Marc spun around in a panicked circle. “Into the gallery! Hurry!”
They raced up the steps in single file. Kirk made for the door at the back of the gallery, but Marc waved his hands in the air, motioning for them to hide behind the last row of chairs. The sound of a key scraping through a lock below confirmed there was no time to make a dash for safety. Not without being caught. Kirk dove to the floor beside Marc and Otho just as the main chamber door flew open. The bang of wood against stone helped conceal Kirk’s gasp.
His mind whirled with a thousand terrible questions.
What if we’ve been betrayed? What if someone is here to arrest us? Will they interrogate us first or just kill us? Are they looking for us right now?
A furious voice cut through the air. “Steward, you promised swift change and thus far you’ve yet to deliver on that promise. Others on the High Council grow restless alongside me. You must know I’m not the only one who is displeased.”
Steward? Steward Neetra?
Kirk bit his lip. He wanted to peek around the chair, but his frozen limbs refused to cooperate. All he could do was stare at the dirty floor ahead and listen.
“I’m in full control of the situation, High Councilor,” a second man replied. “Change doesn’t happen overnight. I’m only one man, and now I have a war to oversee as well.”
The first man’s seething voice filled all corners of the chamber. “This war is part of the problem. Shiraz wouldn’t even be a concern if you’d already signed the agreement with—”
“That cannot happen while Deegan remains in line for the throne and Koal continues to sit on the council.”
Chairs scraped across the stone floor below as the two men sat at the table. Kirk did his best not to squirm. Were they getting out the crates? Would they notice the files had been pawed through?
“Well, out with it already, Neetra! What of Morathi’s latest report?”
“I received word the army will approach the border any day now. It would seem they’re on schedule, despite the added burden of the women who turned down the pardon.”
“An embarrassment to our country! We had an agreement the women soldiers wouldn’t march. They’ll only weaken our ranks and provide opportunity for the enemy to strike us down.”
Neetra let out a sniveling groan. “There wasn’t time to have the law overturned. You know as well as I do, Anders. I did what I could, given time constraints, by offering the pardon.”
“Morathi is livid. His humiliation will come at a high cost.”
“Morathi has his own charges to worry about while he’s gone. If he wants the threat of Radek rule eliminated then he knows what must be done.”
“No easy task with your brother underfoot! For all your promises of swift action, your weakness still shows through so long as Koal remains seneschal.”
Neetra took his time responding. “There is a specific plan of action. There always has been. Upsetting the plan now could have harsh repercussions. There’s only so much I can do without Koal figuring it out, and if that happens, we run the risk of him rallying the outlier councilors. Like it or not, he still holds a certain amount of power in this chamber.”
“Then maybe we need to alter our course of action. Arden is in chaos! Soon all the women will be in power and men will be running around in skirts. The lowborns will make the laws and respectable lords will be forced out of their homes! There’ll be no order. You have to do something!”
Kirk clamped his mouth shut to avoid voicing indignation. Beside him, Marc rolled his eyes, and when his somber gaze met Kirk’s, the young mage could tell the dean shared Kirk’s sentiment. He had heard stories, mostly from Joel, about this High Councilor Anders Malin-Rai, and apparently every word of it was true.
A small opening between the chair legs afforded Kirk a glimpse of the men below. Neetra scowled and stuck his pointed nose into the air. “You worry too much. It just so happens that I have my advisers looking over the laws now. Surely there will be something in there to correct all of this trouble Rishi Radek introduced.”
Anders slammed a fist on the tabletop. “That idiot changed the laws! He didn’t simply look the other way—”
“I tell you, your fretting is for naught. Soon there’ll be secrets coming to light which will discredit Radek for good. The dead king’s monsters will be his undoing. Once the people of Arden know how badly they’ve all been deceived, there’ll be no fighting the move to go back to our old ways—before the crown was ever placed on a foreign head.”
Kirk dared glance at his comrades. What did Neetra mean? What secrets had the King been keeping?
Otho’s furrowed brow indicated confusion, but Marc’s face had gone alabaster white. Kirk reached for the dean without thinking, only to be scolded by a single shake of the head.
“In the meantime,” Neetra said, “keep me informed about what the councilors disapprove of most, and I’ll see that arrangements are made to sate them.”
Anders pushed his chair away from the table. “Fine. I have to go now anyway. I still haven’t had time to clear all of my things from my office at Academy.”
“Yes, yes. Go get your belongings so no one will know how much whiskey you required to get through a day of teaching.”
“Don’t preach to me, Neetra Adelwijn. I’m no fool. Your monsters could be your undoing just as easily as Radek’s will be his.”
Neetra leapt to his feet and rushed to catch Anders. Kirk couldn’t see the Steward’s face, but his stride suggested nothing less than fury. A moment later the door slammed shut and the key rasped for a second time. Neetra’s shrill yell could be heard echoing down the outer corridor as the two men retreated.
Kirk exhaled. Was it possible he’d been holding his breath throughout the entire encounter? His lungs burned as though they were engulfed in flames, and his stomach felt knotted and unsettled. But at least he was safe. For the moment, they hadn’t been caught.
Otho was the first to move, all but jumping to his feet. “What the hell was that about?”
Kirk set one hand on the chair ahead as he rose, using the object to steady his shaking knees. “What were they talking about? What secrets was the King keeping?”
Marc refused to meet either of the underling’s expectant gazes. In four strides, he’d reached the balcony door and was ushering Kirk and Otho through. “We have to go to the royal suite. Now.”
A stiff breeze blew from the courtyard below. Diddy lifted his nose to the air, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. Did he smell smoke or was his troubled mind playing tricks on him again? A deep foreboding had taken up permanent residence in his heart, and he could no longer discern whether the frequent harbingers of doom were real or merely figments of his imagination.
“Ya ever smile anymore?”
Diddy jumped, startled, and spun around to face his stealthy guest. “Aodan! You nearly stopped my heart. Were you spying on me?” He tried to laugh at his own joke but couldn’t muster the strength.
Aodan sat upon the marble railing and swung both legs over the edge, allowing his boots to dangle precariously. The overcast sky threw shadows across the bodyguard’s grave features and sought to dampen the smoldering embers in his single eye, but the stubborn set of his jaw proved he wasn’t ready to quit fighting just yet—but he looked so damned tired.
“Yer on my balcony. Trespassing, really.”
“I’ll smile when you do. Father would want you to smile again.”
“Diddy,” Aodan warned. “Stop.”
Diddy clenched both hands around the stone balustrade and glared into the royal courtyard far below. “So this is it, then? Are we never going to speak of him again? Are we simply going to pretend he never existed?”
Letting out a groan, Aodan turned his back to Diddy. The pair lapsed into angry silence for a time, neither man willing to apologize first, until Diddy’s anger lost its bitter edge and he finally conceded.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you. It’s just that—
don’t you ever miss him?”
Aodan whipped around so fast Diddy reached for the bodyguard, fearing he might fall to his death, despite the impossibility of such a thing. The pain etched across his weary face made Diddy recoil. Had he pushed Aodan too far this time?
“Do I ever miss him?” Aodan threw his hands into the air. “I’m the one who failed him! And now look at what’s happening! That clown’s on the throne, and Deegan’s in the direct path of harm. Not to mention so are Koal, Hasain, and Tular! And all the while, I’m trapped here in this stone cage. So much fer my vows! I might as well be dead.”
“Don’t say such things! Mother and Gudrin need you—especially Guddy. What would she do without you? Aodan, we love you. You know that, don’t you?”
“Aye. A bunch of fools, the lot of you.”
Diddy’s response was cut short when Gudrin scampered onto the balcony.
“Marc’s here!” the princess chirped. “NezReth is letting him in!”
Aodan was on his feet and rushing through the open doorway before Diddy could even get his scattered thoughts together. Pushing down feelings of dread, he hoped against hope for good news. Perhaps Marc had found something useful to use against Neetra. Maybe they wouldn’t have to take the next—and much more risky—step. Absently, Diddy slipped a hand into his pocket, clenching the cold, iron key within.
“Come on!” Gudrin yanked so hard on his arm Diddy swore he heard his elbow pop. “Let’s go.”
“Guddy,” he scolded without any real conviction. “Be careful.”
Gudrin gazed up at him with large, remorseful eyes, and with a sigh, Diddy patted her shoulder, unable to truly be upset. It wasn’t her fault she often forgot her own strength. She was only a little girl, after all. Diddy couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have to hide all the time.
Beyond the terrace, Diddy heard the thump of a door closing as, presumably, Marc was ushered inside. Voices spoke back and forth in the receiving room. Diddy couldn’t make out Marc’s words, but the dean’s tone suggested urgency.
Gudrin tilted her head to one side, listening. “Something about Neetra. Something bad.”
Diddy took a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst, and together, he and Gudrin went to see what news their ally had brought.
Inside the suite, both NezReth and Aodan stood before a very flustered Marc. The dean’s disheveled hair and pallid complexion seemed proof enough that something was wrong. Diddy’s thoughts immediately flew to his younger brother, hundreds of leagues away by now. Had Marc received news about Deegan? Had something happened to him?
“I’m telling you,” Marc gasped. “This is serious. I didn’t have time to leave them behind!”
Them?
Diddy blinked as he noticed for the first time that Marc’s underlings, Kirk and Otho, stood just inside the door. Instinctively, his grip tightened around Gudrin’s hand. What were they doing here? Surely they weren’t trusted wholly yet—especially the Imperial mage. Had Marc gone completely mad? Why had he brought them here?
“This is a most serious breach of protocol, Marc,” NezReth said. “Your underlings shouldn’t be here.”
“They’re our allies, NezReth. Kirk helped you escape Teivel, and we’ve all known Otho since he was a child. Besides, they overheard the exact same thing as I. They just don’t understand the full implication. There’s no reason not to trust them.”
“Aye?” Aodan strode back and forth across the suite, never once taking his fierce gaze off Marc. “Because it’s not like anything suspicious has come to pass since the arrival of the Imperial.”
“Joel entrusted Kirk to me. Joel Adelwijn. You know him as well as I do.”
Aodan’s voice climbed higher. “Joel is a whelp, barely outgrown his milk teeth. I have no question about Joel’s heart, but his judgment is lacking.”
“Enough.” It was Dahlia who finally put an end to the argument. She sat upon a lounge near the back of the suite, barely more than a shadow herself. Diddy often worried for her. His mother’s health had been on a steady decline since the King’s death.
“They’re already here,” the Queen Mother continued. “They’ve already passed through the checkpoints. Will it not look more suspicious if they leave on their own, and so soon? As it is, Neetra will surely pay us a visit later, anyway, to inquire about our company, so let’s make this meeting worth the scrutiny, shall we?”
Letting out a frustrated huff, Aodan slumped down onto the lounge beside Dahlia, but Diddy remained unconvinced. He watched the two underlings with a shrewd eye. They hadn’t even bothered to remove their boots by the door. Proper form told him to stay quiet, but he so badly wanted to speak up and demand they follow the rules.
“All right,” Aodan said, folding his arms over his chest. “Out with it then. Why are ya here?”
Marc’s hands trembled as he spoke. “There was an opportunity today to get into the empty council room. The three of us snuck inside and went through the documentation kept there, looking for anything that might help us prove Neetra’s election was rigged.”
Dahlia’s voice lifted. “Any luck?” It was the first time Diddy could recall his mother sounding optimistic since Rishi’s death.
Marc waved a hand, dismissing—and likely dashing—her hope. “Some, but that’s not what this is about. While we were there, Neetra and Anders Malin-Rai came into the chamber. We weren’t caught. We managed to put everything back and hide up in the balcony before they got the door unlocked, but we overheard some troubling news.”
Marc hesitated, almost as if it pained him to continue, but Dahlia pressed him for more. “Tell us what you heard, Marc.”
“Anders was complaining that there are men on the council who are displeased with Neetra for not making radical change happen sooner. He said Neetra was going to have hell to pay if he couldn’t get the results the others were looking for. And that’s when Neetra said something along the lines of “Morathi has his own charges. If he doesn’t want a Radek to rule then he needs to take action.””
Aodan recoiled as if he’d just received a slap across the face. “What?”
“There’s more. He also said something like, “the dead king’s monsters will be his undoing. When everyone knows how badly the country has been deceived by the Radek bloodline, the people will embrace a new ruler.” I think Neetra means to discredit Rishi. It sounds like he knows more than he should.”
Diddy’s heart pounded as he clutched his sister’s hand. Did Neetra suspect the truth? Their family secrets had always been wrapped tight, but there were never any guarantees someone wouldn’t figure everything out, no matter how careful they tried to be.
In the window, Dahlia gasped. Aodan held her against his shoulder. “What do we do now? We can’t just let the bastard take the next step!”
NezReth had already crossed the suite and was pulling parchment and ink from inside a writing desk. “Koal needs to be notified. Immediately. He will keep Deegan safe.”
“That’s not good enough!” Aodan jumped to his feet once more, pacing as frantically as a captive animal. “I should just go out there with ’em. I could be there in two days, maybe less depending on how far they’ve gotten.”
“You can’t do it, Aodan,” Marc protested. “They’re close to the border. You’d be exhausted. And you’d have no reason to be there—no logical excuse for how you arrived so quickly without being ported. Morathi would report back to Neetra. They’d know something was amiss, and he’d send someone after you. You’d be too tired to defend yourself, let alone Deegan and the others. You’d only be putting them at greater risk.”
“I can’t just sit here on my arse and do nothing!”
“You can’t go.”
Aodan growled, a low, dreadful sound that filled the entire room. Diddy braced himself. Aodan wouldn’t forsake his secret now, would he?
Out of the corner of his eye, Diddy watched the Imperial mage draw a sharp breath and back clumsily toward the door. Otho grasped the em
pty space at his waist where a hilt would lie, had he been carrying a sword. Diddy’s heart ached within his chest. Was this all there was left for his family? Suspicion? Distrust? Hatred?
Marc waved both hands in the air. “Calm down, Aodan. Look, I’m just trying to help you. You have to trust me.”
Diddy bit his lip and could feel Gudrin’s hand tremble beneath his own. Both siblings knew even before Aodan lost his tentative grip on control that Marc had pushed the bodyguard too far.
Crimson from head to toe, Aodan whirled toward Marc, pointing savagely at the dean. “Rishi trusted you too! He trusted you right up until ya helped him for the final time! I don’t know how much more of your help this family or country can stand!”
“Aodan!” Dahlia gasped.
If Aodan heard her, he pretended he hadn’t. Diddy was glad for it. His mother meant well, but it was high time someone said the truth, wasn’t it? For all of Marc’s good intentions, he fell terribly short when it came to actually being helpful.
The dean looked like he might curl up and die right then and there—and it would have been a lie to say Diddy didn’t enjoy the possibility at all. A part of him knew, deep down, Marc had never intended to hurt Rishi, but intentions aside, the king was dead because of Marc’s lapse in judgment.
Marc stared into the distance, as if he could see something the others couldn’t, and a tear slipped down his cheek without hindrance. “You know I didn’t mean for anything to happen to Rishi, don’t you? I would never intentionally harm him.”
Aodan’s expression twisted back and forth between rage and sorrow. “Intentional or not, ya killed him. He trusted you and you failed him!”
“I’ve apologized. I’ve said it over and over again until I’m blue in the face. I can’t take back what happened. Don’t you know I wish I could? I wish every day I could go back to that moment and realize what was in the vial before I gave it to him. It should have been a remedy for the flu. I don’t know how—”
“It doesn’t matter how! It was your job to check the damned thing before ya gave it to him!”
“I know!” Tears streamed down Marc’s cheeks. “I know I failed him! I know no amount of apologizing can ever undo what I’ve done but please—Aodan, we were friends once. We’re still friends, aren’t we?”
Battle Dawn: Book Three of the Chronicles of Arden Page 15