were carrying me toward the rebel before my brain understood what I was doing. Rage drove me forward with my fists clenched tightly.
The Ravens didn’t have a chance to stop me, and by the time they noticed I had crossed the distance to the Corrupt Prince’s table, I was already on top of it. I brought my leg back and aimed for the rebel’s jaw—only for Trey to catch my leg before it connected with the rebel. He slammed me down with his open fist, and my back seized up as it hit the table.
Trey must’ve assumed I was coming for him.
Shit.
The Corrupt Prince couldn’t stop laughing. Naomi looked shocked, eyes wide. The other two Throne Seekers were in a similar state to her, while the Ravens were watching me carefully, hands on their sword hilts.
“Michael,” Trey growled. “Was my brother not enough for you? Do you want to take everything from me? Am I not allowed to be happy as long as you aren’t?”
My head was spinning, my back was aching, and I couldn’t find the right words. The brutish rebel wouldn’t stop laughing, and laughing, and laughing.
I didn’t see Trey move, but the next thing I knew, I was on my back and he was punching me relentlessly. I did my best to block his blows, but more got through than I would have liked, and one of the Ravens finally pulled him off after he hit me in the eye. The other dragged me down off the table.
Flushed, Trey said, “Savor your breath, Michael. You’re dead. All of you Kingman are dead.”
A crowd had formed around us, and the Corrupt Prince, never one to miss a good fight, suddenly took more of an interest. “Oh, Trey, Michael Kingman was responsible for your brother’s death? You never told me that. Only that it was someone very, very important. As much as I would love to watch you stab Michael in the heart and quench your thirst for revenge, I think I have a better idea. A more entertaining idea.”
We both looked at him, neither understanding.
Prince Adreann clapped his hands together and smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen! I hope you’re ready for a show! Michael Kingman swore an oath to protect a child. Which he broke, that child died—and now his brother seeks vengeance! I, Prince of Hollow, declare that these two will duel to the death, right here, to settle the matter!”
The Corrupt Prince turned to Trey. “As the avenger, you may choose the weapon.”
“Duel?” Trey snapped. “I don’t want to duel him, I want to destroy his family—”
The prince squished Trey’s cheeks so he couldn’t talk. “And I will not stop you. But I am the prince, and I have declared you two will duel. You will not deny me this. Understand?”
Trey nodded slowly. “Guns. I want guns. I won’t duel Michael Kingman otherwise. He has too much experience in everything else, since he grew up as a High Noble.”
“Guns?” the Corrupt Prince said, amused. “Well, my father isn’t here, so why not? Does anyone here have a brace of pistols?”
No one in the crowd responded. After all, who would? Owning a gun in Hollow was still illegal.
“No one? Well, maybe…,” the prince trailed off, eyes falling on Dark. “You! Mercenary! There’s no law against you and your kind carrying a gun in Hollow. Would you indulge a prince? I will repay your generosity in thi
s matter tenfold.”
Oh, no.
Dark stepped forward from the crowd and drew two guns from his jacket. One was a flintlock pistol and the other was a more advanced model, able to fire more than one bullet before reloading. I had never seen something like it before. Even New Dracon City—which was much more advanced in gun technology—didn’t have anything like that.
“Yours for the event, for a small fee,” Dark said. Even though he wasn’t looking at me, I knew what Dark was thinking. This was what I deserved for treating him like a fool. My life didn’t matter to him now, since he knew where his envelope was. Sure, it would be annoying to get, but he would get it. He was a Mercenary, after all. Who could stop him? Maybe Angelo, but not my siblings.
“So you know, one is more advanced than the other,” Dark said. “It’s more accurate, can hold more than one bullet, and doesn’t need to be loaded like the guns you’re used to.”
“Minor differences,” the prince said. “What matters is that both can shoot once without reloading. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a duel!”
There were cheers within the crowd, but to me it was white noise as I stared at Trey and he stared back, both of us knowing only one of us would survive what came next.
LAWFUL
Obviously, I was given the flintlock pistol.
The Corrupt Prince set Trey and me up on the dance floor as he lounged in his father’s chair, Chloe and the three-feathered Raven, Rowan Kerr, at his side. Everyone else—including High Noble Margaux, Gwen, Naomi, Ambassador Zain, his Skeleton, the Azilian, and the brutish rebel—were watching from the railing above me, all of them unable to talk to me since the prince had announced the duel was going to take place.
The only one that could—not that he wanted to—was Trey. Instead of us sharing our deepest fears with each other, asking to be remembered after one of us died, he spun the cylinder that held his bullets, eyes focused on the shot he was about to take at me.
I didn’t know what I was going to do. We had one shot each, and the Corrupt Prince had been clear that if we both missed, the duel would be over and we could walk away unscathed. But… that relied on Trey missing me, not taking his revenge for my failure to protect Jamal. If I could explain what happened, tell him that the brute at the prince’s table was a rebel, then maybe this could end without violence. But the odds were against me. I was going to have to decide whether to miss or take a real shot at my friend.