by RJ Metcalf
He buckled down on an involuntary shiver. It had been years since he’d attended a Leaders’ Summit. He’d been fifteen, and it was Richard who had sat to their father’s right hand. Richard, the one who was supposed to rule. Not him. Brandon had mingled on the side, with other foreign dignitaries and royals, and when released from the initial pomp and ceremony, he’d attended banquets and other social events of the summit.
A Doldran guard pulled the seat out for Brandon, and his knees bent automatically, sinking him into the chair. He belatedly hoped his reluctance to be there didn’t show. A glance to the left showed he was going to sit next to the Vodan chief and chieftess. Zebediah joined him on the right a moment later.
“Lady Catherine and I have done all that we can,” Zebediah murmured just above the general din as the other leaders joined them, the doorman announcing each as they entered. “We’ve answered questions, provided all the proof we have with us. I believe they’ve accepted you for the time being.” He tilted his head to the Chancellor from Piovant sitting across from them, and then to the President from Lasim. “At the very least, they haven’t protested your sitting here yet.”
“Thank you.” Brandon sipped water in an attempt to drown his nerves. “I owe you both.”
Zebediah snorted and crossed his arms, his legs visible through the table as he stretched them out. “You have no idea.”
The doorman announced Antius, and Brandon kept his face impassive as Emperor Ezran and his daughter sat to Zebediah’s right. Brandon turned to face Zebediah and tried to search the crowd of nobles and royals for Lady Catherine or Adeline—no, Jade. He spotted them both. Catherine appeared comfortable, if not impatient, and Jade looked … well, she looked miserable. She held herself straight, but her bowed shoulders, bored gaze, and constant fidgeting gave her away. Zaborah and Zak stood in the back with the other guards, their Monomi blacks blending with the Aerugan guards’ uniforms, though they both stood out with the blatant manner of which they carried their daggers, potions, and “just in case” weapons. Zak caught Brandon’s eye and gave a single nod of acknowledgment before he continued scanning the room. Light caught on his hoop earring, and Brandon turned back to the table, a wave of anguish roiling through his stomach.
He’d mourned the death of Zane, his best friend, for years after Jaxton had first enslaved him. To see Zak now, grown up and so very much a shadow of Zane, it reawakened all the hurts of so long ago. The agonizing realization of everyone who’d died in defense of the Doldran keystone. In defense of the barrier that was now down. All that loss, all that suffering, and now it was all for naught. Brandon clenched his fists.
No. He wouldn’t let it stand at that.
He waited, pretending to listen when Everett stood and welcomed the leaders to the summit. He applauded when Zebediah clapped. He nodded when Zebediah did. And when Brandon heard Everett finally say, “I open the floor to whomever would like to speak first,” Brandon perked up.
He pressed his palms against the tabletop, belatedly realizing that what seemed to be glass was actually an unnecessary show of wealth, as the material was incredibly rare crystalline stone. He shook the stray observation aside and stood. “If I may?”
President Guth raised a bushy eyebrow and smoothed his red cravat, but didn’t protest. His eyes darted toward the Piovantian Chancellor, but she said nothing, merely nodding at Brandon to proceed.
Every eye in the room was on Brandon, and each felt like the weight of a dozen gravity stones on his spine. He pressed his shoulders back against the invisible burden. Brandon passed Zebediah and the Antians, taking care to keep his stride formal and steady, not giving in to the desire to rush and get it over with. The opening in the crystal tabletop was wider than he was, allowing ample room for him to get to the center. Once there, Brandon rotated once, slowly, making deliberate eye contact with each person at the table. He had to do this.
For Jade.
For Doldra.
“Honored leaders, rulers, delegates,” Brandon started soft, yet strong, “respected royals, nobles, ambassadors”—he spared a glance to the utterly-silent newspaper journalists, then firmly placed them out of mind—”I stand before you, a shadow of the man I once was. You’ve heard the rumors. The lost prince of Doldra returning as king. His infant daughter, now restored as the rightful princess.” Brandon faced Everett and Violet. “I spent two decades of my life, enslaved. Two decades of my life away from the throne, away from the trappings of royalty, free to see the world. My people. Your people. Never free to care for them as they needed. Never free to give a helping hand, unless it served the will of my so-called master. But I learned something valuable during that time.”
He turned just enough to see Muku and Sichi of Vodan. Muku shared a small smile of encouragement that crinkled her eyes.
Brandon took a deep breath. “Beneath my hatred for my circumstances and those who put me there, I cared for the innocent lives I saw. And it’s for them that I stand before you right now. Who am I?” Brandon gestured at himself self-depreciatingly. “I’m a long-lost prince. A slave. A berserker bandit. A widower. A father. A king returning to where he needs to be.” He straightened, his voice ringing out. “For nearly two decades, I was enslaved. Now we are all faced with that same threat. The Elph from across the barrier are coming to enslave us all. And I’m not willing to let any of our people go through what I did. If we don’t put aside our differences and stand united against this threat to freedom, we will lose it. So I stand before you, a man who recognizes the need for unity. My kingdom is one of the first to be invaded from the north. My people will be among the first to suffer. And I know I lack the necessary military might to best serve them. Which is why,” Brandon took a breath, pausing for just a moment so his voice wouldn’t shake. “I pledge my kingdom’s loyalty to Aerugo.” He sank to his knees, the table reaching his chin as he bowed his head to Everett amid the babble and sounds of surprise.
He lifted his face so his voice would carry through the room, despite his awkward position. “I give Aerugo the command over my army. To use in the best of equal ways for both our kingdoms, for our survival.” He looked at Everett pointedly. “A pledge that requires no marriage contract to be bound and solid.”
Everett stood, his hand tugging on the hem of his obsidian suit jacket, smoothing it of any imperceptible wrinkles. “And Aerugo accepts your pledge.” His tone held no mockery, just a sincere, business-like briskness. “You have my pledge, King of Doldra, that I will do my job to protect both our peoples in your stead.”
Everett’s subtle jab galled Brandon, but he closed his eyes and nodded, letting it pass. “Thank you, My Lord,” he managed to get out through half-numb lips. Brandon stood and made his way back to his seat, his feet barely feeling the floor as he walked. It was necessary. And if it meant that other nations did the same, then it’d be worth it. But it didn’t make bowing the knee to Everett any easier.
“I didn’t see that coming.” Sichi glanced at his wife askance. She shrugged and Sichi rubbed at his jaw. “I would like to adjourn to speak with our councils.” He gave Brandon a searching look. “I find myself suddenly with much to think about.”
Everett waited until everyone at the table nodded their agreement before he slapped his hand against the table. “We shall come together again at the third afternoon hour.”
The room broke into a confusing babble of voices. Zebediah leaned into Brandon’s space. “Are you feeling ill?”
Brandon rubbed at his forehead with a free hand while the other clutched at his stomach. “Relieved to have it over with. Appalled with what I just said and did. But it’s necessary.” He looked over his shoulder to see Jade staring at the ground, a crease on her forehead above her brows. “If it gives her the freedom she deserves, it’s worth it.”
“We’re talking more than just freedom for who to love, Brandon,” Zebediah rebuked, his voice quiet. “You, of all people should know that.”
“Freedom to marry, freedom to not be en
slaved, freedom to choose where she goes, and with whom, freedom to choose what she eats and what she wears, freedom to have a job or be a lazy bum, I want my daughter to experience what I haven’t these last two decades, Zebediah.” Brandon’s kept his words equally low. “And I need to do my part, as belated as it is, to protect my people. And if I can do both at once, even if it calls for drastic measures, then so be it. I will do what in necessary.”
Chapter Eighteen
Jade
Jade didn’t know what to think about Brandon’s speech. Or what to think of watching him bow to Everett on both knees, his head in a position of subservience.
Did Brandon realize what he’d done? He’d just all but handed their army to Everett, and at what benefit to Doldra, aside from the proposed protection? Did Brandon really trust Everett that much? Was he completely mad?
She plucked at her skirt and immediately covered it with her hand. She’d attended a few events that Aunt Garnet and … Slate … had forced her to go to, but she was here now as a princess, and she was treated as such by each of the leaders and the other royalty and nobles and their attendants, and while she was trying desperately to keep up with the different expectations, she felt like she was drowning in a sea that crashed over her with different customs and protocols.
Francene had done her best to prepare Jade, but even now she felt woefully under prepared. It was a different energy she needed to have, a different way of presenting herself, a different way of holding herself.
And for once, she found herself wanting to really get it right. She wanted to swim in this current. She wanted to do what she could to protect her people. She was working toward that goal, and she wasn’t about to let some Void-curse formalities ruin that chance for her.
But how did those formalities come into play, now that Brandon had essentially given all the power in Doldra to Everett? Did that make her free? Or more bound to Aerugo than ever before?
Black polished boots came into view of her down-turned gaze, and she followed the boots up to see Lord Everett towering over her. She went still. Everett smiled and offered his hand in a courtly gesture. She hesitated before gingerly settling her fingers over his, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He offered a slight bow, leaning in close enough that she had to take a half-step back to avoid him pressing into her.
Everett didn’t release her hand, holding it hostage near his chest. “Your father held up his side of the bargain,” Everett said, his tone almost jovial. “If the leaders follow his example, and the countries unite under me, then I’ll hold up my end of your father’s plan.” He leaned even closer, and a warm scent pervaded her senses. His breath whispered against her cheek. “If everyone unites today, you won’t have to marry Weston.” His gaze flicked to the side and annoyance tightened the skin around his eyes. “And you can get what you want, princess.”
Her breath seized in her lungs. What she wanted? Did he mean––
Everett dropped her hand as he turned away, revealing Zak just behind him. Thunderclouds darkened Zak’s countenance.
She swayed where she stood, forcing herself to breathe. Everett’s implications seemed clear enough to her. This had the potential to actually mean her freedom.
Zak’s gaze swept her over as he stepped in, bowing at the waist. “Highness.” He stood as close as he could, pushing the limits of propriety between royalty and a bodyguard. “What did he want from you?”
“Nothing,” Jade whispered. She reached out, bracing herself on his forearm. Her palm tingled over Zak’s skin. “Whether he meant to or not, he just gave me hope.”
“Hope?” Zak echoed. His eyes flashed green and he cocked his head at her. “Come again?”
“I need to talk to Weston.” She stretched herself up, trying to see through the crowds. Fascinator hats took up too much space for her to see past.
Zak’s hand brushed over hers. “If you need His Highness, follow me.”
Jade reached out to touch his back through the crowd, then withdrew her hand, barely remembering to keep propriety. She needed to stay grounded, and her head was swimming with too many thoughts and emotions to process. She scowled. Whales take whatever people say, it was crowded, that was her excuse, and she didn’t care right now. She gripped the back of his jacket, grateful for the sensation of something solid. Zak tensed under her hand, and he glanced over his shoulder at her, but he didn’t comment on her light touch.
He led her through the people to where Weston stood in the back, arms folded and lips pressed together as he watched the throng of attendees. His expression lightened when he saw Jade, then darkened into one of perplexity as she angled in straight for him.
Weston’s gaze darted to Zak then back to her. “What’s wrong?”
“What does your father mean, that if everyone unites under him, our engagement is broken?” She kept her voice low enough that hopefully no one aside from Weston and Zak could hear her. Zak grazed her shoulder as he eased around her, placing himself in a better position to hold a conversation and still watch over her back. Weston’s bodyguard moved to the other side, bracketing them.
A flicker of thankfulness for their guards warmed Jade’s heart, then dwindled down as she searched Weston’s face for any hint of deception.
Weston gaped. “I have no idea.” He rubbed his jaw and nodded toward the circular leaders table. “Did you have any idea of what your father had planned?”
Irritation snaked through her guts, threatening to poison her mood. She stamped it out. “None.” Jade glanced over her shoulder, but Brandon was nowhere in sight. “What do they have planned, and why has no one talked to us about it?”
Chapter Nineteen
Raine
Raine fisted her hands to keep them from trembling with nerves as she followed the guard to the armory. She’d expected to have her first fight in the lower pit, but for some reason they were preparing at the top pit. Did this mean there was a possibility that her first fight would be against beast instead of man? Or was it something else? What could it be?
She lifted her head and steeled her expression. She’d volunteered for this, and she’d show them that she wasn’t someone to prey on. She was capable and strong. Even if her mouth was dry, her muscles were trembling, and the unknowns made her stomach twist.
The guard unlocked a padlock and unwound the chain over the gate, letting the metal links clank cheerfully, as if it were some underground wind chime. He waved his hand in a grand display. “Take your pick.”
Raine gaped. Swords of all lengths, weights, and styles. A morning star. Javelins. Spears. An electro-staff. Nets of various sizes. She snapped her mouth shut and cocked her head, picking up the first sword she saw and testing its weight. Too heavy. She put it back and reached for one with a smaller hilt. Just holding a weapon made her nerves settle a bit. “What am I fighting? Dragon or man? And may I have more than one weapon?”
She didn’t want to have to fight any men. At all. But according to what Simon said, Lynx was the only political prisoner who fought in the pits. All other fighters were murderers, rapists, the dregs of society that had truly earned their place here. She didn’t want to be an executioner. But if she had to fight her way out, she’d do whatever it took. There was a war coming, and if her grandfather was still alive, she wanted to be by his side for it. She had nowhere else to be.
Not with Ben already gone.
The guard hesitated. “You didn’t hear it from me, but you’ll get a dragon first, something small, probably. And yes, you can take whatever you can carry.”
Something small. Like a stalker or a snapper? Or was small something that would be flying? Like a terror or an avian?
Probably not a flyer, she didn’t remember any netting for the onlookers, and they’d need to keep aerial creatures from attacking the crowd. But she’d also been in the lower pit. What if it was different in the upper? Raine chewed her cheek as she considered. Would he be forthcoming with any other clues? “Any idea why I’m at the upper pit inste
ad of the lower?”
He barked a laugh. “You’re the first woman to volunteer for the pits in the last two decades. The betting has already gone crazy because of you. You get to be at the upper pit because it seats more and offers versatility in what kind of fight you get.” He settled his shoulder against the wall in a casual air. “Assuming you win your first—and I have money riding on you, so you’d better—they’ll sometimes let you pick a new weapon. But pick what you’re good at now, in case they don’t let you to swap later.” His voice lowered. “And there’s a chance you’ll have more than one fight, depending on how your first goes.”
She nodded and hefted a different sword. This one felt just right. She put on a belt and sheath, tucked a net into the belt, then grabbed a shield. “Bring it.”
“Good luck.” The guard walked behind her, letting her lead into the natural cavern of the upper pit. Far overhead hung a few stalactites and a wide opening with a grate over it. Bits of sunlight shone down into the sunken fighting ring, and prisoners crowded along the walls, already hooting and cheering, yelling for her blood.
Determination raced through her veins like electricity, and it was easy to imagine her hair standing on end from the jolt running through her system. The salt mixed in the walls of the cavern cleaned the air of any scent of blood, though the pit flat showed stains here and there. She stepped out onto the sunken fight floor, her steps kicking up loose sand debris. The gate shut behind her, trapping her. She spun in a slow circle, warily eyeing the prisoners behind the curved iron cage walls meant for keeping the pit beasts in. Simon pressed close to the front rail, his face pale. Lynx stood directly across from Simon on the other edge of the pit ring, his expression stony.