Crown of Thieves

by Peyton Reynolds

  Aya felt her rage resurface at the inquiry. “Aharon will be departing alone,” she informed him. “Neco’s left me no choice.”

  “Oh?” Siris said.

  “He threatened Aharon. I can’t risk it.”

  The jester didn’t respond for a moment. “Perhaps it’s for the best, princess,” he then murmured quietly.

  She sent him a glare. “That’s hardly the point, Siris.”

  “Of course. Might I be of any further assistance?”

  She thought. While still plenty angry, the entirety of her fury had now shifted to Neco, leaving her somewhat desperate to speak with Aharon and assure him that she still had every intention of joining him in five years. She also felt it might be best to alert him to Neco’s threat.

  “I need to see Aharon,” she said, moving to rise.

  “Don’t bother visiting the dungeon,” Siris told her. “Captain Shai already released him.”

  She shot the jester a look of horror. “He’s gone? He was supposed to sneak off tomorrow, during the coronation ceremony!”

  “You honestly believe he would’ve left without seeing you?”

  Given how they’d left matters, she had to entertain the possibility. Aharon possessed many wonderful qualities, but forgiveness wasn’t one of them.

  “What are you saying?” she now insisted. “Where is he?”

  “In the tunnels,” the jester told her. “He was instructed to wait for a later hour before leaving his cell, but he claims to have grown impatient.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I was slinking about myself when I encountered him. He asked me to alert you to the fact that he’ll be along shortly, so don’t be startled by his presence.”

  Exhaling in relief, she threw a quick glance at the fireplace before looking back. “What is he doing?”

  “He asked me to gather a few items for him—some clothes, coin, and his sword—and at my suggestion, he’s presently tending to his cleanliness.” The man paused to wrinkle his nose. “The result of spending several days in a cell wasn’t flattering, neither in a visual nor odor-related sense.”

  “All right,” she nodded. “Thank you for your help, Siris.”

  He dipped into a slight bow before moving to exit. “Until tomorrow, highness. Sleep well.”

  Following his departure, Aya had nothing to do but wait. Eventually she dismissed Molli, sending the handmaiden off to bed, before settling on the sofa nearest the fireplace. A short time later, she heard the familiar sound of the latch being unclasped and quickly rose to her feet.

  “Aya?” Aharon’s voice ventured uncertainly.

  “What took you so long?” she hissed in return.

  He dragged himself into the hearth and sent her a cautious look. “I was a little worried you might set me on fire.”

  She shook her head and reached to help him to his feet, noting that he’d apparently taken Siris’s advice to heart; he looked a lot cleaner than he had earlier today, and had even made the effort to shave.

  “I’m not angry anymore,” she told him as he now straightened before her. “Or not at you, at least.”

  He looked surprised. “I’m relieved to hear that, but what possible force cooled your fury?”

  Frowning, she stepped back to the sofa and sank down. “It’s hasn’t cooled, just shifted focus.”

  “Neco?”

  “Yes,” she said, before going on to give a thorough reiteration of her recent conversation with her brother.

  By the time she finished speaking, Aharon had settled beside her, and he didn’t look especially pleased. “You realize he only threatened me because he knew it would prevent you from leaving?” he then said. “By doing this, he could be sure you wouldn’t so much as try.”

  “That doesn’t excuse the fact that he said it.”

  “No, but I doubt he even considered taking such action. He knew he’d have no cause to.”

  “I can’t believe you’re making excuses for him,” she stated with disgust.

  He didn’t immediately reply, and as she studied him, Aya began to identify subtle signs of anger. Eyes narrowing, she went on to wonder why he was trying so hard to conceal this.

  So you won’t hate the last of your kin, and the man you’re to spend the next five years serving.

  Expression hardening, she spoke again. “If he’s only posturing, why not call him out on it?” she challenged. “We still have time to discern a way for me to escape with you.”

  Aharon looked to her, meeting her gaze but saying nothing.

  Holding his eye, she began to nod. “So you’re not so certain, after all.”

  He sighed. “Not entirely.”

  “Well, much as I appreciate your attempt to preserve mine and Neco’s relationship, I’d prefer your honesty.”

  “Fine. The truth is, I’m not sure what he’d do if we challenged him,” Aharon admitted. “Also, it needs to be said that I still basically agree with his thinking. You’ll do much good here as his advisor, while I’m establishing a life for us in the east.”

  “Five years is a long time, Aharon.”

  He nodded, somewhat tiredly. “I’m aware, and if I lose you to someone else in that time, I’ll understand. Expecting you to wait—and reject your royal standing—is unfair, but I’ll be hoping for it all the same.”

  “You always mattered more to me than this life. I’ll wait,” she vowed.

  “I’m sorry it all unfolded this way.”

  “I know, but there’s really no blame to be had. We’ll simply have to make the best of it, however we can.”

  “Does that mean I have your word that you won’t try sneaking after me?”

  After issuing him a flat look, she nodded. “Yes, but know I’ll be anticipating your summons. Come spring of year 1623, you’d best not keep me waiting.”

  “If I do, you can probably assume I’m dead, or else caught up in some horrible calamity,” he replied.

  She sent him a stricken look. “You think I’m willing to wait five years only to learn you died? Don’t even jest about it, Aharon. In fact, promise me it won’t happen.”

  He grinned. “I think this is what Neco meant when he said you’re not always sensible when it comes to me.”

  She smacked his shoulder. “You owe me this.”

  “I promise to do my absolute best not to die before laying eyes on you again.”

  “Not good enough,” she returned with a shake of her head.

  “Aya, I can hardly—”

  “Do you really want to spend the entire night arguing?” she interrupted.

  Aharon’s grin resurfaced. “All right. I promise not to die. Happy?”

  “Hardly, but it’ll have to do. What of Neco?”

  Briefly, he met her gaze. “What of him?”

  Her returning look turned sly. “You’re not fooling me. You’re angry, and want him to know that he overstepped by making that threat.”

  “Sometimes it’s annoying that you know me so well. But in this case, I think I’d be wise to just let the matter go.”

  “I’ve known you my entire life, and have never seen evidence you’re capable of that.”

  Aharon smiled. “Even so.”

  She eyed him. “You already have something in mind.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  “Incredibly. It’s also guaranteed to cause Neco much humiliation.”

  Aya smiled. “Tell me.”

  Chapter 21

  Awakening, Aharon looked over at Aya and found himself hoping this wasn’t the last time he’d be experiencing this moment. He then lay still, and worked to assemble his thoughts in order to tackle his rather daunting goals for the day.

  A short while later Aya stirred, and they rose to share a leisurely, private breakfast before deploying Molli to summon Siris. Speaking with the jester for some time, once they finally dismissed him they were forced to confront their farewells, a moment Aharon had been dreading. Afterward, he crawl
ed his way back into the tunnels while Aya began preparing for Neco’s coronation, as well as her induction to his royal council.

  At only twenty one years old, she was to become the youngest royal advisor in Ceja’s history, if not the world’s. Regardless, Aharon was confident she’d flourish in the role, and serve the realm to its greatest advantage. Indeed, it was one of the reasons why he was so intent on her staying.

  As far as Neco’s threat was concerned, he felt it was unlikely the man would actually follow through if challenged, but as he’d confessed to Aya the night before, neither was he completely free of doubt. In any case, and if for no more reason than menacing his sister in this fashion, some form of retribution was now in order, a retribution Aharon had every intention of delivering prior to his departure. Having schemed late into the night, he and Aya had fashioned a course of action that, if successful, would carry his idea to fruition, and utterly humiliate Ceja’s new king.

  Honestly, and whether he’d meant his words or not, Neco should’ve known better.

  The coronation ceremony was meant to begin late this afternoon, and was being held within the Great Hall of the palace. The Hall was vast, and easily capable of seating the entire body of local nobility which numbered approximately a thousand. Once all were gathered, entertainments arranged and presided over by Siris would commence, followed by the official crowning of the king and establishment of his council. A meal would then be served, where Neco’s subjects could feast and celebrate in his honor.

  Throughout Siris’s procession of amusements, the royal crown would be resting on a pedestal, set upon the stage at the head of the chamber and awaiting placement on the brow of Ceja’s latest ruler. At some point during the festivities, Aharon planned on swiping it.

  Neither he nor Aya was entirely sure how Neco would react to this gesture. He was certain Aya would bear no repercussions, not only because her involvement would remain unknown, but also due to the fact that Neco valued her too highly, something the prince had already proven by way of his words and actions. Furthermore, Neco would recognize this as Aharon’s handiwork, and understand precisely why he’d done it. How he’d choose to respond was the only remaining mystery.

  In any event, Aharon hoped to be free of the royal grounds and well on his way to the wharf before his crime was discovered. Otherwise, matters wouldn’t end well for him, namely because he wouldn’t be escaping execution a second time. Perceiving this risk, Aya had made an effort to talk him out of the scheme, but by that time he’d already been too captivated by the idea and wouldn’t be deterred. Accepting defeat, she’d helped him plot a path to success instead, and supplied various details necessary to the task.

  Now in the tunnels, Aharon moved to collect the items he’d left on the floor above, those delivered by Siris the day before. Included was a hooded, linen overcoat, a couple purses containing gold and silver coins, a small satchel stuffed with a change of clothes, two belt knives, and his sword. Gathering these items into a large sack also brought by the jester, he returned to the third floor and climbed into the shaft leading to the vacant apartment.

  Having to shove the sack along before him, his progress was slow, but since he had plenty of time to spare this was more annoying than worrisome. Still, he could at least be grateful this would prove his last pass through these horribly confining shafts, their very reason for being still unknown to him. The day before he’d asked Siris if he could shed any light on their original purpose, but the jester hadn’t known any more than he did, claiming to have stumbled upon one of the entrances by happenstance about a year earlier.

  In any case, Aharon had more important matters to focus on.

  Finally reaching the apartment, he crawled into the hearth and then spent the majority of the next few hours pacing about nervously. Eventually, he moved to the window and watched the hordes of nobility start streaming onto the grounds, the lords and ladies all dressed in their expensive finery. When late afternoon at last neared, he moved to the sack and began suiting up.

  The overcoat was far too warm, and would appear horribly out of place, but since concealing his identity was significantly more important than his comfort, he’d just have to deal with it and try not to be seen. Once the garment was fitted into place, he strapped on his belt knives and money pouches, then cautiously moved onto the terrace to survey the area.

  The outer courtyard sat below, and was now almost devoid of persons since the guests had all moved inside to congregate in the Hall. Several knights remained posted about the perimeter, and Aharon watched them for several minutes, timing his actions before stepping to the edge of the terrace and dropping his sword and satchel into the large bed of anemones below.

  After waiting another moment to be sure he’d drawn no notice, he retreated and moved to the apartment’s main door. Unfortunately, there was no path to the Hall but through the palace corridors, meaning he was about to put his stealth to the ultimate test. Having deprived himself of his sword, he thought his knives might grant him the upper hand over a single knight, but if two or more came at him he was probably done for. Remaining unseen was therefore his utmost goal, aside from making off with Neco’s crown.

  Motionless, he remained at the door another long minute, running through his planned maneuvers a final time. He was also trying to settle his nerves, which were now jangling even worse than before his assault on the king. Taking several deep breaths, he finally felt he’d gained control, only to find himself questioning his own sanity.

  If you’re smart, you’ll just leave and head straight for the docks. Only a madman would attempt this and expect to survive!

  Aharon couldn’t disagree, but his inner monologue seemed to be missing the point. This had nothing to do with his mental stability, and everything to do with his Secondary blessing. Neco had angered him, and leaving without enacting a fitting form of Revenge was essentially asking the impossible. Aya had recognized this and quickly abandoned any attempt to dissuade him; knowing Aharon no less well than his sister did, Neco really should’ve taken better care with his words.

  In any case, and despite that he probably appeared off his hinges for pursuing this agenda, Aharon’s resolve proved stronger than his nerves as he finally reached for the door handle. Easing the door open, he peered outward, saw no one, and slipped silently into the corridor.

  Because the entirety of the day’s excitement was to occur on the ground floor, he wasn’t expecting to find much activity here on the third, and wasn’t disappointed as he maneuvered toward a rarely-traveled stairway. Slinking downward, he eased to a stop upon nearing the bottom and took a moment to listen.

  Nothing.

  This was also anticipated, since the stairs had brought him to the ground floor’s far west corner, nowhere near the Hall or any other commonly-populated area. Edging forward, he started down the hallway, creeping noiselessly.

  After winding past several turns, he stopped again and sent a quick, silent prayer to Katrien, the Patron of Thieves. He knew that after rounding the next corner there’d be any number of knights to watch out for, and his intention was to just slip around them and avoid their notice.

  Fortunately, his plans didn’t necessitate having to enter the Hall by way of its actual entranceway, which would’ve been impossible without being seen; instead, he was aiming for the adjoining room, an oratory reserved strictly for the use of any and all royal persons. Since this space wasn’t technically a temple or devoted to a specific Patron, he’d have no trouble crossing its threshold, although he was a little leery over the damage he planned to cause. But best to worry about that when, and if, he made it that far.

  Now cautiously rounding the corner, Aharon immediately spied three knights in the area ahead, an open space where several corridors intersected. One of these corridors led toward the Hall, where several dozen more knights were undoubtedly stationed, their purpose being to watch for threats and prevent any guests from taking it upon themselves to go exploring. Presumably meant to re
inforce these efforts, Aharon studied the three knights currently before him and thought they looked bored. He further noted that his brother Turo wasn’t amongst them, not that this especially mattered. He then wondered if Turo even knew he was still alive, or if he’d been left to believe Aharon had been executed the day before. He then supposed this didn’t really matter either.

  Still watching the knights, he searched for a pathway that would bring him into the north-branching corridor, which would lead him around the Hall and to the oratory. Unfortunately, he saw there were yet too few shadows to use as cover, but he thought a simple distraction would grant him enough of an opening to slip past.

  Edging as near the knights as he dared, he dropped a hand to one of the money pouches at his waist and extracted a coin. Taking a moment to aim, he then threw it in the opposite direction he wished to go, hitting one of the iron torch brackets set high upon the wall. The contact produced an audible clang, and all three knights reflexively looked toward the sound.

  While diverting their attention for only a moment, it was enough time for Aharon to slink about the corner and into the north corridor. Keeping against the wall, he hurried away, his boots gliding silently along the polished floor.

  Slowing as he neared the next intersection, he found another pair of knights and used the same tactic to move past them. Once clear, he closed swiftly on the door leading into the oratory, but found it locked. After removing one of Aya’s hairpins from his boot where he’d tucked it that morning, it then took him only moments to spring the tumblers and push his way inside.

  Closing the door behind him, he allowed himself a quick breath of relief while glancing about; not being of the royal persuasion, he’d never before entered here, but quickly deemed Aya’s description accurate. With enough light coming through the windows to give him a clear view, he made a quick scan of his surroundings while starting forward.

  Not a particularly large room, at least by palace standards, a section of open space led to a slim stone alter, while unburnt candles of various colors—but mainly white and gold, representing Justice and Commerce—lined the shelves to either side. Beyond the alter sat a simple wooden bench covered with silk cushions, and decorating the wall just beyond were two large paintings, one depicting a likeness of the Patron Anniah, and the other Ozveld.