Destroy: (The Blades of Acktar 3.5)

by Tricia Mingerink

Brandi had Uncle Laurence’s hair and the fire of his anger, but her eyes…the twinkle in them was all Aunt Annita. Even the way she moved, with a bounce and a flourish, was like seeing Aunt Annita again.

  Someday he’d tell her how much she reminded him of her mother, but Keevan didn’t think Brandi would appreciate him talking to her. Not with the way her hand tightened on her knife every time she glanced in his direction.

  At least she seemed to like Addie well enough, as Keevan had known she would.

  The boy—the Blade trainee—silently tucked away his food as if he knew he shouldn’t be there and wanted more than anything to bolt. Keevan would’ve been tempted to help him along, but there had been something in the one glimpse of the boy’s blue eyes he’d gotten that reminded him of Duncan. And, for that, the boy could stay.

  A knock thunked against the door a moment before Patrick stepped inside. He strode to Keevan’s side and leaned over to whisper, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Shadrach Alistair is here to see you.”

  Apparently Patrick’s whisper wasn’t quiet enough. Brandi smirked and shoveled in a bite of venison as if to pretend she hadn’t been eavesdropping.

  “Again?” Keevan scowled. He thought he’d made his position clear an hour ago when he’d last talked to Shadrach Alistair. And the time before that. And before that.

  “He never left from last time.” Patrick’s expression was half a grin, half a scowl.

  Annoying, mule-headed, loyal lord’s son.

  Keevan could have Patrick tell Shadrach he was in the middle of dining with his family. But, Shadrach would probably keep camping out on the front step of the main cabin. “Have him step inside, and I’ll talk to him.”

  As Patrick left, Keevan stood. “I’ll only be a minute or two.”

  Addie glanced his way, nodded, and went back to asking Brandi about horses.

  Keevan slipped into the entry hall as Patrick came in with Shadrach. Keevan didn’t wait for him to get started on yet another endless speech about how heroic and brave and good that Blade Leith Torren was. “You are bordering on insubordination.”

  “I know.” Shadrach crossed his arms and planted his feet in the center of the hall, as if determined he wasn’t going to budge unless Keevan called an army to force him to move. “Leith Torren isn’t—”

  “Enough!” Keevan held up his hand. He’d heard more than enough about Leith Torren. Several times, in fact.

  The worst part of it was that Shadrach was partially right. Keevan couldn’t hold a trial and execute Leith Torren, much as he wanted to. Lord Alistair had given his word, and that word held as much weight as if Keevan had given the promise himself.

  But Shadrach was partially wrong as well. Keevan couldn’t simply turn Torren loose to wander Eagle Heights freely. All he had was Shadrach’s word that Torren wasn’t a danger.

  And with several thousand lives—including Addie’s—resting on this decision, Keevan couldn’t afford the possibility that Shadrach could be wrong.

  But Shadrach simply refused to see it that way.

  Keevan crossed his arms and matched Shadrach’s stance. He had been lenient with Shadrach so far, but he had to be the Leader sometimes. And insisting that Shadrach comply with this decision, no matter how much he didn’t like it, was one of those times. “Lord Shadrach, I have listened to your appeals several times. I have taken them into consideration, but I still believe keeping the Blade Leith Torren properly confined is the best solution.”

  “But, sire…”

  Keevan held up a hand again. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to yet another list of Leith Torren’s heroic exploits. Shadrach might not listen to any explanation of caution, but Keevan had one argument left. “I know you don’t like it, but this decision is as much for Leith Torren’s safety as everyone else’s.”

  That snapped Shadrach’s mouth shut.

  “There are several thousand people here at Eagle Heights who don’t like Blades any more than I do. What do you think would happen if I turned Leith Torren loose? I would rather not find out, nor do I want to spend my time subduing a riot when we have more important things to worry about.” Keevan held Shadrach’s gaze, ignoring the crick he was getting in his neck due to the several inches of height Shadrach had on him. Surely Shadrach wasn’t so stubborn that he’d refuse to see the logic in that.

  Shadrach’s shoulders slumped. “I see.”

  Finally.

  “But…”

  Keevan had to clench his fists not to punch something. Or someone.

  “It’s Sunday tomorrow. May he attend the services? If he isn’t a dressed as a Blade, and I give you my word I won’t leave his side.” Shadrach’s expression remained blank, except for the tiniest curve to the corner of his mouth.

  Shadrach had him. Keevan couldn’t refuse. Not without looking like he was keeping either a fellow Christian or a killer in need of saving from hearing the word of God. “Very well, but his hands must remain securely tied. Remember, it’s a precaution for his safety.”

  Not that Keevan cared about Leith Torren’s safety. But it was the only argument that worked with Shadrach, and Keevan didn’t want to find out what he’d choose if asked to stop a mob from harming Torren. A good leader should put doing what was right above his own personal feelings.

  Keevan wasn’t sure he was there yet.

  “Thank you, Your Highness.” Shadrach bowed and spun on his heels. As he left, he had to pause a moment to let General Stewart enter.

  After the door closed, General Stewart turned to Keevan. “Asking about the Blade again?”

  “Yes.” Keevan grimaced. “Shadrach Alistair is annoyingly loyal to his friends.”

  General Stewart shook his head. “Annoying as it is, you can’t complain too much about the Alistair loyalty. You’re alive because of it.”

  “It’s a little harder to take when used for a killer like Torren.” Keevan sighed and let himself slump against the wall behind him. “I think I just allowed him to take a Blade to church.”

  “It could be an opportunity to observe the Blade. See if he appears genuine.”

  Keevan hadn’t considered that. Though, if this Blade was keeping up an act, he had been good enough to fool both Lord Alistair and Shadrach. He probably wouldn’t slip up during one church service.

  Shifting his stance, Keevan tried to shake away thoughts of the Blade. “How are the preparations going?”

  “We’ve done as much as we can without officially making a decision to assemble the army and move out. A few more days would give the blacksmiths time to make a few more swords, the leatherworkers a few more helmets and vests, but at this point, one or two swords either way isn’t going to make a difference.” General Stewart met Keevan’s gaze. “We’re ready whenever you give the order.”

  Keevan clenched his fists. He was stalling. He knew it. General Stewart knew it.

  Could he be blamed for it? These past four years at Eagle Heights had been some of the best of his life. He didn’t want them to end, and he wasn’t ready to plunge into the war. It would be so much easier to ignore what was happening in Acktar and just live like this. Quiet dinners in this cabin. Time spent with Addie by the mountain lakes.

  Nalgar Castle no longer seemed like home. Even Acktar was far away beyond a vast wilderness of valleys and mountains and cliffs.

  Was one more day of peace and happiness too much to ask?

  12

  Addie’s off-key alto warbled next to Keevan, though Keevan would never tell her how horribly she sang, not for all the cattle in Acktar. What she lacked in singing ability, she made up in enthusiasm, and that’s what counted.

  Especially since she sang for both of them.

  Keevan held the songbook during the worship service on the mountaintop, mouthing the words to the song even if he couldn’t sing them. His voice couldn’t hold the resonance necessary to string words into song.

  That was a secret only Addie and her family knew. The Blade had stolen his ability to sing when he�
�d nearly taken Keevan’s voice and life. Most of the time, Keevan was too grateful he could still talk that not being able to sing didn’t bother him.

  But at that moment, that Blade shared a songbook with Keevan’s cousin at the back of the crowd, singing.

  Singing as if it didn’t matter that he still could sing while Keevan couldn’t.

  As if he was the one that belonged and Keevan was the one pretending.

  Why couldn’t Leith Torren stop this pretense and show everyone what he really was? A cold-hearted monster who had sneaked into Keevan’s bedchamber and slashed his throat.

  Keevan couldn’t ignore Leith Torren’s presence, try as he might to concentrate on the service. There was a Blade only a few rows behind him, only a few dozen yards away from Addie. How could Keevan concentrate on anything but that?

  By the time the service ended, all Keevan wanted to do was order the guards to hustle Leith Torren back to the prison cave and away from Addie as quickly as possible.

  But before he could, hoofbeats rattled against the gravel as a rider urged his horse up the slope to the mountaintop. As he swung down from the horse, the crowd parted to let him hurry toward Keevan.

  Addie’s grip on Keevan’s arm tightened. At this point, any news that urgent couldn’t be good. Had Walden fallen? Had Respen sent his Blades into the Hills? What if Respen’s army was even now on their way toward Eagle Heights?

  The rider halted in front of Keevan and saluted. “Sir.”

  “Your report?” Out of the corner of his eye, Keevan spotted General Stewart a few feet away, also listening.

  “Our man in Flayin Falls got word that Respen Felix plans to marry Lady Rennelda Faythe in two weeks. He has called the nobles to come to Nalgar Castle to recognize him as the rightful Eirdon king after the marriage.”

  Keevan’s breath caught in his throat.

  He’d waited too long. He’d thought he had time, a little of it anyways. But he’d been fooling himself. There was no time. Perhaps there never had been.

  Would this shake the Resistance? Would some of his allies switch sides because of this? As far as they knew, the Eirdon heir they had been rallying behind all these years was Keevan’s cousin Renna. Surely they would come back to his side once they realized Keevan was the Leader.

  But would it be too late?

  It was already too late for Renna.

  Keevan had gone over this with General Stewart when they’d discussed various attack plans the past several months. Keevan’s army would take two weeks to even reach the edge of the Sheered Rock Hills, and even that was a faster march than General Stewart would’ve liked to put the men through before battle.

  He swept his gaze over the cabins, the ring of boulders and spires surrounding the mountaintop, the clear, unimpeded sky. No matter how much Keevan wanted to stay, he had to gather his war council and plan his return to Acktar.

  His gaze snagged on a slim figure at the back of the crowd staring his way. Leith Torren.

  Keevan suppressed a growl. Much as he wanted to, he got the feeling he wouldn’t be able to keep the Blade out of the discussion.

  Keevan rested his head in his hands. The meeting room had gone silent now that his war council had left to carry out their tasks. Only General Stewart remained, sitting to Keevan’s right. Even though General Stewart would probably be up half the night to ready the army, he still stayed.

  Addie and her family were Keevan’s home, but General Stewart was Keevan’s rock. He’d stood with Keevan since the beginning.

  “Do you trust him?” Keevan rasped the words through his aching throat. After the hours of discussion, his voice was deserting him. He would need Addie’s ministrations to make sure he could talk tomorrow morning.

  “Yes.” General Stewart didn’t even hesitate.

  That’s what Keevan thought. After Leith Torren volunteered to return to Nalgar and a week of torture to buy Keevan time to rescue Renna, who wouldn’t believe him? No matter how much he had been pressured, his sincerity had been unshakable.

  If only it was some kind of trick. Maybe Torren planned to betray them to Respen.

  But Keevan’s gut told him Torren was telling the truth. No man could take what Keevan had thrown at Torren so humbly without being sincere.

  “Think he’ll really do it?” Keevan massaged his fingers into his throat, trying to relieve some of the pain.

  “If that was Princess Adelaide at Nalgar, how far would you go to get her back?” General Stewart leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

  Yes, Keevan would face a week of torture for Addie. But would he volunteer for it with the same steel as Torren? Probably not. Keevan was too familiar with his own weaknesses. He would break under sustained torture.

  But Leith Torren was a better man than Keevan.

  And that made it worse.

  Keevan scowled. General Stewart had compared Torren and Renna to Keevan and Addie. Had Torren gone and fallen in love with Keevan’s cousin? What if she thought herself in love back?

  If Torren survived, Keevan would never be rid of him.

  Sighing, Keevan tried to sort through the churn in his stomach. He wasn’t angry. Not anymore.

  He was jealous.

  Lord Alistair, Shadrach, Brandi, everyone tripped over themselves to forgive Torren. They seemed to think, now that Torren was redeemed, that he wouldn’t fall back into killing.

  But if Keevan had confessed his darkest secret? Where would be his forgiveness? There would be none. Only suspicion that Keevan might do it again.

  Were he and Torren all that different? Torren had stolen lives while Keevan had stolen innocence. Yet, Torren got to move on while Keevan couldn’t.

  Perhaps Keevan should give Torren the forgiveness he wanted for himself. That was what a good Christian would do, wasn’t it? Forgive.

  But a good king fought for justice. What sort of justice could Keevan give the families of those Torren killed if he forgave him?

  Was there a way to honor the promise that had been made through Lord Alistair, give forgiveness, and also uphold justice?

  Maybe not. Maybe Keevan could only choose between them, but never justice and mercy at the same time.

  General Stewart cleared his throat, reminding Keevan that he still sat there, arms crossed, waiting for Keevan to pull himself together and start acting like the Leader.

  But how could Keevan make decisions for the whole country when he couldn’t even decide on this?

  Perhaps he had become his father after all. A weak king paralyzed at the thought of making the smallest choice.

  He traced a hand down the length of his scar. “I honestly don’t know what to do about Leith Torren.”

  General Stewart’s gaze remained steady. “May I speak freely?”

  A hint of a smile tugged at Keevan’s mouth. “Surely by now, you know you’re one of the few people who doesn’t have to ask permission to be brutally honest with me. It’s why I value your counsel.”

  “And sometimes, it doesn’t hurt to remind you that you have a choice whether you want to hear it.” General Stewart’s mouth took on a similar upward twitch before he sobered. “If we succeed in reclaiming Acktar, Leith Torren’s case won’t be the only one you’ll have to deal with. Half the nobles in Acktar betrayed you. Half the people are fighting against you. Will you hold on to bitterness for all of them? There’s going to be enough bitterness already. Will you execute all your enemies? Respen has provided an example of what that looks like.”

  Keevan scrubbed harder at the tightness around his throat. How did he want to handle victory? Defeat would be easy. Most likely, he wouldn’t be alive to see it. Or, if he was particularly cowardly, he could crawl back here.

  But in victory, he would have to become king.

  “The people will look to you to lead by example. What kind of example do you intend to set for them?”

  “I don’t know.” Keevan hung his head. A better king would know what to do. He’d have a plan for reconciling the coun
try. But Keevan was still just the lost prince struggling for a voice.

  General Stewart’s chair scraped as he stood. His hand rested briefly on Keevan’s shoulder. “Maybe you don’t know now, but you will.”

  Keevan couldn’t lift his head to acknowledge the words. He was going to fail. He was too weak and flawed and the burden of the country was too great.

  And his parents, siblings, Uncle Laurence, Aunt Annita, and everyone killed by Respen would have died in vain.

  13

  Addie smoothed her fingers over the green and white uniform her husband wore. So crisp and clean, it was hard to remember it signified war.

  Keevan wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m going to miss this.”

  She didn’t have to ask what he meant. This. All of it. Eagle Heights. Their cabin. The freedom to be simply Keevan and Addie occasionally.

  When Keevan walked out the cabin door, he wouldn’t be coming back. Either he succeeded and reclaimed his throne or he died.

  Her throat closed. She might never see him again. He might die on some battlefield on Acktar’s prairie, and Respen’s victorious army wouldn’t give him the courtesy of a decent burial.

  How could she complain when so many other wives, sisters, and mothers were saying a similar goodbye in the other cabins at Eagle Heights, including her own mother, sisters, and sister-in-law? Some had sons as young as fourteen leaving. Others watched their grandfathers grab their weapons. Addie had to be an example to them just as much as Keevan was an example to his men.

  This was her test as a princess. For the first time, she’d have to lead without Keevan there.

  Could she do it? Or would she go back to hiding like the scullery maid she’d been?

  Keevan’s hand moved to rest on either side of their unborn child. “I’m not going to be there. If we win, I’ll have to stay at Nalgar, and you’ll be unable to travel, probably for several months after the baby is born. The journey would be too much for both of you.”

  Even if he won, even if he survived, their separation would be for months. Possibly half a year or more by the time the baby was old enough to make the journey through the wilds of the Sheered Rock Hills. Keevan wouldn’t be there to hold his newborn. He wouldn’t be there for all the firsts. The baby might not even recognize him by the time Addie could travel.