All the King's Traitors

by Keylin Rivers

  Time crept slowly by as Vallich waited. He stood silently in the corner of the room.

  Finally, the door creaked open, and Hectar came barreling into the room, topless and sweaty from his fight. He was tall, his flowing brown hair greasy and slicked with sweat. He stopped and turned, immediately fixing his gaze on Vallich.

  “You. I knew I saw you there,” Hectar said, unsurprised. The lord grabbed a towel from his dresser and began wiping the sweat off his tan skin.

  “And you said nothing?” Vallich asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “I’m not an idiot Vallich. You’d only be here if you wanted something.”

  “Maybe I am here to make quick work of you.”

  “No,” Hectar said, tossing his towel onto the bed. “That is not the reason. So what do you want?”

  “It is not what I want,” Vallich said. “I have something to give you.”

  “And why should I trust a traitor?”

  “You know as well as I do that you have no choice.”

  “You know, I’ve always liked that attitude of yours,” Hectar growled, walking over to the bed. He sat on the edge of the plush mattress, leaning his forearms onto his knees. He played with the towel between his hands. “Because one day, it will get you killed.”

  “I am not your enemy today,” Vallich said.

  “Then what is it you want?”

  “Like I said,” Vallich said, leaning casually on the wall behind him, “I come with offerings—a trade of sorts.”

  Hectar leaned back on his palms. He flipped his sweaty hair out of his face. “Apollyon would have my head if he knew you were here and I didn’t report it.”

  “You’re smart, Hectar,” Vallich said. “That is how you got to where you are now. That is why you haven’t called in your Wielders yet. So listen.”

  “Spit it out.”

  “It is no secret in the court of Azul that you abhor me for besting you in the last Ascension Trials, and I would wager a guess you did not receive an invite to this one.”

  Hectar growled.

  “I will take that as a confirmation.”

  “Apollyon specifically invited the buffoon you just watched me destroy in combat. He is nothing without that stupid rock.”

  “What if I could give you something that would put you back in good favour with the King?” Vallich said. “What if I could tell you how to get to the Free-Wielders?”

  Hectar stood and walked towards Vallich. “Do not lie, boy,” he growled.

  “It is no lie.”

  “I have searched these lands countless times. They are not in Sable.”

  “That is your problem. You are searching the lands.”

  “What do you want?”

  “A place to stay for now, until the time is right, and a boat to leave once I point you in their direction,” Vallich said. “You can hand Apollyon their heads yourself.”

  “That hardly seems like a fair trade,” Hectar said, closing in on Vallich. “What are you up to? You slaughter your second-in-command, run from the capital, and become the most wanted man in the country. And all you want is a bed to sleep in and a damn boat?”

  “I am no fool, Hectar,” Vallich said, inching forward. “Sable has the highest number of Wielders in the army. Apollyon puts them here just in case Raknabrooke decides to get a little restless one day. How many of your Elevenths have Godstones now? Thirty? Forty?”

  “Fifty-three, and twenty-four in training.”

  “Those numbers are second only to Diamonwon,” Vallich exclaimed. “I may be the best, but I am not delusional. I could not take on fifty-three Wielders on my own. Especially not with the tens of thousands of soldiers you have in your battalions.” He laughed while flashing a wicked smirk at Hectar. “Although trying might be fun.”

  “Listen here, you little shit,” Hectar said, stomping over to Vallich, who stood straight. Hectar glared at him as he casually looked at the lord. Their faces were so close their noses were nearly touching. “Leave now, or I will have all fifty-three of them on you in seconds.”

  “I’ll turn myself in to you if I am wrong,” Vallich said calmly.

  “What?” Hectar said, nonplussed.

  “If I am right, and I can show you the way to get there, you get to give Apollyon the Free-Wielders. If I am wrong, I will turn myself in and you can give me to Apollyon. Either way, you win.”

  “But why?” Hectar said, backing off a bit.

  “Because I am done with this awful place,” Vallich said. “I am a Wielder. I should be worshiped as a God, not kept on Apollyon’s leash. I finally see it now. I’ve played the role of his pet for years. I am done with him, and I am done with this horrid place.

  “I want a safe place to rest until you depart, and a fully supplied boat with the freedom to sail from your ports with no interference,” Vallich demanded. “And I will show you the path to the Free-Wielders.”

  “Where will you go?” Hectar asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Fine,” Hectar said, stepping back and reaching out his palm. “You tell me how to get to the Free-Wielders, and I will equip you and let you leave undisturbed, with the stipulation you never set foot in Sable again. But if your information is no good, you become my prisoner.”

  “One more condition,” Vallich said.

  “What?”

  “You tell no one of this accord.”

  “Deal,” Hectar responded.

  Vallich smirked, and with that, he reached out and shook Hectar’s hand.

  “What’s your name?” the man said as he took a seat on the only couch in the room.

  “Aurelia,” she replied as she studied her surroundings.

  “Oh, lovely. How appropriate for someone so delectable. I’m Alabaster. Why don’t you come sit, dear?”

  She watched as he patted the seat right next to him. “I would rather not.”

  “Don’t be a little bitch. Sit,” he said, his face turning stern. “I am paying you, after all.”

  Aurelia walked over and took a seat. “Yes, paying me for the armour. Speaking of which, I would like to get my money and to get going.”

  “Eight hundred and fifty Zanthies. I am giving you such a good deal, though,” Alabaster licked his lips. “Shouldn’t you be giving me something in return for doing you such a nice favour?”

  Aurelia felt his hand creep onto her leg. “I suggest you get your disgusting paws off me and give me my money.”

  “You owe me—”

  Aurelia flipped over, pulling her small blade from its sheath in her boot as she did. She was straddling him, her knife pressing into the muscles of his neck. “Is this how you treat all of your guests?”

  “Only the pretty ones.”

  Aurelia dug her knife into his skin, a droplet of blood oozed out.

  “Okay, okay!” he said. “Look, I’ll give you the money.”

  “Now,” she said, hopping off the couch, knife still pressed to his neck.

  He reached between his legs, and immediately she applied more pressure, drawing more blood. “The money,” he choked, “it’s under the couch.”

  Aurelia cautiously bent and reached under the couch. Sure enough, one of the boards holding up the cushions was loose. She pulled out a sack of coins from the hidden compartment.

  She weighed the bag in her hands. It was definitely more than their agreed upon price. “I will be taking this,” she said, continuing to press her knife into Alabaster’s throat. “I should kill you right now.”

  “No, please no.”

  Aurelia could feel the vibrations of his voice trembling from underneath her knife.

  “I will be watching,” she threatened, “and if I even get an inkling that you are doing this to others, I may reconsider.” She pressed the knife deeper into his skin one last time, glaring into his beady eyes. She almost wanted to laugh at what a weak and pathetic human he was. How contradictory his character was to his muscular stature.

  Aurelia lowered her knife, blood dripp
ing from the blade, and ran out into the streets. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough, the thought of what he had been hoping to do making her sick.

  She caught up to Kuba and Ion at the end of the alleyway.

  “Are you okay?” Ion asked, looking in terror from Aurelia to her dripping blade.

  “Fine,” she said, bending over to wipe the blood off on her shoe. “I’ll be fine.”

  Aurelia had barely spoken since earlier that evening, and Ion was concerned. Night had fallen, and they’d found a small inn on the southern side of town. Although Aurelia had managed to get more money than expected, they still did not have quite enough to splurge, so they settled for one room.

  Ion was shocked at the luxuries of the city. Even this small room at an old inn put his room in Zar to shame. There was one bed—big enough for two—that was covered in plush-looking furs. Why such heavy bedding was needed in a place so scorching hot was beyond him.

  Aurelia had insisted that one of them still keep watch during the night. So he and Aurelia would trade off; Kuba was already asleep. For now, they were both awake, and he found himself happy that they were alone together.

  “Here,” Aurelia said, offering Ion a mug as she entered the room. She had been downstairs in the kitchen. “They had some mead down there. I thought we could have a treat.”

  Ion smiled and took the mug. He had never had mead before, the Drinkmaster in his town much preferring wine. He took a swig, but, not knowing what to expect, the first taste made him cough.

  Aurelia laughed in a way that was uninhibited and carefree. He wasn’t used to hearing her like this, and he found the sound quite intoxicating. “They do make it strong here,” she said, also taking a sip of hers.

  Ion took another sip, this time prepared for the warm feeling of the liquor running down his throat. “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just mean, this afternoon, with that man…”

  “I’m fine,” she said sternly.

  “I know, but…” Ion sputtered, “he was terrible. I just want you to know that… well, y’know, it’s okay to not be okay sometimes. And if you need to not be okay, I’m here for you.”

  She smiled. Ion couldn’t help but smile back. He was coming to truly admire her combination of strength and intelligence, and he was happy to finally talk to her alone. He hadn’t had that opportunity since Vincent had come into the picture. Seeing her with him had really affected Ion, and that caught him off guard.

  “Thank you,” she said, putting a hand on his wrist. “I’ve had to do things, or I’ve been made to do things, to survive. That man reminded of those terrible things.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Ion said, placing his hand on hers. “For all those things you’ve had to endure.”

  She squeeze his wrist. Suddenly, she laughed. “That guy really was horrible, though!”

  Ion laughed along nervously, not entirely sure what was funny.

  “I scared him straight, I think.” She sighed. “I wish I could have done worse, though.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Ion said.

  “Because I don’t want to be that person,” Aurelia answered, pulling her hand away and crossing it back over her own. She became suddenly serious. “That’s the person Apollyon would have me be. I will fight when I must, but I will not take someone’s life if it is not necessary.”

  “I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like,” Ion said, clenching his fists. He felt anger boil inside him. “It’s insane how oblivious everyone is, how oblivious I was.”

  Her hand was back on his wrist, and he immediately felt the anger subside. “I agree.” She smiled sadly. “It will be different with the Free-Wielders, though. We’ll be safe there.”

  “I’m not going to be staying,” Ion said firmly.

  “You’re still holding on to the hope that they may help?”

  Ion nodded.

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “They have to help,” Ion said. “I will not abandon my Ma. And my Pa, wherever he is…” He paused and Aurelia leaned in closer, Ion felt himself tense at the warmth of her presence.

  “You and Kuba are both very brave,” she whispered.

  He looked into her green eyes; her brow was soft. Ion gently gripped the hand that she had resting on her knee. “Will you help us?”

  “I…” Aurelia looked at her lap and their intertwined hands.

  Ion’s stomach soured and he pulled his hand away. He had thought—after all this, of all people—she could understand.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to…” she started. “It’s just—”

  “You’re scared?”

  “Of course I am!” Aurelia said, clenching her fists. “And you should be, too! If what we’ve gone through these past weeks has taught you anything, it’s that you should be afraid.”

  “I can’t leave them.”

  “They’re probably already dead,” she blurted.

  Ion shot upward, the legs of the chair screeching against the wooden floor as it flung backwards.

  “Ion, I didn’t mean it that way,” Aurelia said, grabbing at his hand. She never meant to be that cruel. “I just meant that… the probability of them being alive… and the risk of trying to save them…”

  Ion pulled his hand away. “I’m going to sleep. I think you should take the first watch.”

  “Okay,” Aurelia said.

  He walked over to the bed and lay down on top of the fur covers.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “I know,” he answered, turning on his side to face his brother. He knew it hadn’t come out the way she meant it, but she’d prodded an open wound. He was the reason they were in this mess and the guilt was drowning him. He needed to save his parents. He reached out to put a hand on Kuba’s arm and noticed his brother’s hand tightly wrapped around the Godstone. For a brief moment, Ion eyed the stone greedily.

  The feeling passed as quickly as it came. He needed to save his brother.

  Chapter 26

  Azul, 14th Day of the Month of Warmth, 1114 A.F.F.

  Noramilli had laid out a beautiful dress for her. The blue gown matched the colour of her Skreeh robes, but it had a silvery tint to it that her uniform did not. With the thinnest straps holding it up, it ran down the full length of her body, hugging her torso and then flowing to the floor from her hips.

  She was staying in a room in the palace for the competition. It was much more beautiful than her tower attic, with tapestries that hung from the walls and a four-poster bed of carved wood taken from the forests of Reinbeck. The palace was nowhere near as high as the tower of the House of Historians, and it had only one window that stared out into the courtyards. Kari missed being in the sky.

  She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was pulled back in a style that Noramilli claimed was more fitting for a future heir. Mímrvor hung from her neck, along with several other necklaces that emphasized the deep neckline of her dress. Her white eyes and hair seemed to glisten against the sheen of her dress, her dark skin making them only stand out even more.

  Xenophon was ensuring everything went smoothly for the Ascension Trials, and he had insisted she dine with the other competitors and their lords this eve, or, at least, the ones that had already arrived. Kari didn’t mind, though. It was the polite thing to do. They were the God-King’s guests after all.

  The parties from Reinbeck and Granbek had been the first to arrive in Azul. Each came into the city with large parades on their heels. The palace was filled with the families of the lords, dignitaries, and prominent traders. With over a hundred private chambers and a staff to accommodate them, the palace had turned into a city of its own. The whole place seemed to hum with an exciting energy.

  Kari couldn’t help but be swept up in it. Especially with the hurried song Mímrvor’s whispered in her head. There were so many Godstones around, she barely had a moment of silence.

  As the orange light beaming in from the win
dow began to turn to a purple hue, Kari knew it was time to make her way to the grand hall. She left her room and strode down the marble halls of the Godshome Palace. Her heels clicked on the floor with each step, drawing the attention of passing strangers, all of whom bowed in her presence. Kari couldn’t help but smile a little.

  As a Skreeh, her job was to study the skies and the Godstones. Elevenths would come to her with their Godstones, and she would help them deepen their connections. Or, on the rare occasion, Xenophon would ask her to use Mímrvor to help them find a Godstone, just as she had done several days ago when she told them which direction to look for the newest fallen stone.

  No one bowed to her when she was just a Skreeh. No matter how knowledgeable she was, the Elevenths simply saw her as a glorified teacher. Now she was someone to be revered, someone who could be Vallich’s equal, someone who could become a God.

  Kari strode down the spiral staircase, the sweet smell of the courtyard’s newly blooming magnolias wafting up around her. The scent was beautiful from a distance, but this close to the gardens it was so potent that she crinkled her nose.

  She was surprised to see Noramilli at the entrance to the grand hall, but not displeased. He stood there with a grin so wide it nearly lit up his tired eyes.

  “You look beautiful, love,” he said with a bow.

  Kari curtsied back at the short man. “Thank you, old friend. May I ask, will you be joining us?”

  “Oh no,” he said. “I am but a humble servant of the House of Historians. Xenophon is in there, though. He will be very happy to see you looking so regal.”

  Kari smiled sweetly. Noramilli was always so kind, but she could not un-hear the rumours that he was a Vyvent. She hated falling so easily to the gossip of the court and tried to displace the thought.

  He bowed again as he took hold of the enormous round door handle. With a muted grunt, he pulled the heavy engraved door open, its gold markings catching the torch light as it moved. “My lady.” He bowed again.