In A Time Of Darkness
Page 42
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What little furniture adoring the King’s chambers had been thrown, knocked over and smashed. With nothing left to take his rage out on, he sat in his throne letting it stain him—over take him.
Despite duties that needed tending to, no one had entered. None dared. The King had spent only one hour away from his anger and it was when he received word from Kalinies. Rhimaldez had betrayed him. It didn’t come as a shock to him though, not entirely. During his first year of service Rhimaldez was nothing but loyal. He remained in the kingdom at all times and followed his orders. However, during the last year it had all faded. He disappeared for weeks at a time, became abjectly reluctant to do even the simplest of tasks. Over that year, Idimus had seen compassion slowly return to Rhimaldez’s eyes, and it sickened him.
His unfaithfulness was the last disloyal act Idimus would tolerate. His failure with Elryia had prompted the King to take action without executing him, fearful of a revolt within his guardsmen. But failure and rebellion were two different things. The time for being lenient had passed. Idimus would settle for nothing less than his death. He would execute Rhimaldez in front of the guards, then remind them that their loyalty lay only with the King. If any showed even the slightest disdain, he had no qualms about executing them along with the Captain. That gave the King at least some peace, if only for a short time. Eventually, his mind wandered back to Grahamas—back to fear. However the most dominant thing in Idimus’ mind was regret.
He should have made sure Grahamas was dead. Should have used more resources when he had time to find the Champion. During the first year of his reign, revolts were heavy. Idimus kept far more soldiers in reserve back then. The land was dead now—idle. He no longer had the manpower to scour the globe looking for one man. The should-haves continued to crash through his mind as a three hundred year old mistake came back to haunt him. His rage overtook him as it had earlier and he rose, taking it out on his throne room—smashing the last bits of his furniture into even smaller pieces.
Anyone who had debated entering the chamber now negated any thought of it.
Almost anyone.
“My Lord, you really should calm down. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
The King turned to see her sitting in his throne, causing him even more rage, yet somehow managing a calm demeanor. “That is not your seat.”
“Not yet,” she smirked, finally removing herself as the King rolled his tired eyes and sat.
“What do you want Valaira?”
“An update,” she replied, sitting on his armrest with her back to him.
“Very little,” he said somewhat snidely. “I dispatched Drogan, Kalinies, and several troops to Loruze as you suggested. But it didn’t reveal Grahamas, only another traitor. The outcome was…suitable, but not what I ultimately wanted.”
Valaira sat up straight and then turned her head back slowly, “Who?”
“The Captain of my guard, Rhimaldez. He has been captured however, and is being led to Roane to be executed as we speak.”
A smile moved, slow and steadily, across her face—as if she enjoyed what she was about to tell him. “No. They’re not.”
Idimus jerked to face her, “What do you mean they’re not?!”
She stood, gliding around to the back of his throne, her fingers dancing along his head. “Rhimaldez is free, your soldiers are dead, and Drogan and Kalinies are seared,” she said, almost jubilantly as her nails twirled his hair about.
He yanked away, snarling, “How do you know this?”
Valaira shrugged her pale shoulders and waved her hand as if his question was not important, “I have my sources.”
Idimus glared, digging his top teeth into his bottom, standing now, “How did he get free?” he asked with a low growl.
Again, Valaira dismissed it with a wave. “It’s trivial my King. You shouldn’t worry yourself with such things.”
“How?!” he barked, yet Valaira didn’t flinch. Deriving a sick pleasure from his torture she spoke, every syllable extended as though she was slowly twisting a knife within his flesh,
“Grahamas,” her eyes lit up at the very mention of his name.
A twitch crawled across his face, blood scorching through his veins as his fingers trembled. Inside, his mind exploded with rage—overwrought with a thousand phrases and curses he wanted to lash out with—yet all remained calm on the surface. “Why…are you smiling?” he said through a tight mouth.
“Because Lord, sometimes we need to make sacrifices.” She crossed quickly, pressing her body right against his and running a fingernail down his cheek—a long line of blood trailing after it. “And sometimes we need to bleed in order to purge the poison,” her eyes narrowed as she stepped back, “Put on your armor and bring your sword. Gather your highest advisors and I promise I will give you a reason to smile with me.”