Destroy: (The Blades of Acktar 3.5)

by Tricia Mingerink

  “Do you love her?” Croft’s eyes lifted from the tabletop to Keevan.

  “Yes.” After so long denying it, the word came surprisingly easy. But perhaps, it wasn’t so surprising. Keevan had been slowly, hopelessly falling for her from the moment he lay choking on his own blood and had looked up to see her bending over him, her curls wild and silver in the moonlight.

  To this day, her hand was the only one he could stand on his neck. He broke into a sweat whenever the healer poked and inspected as he did several times a year to make sure Keevan wasn’t in danger of losing his voice again. But Addie? He never flinched away from her.

  He cleared his aching throat. Soon, Keevan’s rasp would deepen and hiss in his throat as the weak muscle gave out completely.

  “Good.” Croft refocused on the tabletop once again.

  That wasn’t the end of the conversation. By the time Keevan and Croft returned to the cabin, Keevan’s voice had given out, and he was content to sprawl on the cabin floor, a damp, hot cloth draped around his neck, while Addie and her family talked and laughed around him.

  Her family. And, someday, his family. Four brothers, two sisters, and parents.

  He still missed his own brothers and parents, but the ache was less than it had been. He had been blessed with this family instead, a family he never would’ve noticed had Respen not changed his life so drastically.

  If Respen wasn’t a murderer and if Acktar’s citizens weren’t dying under his ax and his Blades’ knives, Keevan might have been tempted to daydream about staying lost. About never returning to Acktar and simply living like this forever. A homey cabin deep in the mountains. The smell of glue on his clothes and sawdust under his fingernails. Laughter and smiles unhampered with politics and burdens.

  But that’s all it was. A daydream. Someday all this would end and Keevan would have to return to Acktar.

  Still, he couldn’t help but pray it wasn’t anytime soon.

  9

  Two years later…

  Keevan brushed the layer of sawdust from the cradle. He smoothed his fingers over every inch of it, seeking even the smallest sliver. He couldn’t find any.

  Papa glanced at him. “Looks about ready to varnish.”

  That was Keevan’s estimation too, but it was good to hear Papa agree. Keevan traced his fingers over the pattern carved into the headboard. “I think I’d better go over this part again. Feels a bit rough here.”

  Papa nodded, but Keevan wasn’t sure it was agreement or simply an acknowledgment. “You did a good job.”

  Keevan ducked to hide his grin. This wasn’t the first piece of furniture he’d built, but, somehow, it felt the most important. In a number of months, his and Addie’s child would sleep in here. His son or daughter.

  Stomping boots announced a visitor before a soldier ducked into the shed. He gave a half bow to Keevan. “General Stewart says there’s a message from Walden.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Keevan set the cradle on one of the workbenches along the side of the shed. Brushing off his hands and grabbing his cloak, Keevan left the shed and headed for the main cabin at the edge of the broad, graveled clearing at the top of the mountain.

  Patches of slush still piled against cabin walls and in the canyons. Down in Acktar, the snow was probably gone and planting begun, but up here, mud and slush still ruled.

  Scraping off mud from his boots on the front step, Keevan strode into the warm darkness of the cabin’s entry hall. Light shone from the meeting room to his left, and he followed the light into the broad space.

  General Stewart sat at the long table—one of Keevan’s first furniture projects—several scraps of paper, a pen, and a Bible spread out in front of him. He glanced up as Keevan entered, the lamplight glinting in his gray hair. “I almost have it decoded.”

  Keevan slid into a chair and waited. Finally, General Stewart set down the pen, read it through one more time, and handed his decoded message across the table.

  Taking it, Keevan read it quickly. Then read it again, more slowly, to make sure he’d understood it correctly. “This can’t be right.”

  “I double-checked several times. That’s what the message says.” General Stewart glanced from his decoded message to the original still resting on the table in front of him.

  “And Lord Alistair thinks he can trust this Blade?” Keevan still stared at the note in front of him. It didn’t seem possible. A Blade had presented himself to Lord Alistair, claiming he wanted to switch sides because Keevan’s cousins had helped him during the winter. All to protect them from the First Blade who now threatened them.

  It had to be some kind of trap. There was no way a Blade would ever turn like that.

  “He’s being cautious. He isn’t trusting him with any of our secrets, and he’s having Lord Shadrach travel with him.” General Stewart’s frown stayed on his face.

  It wasn’t cautious enough. Lord Alistair risked his own son’s life.

  Keevan closed his eyes, still feeling the smooth sides of the cradle beneath his fingers. How could a father risk his child like that? Perhaps it was different when that child was grown and a man only a few years younger than Keevan.

  But Keevan still couldn’t fathom it. Not when all he wanted to do was dash up the stairs, wrap his arms around Addie, and bury his face in her hair until he was sure both she and their child were safe.

  “Whatever was going to happen, it already has.” General Stewart leaned back in his chair.

  That was the hardest part about Eagle Heights. It took a fast rider a week to reach Eagle Heights from Walden. Sometimes longer if he was delayed. It would take less than that for Lord Alistair to travel to Stetterly. Whatever the Blade had been planning, he’d probably done it already. Shadrach Alistair might be dead for all they knew.

  Keevan wouldn’t know until Lord Alistair sent another message.

  Keevan stepped from the main cabin as Shadrach Alistair swung from the horse. It wasn’t his usual chestnut, but a dark brown.

  General Stewart reached Shadrach first. “I see that Blade didn’t kill you.”

  “No.” Shadrach grinned. “Actually, I have quite the story to tell.”

  Keevan led the way into the meeting room. He took the head of the table while Shadrach and General Stewart sat on either side of him.

  Shadrach leaned back in the chair. “That Blade my father wrote about? Turns out he was telling the truth. Respen planned to assassinate all the nobles he even suspected of supporting the Resistance.”

  General Stewart straightened. “Did he succeed? It would cripple the Resistance.”

  Keevan squeezed his fingers into fists. Had more people died for this Resistance? To keep Keevan safe here at Eagle Heights?

  “No. Thanks to the Blade, we were able to warn everyone. I don’t know how many took precautions and survived, but they were warned.” For a moment, Shadrach’s grin faltered. But he regained it as he clasped his hands behind his head. “At Walden, we killed the First Blade.”

  “The First Blade?” Keevan could barely rasp the words. The First Blade had killed Keevan’s family. And now he was dead.

  “Yes. I suspect he wasn’t the only Blade killed that night. The first blow to reclaim Acktar has been struck.” Shadrach sat forward and leaned his elbows on the table, a move that reminded Keevan of Lord Alistair.

  Keevan clenched and unclenched his fingers. After all these years, the war seemed real and far too near. Was it possible that the Resistance could fight back? That he could reclaim his throne? Soon?

  “There is one thing…” Shadrach looked away, as if he wasn’t sure how Keevan would react. “My father offered the Blade refuge in Eagle Heights for helping us.”

  “What?” Keevan’s throat closed. Why would Lord Alistair promise that of all things? Did he think they could bring a Blade here?

  Addie. Their child. Keevan shook at the thought of a Blade getting anywhere near them. He could see Addie, her throat slit as his had been, curling in a puddle of he
r own blood.

  “He’s on our side now. In more ways than one. He’s become a Christian.”

  A Blade? A Christian? Keevan couldn’t put those two words together. It had to be some kind of trick. A means to get one of Respen’s Blades into their confidence.

  “Where is he now?” General Stewart gripped the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning the room as if he thought the Blade might materialize out of the shadows. General Stewart had spent four and a half years protecting Keevan from Blades. He’d risked his own life to stay at Nalgar Castle to help more people flee and to prevent Respen from discovering Keevan’s survival. Would he jeopardize that now and let a Blade in their sanctuary here at Eagle Heights?

  “At Nalgar Castle.” Shadrach blew out a long breath. “He returned to continue spying.”

  Either he was really brave or he was returning to report to Respen.

  One could save them. The other could kill them all.

  Lord Alistair might have decided to trust this Blade, but ultimately, the decision would rest with Keevan. And if he chose wrong, he’d answer to all the innocent lives sheltered here at Eagle Heights.

  Refugees poured into Eagle Heights—more than ever before—with stories of armies and destruction. Addie could see the doubt in Keevan’s eyes every time he received a new report. Was this the time to fight back as they had planned for the past four years? Or was it already too late? Had they waited too long?

  Keevan’s cousins were prisoners at Nalgar Castle. Walter Esroy, their best scout and message rider, lay dead in a grave somewhere in the Hills.

  Their mountain wasn’t big enough to hold all the people nor would their supplies last, especially now that Walden would soon be under siege, if not overrun, and there would be no more supplies coming.

  Addie gripped Keevan’s arm as they navigated down the path from the top of Eagle Heights to the village at the bottom where the latest group of refugees were being given whatever temporary shelter they could muster.

  She rubbed her free hand along her back. This trail had been a lot easier before she’d been pregnant. Now, she couldn’t see her own feet. She could imagine her brothers, trailing behind them, laughing under their breaths. She didn’t turn around to look.

  “You don’t have to come.” Keevan halted them and steered her to a boulder. “You should be resting.”

  “I’m tired of resting.” Addie sank onto the boulder anyway. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

  “I’m still going to find a horse and have you ride on the way back. Either that, or I’m going to carry you.”

  Addie closed her eyes, trying to imagine Keevan staggering under her weight. He’d probably tip over backwards and send them careening down the hill. “Find a horse, please. I highly doubt you can carry me at the moment.”

  “Really?” Keevan’s eyes twinkled, and that was enough warning for Addie to brace herself before he looped one arm around her back and the other under her knees. When he tried to pick her up, he staggered and nearly dropped her.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Put me down before you hurt yourself.”

  Over Keevan’s shoulder, she caught sight of her brothers. Frank had his arms stretched out, as if prepared to catch the two of them if Keevan collapsed. Brennen shrugged while Patrick had his arms around his stomach, laughing.

  “I’m fine.” Keevan gasped as he straightened, heaving her higher as he tottered a step down the trail. “You’re not that heavy.”

  He was lying. She was only a few inches shorter than him, and, pregnant as she was, she wasn’t exactly small or light.

  Still, if he wanted to hurt himself, she wasn’t going to argue. Not when it spared her aching feet and back. Though, being half-curled in his arms was making it hard to breathe.

  He made it to the bottom of the slope before, arms shaking, he set her back on her feet. As he bent over, hands on knees, to catch his breath, Addie patted his arm. “We’ll be taking a horse back.”

  “Yes.” Between his panting and his rasp, the word was barely intelligible.

  When his breathing steadied, he held out an arm to her again. “Shall we make a more proper entrance?”

  She took it and pasted on the smile she’d practiced for the past two years at Keevan’s side. A small enough smile that she could hold it for hours without her face hurting, yet large enough to seem welcoming.

  By the time they broke through the last few trees into the cleared dirt that counted as the road through a row of cabins, she and Keevan were composed and serene. Behind them, her brothers remained stiff, outwardly the picture of a prince’s royal guards. Inwardly, they were probably plotting ways to tug her hair out of her bun.

  She greeted each of the new families, focusing so that she could remember as many names as possible.

  Beneath her hand, Keevan stiffened. He gaped at a family a few yards away.

  Frank stepped beside Keevan, hand on his sword’s hilt. “What is it?”

  Patrick appeared beside Addie, easing around her to put his shoulder in front of her. Behind them, Brennen closed in a few steps.

  Keevan released a shuddering breath. “Frank, I need to talk to that couple up ahead privately. Is there a place nearby?”

  Frank let go of his sword and nodded at the cabin across the street. “I’ll see if that one is open. Patrick, can you escort them?”

  Patrick strode away, leaving Addie’s side feeling cold.

  Frank waved them over to the cabin, and Addie let Keevan lead her inside. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the faint lamplight after the brilliance of the summer sun outside.

  Footsteps pounded outside, then the door swung open. Patrick strode inside, followed by a slim man with brown hair and beard who glared at Keevan and a young woman, who twisted her fingers together in front of her as if she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to run or be sick.

  What would cause such reactions in them? Most of the time when the refugees realized Keevan was alive, they were astounded.

  But these people only looked angry.

  “Your Highness.” The young man gave a stiff nod of his head, as if that was all the bow he would deign to give Keevan.

  Keevan squeezed his eyes shut, his scar standing out stark in the lamplight. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze focused on the young woman. “Ellenora, isn’t it? Five and a half years ago, I hurt you.”

  Both the young man and woman flinched. Addie had seen the reaction before, the way people recoiled from the monstrous sound of Keevan’s damaged voice.

  But this time, she flinched too as the pieces nailed together. This woman standing in front of her was the one Keevan had told her about. Addie didn’t want to imagine him pulling this girl into a closet, kissing her…

  She slammed away the thoughts. Keevan wasn’t that boy anymore.

  “I hurt you, and I was wrong. I would ask for your forgiveness, but I understand if you can’t give it.” Keevan gaze dipped to the floor.

  Addie squeezed his arm tighter. She had to let him know he wasn’t facing his past alone.

  The woman, Ellenora, shuddered, her fingers still fidgeting. “You were young, and I never should’ve—”

  The young man opened his mouth, but Keevan beat him to it. “Don’t blame yourself and don’t make excuses for me. I was old enough to know what I was doing, and I was your prince. That didn’t give you much choice. I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I am sorry, and I’m doubly sorry that, thanks to my father, I didn’t receive the punishment I rightly deserved for my actions.”

  As hard as this was to hear and as much as Addie wished she was anywhere but in this room, she slipped her hand into Keevan’s and squeezed. He’d done wrong, but he wasn’t making any excuses.

  Ellenora hugged her arms to her stomach, finally stilling her frantic fingers. “It took me a long time to trust again.”

  The young man—her husband, Addie guessed—wrapped his arm around her waist. He still glared at Keevan like he wanted to punch him.

>   Addie would’ve hugged both of them, but she didn’t think they would want a hug from her.

  “I still live with the memories.” Ellenora glanced up, something in her face smoothing. “But, somehow, I think you understand what it’s like to live with a scar.”

  Keevan gave a small nod, and the lamplight shone against the long white scar running across his cheek and down onto his neck. A scar he couldn’t hide, not on his face, and not in his voice.

  Addie couldn’t be sure which scars were worse. The ones that could be hidden or the ones that couldn’t.

  “If you wish, I will order myself punished for what I did back then.” A shiver ran down Keevan’s back.

  Addie traced her hand along his spine. Was there a punishment for his crime? As far as Addie knew, being caught kissing in a linen closet was scandalous and wrong, but not something against the law. If there was a punishment, it would be in that law book Keevan read over and over again, though Addie hadn’t made it through the first couple of pages.

  But Addie could imagine what her papa would have done to any of her brothers if they’d been caught doing what Keevan had done. They would’ve been cleaning the castle privies for a year, and that would be the enjoyable part of the punishment.

  “Do it.” The young man crossed his arms.

  “No.” Ellenora released a long, slow breath, placed a hand on her husband’s arm, and turned to Keevan. “No, I think you have been punished enough. I forgave you years ago when I thought the Blades had killed you, and it no longer seemed right to hate a dead boy. And I forgive you now.”

  “Thank you.”

  Addie leaned her head against Keevan’s shoulder. Perhaps now, Keevan would finally be able to let go of some of the guilt that still plagued him.

  “Now may we go? Or are you going to detain us further?” The young man scowled, as if hoping Keevan would still give him a reason to throw that first punch.

  “No, you may go. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”

  The young man steered his wife from the cabin, slamming the door behind them.