by Nick Martell
Did I kill Davey Hollow?
STANDSTILL
I hated hospitals.
I had hated them ever since my first visits to my mother, shortly after her mind began to slip, when no one knew for certain why. I had spent days in them and their sharp sour smell still made me gag. I hated how plain and drab they all were, more like prison cells for the dying than a place for recovery. But, despite my hatred, there was someone I needed to see after what had happened last night.
Naomi’s room was near the end of the hall, the last door on the left. I knocked before I slowly opened the door, peering in before I entered, and saw a man sitting next to her bed as she slept.
He didn’t turn as I entered, and it was only when I was standing next to him that I saw his face. It was Bryan Dexter, Naomi’s father, and the leader of the Evoker Division of Scales. He was a muscular middle-aged man with a permanent shadow of a beard, and his eyes were red and glassy from a lack of sleep.
“How is she doing?” I asked. Naomi was sleeping more peacefully than I thought someone who had just been shot might be. She didn’t look like she was in much pain, though sleep was where the mind went to escape.
There was no response from her father at first, but after clearing his throat he said, “Stable. Sleeping. Lost a lot of blood. And there’s still a high risk of infection. We won’t know the full extent of the damage until much later, but she’s alive. That Mercenary saved her life.”
“I’m glad that he helped her.”
“Me too.” He paused to breathe deeply. “You’re Michael Kingman, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“I heard the prince shot her because he thought you two were in a relationship… Are you?”
“No,” I said. “Not in a romantic way, at least.”
He played with something in his hand. “Then why was she wearing your ring? I recognized it instantly, your father wore it… as did you for most of your young life. Don’t try to lie and say it wasn’t yours.”
Despite standing over his injured daughter, I wasn’t about to tell him how Naomi and I had begun our agreement to work together. Not unless I wanted to confess to violating my probation. “She was holding it as collateral. I owed her a favor and she was keeping it until the Endless Waltz ended.”
Bryan Dexter made a clicking noise with his tongue. “My daughter probably wanted both the prince and a Kingman under her control,” he said softly. “She was stupid to think that would work.”
I didn’t respond, unable to think of anything that wouldn’t imply that I agreed with him.
Bryan returned my ring to me. “Take it. She has no need of it, and this will make sure you two can’t be connected. Otherwise her reputation has no chance of recovery… Some of the prince’s inner circle are already calling her the Kingman Whore.”
“I’m sorry this happened to her.”
“Me too, but she did this to herself,” he said before tossing something to me. “Oh, and, Michael: Catch.”
I caught a spent bullet. Likely the one that had nearly killed Naomi.
“If I ever see you with my daughter again, I’ll put a bullet like that in your gut. I know my daughter was likely to blame for what happened, but I’m still her father. And I will protect her from anyone. Even if they’re a Royal or a Kingman. Understand?”
“Understood, sir,” I said as I pocketed the spent bullet.
“Leave us.”
I did as I was told, eager to get away from Naomi’s father before he lost some of his logic. On my way out, I slipped my father’s ring back onto my middle finger, the familiar weight a relief after a long week.
LUNACY
The sun was already setting by the time me and my friends crossed over the western bridge to the Isle to see the verdict of the trial of the Emperor.
It had been going on since sunrise with the king, the Whisperer of the Church of the Eternal Flame, and High Noble Ata Morales presiding. A trial for treason was one of the few areas the Royals didn’t have complete control over; King George the Paranoid had executed more than fifty people during his reign after making false accusations of treason, and the Kingman family had subsequently insisted any trial for treason required three judges, and so it had been.
The courthouse doors were barred, as no one was allowed to leave until a decision was made, but we had decided to wait for the verdict with hundreds of others. We could see the crowds from the bridge, chanting or yelling for the Emperor’s head. If the verdict was guilty, the Rebel Emperor would be taken straight to the execution block. He was too valuable a target to wait around in a jail cell and give the rebellion a chance to rescue him. They wanted to cut off the head of the rebellion with his death, hoping it would implode without him. Whether that would really happen remained to be seen.
Most of the people huddled outside were from the west side of Hollow, the jangle of coins in their pockets audible whenever they moved. Kingman Keep was visible to the south, the glow from the Moon’s Tears beginning to emerge in the dwindling light. I didn’t want to look at or even think about that place until I had time to clear my head and figure out what had happened, fearful I’d lose more if I didn’t. Because if I continued to pursue the truth… would I discover I was the traitor instead of my father? Until last night, finding the truth simply meant absolving my father. Now it could mean implicating myself or one of my siblings instead. Was that worth it anymore? I didn’t know.
Gwen found us a place to wait on the outskirts of the crowd. It was close enough to hear the verdict but far enough away that we weren’t pressing our bodies against sweaty citizens who had been baking in the sun all day. There were dozens of armed Advocators patrolling the area. I wondered if they expected a riot or feared rebel sleeper agents in the crowd, waiting for a signal to attack. After the Militia Quarter was bombed, another attack of that magnitude wasn’t improbable, and that fear explained why there weren’t any nobles around—well, not that I could see, at least. Who knew who might be hiding in the courthouse? I was certain Lyon was in there.
Gwen and Kai were discussing something a bit away, so High Noble Margaux took a seat next to me, crossed her legs, and then said, “I’m worried about the verdict. I thought we would have it by midday.”
“It’ll be fine,” I said, double-checking that Dark’s envelope was in my inner jacket pocket. “Maybe they’ve spent the day recounting all of the crimes the Emperor has committed against the crown.”
She nodded, eyes fixed on the courthouse.
“But you’d know how these trials go better than I would,” I said. “The only trial I’ve ever had an active role in was my father’s.”
“I remember that one vividly.” She pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. “My father was on the jury, and he went prepared for a long, drawn-out affair that would divide the High Nobles between supporting the Kingman and Hollow families.”
“I think everyone expected that. Then he shocked them all and pleaded guilty.”
“ ‘Shocked’ is an understatement. It changed everything—and might have averted a civil war. But that’s the past. How is Naomi doing? You saw her this morning, correct?”
High Noble Margaux had a knack for bringing up topics I didn’t want to talk about.
“She’s stable,” I said. “It’ll be hard to tell the extent of her injuries until much later though.”
“Any infection?”
I shook my head. “Not at this moment, but there’s still a high risk.”
“Does she still have full range of mobility?”
“Not sure. Her father didn’t say otherwise, so I assume so.”
High Noble Margaux put her hand to her chin. “It might be hard to establish the damage until she’s fully conscious and stable. Hopefully the bullet didn’t hit her spine. She doesn’t deserve to be paralyzed for the rest of her life because of the prince and a misunderstanding.”
“How do you know so much about gunshot wounds?”
Her mouth was a straig
ht line. “I spent more of my life in hospitals than in my own keep. I listened and learned a lot.”
“Why were you in hospitals so much? Does it have something to do with why you fell at the king’s party when I nullified everything?”
She opened her mouth slightly, prepared to respond, but instead closed her eyes and sighed. “It is a long story. And one I shouldn’t tell you until you remember who I am. No matter what you say, you would see me differently, and I don’t want to stop pretending yet.”
“But I do know who you are. You’re High Noble Margaux.”
“Shit,” she said with a laugh. “I completely forgot Naomi said my name in front of you. What a pain.” A pause. “Maybe I should continue this until you remember my familiar name.”
“Isn’t the point of not telling me your name already ruined?”
She lay down on the stone with an arm extended, as if trying to hold the sky in her palm. “It is, but I like having someone who doesn’t care about my title. Kai would tell you the same, but as High Nobles we don’t have many people we can consider close friends. Everyone around us only wants more power or more money or more land and will do whatever they can to get it. It makes one true friend more valuable than all the gold in the treasury.”
“Is that why you two were so nice to me? You wanted me to be your friend?”
“Obviously.”
“We haven’t talked in a decade. What makes you think I’m still the person I was when we were children?”
“Because you’re Michael Kingman,” she said, meeting my eyes. “You’ve always been fiercely protective of those you view as family. And all we want is to be considered your family again.”
After a pause I said, “Here I was thinking you wanted to court me.”
High Noble Margaux started laughing. And laughing. And laughing long past when I began to blush and feel uncomfortable sitting next to her.
When she found her breath again, she said, “Oh, Michael, never. Not even when we were young and I was in awe of you and the stories you’d tell me. You were always a friend to me. Nothing more. If for some reason I did find you mildly attractive, you were always meant for another.”
“Another?”
She chuckled to herself. “She’ll tell you when she wants you to know. We should join Gwen and Kai before you get me into trouble.”
Frustrated, but knowing she wouldn’t say anything more, we walked over to Gwen and Kai. Both were watching the courthouse with their arms folded.
The executioner’s block had been placed there, giving off a dull shine even in the low light. Despite its modest size, it loomed over the crowds like a lighthouse in a storm. Someone had clearly decided that the Rebel Emperor should die like a noble, not swing like a commoner, if he was found guilty. I suppose any man who called himself an emperor and led an army against Hollow deserved as much. I noticed that the Wardens, the metal monsters of Scales, were positioned at the bottom of the stairs, holding back the crowds. They almost never came out in public.
“Wasn’t expecting Wardens here today,” I said. “What do you think they got for being here?”
“I’m unsure,” Kai said. “They’re not trying to hide the fact that there might be riots after the verdict, are they?”
“No. They are not,” High Noble Margaux said.
“We should be ready to leave quickly if fighting breaks out. I don’t want to get stuck on the Isle.”
“We could always take refuge in Kingman Keep,” I said.
My sister stifled a laugh as they looked at me.
“It was a joke.”
Some people had no sense of humor these—
The courthouse doors swung open and the crowd went silent. Even the Wardens and other Scales operatives looked toward the door as a stunning woman strode out. It was the Emperor, unchained and unbound, flanked by two rebels with a closed red fist on their clothes.
It was her.
The woman who had knelt in front of my father’s grave. I should have realized she was the Emperor, not the lemon-smelling man; they had all been listening to her, after all.
The shockingly young woman, covered in fresh bruises and shallow open wounds, walked like a conquering hero instead of a terrorist, dressed in a plain flowing dress of red and grey, my family’s colors. If the choice hadn’t been intentional before, it was now. No one walked out of a trial for treason in Kingman colors without knowing they were making a statement.
And then I saw the Sacrifice brand on her neck.
It finally clicked.
The Rebel Emperor was Emelia Bryson, daughter of Lothar Bryson, former guard captain at Kingman Keep and attempted assassin of the Corrupt Prince. Seeing her in my family’s colors with the Sacrifice brand on her neck, I remembered her, a forgotten memory stowed away. She had been Gwen’s friend and, at one point, the subject of Lyon’s admiration. She had grown up alongside us and dreamed with us, and she was as much a member of the Kingman family as any of my siblings. Only she had risen from Sacrifice to become the leader of the rebellion against those who had unjustly branded her—and those who had said nothing as they did.
The king had created her. And because of his orders, she had started a rebellion that had killed thousands. A rebellion to right a wrong. Based on what Lothar had said, how the rebels seemed to idolize my father—and what she had said in the graveyard—she probably thought she was acting as my father’s successor.
I felt sick. Would she contribute to my family’s legacy?
The Kingman is a traitor. Cut off his head.
“Oh my God,” High Noble Margaux said, covering her hand with her mouth. “The Emperor’s a woman. And so young at that… She can’t be much older than we are. A few years at most.”
“All of us High Nobles were told something completely different. Why did they keep the truth hidden?” Kai muttered. “Was it because she was a Sacrifice? Michael, Gwen, do either of you recognize her?”
Gwen stood perfectly straight, gripping my arm, her attention fully focused on the Emperor. I didn’t respond due to cowardice and the childish belief that if I didn’t acknowledge her, she would disappear.
It didn’t work.
The Emperor stopped at the top of the stairs and shouted, “Today is a historic day for the free states of Hollow! Your government has blamed me for everything these past seven years, but today they have failed to convict me! Two of my three judges have declined to convict me, the leader of an open rebellion against your king! Ask yourselves what else they have falsely been blaming the rebels for! The attack on the colosseum? The fall of Naverre? The burning of the Shrine of the Patron Victoria? The Farmlands Massacre? What other lies have they spread to advance their own ill-gotten delusions of grandeur? Seek the truth! Reject the lies they’ve fed to you!”
There were growing murmurs throughout the crowd as my friends and sister seethed next to me. I put my hands behind my head. Was I to blame for this? Had burning down the shrine destroyed the case against the Rebel Emperor? Or was she speaking the truth?
King Isaac stood in the doorway of the courthouse with his Ravens around him. He ran his hands through his frizzy red hair and then approached the Emperor as she continued to denounce other offenses she had been blamed for. The crowd had fallen silent, in awe of the scarred woman who seemed anything but a rebel mastermind.
“—lies and more lies! Don’t listen to what they say! Find the truth for yourself! The truth that David Kingman died for!” She paused as King Isaac walked past her and down the steps of the courthouse. The crowd remained silent, the only noise around was the sound of the king and his Ravens walking down the steps. Clap. Clap. Clap.
“This is the man you call your king! A coward who can’t even face the woman he longed to execute mere moments ago! A man who sends the young to die for a meaningless cause! Yet lets his only daughter lounge around her mother’s walled city on the Gold Coast and allows his remaining son to act like the city is his personal brothel! Is this the man we want to repres
ent us? A man who can’t even control his own children? A man who branded children for the crimes of their fathers? A man who has brought nothing but war to Hollow? And a man who has banned a new military weapon because he doesn’t like it? Can you not see this pathetic excuse for a man? Think about how much better we would do without him! There is no hope for Hollow with him in charge!”
King Isaac never stopped to address the Emperor. The Wardens parted for him and he, along with his Ravens, hopped into a waiting carriage. No one did anything to stop him. Not even the Emperor said anything else. King Isaac just left. He didn’t even have the courage to say anything in response… or maybe it was an act of bravery to walk away. I didn’t know.
Once King Isaac was out of sight, the Emperor continued her tirade. “I ask you to question everything! Don’t blindly follow the lies of this pathetic king that you all swear fealty to! Find the truth! The days of the Royals and the other High Noble families are over! This is our city! Our country! Our rebellion! Let’s take back what is ours!”
Kai tapped me on the shoulder. “We should go—we don’t want to be here if a riot starts.”
He was right. As much as I expected nothing to happen, it was hard to—
A gunshot rang out throughout the crowd.
Screams followed soon after as pandemonium came from the courthouse.
I looked toward the Emperor. She stood smiling at the top of the courthouse, watching all the citizens below her flee in terror. There was a rebel at the bottom of the steps with a bright red dot in the middle of his chest. Within moments Wardens had beheaded whoever had shot him.
How was she allowed to speak freely in front of the crowd? Why hadn’t they stopped her? What had happened in that courtroom that two people found her innocent of treason? And what was she after? If her target was the king, wouldn’t she have taken a shot at him when he passed? Had I misinterpreted her—