Destroy: (The Blades of Acktar 3.5)

by Tricia Mingerink

  THE BLADES OF ACKTAR

  DESTROY

  A NOVELLA

  TRICIA MINGERINK

  Copyright © 2016 by Tricia Mingerink

  Triciamingerink.com

  Published by Sword & Cross Publishing

  Sword & Cross Publishing and the Sword & Cross Publishing logo are trademarks of Tricia Mingerink. Absence of ™ in connection with Sword & Cross Publishing does not indicate an absence of trademark protection of those marks.

  Cover by Tricia Mingerink

  All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in written reviews, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and settings are the product of the author's over active imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, events, or settings is purely coincidental or used fictitiously.

  All Scripture quotes are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  To all those who love lots of backstory.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Map

  Acknowledgements

  My Newsletter

  About the Author

  The LORD appeared to Solomon in a dream by night: and God said, Ask what I shall give thee.

  And Solomon said…Give therefore thy servant an understanding heart to judge thy people, that I may discern between good and bad.

  And God gave Solomon wisdom and understanding exceeding much, and largeness of heart, even as the sand that is on the sea shore.

  - I Kings 3:5-9, 4:29

  1

  Something slammed.

  A hand grasped the back of seventeen-year-old Prince Keevan Eirdon’s collar and yanked him from the linen closet where he’d been kissing a maid.

  His uncle Laurence glared with burning eyes the color of a summer sky. “What do you think you are doing?”

  Keevan gaped from him to the sixteen-year-old maid. She was crying, her hands shaking as she straightened her mussed hair. Cold doused Keevan. He’d let himself go too far.

  What had he been thinking?

  That’s just it. He hadn’t been thinking.

  Uncle Laurence turned to the maid. “What’s your name?”

  “Ellenora.” The maid shook harder.

  Uncle Laurence’s tone was gentle as he extended a hand. “If you would please come with me, my wife will look after you, all right?”

  The maid’s wide eyes glanced from Uncle Laurence to Keevan. Keevan wrapped his arms around his stomach. What had he done? He hadn’t meant to go so far. He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen.

  With a shaky nod, the girl let Uncle Laurence steer her from the closet with a hand on her back. As they passed, Uncle Laurence sent Keevan a cold look. “Come.”

  Keevan didn’t even try to disobey. He was a prince and technically he outranked his uncle—something he had used on occasion—but this time he couldn’t dredge up that arrogance. Uncle Laurence wasn’t in the mood to put up with him pulling rank.

  As they rounded the corner into the guest wing, Keevan caught sight of Aunt Annita coming toward them, gripping Keevan’s cousins Renna and Brandi on either side of her. Both of the girls were crying.

  Keevan winced. This wasn’t going to help Uncle Laurence’s mood at all.

  “What happened?” The tone in Uncle Laurence’s voice was gentle, even if his eyes remained chips of ice.

  “W-we made snowmen, but K-keevan whacked their heads off. Then he laughed at us.” Eight-year-old Brandi scrubbed her eyes and glared up at Keevan. “He was very mean.”

  Twelve-year-old Renna sniffed, buried her face against Aunt Annita’s arm, and mumbled, “We weren’t supposed to tell.”

  Uncle Laurence’s jaw flexed, and Keevan felt a tremor start in his own hands. He’d never seen Uncle Laurence this angry before. And that anger was directed at him.

  But somehow, Uncle Laurence’s voice remained soft when he nudged the maid forward. “Annita, would you see to Ellenora, here?”

  The sideways glance at Keevan seemed to give Aunt Annita enough information. Her eyes widened, and she let go of Brandi and Renna to wrap the maid in a hug. “Come with me, sweetheart.”

  When Aunt Annita, the maid, Renna, and Brandi disappeared into Uncle Laurence and Aunt Annita’s suite of rooms, Uncle Laurence spun on his heel. Any gentleness deserted his angular face, leaving only hard lines around his mouth and eyes. Though not exceptionally tall or broad, Uncle Laurence’s slim frame seemed to tower over Keevan.

  With a firm hand on Keevan’s shoulder, Uncle Laurence marched him down the hallway and into Keevan’s room. Once inside, Uncle Laurence slammed the door and pointed at one of the plush chairs in front of the fireplace. “Sit.”

  Keevan stumbled across the room and flung himself into the chair, curling his legs beneath it. Was this what criminals felt like when they faced his father? Shame? Regret?

  Had Keevan ever really felt shame before? He didn’t think so. Not like this, anyway. He’d always tried to be like his older brother Aengus, always laughing off mistakes and whims as if they were nothing.

  They always had been nothing. Whacking heads off snowmen. Shoving snow down the back of Renna’s cloak. Teasing her. A few stolen kisses from the maids. Nothing really harmful. Nothing bad.

  And he hadn’t meant for this to be bad either. If Uncle Laurence hadn’t found him, surely Keevan would’ve stopped before he’d gone too much farther, right? He wouldn’t have actually hurt her.

  Except that he had. She’d been crying and shaking, staring at him like he was some kind of monster. There must have been some moment when her hands started shoving against him and when she’d tried to tell him to stop, but he couldn’t remember. He hadn’t paid any attention to her, only to the pounding of his own pulse.

  Uncle Laurence stalked across the room, picked up Keevan’s Bible from the table beside his bed, and flipped through the pages. Striding to Keevan, he slammed the Bible into Keevan’s lap.

  Keevan jumped, barely registering where Uncle Laurence’s finger pointed before he stepped back and crossed his arms. “Read it. Out loud.”

  Keevan swallowed. “H-husbands, love your wives, even as Christ loves the church.”

  Barely had the last word crawled out than Uncle Laurence snatched the Bible, leafed through a few more pages, and slammed it back in his lap. “And this one.”

  When Keevan finished that verse, Uncle Laurence repeated the process. Again and again, until Keevan lost count of the number of verses he read. Verses on love. On Christians being all one body. Husbands and wives. Treating each other as brothers and sisters in Christ. Fleeing temptation.

  By the time Keevan finished reading a verse and Uncle Laurence didn’t immediately snatch the Bible away, Keevan couldn’t hide his shaking. He’d really messed up this time. Surely his father wouldn’t let this slide. Not like he had everything else Keevan had done.

  Uncle Laurence jerked a thumb at the door. All the verse reading hadn’t softened the hard edge of his voice. “Come. Let’s talk to your father.”

  Keevan swallowed and
pushed to his feet. He followed Uncle Laurence from his room, down the hallway, and outside into the Queen’s Court. They trudged across the snow-covered paths, into the passageway that connected the two courtyards, and up the narrow staircase to his parents’ rooms.

  The cold bit into Keevan’s nose, and he stuffed his fingers into his armpits. He hadn’t grabbed a cloak, mittens, or scarf when Uncle Laurence had marched him outside. Then again, Uncle Laurence hadn’t grabbed anything either. But perhaps he was still too angry to feel the cold at the moment.

  As they neared the top, a clerk dashed out the door, nearly running into Uncle Laurence. The clerk paled and threw himself to the side. “S-sorry, sir. Your Highness.” The clerk pressed himself to the wall and inched past Keevan.

  Keevan realized, as the clerk dashed down the rest of the stairs, that he probably should’ve thought to move out of the man’s way. Uncle Laurence had.

  Uncle Laurence shoved open the door to Father’s study without bothering to knock. Keevan tiptoed after him. His father hunched over a stack of paperwork on his desk under the window overlooking the cobblestone courtyard. His crown sat on another pile of papers. He didn’t even glance up when they entered. “I told you. I’m not to be disturbed.”

  Uncle Laurence marched across the room, planted himself in front of the desk, and crossed his arms. “I caught your son kissing a maid in the closet. Again.”

  Father sighed and scratched his head. He still didn’t look up. “Which one?”

  “Keevan.” Uncle Laurence didn’t budge from in front of the table. “Leon, this has to stop. All of it. You can’t keep letting your boys run loose like this. The country needs to trust the royal family’s strength and integrity right now, not gossip about its scandals.”

  Keevan winced. Nalgar was still rife with the gossip of Aengus’ last trip to a tavern.

  “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal. Boys will be boys. You probably did your own amount of kissing in closets. I know I did. We have bigger things to worry about.” Father finally looked up. Lines circled through the dark shadows under his eyes. He pushed the stack of paperwork toward Uncle Laurence. “Rovers struck Clarbon. Killed a few people and drove off part of the cattle herd. Another group of Rovers took over Dyman, and I’m going to have to send in the army to dislodge them. I’m receiving more reports of strange activity around Blathe, but Lord Felix denies anything is going on. And then there’s…”

  “This isn’t something you can brush off.” Uncle Laurence didn’t even glance at the stack of papers. “She was in tears, and I’m not sure what would’ve happened had I not stumbled across them.”

  Keevan flinched. What would have happened? He wasn’t sure he wanted to be that honest, not even to himself.

  “Really, Laurence, I doubt it was as bad as all that. My sons are essentially good boys. They’ll settle down once they grow up a little.” Father remained seated, but a hint of anger colored his tone.

  Apparently, Uncle Laurence didn’t care. He leaned on the desk. “They won’t grow out of it without guidance. Yes, it was as bad as all that. Something like this has to be punished.”

  Father shot to his feet. Red suffused into his cheeks and up his face all the way into his hairline. “Don’t tell me how to raise my sons! It isn’t your place.”

  Keevan glanced around the room, but he didn’t dare flee and draw attention to himself. He didn’t want to hear his father and uncle argue. Especially not about him.

  “No, maybe it isn’t.” Uncle Laurence’s tone cut as sharply as the midwinter air outside. “But it is my duty to be concerned about my daughters, and I won’t have them stay in a place where this kind of thing is ignored. My family will be leaving. Today.”

  Uncle Laurence spun on his heels and stalked from the room.

  Father slumped back in his chair, scrubbing a hand across his face and eyes. When the sunlight glinted across his blond hair, Keevan caught sight of a few silver strands at his temple. When had his father started to get gray hairs?

  When Father looked up at him, it was with tired, brown eyes. “Keevan, just…try to behave, all right? I can’t deal with anything more right now.”

  Keevan bobbed a nod and took that as his permission to leave. He fled down the stairs, but halted in the passageway at the bottom and leaned against the wall. The stones sucked his body’s warmth through his clothes, and his breath misted in the air, but he didn’t care.

  The weariness in his father’s voice…the spark in Uncle Laurence’s eyes…Keevan couldn’t decide which was worse.

  He hadn’t really been all that bad, had he? It was just a little bit of kissing.

  Except that he might not have stopped there if he hadn’t been interrupted. He’d ignored her no simply because his desires were telling him yes.

  A hand slapped against his shoulder. “What’s going on? I just passed Uncle Laurence, and he looked like he’d swallowed a rattlesnake.”

  Keevan glanced up into Aengus’ grinning face. “Uncle Laurence caught me kissing a maid in the linen closet. He wasn’t happy about it.”

  “Is that all?” Aengus shook his head, scattering water droplets from the beard and mustache he’d begun to grow. “He’ll get over it.”

  “Not this time.” Keevan stuffed his hands under his arms. His fingertips were already going numb. He probably should go inside, but the cold seemed like a small form of punishment for what he’d done, since he wouldn’t suffer anything else.

  “He will. Besides, Uncle Laurence always acts a bit too perfect. We can’t all be that good. Now, look at what I smuggled out of the kitchen.” Aengus opened his cloak and pulled out a bottle from its hiding place under his shirt. The dark, amber liquid sloshed. “A whole bottle of the cook’s whiskey. I found his new hiding spot. Why don’t we slip back to my room and nip a few glasses?”

  And those few glasses would turn into the whole bottle. It always did with Aengus.

  Keevan found himself swaying forward. It would be so easy to follow Aengus and drink until his head buzzed and he couldn’t help but laugh and smirk and joke as if none of this had ever happened. He’d probably end up telling Aengus the whole story, and after a few glasses of the whiskey, they’d both end up laughing about it. Just like they’d done many times before.

  Keevan’s stomach churned. What would Uncle Laurence’s reaction be to that, if he caught them?

  Except that he wouldn’t. He, Aunt Annita, Brandi, and Renna would be leaving shortly. All because of Keevan.

  “N-no. They’ll be looking for us soon. Uncle Laurence and Aunt Annita are leaving, and they’ll want us there to say goodbye.” Keevan curled his toes in his boots, trying to keep them from going numb.

  “They’re leaving?” Aengus raised his eyebrows. “You weren’t kidding that Uncle Laurence was peeved. All the more reason to get a few swigs in now. You know how long it takes to pack. They won’t leave for hours yet. We’ll have more than enough time. Besides, I’m now cold, and I need a few drinks to warm me up.”

  Keevan found himself pushing away from the wall before he caught himself. This was how it had always been. He could never say no to Aengus. Not when he’d offered Keevan his first swig of whiskey. Not when he’d challenged him to kiss a maid in the closet. Keevan always went along with whatever Aengus asked.

  If he went this time, he’d continue just how he’d always been. Drinking. Luring maids into closets. And one of these days, he’d go too far with one or both of those things.

  Or, he could stop. He could try to be better. More like Uncle Laurence.

  “No, I just don’t really want to right now.” Keevan ducked around Aengus and hurried down the passageway. When he turned the corner, he broke into a run. Once inside the family wing of the castle, he had to dodge between the bustle of servants helping Uncle Laurence and Aunt Annita pack.

  When he burst into his room, he slammed the door closed and sank into the same chair where he’d received Uncle Laurence’s Bible verse lecture.

  An
hour later, he found himself bundled in his cloak, hat, mittens, and scarf and standing in the few inches of snow that had yet to be shoveled off the cobblestone courtyard. The goodbyes between his family and Uncle Laurence and Aunt Annita had been stiff, and now they rode out of the castle without a backward glance, the maid and her family riding with them.

  Twelve-year-old Duncan, Keevan’s youngest brother, glanced up at Mother. “Why did Renna and Brandi have to go?”

  Beside him fourteen-year-old Rorin also turned toward Mother. She sighed and wrapped her arm around Duncan’s slim shoulders. In the afternoon light, the lines on her face seemed deeper, her hair a lighter blond. “An argument. But don’t worry about it, all right, dearest?”

  An argument. Keevan’s stomach turned. Of course Duncan was too young to be told the full truth. Even Rorin wouldn’t be told.

  They couldn’t ever find out that Keevan’s actions had destroyed their family.

  2

  Nearly a year later…

  Something warm and firm pressed over his mouth, shoving him down into his pillow. Keevan’s eyes flew open, his heart jolting into a panicked rhythm.

  A dark figure leaned over him, one knee pinning Keevan’s body and one of his arms to the bed. Moonlight played across a slim face and dark hair. A knife winked in a raised hand.

  A knife. What was going on? Keevan’s heart pounded into his throat, sharp and hard as the knife glittering in the silver light. This attacker was raising the knife like…like he intended to kill Keevan.

  Keevan couldn’t seem to will his body to move. This couldn’t be happening. Surely this intruder wouldn’t actually kill him. This had to be a nightmare or one of his brothers playing a trick on him.

  But his brothers would’ve been grinning and laughing by now.

  Keevan stared into the intruder’s face and met a pair of bright green eyes. Unable to speak with the hand over his mouth, Keevan put all his pleading into his gaze. Please don’t...