The Kingdom of Liars

by Nick Martell

  “Welcome back, Michael,” she said.

  Finally, I saw the girl in red for who she was. High Noble Danielle Margaux, known as Dawn to her friends and family, stood in front of me, smiling. That smile she always had since we were children. The first time I had seen it, I was in her room, trying to make her laugh as she lay in bed all day because of her legs. In that moment, staring at Dawn in my parents’ room, reminiscing about our childhood, my memories returned to me, and I remembered.

  I remembered Dawn lying in bed as I told her stories of the adventures I had gone on, and the smile she always gave me when I came to visit, and how much it meant to her when I did. In her youth, her legs were frail and the bones would break easily, and only learning how to use Fabrications gave her freedom to move without worry. But always at a price: one day she’d be forced to choose between her freedom and her memories. Her distinct smile was born in those days of sickness and would remain with her for the rest of her life.

  I remembered Kai, shy and clumsy, always running after his big sisters. How I had been there to pick him up when he fell, and knew how much I had hurt him when I didn’t remember him after all those years of friendship. Then I remembered the real reason of how he had gone blind, using his Sound Fabrications to cover the entire city to find me and my siblings during the riots following my father’s execution. His sacrifice had saved my life, and then I forgot him so easily. Even after I had hurt him so much, he stayed true to me, always at my side whenever I needed him.

  I remembered Kingman Keep in its splendor and grandeur.

  The cooks who would give me pastries when I came lurking for them in the morning as the bread came out of the ovens. The guardsmen’s dogs, who jumped in the river and made the keep smell like wet fur, and the parties we used to hold, and the stuffy clothes that I was made to wear for them. My brother who always talked to the knights, ready to become a leader in his own right. My crybaby sister and how she used to cling to our mother’s legs. The princess and her voice that stole my heart as a boy, and King Isaac ruffling my hair and saying he couldn’t wait to see the man I would become as my father looked on, a smile on his face.

  Lastly, I remembered Davey Hollow, not in words or images, but by the tears that came when I thought of him. The day he died, Lyon, Gwen, and I lost our brother.

  Dawn wrapped her arms around me and hugged me. I wiped my eyes on my forearm and let my focus return to the balcony, watching the scene unfold with a newfound warmth. It was time for the truth I had been hunting for.

  My eight-year-old self pushed open the balcony’s doors. “Da?”

  My father looked at him with his eyes red and puffy. “Michael?” He sniffed and wiped the tears away from his eyes. “Michael, what are you doing up so late?”

  My younger self yawned. “I heard you yelling at someone.”

  “Oh, Michael, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was just talking to my friend here. Shadom—I mean… Domet, apologize for bothering him.”

  Charles Domet sipped on his glass of wine, glaring at my father. “I apologize, Michael. I didn’t think we could be heard up here.” He looked the same as the last time I had seen him. He hadn’t aged a single day. But of course he hadn’t: He was immortal.

  “My window was open.”

  “Ah, that explains it. All right, Michael, since we’re being loud, here’s the plan: you’re going to stay with the Margauxs tonight while we work. I’m sure Dawn would love the company.”

  “Yeah!”

  “I’m glad,” he said, ruffling my hair. “Domet, could you get Sir Tristin Harbour to take Michael over to Margaux Keep? He should be downstairs. Before you ask, I trust him with my life. He won’t question his orders, and he won’t mention seeing you here tonight. He’d sooner die for me and my family than betray us.”

  Domet rose from his seat, leaving his wolf’s-head cane behind. “I trust your judgment. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. But I will bring back another bottle of wine. I’m still rather thirsty.”

  My father scoffed at him as he walked away and mussed up my messy brown hair.

  “Da? What’s going on?”

  “It’s nothing to worry about, Michael. High Noble Domet was just warning me that evil men might try to hurt Davey tomorrow.”

  “You’re going to stop them, right? You’re going to save Davey?” my younger self asked, bright-eyed and innocent.

  “Of course,” he said. “I always have. And always will. It’s what our family does.”

  My younger self hugged my father’s chest, content. “Do you think I’ll be a good Kingman?”

  “You will, Michael. There will be some days you hate it and other days when you can’t imagine your life any other way, but either way you’ll see all the good our family does for the world and smile. Even if you spend a lot of time negotiating marriages and territory claims with High Nobles, reminding the Royal you’re bound to who they’re addressing, or listening to merchants bicker about taxes. It’s a lot of responsibility, and our legacy doesn’t exactly allow room for mistakes. Eyes are always watching us.”

  “I don’t care!” my younger self declared confidently. “I’ll be the best Kingman there ever was! Better than the Conqueror or the First Kingman! Don’t worry, Da. My name will go down in history as a hero. Just like you.”

  My father laughed at me. “I’ve long since stopped caring about my legacy, Michael. You and your siblings and mother are the only things I care about. I’d sacrifice everything to protect you. One day you’ll understand there is more to life than the Kingman legacy. It’ll probably take a woman and a child to teach you that, but one day you’ll understand.”

  My younger self didn’t exactly agree, but he didn’t protest either. I knew what was in my head back then: dreams of fighting wars and dying heroically as my ancestors had done before me. Kingman rarely lived long, but history always remembered us, and as a child that had seemed more important than anything else.

  “Michael, can you get me that cane over there?”

  I did as I was told and brought Domet’s cane to my father. He held it in front of me so the wolf’s black eyes were level with my own. As my younger self was focused on the eyes, my father formed a pitch-black ball in his own palm. A Darkness Fabrication. “I’m sorry, Michael. This is just a precaution,” he said to himself. “I can’t have you going around talking about what you overheard in case the assassin gets wind of it and changes their plan. I’ll reverse it tomorrow, but, for tonight, a part of your memories will be sealed away.”

  He put it behind my ear and I watched it seep into my head. Once the Darkness Fabrication was gone, the wolf’s eyes turned red. “Magic! Impressive, right?”

  My younger self was astonished. “How’d you do that?”

  My father ruffled my hair and put me back on his lap. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

  I held out my hand and then closed it. The scene stopped, frozen in time in my mind.

  I was crying, and I hadn’t even realized. “He was innocent,” I said. “He used a Darkness Fabrication on me to protect me and planned to reverse it the next day. But because he never did, I couldn’t remember Dawn, who was named at this event. The Darkness Fabrication must’ve taken away any connection to this memory that it could find. Maybe that was why I couldn’t remember Kai, either, since he was another one of my childhood friends. The Darkness Fabrication kept taking and taking anything that might lead me back to this memory. All of that pain in my life… all the pain I caused because I couldn’t remember… all because my father was trying to protect me from someone trying to assassinate Davey.”

  I howled with laughter. “And Domet knew. He knew about the plot against Davey Hollow and sent my father to deal with it. But… something must’ve gone wrong. The assassin succeeded and ended up getting my father in addition to the prince. Or maybe it was all a part of his scheme. Maybe Domet was in on it. Or maybe the assassin used him to get to my father.”

  “But n
ow you remember,” Dawn said behind me. She hadn’t let go of me the entire time we had been watching the scene on the balcony. “All it took was for the truth to come out.”

  My truth. Every lie I had told had clouded my mind to the truth. But now I remembered.

  I closed my eyes, took a breath, and then let it out slowly. There wasn’t any darkness or light waiting for me this time. Just a new view on life.

  My life was finally my own again.

  THE LAST ACT OF MICHAEL KINGMAN

  I awoke to the smell of pepper and oil frying in a pan and then heard the sizzle that came when meat was added. I swung my legs over the edge of the divan and rubbed my eyes. My body was tight and everything cracked when I moved. Half-eaten plates and half-full glasses of water were piled up on the table in front of me. Everything around me looked opulent. It wasn’t a jail cell. But there weren’t always bars in a prison. Some cells were less obvious.

  Someone off in the kitchen began to sing. They were terrible, hitting every note in a shriek. I didn’t recognize the voice, which was a relief. No one I knew would sing like that in public. I paused. How had I escaped from the king’s suite without being arrested or killed? Had someone else known about the secret entrance through the Star Chamber after all?

  Footsteps moved toward me. I lowered my head and tried to zone out my focus. I didn’t want whoever had me to think I was back to normal yet. No, not until I knew what was going on.

  Someone sat in the chair opposite me. I could only see their scuffed shoes and the plate of peppered pork and toast placed in front of me. “Good morning, Michael!” Charles Domet exclaimed. “I prepared another amazing meal for you. I hope you enjoy it more than the others. I’m positive that this will be the one that you fall in love with and demand I make it for you for every meal.”

  I was in Charles Domet’s house. Of course I was. It was always him.

  I raised my eyes to look at him as he lifted a glass of wine to his lips and knew he would take a sip from it. Typical. I needed to find out why and how he had saved me. That had to have been him leading me out of the castle. Why had he done that? And how had he found me? There were so many questions I still needed the answer to.

  “Well? Do you like it?” Domet asked.

  I took a bite out of the pork and then swallowed. He was on the edge of his seat, waiting for an answer.

  “If I don’t,” I began, “are you just going to continue to lie to me about my father and what happened with Davey?”

  “Michael? What are you talking about? I—”

  “I remember the night on the balcony with my father. I remember you, Domet.” I spat out his name. “Why bother lying to me? You knew my father was innocent because you were Shadom. You told him about the assassination attempt.”

  Domet put his glass down on the table. “I did what I thought was right at the time.”

  “Why am I here? How did you get me here? The last thing I remember is…” I paused, thinking of Isaac and the gun and the bang it made. “…what happened on the balcony.”

  “Aren’t you interested to hear what happened to your father? I thought—”

  I looked up from the plate of food. “Nothing you tell me is going to bring Davey or my father or the king back to life. All I want is to make sure my friends and family are safe. The truth won’t protect them. Tell me what happened after the shot.”

  Domet traced his finger around the rim of his glass. “They’ve been looking for you everywhere. Advocators are knocking down doors, the Ravens are interrogating people, the Corrupt Prince is making moves to claim the throne, and the princess is out for your blood. You are the most wanted criminal this country has seen since your father.”

  “Are my friends and family well?”

  “The nobles are protected by their families. Scales has Angelo, who knows nothing. The only ones who are in any real danger are Lyon and Gwen.”

  “Are they going to come after them?”

  Domet paused, hand shaking as he tried to hold the glass. “Only if they can’t find you.”

  I nodded and began to eat slowly, cherishing the crunch of the buttered bread and the salt from the meat. Even the water was wonderfully cold and crisp. I couldn’t help but wonder about Naomi. Even on the terms we were on, would she be blamed for being associated with me? Would she be safe? Would she still have her job? It was strange: I worried about her, even knowing how she had manipulated me. And then there was Omari. I asked Domet about him.

  “Sirash?” he asked, repeating the name. “No, he’s not under arrest. Why would he be?”

  I sighed in relief. He must’ve escaped, and maybe, if I was lucky, they would blame me for that murder, too. If they even cared to bring it up in the trial. They might have learned from their mistakes with the Emperor’s trial. But if he was safe—if they all were—nothing else mattered.

  “Don’t worry about them,” Domet said. “They’ll be safe. After I get you out of Hollow, I can get them, too. I’ll send all of you somewhere else. Somewhere far away from Hollow and all its politics. Somewhere you’ll be safe from the princess, the Corrupt Prince, the Ravens, and all of the High Nobles.”

  “They would still come after us. If I run, they’ll just find others to blame. This has to end with me.”

  “I’ll protect you.”

  I looked up at him. His hands were laid out on the table, shaking slightly. The glass of wine was untouched. He hadn’t taken a single sip yet.

  “Why haven’t you asked me if I killed the king?”

  “I know you didn’t. As I knew your father didn’t kill Davey Hollow.”

  “You know that for certain? King Isaac sounded quite confident of his guilt.”

  “He had to, to live with sentencing his best friend and right-hand man to death.”

  Maybe it was my fault that the king killed himself. All he needed was that little bit of doubt. Leaning back on the couch, I said, “Why do you care what happens to me and my family? You’ve done nothing but make my life worse. You made me think my father was innocent, hid my friend’s imprisonment, and damned me from east to west in this city. Now you want to help me? Give me one good reason why I should believe anything you say. For all I know, this is just another one of your tricks.”

  “I’m the reason your father died,” Domet said without pause. “I’m responsible for him being in the Star Chamber when Davey was murdered, and I’m the one who told him not to warn the king or Ravens about it.” He gulped, looking down at the table. “I learned that Davey was in danger from some… one I created accidentally, generations ago. I warned your father; I thought it was the smartest way to deal with it—to warn the man to protect the Royals. That’s why I was there that evening. Telling him what I had done. Apologizing. But I underestimated the assassin: he took advantage of what changed in his plans. Ended up getting a Royal and a Kingman as well. He was smarter than I ever imagined.”

  “If you knew who did it, why did you need me?” I asked. “Why drag me in?”

  “After your father, I tried something different. I had to create someone who would be able to stop him. I needed you or one of your siblings to be smarter, stronger, and a harder worker than anyone else around you. So I acted indirectly, trying to assess you all. Did you really think someone could put me in the asylum against my will? Or wonder why the wards were always pressing you for more money? It was a trick to get close to you and your family. I thought Gwen would be the one, initially, but she had already been claimed by another, and Lyon was already deeply ensnared in Hollow politics, so I focused on you, Michael. Everything I’ve done has been to ensure you have a chance—”

  “What do you mean, you created him?” I interrupted.

  Domet gulped again. “A long time ago I met a man and his son. I had been drinking and I thought they were harmless. The father figured himself an amateur historian and asked me questions about the secrets of the city—things that people usually attribute to long-forgotten myths. No one had ever wanted to talk ab
out them before, so I told him everything. But he didn’t talk of them like they were just stories. He believed they were real and asked me about immortality, how to bring someone back from the dead… and I told him what I knew.

  “At the end of the night, the father used a Darkness Fabrication on me—one stronger than I had ever seen before—to erase his face from my mind. All I remember is his eyes… those damn grey eyes. He left the conversation intact, though. As a twisted joke. He wanted me to remember everything I’d told him. And no matter what I do with Fabrications or drink, that conversation won’t leave my mind, and I relive it every night while I sleep. It’s like he wanted me to know how I had damned and twisted the rules of God again. I know he’s the one who planned the assassination. How many others could have conned me so easily?”

  “What was the man’s name?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Domet met my eyes. His were faded, weak, begging for forgiveness for what he had done. I couldn’t quite determine whether it was for the knowledge he had given away or what he had accidentally done to my family and its legacy. I had been overestimating him. Drinking didn’t make him careless; it was his strength. He was nothing without it.

  How pathetic.

  I couldn’t believe that I thought he had been in league with the person who had murdered Davey Hollow.

  “I was just a drunk old man who has lived too long. I didn’t see what I was really dealing with. I knew the first King of Hollow, and the First Kingman who stood by him against the Kings Who Came Before. I knew your father’s father, and his father’s father. I saw your family rise and I’ve witnessed every action they’ve ever taken to defend the crown and the Hollow Family. My arrogance blinded me. I hadn’t met someone I’ve feared like that since the Brothers. If I hadn’t indulged in drink so often, I could’ve—”

  “Shut up,” I said.

  Domet did, his eyes pink and puffy.

  “Enough excuses. We’re all responsible for our actions. Running away from them won’t help anyone. Complaining won’t change anything.” I laughed at myself as I rose to my feet, every bone in my body cracking and stiff. I was such a hypocrite, a series of contradictions.