“I lead convoys, plan the more concentrated attacks. Map out the boundaries that can and cannot be crossed. I take messages to and from the main barracks. I protect the people here.”
“A man of many trades, I see.”
Robyn Thorn was not a prideful man, but he felt his rising at the prince’s praise.
“And your title?” Sampson asked.
Robyn took a second to consider whether lying would be his safest option, but the pure curiosity in the young ruler’s voice drew him to the truth. “Second in Command.”
It looked as though the prince would jump with glee the moment Robyn’s words hit his ears. His face lit up like a thousand suns had been set ablaze. His hands clasped together in front of his chest. It was like a child had been presented a pile of candy, all of it just for him.
Robyn’s own curiosity vanished at the sight. His heart hammered in his chest as he realized his multiple mistakes. His muscles tensed in anticipation. The guards stepped protectively around their prince, noting Robyn’s change in heart, ready to destroy anyone who laid a finger on Sampson’s polished clothing.
“You know, I’m not really interested in secretive meetings after days like these. Almost being assassinated really does put a damper on one’s mood,” Robyn proclaimed as he backed toward the door. “I’ll send someone to see you out.”
Before the guards could make their move to stop him, Robyn Thorn roughly backed into the door. He stumbled into the hall, reorienting himself so that he could sprint into the passageways that even he still got lost in.
“Wait!” Sampson shouted as he hurtled himself past his guards into the tunnel. “I want to offer assistance!”
The desperation laced in the prince’s odd demand made Robyn stop dead in his tracks. He turned to look back at the prince and the two guards rushing to protect him. Too many questions were running through Robyn’s sleep deprived mind, but he knew that he would be a fool to turn away without hearing what the prince had to say.
“What kind of assistance?” he demanded from across the dark tunnel between them.
“The kind that a growing rebellion needs.”
Chapter 13
Red scrambled to keep Harry Ordom, the butler standing watch at Arthur Welin’s office door, from hitting the floor. Her arms trembled as his large form fell, the blow to his head hopefully knocking him out for a few hours. Red dragged his limp body to the nearest storage closet at the end of the dark hall.
She laced his silk tie through his wrists into the best sailor’s knot she could coax the smooth material into. She shoved his matching silk handkerchief into his mouth, creating a makeshift gag. When he was finally secure, Red guiltily shut the door with a soft click.
Every minor snag in her two-minute plan sent a new wave of rage burning across Red’s vision. Each second wasted was another piece of information lost to her. Every passing minute created another rift in the path that led Red farther from her old life. And despite the rage that continued to fuel her, she had no idea where she wanted her final steps to eventually take her.
For a breath, Red stood looking at the sealed doors to Arthur Welin’s private office. Every groove, every carved-out edge, every smoothed-out surface glared at Red as if they dared her to turn back before her mentor’s redemption was no longer available. It felt as if the air refused to leave her lungs as her gaze became fixated on every aspect of those familiar double doors.
A single shaky breath pulled Red back to her body, the doors nothing more than old slabs of wood, blocking the knowledge that she so desperately needed. Red reached out to grasp one of the polished brass door knobs. Her fingers were tentative, every nerve waiting for the scorching burn of her own betrayal.
But the metal was cool, and the door opened smoothly. Even as the door shut, Red felt no resistance against the line that she had just permanently crossed.
She could see nothing within the dark shadows that filled the room, but she only allowed herself to light a single candle. The soft light was plenty to guide her through the office that she knew almost as well as her own bedroom. Every book, table, and chair held the familiarity that only came with living in the same house for many years.
Red touched nothing as she silently slipped through the room. Her eyes never left the desk loaded with parchments and scrolls—loaded with secrets.
Loose pieces of paper had long fallen to the ground, never to be touched until Arthur decided they were better off warming his fireplace. Dozens of quills were strewn across the towering piles.
Red carefully set her candle atop the sturdiest pile of papers she could find. Her fingers itched to reach into the disorganized stacks. But she only let her eyes roam over the scattered desk. Nothing was in its rightful place, but even the slightest change would be caught by Arthur Welin’s perfectly trained eye.
Red skipped over the usual mission reports. Her eyes skimmed over countless street lord requests, most of which held her name scribbled at the very top of their lists. She looked over every sealed letter, many of the stamped insignias unfamiliar to her wandering eyes.
She was about to give up on her unsuccessful search. But, out of the corner of her eye, Red spotted dozens of letters with broken, scarlet stamps gleaming in the candlelight like fresh blood.
Red reached toward the topmost letter with a trembling hand. The seal had been ripped apart. Her heart skipped a beat when the scratchy parchment met her chilled fingers. She slowly pushed the edge of the envelope together, praying that her gut-wrenching hunch was incorrect and that the pile of letters was from another over-eager street lord.
When the two sides of the seal were reunited, Red held back every curse that the worst sailors would not even dare to shout aloud. She snatched her hand away as if it had been burnt by the seal itself, but her eyes would not leave the Royal Perancinian insignia that stared up at her—watching her every move.
Red threw caution to the wind as she scooped up the pile of letters, retreating to Arthur’s plush chair. She spread the dozens of finely crafted letters across her lap. Her eyes caught on the cursive script, the elegant swirling words almost mesmerizing enough to disguise the true meaning behind their contents.
Red’s eyes flew across page after page of negotiations and barely suppressed threats. Either side was pushing for their own desires. Neither was willing to give in until they got what they wanted.
Red did not know that she was holding her breath until it caught in her throat at the sight of the single name she had been searching for.
Red looked through each document twice and there was only one mention of Queen Beauty, but her commands were made clear through the words of her right-hand advisor. Perancis’s sprawling lands past the Rogue Manor were a very hot topic throughout most of the letters.
Through the partially one-sided conversation, Red finally deduced that in exchange for any empty land Arthur Welin could get his hands on by the end of the war, the Kingdom Rogues were to be Queen Beauty’s disposable followers until she could regain control of her rebelling people and restless streets.
Power in exchange for power.
Red was disgusted at the thought that she too would become a royal pawn if she let Arthur have his way with her. Blinded by the beauty of being free from the scrutiny of the seven kingdoms, she had not even seen that her freedom only belonged to her when it was convenient for Arthur Welin.
The reality hit Red like a kick to the stomach.
She threw the papers back on the desk, no longer caring whether Arthur found out that she had betrayed his trust. She riffled through the rest of the cluttered desk. Simple oaths of loyalty and the Kingdom Rogue trade agreements made up the rest of the sorted documents.
When Red was satisfied that all useful information had been seeped out of the royal ink, she leaned back in Arthur's chair with a huff. Her swirling thoughts consumed her as she looked back on what had happened to the place that she once considered home in only a few months.
“Well, well, well. Wh
at do we have here?” Arthur Welin stepped past the threshold with a disappointed frown that made him look as if he were a father ready to scold his misbehaving child. “Surely it’s not my prized protégé snooping through my office.”
Red had been so deeply submerged in her thoughts that she did not register the click of the door opening. She did not let her surprise show, though, as she carefully watched Arthur stop before his desk.
“Clearly not that prized if you’re willing to sell me off to some scumbag street lord,” Red huffed in reply. She slumped deeper into Arthur Welin’s chair, no longer trying to feign innocence as she propped her feet atop the rearranged desk.
“You really think that decision was easy for me?” Arthur questioned. The touch of concern lining his voice almost made it seem as though he actually cared about what Red thought.
“You know what? I have no idea what to think after what I just found,” Red shot back, her short temper winning over her shame. “My eyes must be playing a trick on me”—Red tapped a heel against the letters strewn about the desk—“because I can’t actually believe that my former mentor sold his soul to one of the very people he strove to work against.”
“Former?” Arthur asked with a genuinely puzzled look. “Am I not still your mentor?”
“That depends on how truthful you are in the next five minutes.”
“After all we’ve been through, you only spare me five minutes to tell a story that has lasted longer than a lifetime. It’s a shame that your trust in me has been completely misguided by a few measly letters.”
“This speech would be much more moving if you didn’t waste your precious time spewing out some side-note crap that you don’t even care about.”
“You think I don’t care.” Arthur Welin shook his head, rubbing at his temples with two fingers. “You have no idea how much I care.”
“My heart is truly breaking for you,” Red bit out sarcastically, throwing her hands to her chest as if she could feel the ache.
“Everything I do is for the good of the Kingdom Rogues. I have sacrificed everything for my people.”
“Ah yes, the very people that you are sending off to do your dirty work with street lords and prostitutes.”
“Your time away has closed your mind off,” Arthur spat, his powerful form leaning over the desk to stare Red down. “You would have never disobeyed me if you had been here during the transition into our new order.”
Red swung her legs off the desk, shooting out of the tall-backed chair. She crossed her arms over her chest in obvious disdain as she glared right back at her mentor. “And whose fault is that?”
“You blame me, yet if I recall correctly, you were the one who got herself captured and indebted herself to me.”
“Of course I blame you,” Red exclaimed. “Oh, I could have eventually gotten over the street scum and tramps. But you single handedly enslaved every last Kingdom Rogue to a queen. I thought the whole point of being a Kingdom Rogue was to separate ourselves from, oh I don’t know, the reign of the kingdoms?”
“Your mind is truly ruined if you cannot see the benefits to aligning ourselves with someone of such great power,” Arthur declared with nothing short of contempt lining his words.
“Estra had no idea how right she was when she talked about your never ceasing need for power,” Red countered before she could catch the name that slipped through her words. She realized her mistake the moment her mentor’s face screwed up with barely suppressed rage.
Arthur gave out a laugh despite his ever-reddening cheeks and panting breaths. “Of course you talked to Estra Ayrith! She was always good at tricking the weak-minded into agreeing with her traitorous thoughts.”
Arthur Welin rounded his desk with large strides. He grabbed onto Red’s forearms with a grip tighter than the strongest shackles. He leaned in close to Red, his hot, unsteady breath tickling her nose. “People like you and Estra are why I have had to rebuild the Kingdom Rogues so many times. She tore my people away one at a time, and I’ll be damned if I’ll allow you to do the same.”
Red wrenched her arms out of his grasp, rubbing at her already bruising wrists. She did not turn her back away as she worked her way toward the doors.
“You have until tomorrow night to decide whose side you are on,” Arthur noted as he watched Red blindly reach for the door knob when she finally bumped into the door. He picked up a handful of the incriminating letters, the crimson seals bouncing across Red’s vision. “I suggest you choose wisely.”
Red did not let herself fully consider which side she truly wanted to be on as she tried to escape from the office. When she finally grabbed hold of the door knob, she let the weight of the swinging door send her careening into the hall before her mentor decided that waiting would be pointless.
~~~
Dranac Gnorw pushed through Arthur Welin’s office doors with a soft knock. He tried to slow his pounding heartbeat as his mentor called for him to enter. The rushed scribbles of the note he had received from a servant minutes before had sent him running through the manor’s halls to get to his mentor. But the urgency of the note did not match Arthur Welin’s calm and collected composure.
Dranac quietly stepped into the office, forcing his breathing to even out.
Arthur was seated at his desk, rifling through piles of parchment as if he were looking for something missing from the scattered stacks. A porcelain teacup was seated on a matching saucer in the right corner of the desk, the lip of the cup stained crimson. An array of vials streaked with the same liquid had been tossed onto the floor, discarded without care.
“Sit,” he commanded without looking up from his work.
Dranac reached for the seat nearest his mentor’s desk. He looked over the piles of parchment covering every surface with barely suppressed curiosity. He was astonished when Arthur scooped up the desk’s entire contents and threw them into the blazing fire behind him.
“Do you know who was looking through my office a few minutes ago?” Arthur asked abruptly as he watched the flames dance before him.
Dranac heard the anger in his tone and immediately knew that he was in no ordinary meeting. “Do we have a traitor in our midst?”
“Not just any traitor,” Arthur spat as he finally turned his attention to Dranac Gnorw. “A skilled traitor. One who knows too many of our secrets.” He waved his hand back toward the fire, a handful of those precious secrets turning to ash. The flames lashed out in response, soot spitting out of the fireplace.
Dranac was amazed that anyone would be stupid enough to risk going against Arthur Welin. The six queens were favored by Arthur over deserters and traitors. And he despised the queens.
“Who is it?” Dranac asked, his hands clenched into fists ready for a fight. He was disgusted by the thought that he most likely knew the Kingdom Rogue that had betrayed their sacred trust.
“I thought I might ask you that.”
Dranac was taken aback at the silent accusation and contempt in his mentor’s voice. Dranac shook his head in disbelief. “How could I ever go against you? You have given me everything I could have dreamed of. I had nothing before I joined the Kingdom Rogues.”
Arthur took in Dranac Gnorw’s words with a careful ear. He rested a hand under his chin in wary consideration. “I am pleased to know that your thoughts have not been corrupted by them,” Arthur finally confided. “I was afraid that you had also been stolen from our ranks.”
“What are you talking about?” Dranac demanded, his curiosity driving his thoughts away from their conversation as he tried to figure out who Arthur was talking about. “How could I ever be swayed to go against the Kingdom Rogues? Against you?”
“You two are close. I was unsure if they had already told you to follow their beliefs,” Arthur Welin stated sadly. “You have no idea how much it pains me to ask you to do this, but it cannot be avoided. Things have already gone too far.”
“I will do whatever you ask,” Dranac promised, jumping from his chair, his fist pre
ssed into his chest in respect.
“You must kill them,” Arthur stated with no ounce of sadness in his voice. “They could destroy us if they take the information they know past these walls.”
“As you wish,” Dranac Gnorw agreed with a low bow. “I would do anything to protect the Kingdom Rogues.”
Arthur gave a smile that could only be considered as pure evil, but Dranac took it as the smile of a mentor pleased by his devoted follower. Arthur leaned toward the bottom of his desk. He pulled something from one of the lower drawers but placed it in his lap before Dranac could catch a glimpse of the object.
“I am sad to tell you that Red will have to be terminated at your hand. But I must agree that dying at the hands of a friend is much better than at the hands of an enemy.”
Dranac gaped at Arthur Welin as he watched him pick a fine dagger up from where it had been concealed on his lap. He had no words as the shock did not quite register in his blank mind.
“I grant you this blood dagger,” Arthur decreed as he reached toward Dranac Gnorw with the delicate yet deadly knife. “May your mark run true.”
Dranac could not grasp a single thought even as his hands immediately reached for the dagger. The blade was encased in a glass vial, held only by the cork that it had been shoved through. A thick layer of blood coated the dagger’s tip.
Arthur Welin offered Dranac a white handkerchief as he pulled the blade free. The cloth was immediately stained.
“That is her blood,” Arthur explained, his eyes glazed over as he watched the rest of the blood slosh around the vial. He reached a hand out, taking the vial from Dranac, the blood within too precious to waste. “It will guide you and the knife to her. Without interference, it will strike true, stealing its victim’s life magic with one blow to the heart.”
The delicate blade was no larger than Dranac’s palm. The grip was wrapped in dark brown leather. Nothing was special about it. But when the cool metal of the blade hit his hand, a drop of blood slipped between Dranac’s fingers.
Cloak of Darkness (The Destroyer-Blessed Saga Book 1) Page 20