The Golden Key Legacy

by AJ Nuest

  Too bad when it came to exercising his magic… hell, when it came to breathing, Fandorn refused to let Rhys sidestep the rules. Which sucked worse than being watched twenty-four-seven, since he hadn’t been born with an obey-the-rules gene. But, when it came to their working relationship, above everything else, the wizard had made himself clear as crystal. If Rhys ever planned on seeing Faedrah again, he’d do whatever Fandorn told him to do—no questions asked and a pleasant smile concreted in place.

  Air whirred as the kid rotated the pole in a wide circle over his head. Rhys widened his stance, bracing for impact, reflexes on high alert and his body tense. Every time he’d tried to dodge the end, the little shit somehow flipped him ass-first to the ground. Well, that was done and done. Just because he wasn’t allowed to punch the kid’s lights out, that didn’t mean he had to stand here and be the brat’s personal piñata.

  A fast spin of the weapon and a loud crack filled the room. Pain exploded through his hip; the crowd cheered. Rhys gritted his teeth and slapped his arm against his side, trapping the pole in place with his elbow. Curling his other hand around the middle, he focused on the kid’s face and jerked. His feet tangled as the recruit lurched forward, eyes flying wide with panic. Rhys dropped the pole, grabbed the kid’s upper arms and hoisted the skinny fucker off his feet.

  There. Finally.

  Booing and some nasty cat calls erupted from the guards over how he’d used his hands, but Rhys didn’t give two shits. He was done being the main attraction like some side-show circus freak.

  “Big man has a big stick.” He brought the kid close, staring him straight in the eye. Jaw flapping like beached fish, the recruit blinked… then blinked again… but other than shaking like wet dog, he didn’t struggle or asked to be set down. Rhys slowly lowered him to the ground, keeping the kid’s arms locked in a tight grip. “You ʼbout done?”

  “Unngh…” He swallowed; nodded.

  “Good.” Rhys spun the kid around and shoved his shoulders. “Now go home. And, on the way, be sure to tell everyone you beat the son of Gaelleod in a fair fight.”

  The grumbling got louder. Maybe because no one could find fault in his suggestion. Or maybe because Rhys had just doled out his first order—and the kid slouched out of the room without a backward glance to obey. He couldn’t tell and, frankly, he didn’t care.

  “You are not applying yourself.” Fandorn rapped the bottom of his staff against the floor and stood from a chair he’d placed along the side-lines. The muttering quieted to some general shuffling and whispers as everyone turned toward the walking carpet that doubled as their wizened wizard. “You have not taken full stock of your surroundings. Weapons are not merely composed of silver and stone. Should you encounter an enemy outside the castle walls, you must be prepared to use whatever tools are at your disposal.”

  Rhys slumped. Was he fucking kidding? “If I were outside, I could use a ton of different stuff.” He spread his arms wide. “You stuck me in a room with nothing organic.” For Christ’s sake, there weren’t even any windows he could shatter and use as a weapon. Sure, he could yank a couple blocks from the wall, but where would that get him? Convicted and hung for toppling the castle? “How the hell do you expect me to win when you’ve stacked the deck in my opponent’s favor?”

  Fandorn whipped down the head of his staff. A small bolt leap from the head and Rhys flinched as the air squeezed around his throat. God dammit. His eyes watered and he struggled for air. A few of the guards bumped elbows, chuckling at his expense. He should’ve known Fandorn would never let him off easy. The guy excelled at getting Rhys to test his powers in ways he could’ve never imagined.

  “If I were to recant the numerous times the odds had been cast against me, we would be trapped in this room an eternity and a day.” The wizard flicked his hand and the pressure around Rhys’ larynx released.

  Yeah, right. He ran a hand over the front of his throat, gritting his teeth. Easy words for a dude who could summon the god damned air to do his bidding.

  A creak split the hushed silence as the door flew back on its hinges. Denmar and Vaighn entered and Rhys slammed his lids shut, mumbling a few choice words. Wonderful. Now he’d get to make an ass of himself in front of Faedrah’s brother, the one guy who hated his guts more than anyone in the castle.

  Fandorn swiveled his head back around to Rhys, his eyes narrowed, and dread performed a swan dive in Rhys’ gut. Aw, fuck, now what was going on inside that pointed gray head of his?

  “You lack concentration, my boy. You must widen your focus.” Fandorn strolled over to Denmar and Vaighn and nodded a greeting before pivoting to face the mat. “Perchance the issue is your lack of a proper incentive.”

  Swell. As if the sleepless nights and constant visions of Faedrah facing off against his father weren’t enough. As if he hadn’t been constantly fighting his needs, using every fucking ounce of willpower to follow the rules just so he could ignore the gut-fisting urge to find her and make sure she was okay.

  Nothing helped. Not the late-night drawing stints until he’d wallpapered his room with her picture. Not his time at the smithy spent banging on silver. Not a god damned thing.

  No matter what he did, every second away from her left him empty, frustrated and horny as hell. It was anyone’s guess how much longer he’d last.

  “There is a gathering of the king’s most-trusted advisors slated for this evening’s repast.” The end of Fandorn’s staff struck the stone floor, matching the rhythm of his steps as he slowly came forward. “A few select members of the council and their wives will be in attendance to celebrate the safe return of our fair princess, after which the topics of discussion shall include the map of Gaelleod’s Crystal Crypt, the incursion of the black infestation and our king’s concerns over whether ʼtis wise risking our trespass of Sievere’s Kingdom to seek out the source.”

  He stopped at the edge of the sparring mat and frowned. “Talk amongst us has been heated regarding the issue of your attendance. Some, such as myself and the queen, feel it would behoove us to gain the knowledge of your advice before advancing. Others, such as the captain and our young Vaighn, maintain your counsel is not to be trusted.”

  Not surprising, but Rhys still nearly bit his tongue bloody to stop a long line of obscenities from exploding. So he couldn’t be trusted, huh? Since the day he’d shown up in this god-forsaken place, he toed the line and kept his mouth shut, followed orders like a good little soldier. Maybe that’s where he’d made a mistake, but that situation was easy enough to rectify.

  “’Tis a conundrum, to be sure.” Fandorn opened his palm toward Denmar and Vaighn. “While the captain has agreed to waylay his personal opinions in deference to the queen’s predilections, Vaighn remains unconvinced your presence will be an asset to our cause.”

  Dropping his hand, Fandorn shook his head. “Unfortunately, this has created some difficulty for, you see, the king is loathe to extend you an invitation without the blessing of his adoptive son.”

  “Oh, really?” Rhys crossed his arms, sliding his gaze from Fandorn to Vaighn. In other words, the stubborn son of a bitch was the only one standing in Rhys’ way.

  Vaighn met Rhys’ glare with an easy smile, crossing his arms right back, and a few snickers trickled around the room.

  “Indeed.” The wizard squinted at the wall, tapping an index finger against his lips. “If memory serves, Vaighn was quite insistent your mere presence, alone, would foul the food upon our plates.”

  What a dick. Heat surged into Rhys’ hands and he carefully lowered them to his sides, clenching and releasing his fingers. Christ, what he wouldn’t give for just five minutes alone with the cocky asshole. He’d make damn sure Vaighn shoved his opinions straight up his ass.

  He filled his lungs and slowly exhaled past the anger simmering in his stomach. Losing his cool wouldn’t get him anywhere, and threatening a royal prince with bodily harm would only earn him a nice long vacation back in that hellhole he’d once called home. />
  “’Tis quite regrettable the matter cannot be settled to a more satisfactory conclusion.” Fandorn tipped his head. “Say, perchance, with a contest of skill?”

  Rhys jerked his attention back to Fandorn. Come again? What, exactly, was the sneaky old coot suggesting? He should duke it out with Vaighn for a chance to attend the dinner?

  A sarcastic huff blurted from his lips. Yeah, right. If only…

  The wizard smiled, but Rhys didn’t buy that fake disguise for one damn second. Fandorn was up to something. Something dangerous, something that would probably end with Rhys coughing up a fine for stepping outside the box.

  “Yes, yes, quite regrettable, indeed.” The wizard sighed. “Especially since your beloved Faedrah will be in attendance.”

  Every muscle in Rhys’ body stiffened at the exact same second Vaighn tossed his head back with a full-throated laugh. Aw, fuck, was this a joke? Rhys resisted the urge to shake the damn wizard and force the truth out of his double-sided mouth.

  Christ, to learn she was so close, only to have her fucking brother keeping her out of reach… He raked a hand through his hair. Shit, the idea alone literally made him ache.

  Shifting his focus back to Vaighn, Rhys glowered at the one guy who held everything he wanted in his hands. If he could somehow knock the fucker out, he’d finally be able to see Faedrah, touch and smell her. Jesus Christ, what he wouldn’t give to even stand in the same room with her, just to breathe the same air.

  “You’re reasoning has only one flaw, Fandorn.” Vaighn shook his head, grinning. “The son of Gaelleod has nothing to offer me should I win out the day.”

  “I don’t?” Rhys cocked a brow as the prince snapped his head over with a frown. Shit, maybe he’d gone off the deep end for even considering the idea, but it wasn’t like all the shit he’d done so far had gotten him anywhere.

  Besides, for the chance of being with Faedrah, for the smallest possibility he might be able to hold her in his arms and drink in her kisses, he would risk… fuck, he would risk everything.

  He smiled—the first genuine smile he’d experienced in three days. Because no way in hell was he going to let Vaighn win. Even if he couldn’t figure out some way to use his magic, even if he got his head bashed in with a wooden stick, there was just no fucking way. “Tell you what, Your Highness. You win, and I promise to never go near your sister again.”

  A mumbling hubbub circled the room. A few of the guards exchanged glances. Others bounced coin bags in their hands, brows lifted as if getting ready to place a bet.

  Vaighn grunted. “I am not a fool. Do not suppose for one moment I believe the lies which slide so easily off your forked tongue.”

  Rhys tipped his head back and forth, bottom lip jutted forward like he was mulling over Vaighn’s insult. “Okay, let’s say I’m lying. You really think there’s one guy in this room who would let me go back on my word?”

  The muttering increased, accented by the clink of gold coins exchanging hands. Rhys glanced over and rolled his eyes. A second later, realization slammed into him like a truck. A breath stuck in his throat and he stumbled forward like he’d been shoved.

  Holy shit, that was it! He relaxed his shoulders in lazy slouch as Denmar squinted and crossed his arms. Shit, he’d better watch it or Captain America was apt to get wise Rhys had just figured out Fandorn’s plan.

  “Of course there’s always the other alternative.” He chuckled, shaking his head. God, he’d been an idiot. Fandorn was right. While fighting the kid, he had lacked incentive. Good thing the wizard had locked on to the one thing… the one woman who’d always forced Rhys to upload his A game.

  Strolling to the side of the mat, he shrugged at Vaighn. “Something tells me you’re just plain chicken.”

  Deep, red anger crawled up Vaighn’s neck. His jaw firmed. “To the bowels of hell with your vile impertinence.” Leaning down, he tore off one of his boots. He tossed it aside and, hopping on one foot, quickly followed the first boot with the second. “’Tis with extreme pleasure, I shall render you speechless.”

  Ripping his shirt over his head, he marched to the center of the mat and kicked the pole into the air. The end whirred a fast circle as he caught the stick mid-flight. Balancing it along the top of his shoulders, one hand gripping the far end, he extended his other arm and bent his knees in a crouch. “I agree to the terms of your wager.”

  The guards jostled for position around the mat as Rhys squared off against Faedrah’s brother. For a few brief seconds, he almost regretted how easy this was going to be. He ran a hand down his face to hide a smile. Almost.

  Vaighn whipped the pole in a low arc and Rhys jumped to avoid being knocked off his feet. Zeroing in on a gold coin in the nearest dude’s palm, he selected it with his mind and exerted a slight push. It zipped across the room and flicked off the back of Vaighn’s head.

  A muffled tink, and the prince’s jaw dropped; he slapped his palm to the spot.

  The coin hit the mat and wheeled a few feet away. The men standing in its flight plan retreated until it spun a whirly-gig then lay flat. The owner held up both arms to keep everyone back, glanced left then right before stomping forward and snatching his money off the ground.

  Rhys compressed his lips, trapping the silent laugh cinching his stomach. Ah God, that was good. Like taking candy from a baby.

  Vaighn turned back to the fight, focus narrowed and a vein pulsing in this neck. “It shall take more than a simple gold coin to defeat me, Wizard.”

  “Good.” It was high time they got a few things straight. “In fact, I’m counting on it.” Rhys pinpointed two dozen gold pieces with his mind. “Tally ʼem up quick, fellas. This party’s about to get messy.”

  Tension spiked in the room and musical jingles sang off the stone walls as the guards counted the money in their palms. Rhys would pay back every dime if he had to. The cost would be worth teaching this royal prick a thing or two.

  Faedrah’s brother flipped the wooden lance around and held it high over his right shoulder. Rhys sized him up from the opposite side of the mat, both of them walking a slow circle. Though maybe half an inch taller, Vaighn’s arms weren’t any thicker. His weight and muscle mass seemed equal to what Rhys carried. It really did suck Fandorn insisted on the hands off rule. Just the thought of pounding some flesh out of that smug fucker’s face gave Rhys a buzz he hadn’t enjoyed for a week.

  Vaighn smirked, jabbing the end of the lance at Rhys’ chest. Adrenaline surged, and Rhys levitated the coins he’d selected, drawing them closer, a swarm of gold bees funneling and winking in the air. Vaighn’s knuckles whitened on the lance. He filled his lungs and, the split second he moved, Rhys let the fuckers fly.

  Each piece zipped toward its intended target. Gold flashed and spun. Rhythmic clinks zinged through the room as Vaighn batted the coins away like a series of blinding, high-speed pitches. They flew in every direction. The guards ducked and scrambled, arms covering their heads to deflect the out of control missiles.

  A sweep of his hand and Rhys gathered them up, plucking one after the next as they soared through the air. He pivoted toward Vaighn as the prince spun low. A stinging smack burst through Rhys’ ankle and he stumbled sideways. God dammit, the fucker was fast. He tripped on the stick, hit the mat on his hands and the men cheered. Tucking his shoulder, he conserved his momentum and somersaulted, pushing to his feet. But no way was the asshole faster than thought.

  Spreading both arms, Rhys collected every ounce of gold in the room and thrust his hands forward.

  A whirling cloud of gold pummeled the prince’s chest. Coins sprayed like pounding water, ricocheting in a stream to either side. Arms pin-wheeling, neck strained, Vaighn reeled back on his heels.

  Not so fast, you royal motherfucker. Rhys flicked his wrist and the wave of incoming coins changed direction, shoving Faedrah’s brother forward like a rag doll. A clench of his fist and they stuck to Vaighn’s skin, aligning down his outstretched arms, slapping in place like gold-plated arm
or until his torso was covered from shoulders to hips.

  Rhys jerked his chin and the metal hoisted the prince off the mat, twirling him around like a loose kite, lifting him higher and higher. A loud grunt punched from his throat and a few coins rained down as Vaighn’s spine slammed the ceiling.

  Well, looky here. Propping his hands on his hips, Rhys squinted up at Faedrah’s brother. Pinned. In less than five minutes flat. Maybe that would teach the asshole some manners.

  Vaighn gnashed his teeth, head thrashing. “Release me at once, you black-hearted demon, or I shall order you shackled and strung up in chains.”

  Or maybe not. Snagging one of the loose coins near his foot, Rhys floated it in front of Vaighn’s face, tipped the thin edge toward the prince and tapped it against his forehead.

  Vaighn stopped squirming.

  “See, now, this is the part where we find out the difference between you and me.” Rhys shook his head, sighed and crossed his arms. “I’m sure by now everyone here understands it wouldn’t take much for me to maim or even kill you.”

  Vaighn squinted, anger hissing through his teeth. “Make it so and you shall not take one step out of this chamber alive.”

  “Right, right, you’d like me dead and all that shit. I get it.” Rhys nodded, dropped his focus to the mat and shrugged. “But let’s be clear. That’s not the reason I won’t return the favor.” He tipped his head back and stared up at the prince. “Whether or not I kill you doesn’t have anything to do with you, or me, or anyone else in this room. It has to do with Faedrah. Because if I kill you, she hurts.”

  Rhys lowered his chin and turned in a circle, meeting the eyes of every man standing near the mat. “It’s real simple, folks. I bring harm to any one of you and her heart breaks… and I swear to God, there’s no way in hell I’m ever gonna let that happen. You got that? She’s the only thing that matters to me. Her, and the safety of her future kingdom.”

  Spinning on his heel, Rhys released his hold and the gold pieces showered to the mat. Vaighn dropped to his chest with a thud.