The Kingdom of Liars

by Nick Martell

  “Trey,” I said quietly, hoping the prince couldn’t hear me. “I was attacking that brute beside you, not you. He’s the rebel who killed Jamal. There’s a mark—”

  Trey leveled his gun at me in silence, the action speaking for him. So much for both of us throwing away our shots and living. Someone was going to die here tonight. And even if I survived, it would only be because I killed my friend. Could I live with myself if I did that?

  The Corrupt Prince bellowed from above, “I think our duelists are ready! No more waiting around or last words! Let us begin!”

  Trey lowered his gun and said, “Hold on. I want your word that I won’t be prosecuted for killing the man who murdered my brother.”

  Everyone in the Grand Ballroom awaited the prince’s response.

  “Of course you have it!” he said with a smile. “Nor will the Kingman be prosecuted for killing in self-defense, despite being responsible for the death of your brother. Unless you have another stipulation, the duel will begin on my mark!”

  Trey and I stood back-to-back, then began to take our steps away from each other.

  One step, and my heart was pounding. Every noise turned to scratches in my ear.

  Two steps, and my palm was sweaty and shaking, barely able to hold the gun.

  Three steps, and I could see High Noble Margaux holding my sister back from jumping over the railing to protect me.

  Four steps, and I could see the brutish rebel in front of me, leaning over the railing, hollering to see someone die.

  Five steps, and the lights from the lanterns above seemed to blind me. Would they obscure my vision when I shot?

  Six steps, and I was panicking. Would my family see me differently if I killed Trey to survive? Or would they rather have me alive and a murderer than dead and honorable?

  Seven steps, and I was remembering my father, my forgotten hero. He had been everything to me at one point… and I missed him so much. I just wanted him to be proud of me.

  Eight steps, and I wondered where Domet was. Was he watching from above? Was he stealing the king’s memories himself when he realized I had failed? Was he going to watch me die? Here, of all places?

  Nine steps, and I was breathing, listening to my body. If there was any time for me to figure out what kind of Fabricator I was, it would be now. Could a Metal Fabricator stop a bullet? I didn’t know.

  Ten steps, and I stopped, facing the crowd, the air still. Whenever the prince said “Fire,” I would turn and shoot, but I still didn’t know what I was going to—

  “Fire!”

  I turned and threw my gun aside and watched it slide across the floor to a collective gasp. If I was going to die, I might as well die honorably and be remembered as a Kingman who failed instead of letting one brother die and killing the other myself. Trey was family, and family didn’t hurt family.

  Trey wasn’t as heroic. I watched him raise his gun toward me and take a breath, steadying his aim. Killing the Emperor must’ve been more important to him than my lousy life.

  I closed my eyes and waited.

  The shot might not kill me. And if it did, hopefully my family would remember me as a man who had tried his best.

  Trey shot as I took a breath. The air seemed to crack in two at the sound, and I took an involuntary step back. Without opening my eyes, I felt for blood in case I was shot and in shock. But I found nothing.

  Had Trey missed on purpose?

  I opened my eyes. The gun was smoking in Trey’s hand, sweat dripping down his face as his eyes were locked on me… No, his eyes were locked on something beyond me. Looking over my shoulder, I saw what had happened. The brutish rebel had collapsed against the railing, a shattered wineglass on the dance floor below him. There was a red mark on his upper chest, and blood was beginning to drip down from it.

  No one in the crowd of nobles, even the Corrupt Prince, found any words to question what had just happened.

  Trey walked past me and toward the dead rebel. He licked his thumb, then ran it over the rebel’s neck to expose the bright red tattoo of a closed fist concealed beneath.

  “This man was the rebel who murdered my brother during the attack on the Militia Quarter,” Trey declared. “I didn’t realize who he was until I saw a hint of the tattoo on his neck while I was on the dance floor before the duel. Thus I withdrew my right to take Michael Kingman’s life despite the fact he was partially responsible for my brother’s death. Instead, I took the life of this rebel. Just as the prince promised me, in front of you all.”

  Someone in the crowd shouted, “How can you be certain this man was the one who murdered your brother?”

  “He’s a rebel who matches the description I had,” Trey said. “And if I’m wrong, who cares? Who knows what he had planned to do here tonight, with access to the prince? We should all be thankful the prince’s food is always tasted beforehand and that this rebel never had the chance to poison him. Perhaps another assassin failed here tonight.”

  Nobles whispered to each other as they waited for the Corrupt Prince’s response. By all technicalities and laws, Trey was in the right. It just wasn’t what the Corrupt Prince had wanted.

  The prince rose silently from his seat and made his way down to the dance floor. Both Ravens were at his side, and Naomi, for some reason, was close behind.

  “You should have told your prince before you shot him,” he said as he brushed off a speck of dirt from Trey’s clothes. “I would have let you kill him. I would have even let you borrow the castle’s torture rooms. Our educator could have made him regret killing your brother. It saddens me a child-murdering rebel died so easily.”

  “My prince, as I said, I wasn’t certain until the last moment.”

  The prince held his empty palm out. “Give me the gun.”

  Hesitantly, Trey gave the prince the loaded gun.

  The prince walked past him and toward me, only stopping once he was within arm’s length. “You put me in a difficult situation, Treyvon. On one hand, you have relinquished your right to take Michael Kingman’s life tonight. And on the other hand”—the prince aimed the gun at me—“he’s a Kingman who couldn’t even protect a child from rebels. Is his life worth preserving? Like his father, he’s a disgrace to the name.”

  “My prince,” Chloe said. “I think you’ve had too much—”

  He looked over his shoulder. “Did I ask for your opinion, Raven? Have I ever asked for your opinion?”

  Chloe shook her head and backed away from him.

  “Regretfully, Prince Adreann, in the past week—before your nobility—Michael Kingman has shown himself to be a better man than his father ever was. We have all seen what Michael is capable of,” Ambassador Zain said from above. A smile was on his face. “I, and I suspect others here, would attest to this. He is a worthy Kingman.”

  Many more than I would have expected called out in support, with Gwen, of course, the loudest of them all. The prince was expressionless as he watched and listened but never lowered the gun he had aimed at my chest.

  “I can also speak for the Kingman child,” Domet declared, voice booming. He pushed his way through the crowd to make himself visible. “He has begun to redeem his family, and even if it’s a long path… this city was built by the Kingman family and has been without one for too long.”

  Even more sounded their agreements. Gwen didn’t even need to yell this time.

  And yet, the Corrupt Prince still aimed the gun at me. Without moving, I tried to spot Dark in the crowd and see if he was going to let a prince murder a Kingman with his gun. Sadly for me, he probably didn’t care one way or another.

  “Prince Adreann,” Naomi said quietly, approaching from behind him. She ran her hand down his back, and the prince lowered the gun slightly. “Let the Kingman go. He’s not even worth the price of the metal used to make the bullet. Who cares what he does? You’re the Prince of Hollow, and nothing will change that. Not even him.”

  “You are correct,” he said, finally lowering the gun.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. “You are all correct! And I did give my word not to stand against you during the Endless Waltz, Michael. But I cannot stand by and let your treacherous, scheming plots go unpunished. Blood must be spilled.”

  I froze.

  “At first I found it humorous,” he said. “But to be so brazen. Here. Of all places.”

  I looked to Domet. Even he was uncertain. How had the Corrupt Prince figured out we were planning to steal the king’s memories?

  “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  I stood straighter.

  “Pity. I would have liked to hear you beg.”

  The prince turned, faced Naomi, and then shot her in the stomach.

  I didn’t run to her side to help, my legs shaking too hard, forcing me to watch instead. The three-feathered Raven caught Naomi as she began to fall, while Chloe put pressure on her stomach, her blood already flowing freely. They were shouting to each other and to others in the crowd. I couldn’t hear a single thing they said, my focus on the laughing prince in front of me.

  “Do you think me a fool, Michael? I knew she was meeting with us both. Did you think it would go unnoticed? I am the Prince of Hollow, and I will not be played by a Kingman and a whore!”

  The Corrupt Prince turned toward the silent crowd of nobles. “Any who aid her will have their titles and lands stripped away the moment I take power from my senile father and absent sister. Whether you like it or not… I will be your king.”

  I could feel Gwen’s anger from where I was.

  But, to my surprise, no noble in the room challenged his claim. Even Domet stood still as a statue, refusing to look at the girl bleeding to death in front of him. The only one who moved was Dark, who calmly came forward and reclaimed his guns.

  “Mercenary,” Chloe said, hands dyed red, “help us. Please. You must have experience with gunshot wounds.”

  The Corrupt Prince found her pleas interesting and listened intently.

  Dark didn’t respond to Chloe’s plea, only staring at Naomi’s unnaturally still body.

  “I’ll give you whatever you want—just save her, please.”

  “Unrestricted access to the king’s archives?”

  “Done.”

  “Raven!” the Corrupt Prince shouted. “Are you disobeying my orders?”

  “No,” she said, stepping out of the way as Dark moved to Naomi’s side. “I’m hiring a Mercenary to do something I cannot. Punish me for insubordination if you must, but I have no lands or titles for you to take. Only a life I have already pledged to sacrifice to protect yours.”

  “So be it.” He looked down at Chloe. “But I want to hear you beg me to let you use the Mercenary to save her life. Or…,” he said, trailing off. The Corrupt Prince took a dagger off his belt and held it over Naomi’s eye.

  “Please, my prince. Please let the Mercenary save Nao—”

  “Use her title,” he ordered.

  “Please let the Mercenary save… save the whore’s life.”

  “All you had to do was ask, my Raven,” he said. “Do not forget that in the future. But do get the whore out of my sight quickly, will you? I worry her blood will never come out of the tile.”

  The two Ravens picked Naomi up gently, according to Dark’s instructions. Before they left, Dark said to me, “Tomorrow. Same place and time, understand?”

  I nodded as they made their way through the silent nobility, watching as the unstoppable prince cemented his power and truly began his reign of terror, with only a Mercenary and the Ravens brave enough to defy him.

  All these nobles were cowards, complicit with the antics of this prince so long as it didn’t hurt them or what they had. They were as much to blame for the downfall of this country as the Royals were. But curing a symptom does nothing while the disease remains. As a Kingman, I had a duty to do what was necessary to protect this country, regardless of what happened to my life. Or what I had to do. Maybe my father thought similarly at one point.

  “You will never take the throne,” I said.

  The Corrupt Prince turned to me. “What was that, Kingman?”

  “Did I stutter?”

  No one laughed, but the Corrupt Prince snarled either way. “Are you threatening your prince?”

  “It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”

  Then I was floating through the air backwards, staring at the golden ceiling. My ears were ringing, my breath was nowhere to be found, my head pounded, and I slowly clawed at the grooves between the tiles with my nails. The prince stood over me, every muscle in his body more defined and visible, all the fat seemingly trimmed away with a scalpel. He was a Metal Fabricator—and a powerful one at that. I hadn’t had any time to react before he hit me.

  “Adreann! Stop it!” Gwen screamed.

  The Corrupt Prince squatted down in front of me, his face close so only I could hear his words. His eyes were focused on my sister, fully aware of her presence. “Your whore is going to die tonight, Kingman. Then, once she’s in the ground, I can focus my attention on your sister. What a pleasant surprise to see her here tonight. I’ll have to find out if she’s still pure. I wouldn’t want to be gentle the first time, if she’s already been passed around the entire city.”

  I snapped.

  I screamed and threw back my fist, the warmth welling up in my body, ignoring the consequences of what I was about to do. The warmth was overflowing within me, and I repelled it out of my body and across the Grand Ballroom, then punched the Corrupt Prince in the jaw, expecting to find metal but discovering soft, pink flesh instead.

  The Corrupt Prince fell back on his butt, shocked. He was staring at his body, eyes darting between me and his own hands. “My Fabrications… didn’t work? They should have stopped you… but they didn’t… Why… Why… Oh, oh, I underestimated you… How pathetic of me…,” he trailed off, noticing no one was paying attention to him.

  Some nobles were staring at their hands as if a finger was missing. High Noble Margaux was being held up by a servant, her legs no longer able to hold her own weight. There were whispers of horror within the crowd, but no one seemed to be focused on the Corrupt Prince. Only themselves.

  “It seems, my prince,” Domet said, stepping toward him, “that you just picked a fight with a Nullify Fabricator. Your Metal Fabrications won’t protect you from him.”

  Nullify. I closed my fist and watched the muscles twitch. I steadied my breath and felt the warmth in my body again. With a little focus I could make the sense of warmth go wherever I wanted it to, covering my body like a second skin. I twisted my hand slowly, observing the warmth I had directed there. Nothing was out of the ordinary, and it didn’t look any different. No wonder I hadn’t been able to figure out what kind of Fabricator I was: it was only visible in its effects. I wondered how many times I had used it without knowing… and how many memories I had sacrificed. It could have been dozens or hundreds of times, and as many memories lost.

  But this was my power, and this was a power I could protect everyone with. Well, everyone except myself. The Corrupt Prince hadn’t backed down, getting a sword from one of his servants instead. I had never seen him smile so broadly before. From how he was acting… I… I couldn’t help but think he was enjoying himself. As if he were a performer on his stage.

  “Thankfully, High Noble Domet, I am not dependent on my Fabrications,” the Corrupt Prince said. “I am more than that. But what about you, Michael? Could you beat me in a duel? When was the last time you held a sword?”

  Gwen stepped between us, calm and with a slender sword in her hand. “Enough, Adreann.”

  The Corrupt Prince looked at me. “Have you always let your baby sister fight your battles for you, Michael?”

  I glanced at Gwen. The small, fragile, tear-stained girl I had seen for years was missing. In her place was a woman facing down a monster twice her size. And since she was bound to protect and serve and guide the Corrupt Prince from birth onward, I knew this wasn’
t my fight anymore.

  It was hers.

  OVATION

  “Adreann,” Gwen said as she stepped in front of me. “Do you know why Kingman and Royals are bound together?”

  “Save me the history lesson, Gwennie, and get out of my way so I can kill your brother,” the Corrupt Prince said.

  “You never did pay attention to the tutors, so let me explain. The Kingman family was designed as a counterbalance to the Royal Family. We don’t aspire to hold power but to serve our country and the Royal we’ve been bound to protect. And sometimes protecting someone means doing things they don’t appreciate.”

  “Oh, Gwennie, if you want to serve me, I can think of a few things I would appreciate. How much experience do you have on your back?”

  “Do you truly not understand what I’m saying, Adreann?” she said as they began to pace back and forth, maintaining a small distance from each other—just out of reach of their swords. “Think about it carefully.”

  “Gwen, as nice as it is to see how much you’ve grown, I don’t give a—”

  Gwen closed the distance between them and attacked. As she lunged, the Corrupt Prince caught her blade and, with a smile, pulled her so close to him they shared a breath. “Too slow, Gwennie. Try again.”

  He pushed her away and Gwen nearly stumbled to the ground. Eternally arrogant, the Corrupt Prince put his sword down on the ground and then kicked it away. “I wanted to embarrass your brother with a sword because he was once renowned for his skill. But you, Gwennie… I don’t think I’ll need it. I wouldn’t want to scar your lovely skin.”

  “You’d underestimate God if They stood in front of you, Adreann,” Gwen said.