by C. A. McHugh
“Who says I’m convinced?” She turned on her heel and followed the other members, her nose up in the air.
Aerrin slid down in his chair. “I failed, Master Binnius. Miserably.”
“No, you did not. They believe what they want to believe, and as Lord McCoolin said, they want cold, hard evidence.” He studied Aerrin before asking, “Why didn’t you tell me about the new amulet?”
“Raimel showed it to me last night. I had the strangest sensation when I held it. Cold and helpless, yet at the same time, it seemed to burn something deep inside of me.”
Binnius remained silent. He tapped his fingers together and continued to watch him with what looked like concern. “I spoke with Ceryst this morning. And before you ask, yes, he was freed from the King of Thieves unharmed. He and Raimel have been busy enlisting the help of some rather unusual allies to hunt for the Raven Bringer, and the King of Thieves has been busy killing a rising amount of demons over the last few months.”
“Why did Raimel neglect to tell me any of that?”
“Because it only confirms what we already know.”
“Why didn’t you say something about that at the meeting?”
“Do you really think they would have believed me?”
Aerrin banged his fist on the table. “I should’ve taken that amulet from Raimel when I had the chance. Maybe then they would have believed me.”
“We cannot depend on the Privy Council for help. They are men and women of the nobility, and their view of things is, I’m afraid to say, very narrow. And as Lord de Sauvegny mentioned, all of them believe the Raven Bringer was killed at Innishmore. Even I thought this until the first attempt was made on your life. They are stubborn, Your Majesty, and they have lived a lie for over fifteen years. You cannot expect them to change overnight.”
“But how can you bear to have them call you a demented old fool and question your judgment?”
Binnius laughed softly. “They have been calling me that for years. If I remember correctly, they called me that sixteen years ago when I warned them the first time of the Raven Bringer. This time, however, I am determined that my king will not fall victim to the Servant of Zelquis. I am watching you, even when you don’t realize it, and I have many other eyes looking out for you besides Ceryst and Raimel.”
As Master Binnius’s words sank in, a stab of fear sank into Aerrin’s heart, but then the fact it still beat calmed him. Yes, he had been saved once again, but now his paranoia had doubled. Would there be a day where he wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder, expecting an assassin to jump out from the shadows and kill him? Or a day without hearing another report of his people being slaughtered by the Raven Bringer?
Aerrin stretched his arms out on the table and laid his head on them. It was his sixteenth birthday, and already it was off to a miserable start.
Master Binnius rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, but what he really needed was the calming spell Seroney had used on months ago, when he first met her. Perhaps he could convince her to cast it again just so he could make it through the day.
“Ease your mind,” the headmaster. “You’re safe now, and even though I don’t particularly care for the Duchess of Edensdowne, I agree with her that you should enjoy your birthday.” He paused and his voice gained a conspiratorial tone. “Or at least pretend to after all the planning that has gone into it.”
Leandros stuck his head through the door. “What are you still doing here? The tournament’s about to start.” When Aerrin didn’t move, he frowned. “I guess things didn’t go the way you wanted them to.”
Aerrin lifted his head up. “Not even close.”
Master Binnius patted him on the back and coaxed him out of the chair. “I think Leandros has a wonderful idea. Let’s take our minds off this for a few hours. I heard that Sir Mitis Fawklund declined to participate in this year’s events, so there will be a new champion today.”
“No!” Leandros stared at him with wide eyes. “He’s the best knight in the kingdom. Why didn’t he come?”
“He claimed there were more important matters to attend to.” Master Binnius shrugged as if it were no big deal, but Aerrin wondered if there was more to the story than the old man was telling him.
Leandros tugged on his arm. “Let’s go before we miss any of it.”
“You two go ahead. I need a few minutes to myself before I play king to the crowd.”
Leandros and Master Binnius exchanged a look, then left him alone in the council chambers.
The portrait of his father hanging over the large fireplace seemed to beckon him. Did he have as much trouble convincing the Privy Council about the Raven Bringer? Did he even know? Or care? Did he ever feel the same fear for his life? Aerrin’s fingers grazed the paint as he looked at the smiling man staring back from the portrait. It was times like these that he ached for the father he never knew.
The sound of trumpets followed by the blast of fireworks outside signaled the beginning of the celebration. He would have to wait for Seroney’s calming spell. Right now, he was due at the royal box to politely applaud men who bloodied each other’s noses for his supposed entertainment.
“Was it ever this difficult for you, Father?”
The portrait only smiled in return, and Aerrin sighed. He wanted to return to the Academy.
Now more than ever.
Chapter 18
Raimel dashed down the city streets, ignoring the festivities that had clogged the streets moments before, and cast an anchoring spell on the demon ahead, but he was too late. The king’s messenger lay dead in a pool of his own blood, his throat ripped out.
That’s four, he thought grimly. Frustration burned through his veins. No matter how much he and Ceryst tried to save the royal messengers, they were always three steps behind.
The demon turned and hissed. A typical krimpus—basically, an overgrown imp with horns who probably would’ve blinked back into the Shadow Realm as soon as he’d finished his mission if Raimel hadn’t trapped him here. But to the innocent citizens of Dromore who hadn’t seen a demon in over fifteen years, it was enough to incite screams of panic.
Raimel rolled his eyes and pulled both of his short swords from the scabbards crisscrossing his back. “You’re even uglier than the others.”
The demon grinned and raised his elongated hands, each tipped with razor-sharp claws.
“And stupid,” Raimel added. “No weapons.”
The demon charged at him.
The easiest way to deal with the demon would be to blink out of his way and then ambush him. But since he had an audience, Raimel used his quick reflexes to his advantage instead. He rolled out of the way, running the demon through from behind with his left sword. Then he lopped off its head with the right.
Two seconds later, the demon was nothing more than a fireball in the center of the street.
Raimel sheathed his swords and cursed. It didn’t matter how easy the demons were to kill. They’d already done what they’d been ordered to do.
Keep all the royal messengers from ever leaving the city.
He returned to the spot where he’d last seen Ceryst.
The knight was hiding in the shadows near the Temple of Dailibus, the god of duty, and reading a letter. “Catch him?” he asked without looking up.
“Kind of.”
Ceryst scowled. “Do you have any idea what’s in these letters?”
“I already drew too much attention to myself by slaughtering several demons in the streets. I didn’t want to add theft of the royal mail to my list of crimes.”
“Then you should take a look at this.” Ceryst handed him the letter signed by Aerrin to a general in Akershire, instructing him to report any demonic activity. “Aerrin’s trying, but someone is trying to stop him.” He cracked his knuckles. “Someone who knew about the letters.”
Raimel shook his head. “He once bragged that he had servants everywhere, but this…”
“Aerrin needs to know.” Ceryst lowered
his hood and stepped out from his hiding place, but Raimel pushed him back.
“Think you can just waltz into the palace and deliver the news? Don’t forget you still have a price on your head.”
“I can use the tunnels.”
“True, but it’s Aerrin’s birthday, and he’ll be partying until the wee hours of the morning. How fast do you want him to get the news?”
Ceryst stared at him. “Got a better suggestion?”
“Naturally.” He rubbed his hands together, a fresh plot already forming. “Just leave it all to me.”
Chapter 19
Aerrin frowned in front of the mirror and tugged at his doublet. He must have grown since they took the measurements for his garments.
A single knock came from outside the door before Leandros walked in. With a low whistle, he gave his opinion on Aerrin’s outfit. “You look awful.”
He fell back on his bed with a groan. “Thanks.”
Leandros sat next to him. “Haven’t you ever wondered why I always look so good?”
“Not really, but come to think of it, I am jealous that your clothes at least fit properly.”
“Stand up. You’ve got to trust me on this. I’ve done this a hundred times before.”
“You don’t sound very convincing.” But Aerrin did as he was told.
“It’s a simple spell my brothers taught me, but I’ve never actually done it on someone other than myself. Ready?”
Aerrin closed his eyes and nodded. A blast of magic hit him, and his clothes loosened in all the areas where they were too tight and became more fitted in the areas they were too loose.
When he opened his eyes, Leandros was nodding. “Not too bad, if I may say so myself. At least the color suits you better. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lady Sirona had a hand in that pale blue nonsense you had on before.”
Aerrin faced the mirror again, this time with relief. Not only did his clothes fit perfectly now, they had deepened into a shade of blue that matched his eyes, accented by gold embroidery. It gave him the dose of confidence he so desperately needed. He was actually eager to go to his birthday ball now. “Shall we go get the girls?”
“Girls? As in both of them?” They left his room and walked down the corridor to the girls’ room.
“Yeah. Seroney talked Nyssa into going tonight.”
Leandros cursed. “I suppose I’ll have to escort Nyssa since you’ll be wanting Seroney all to yourself. Maybe Nyssa will let me use the same spell on her so she doesn’t look like a peasant.”
“That’s the very reason she’s never attended any of the royal functions when she’s here. She’s well aware that she’s an outsider, and she’s terrified about what some of the snotty nobles would say about her. After listening to you, I think she has every reason to feel that way. But I won’t allow that to happen. You’re going to be nice to her, and you’re going to escort her to the ball, and that’s the last I want to hear of it.”
Leandros scowled. “Only because it’s your birthday,” he muttered.
“Be nice.” Aerrin elbowed Leandros in the ribs just before he knocked on the door, signaling to his friend to do a better job of hiding his displeasure.
The door opened, and a strange girl stood in the doorway. She was dressed in a shimmering gold gown that rivaled anything he’d seen in court, and her red hair gleamed like polished copper down her back. But when she smiled at them, he recognized the friend he’d known for years.
“Is it them, Nyssa?” Seroney called from within.
Aerrin was shocked, but not nearly as much as Leandros was. His friend pointed at Nyssa with his mouth hanging open as if he had lost all control over it. “Nyssa?”
“Shut your mouth, Leandros. You look like a fish.”
Seroney appeared behind Nyssa, and Aerrin’s attention was immediately drawn to her. Nyssa was sparkling like gold tonight, but Seroney had chosen a far more demure look. A few curls had escaped her hairpins and framed her face or trailed down her neck. Her unadorned dress matched the emerald in the amulet around her neck and her eyes, but unlike most of the Elgean court fashions, the long sleeves of her dress were slit along the sides, allowing him a glimpse of her lithe arms. The neckline was cut to a V-shape, revealing the tops of her shoulders, but otherwise, it was plain and modest.
In other words, something fancy enough to blend in without drawing too much attention to herself.
“May I escort you to the ball?” Leandros offered his arm to Nyssa, which she eagerly took. “By the way, you look very pretty tonight. Beautiful, actually.”
“Thank you, Leandros,” she murmured as they walked away, her cheeks flushed.
“My lady?” Aerrin bowed and offered Seroney his arm.
Even though her hand lightly rested on his arm just below his elbow, the touch sent a small shiver down his spine.
She was being cautious.
Almost too cautious.
And with the extra members of the Royal Guard trailing behind him, he didn’t want to risk asking why and exposing her.
They walked several yards behind Nyssa and Leandros, each step adding to the awkward nervous churning in his stomach. “May I ask what you did to her?” he whispered to keep his mind occupied.
“Nothing too much. I lent her a dress and some jewelry and helped with her hair and makeup. She’d mentioned to me that she had never gone to a ball here at the palace. When I asked her why, she confided in me that she was worried she would stand out as a commoner and embarrass you.”
“Nyssa would never embarrass me.”
“I know, but it’s a bit harder to convince her of that. So we started by reviewing courtly manners and a few dance steps. Then I let her have her pick of what I brought with me. I did have to use a little spell so my dress would fit her, though, since she’s a bit taller than me. But overall, I think I did a good job,” Seroney continued without changing her tone. “She looks both confident and lovely, doesn’t she?”
He nodded.
She glanced at him and lowered her voice. “How did the meeting with the Privy Council go?”
“Not as well as I had hoped. They refused to believe me.”
Her hand slipped off his arm, and she faced him. “They refused?”
He looked around to make sure no one overheard her before taking her hand and tucking it back around his arm. “Please, let’s keep this quiet for now.”
“But we can’t keep quiet forever.”
“My thoughts exactly.” He sighed and dropped his voice to a whisper that only she would hear. “Master Binnius says that they have spent too many years believing a lie, and I’m scared they won’t believe the Raven Bringer has returned until he attacks Dromore again. What makes matters worse is that Raimel and the Lone Wolf stopped another assassin from killing me yesterday. I had the proof I needed in my hands last night, but Raimel refused to give it to me.”
Seroney grew pale, and her hands trembled. At first, he thought it was from fear—until she erupted into what sounded like a string of expletives in Elvish.
He clamped his hand over her mouth. “Careful.”
He lifted his hand.
“Those arrogant, fat, lazy—”
He silenced her again. “Seroney.”
His caution quieted her, and the tremor in her hands subsided. This time, when he removed her hand, she stared at the floor, her fury now restrained. “I’m sorry, Aerrin. I’m just so scared that they’re going to refuse to act until it’s too late, and I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”
His heart thudded so loudly that he wondered if she heard it as well. He was frightened, too, but as king, he couldn’t show his fear.
He gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not as dismal as it sounds. They agreed to investigate the sightings and the murders. Letters are being sent out as we speak to troops in each duchy. We’ll make them believe us. I promise.”
She met his gaze and nodded, even though the doubt still lingered in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
/> “Stop apologizing. The Royal Guard is searching the city for any suspicious men, and we’ve increased their number here in the palace. We also have the Lone Wolf and Raimel doing their own hunts. We’ve done all that we can do for the moment, so let’s try to enjoy tonight’s fun.” His voice sounded too cheery to be genuine to him, but he tucked her hand back around his arm and began walking again.
She slipped into pensive silence for a minute before asking him about the fighters’ tournament. But when he described it, her eyes glazed, and she played with her necklace as though her mind were elsewhere.
“Seroney, are you even listening?”
“Huh?” She looked at him and blinked a few times. “I was listening. You were talking about the hand-to-hand combat and how Lord Searcy dropped his shield.”
“I did—about two minutes ago. What’s on your mind?”
“Too much. I’m still angry, and I’m even more worried about the idea of demons being in the city. I want to act, not pretend everything is fine.”
“But what can we do? Even with your abilities, you know better than to take him on alone.”
A rueful smile twitched upon her lips as though she’d considered the idea.
Time to put an end to that notion. He needed her to continue her lessons. “We can’t be expected to fight the Raven Bringer by ourselves. We need the help of others if we’re to succeed.”
She gazed at him with a defiant lift of her chin. Then her expression changed to one of acceptance. “You’re right.”
“I am,” he replied softly, his shoulders sagging from the weight of responsibility that being king made him bear, “and I’m doing the best I can, but today’s my birthday, and it’s already off to a rotten start, so please distract me from all this.”
She gave his arm a small squeeze that echoed the sympathetic smile on her face. Then her gaze traveled beyond him. “Is that your father?”
He turned to see what she was walking about.
It was a portrait of his father and uncles. Like the portrait in the council chambers, the dead seemed to smile down on him with a cheerfulness that had yet to experience the darkness that destroyed them. His father looked to be his age in the other portrait.