Mage Strike (The Enslaved Chronicles Book 2)
Page 46
She struggled to contain a smile at that and failed as they reached the bottom of the tower. No immediate good news caught her eye, except that Samul was sitting up and definitely breathing.
“Miara Floren,” Samul thundered. The jubilant feeling in the room and her heart faltered.
“Yes, my lord,” she said, coming forward quickly and relinquishing Aven’s hand yet again. The king looked deathly serious. Miara’s heart pounded in her throat. Had he seen their hands clasped, could this be over such a small thing as that? Or perhaps he intended to make an example of her escape, if only verbally.
“Take a knee,” he ordered, and she fell to one knee as instructed. “You are all witnesses. This mage has saved my life and my son’s life. I daresay it’s becoming a habit. For your bravery in combat and your martial ability, as well as your unflagging loyalty even as we doubted you, I declare you, Miara Floren, an Arms Master of the Realm of Akaria. I officially bestow upon you this title and all the respect that goes with it for your valiant efforts on behalf of our kingdom, my ancestors, and my family.”
She rose, astonished, as applause went up around her. She glanced at the room, finding Wunik, Asten, Beneral all smiling.
And then her eyes caught on a familiar sight, an impossible face, no, two faces that didn’t belong in Akaria at all. Her father and Luha waited quietly in the corner, beaming joyfully.
“Father!” She rushed to them and threw her arms around them. “How did you—?”
“Your ‘friend’ saved us,” her father said, grinning.
“He’s more than a friend,” she said quickly.
“I gathered that.”
She bent to squeeze Luha against her chest, whispering, “I was so worried. I missed you.”
Luha grinned up at her. “Your friend clubbed Father in the head.”
Miara blanched. “Um…”
“It was the Dark Master’s fault, don’t worry,” Luha said. “Otherwise Father was going to club your friend in the head.”
Miara mouthed a silent “Oh” and squeezed them all together again as someone approached from behind. She turned to see Aven hanging back and ushered him closer.
“You clubbed my father in the head?”
His eyes widened for just a moment before relaxing again. “The Masters were holding them and Tharomar in a palace about two hours’ flight from here. We, uh… went and got them. Did quite a bit of damage, actually. I don’t think we’ve heard the end of that. But at least we’re safe for now.”
“Indeed.” She threw an arm over his shoulder and squeezed them all again.
“Uh, Miara? I can’t breathe,” squeaked Luha.
“C’mon,” said Aven. “I think this calls for some mead.”
“Wait,” Samul’s voice called again. Aven and Miara turned to face him. “Aven, I have one more need of you first.”
“Yes?”
“Come here.”
Aven strode to him and froze as Samul gestured toward the earth. “Kneel, Son of Akaria.”
Miara’s heart pounded, and she clenched Luha’s hand in hers. Was she seeing what she thought she was seeing?
Slowly, Aven sank to one knee.
Samul rose to standing with difficulty, Elise rushing to his side to help him stay up. Why was he not fully healed? Perhaps they’d only had the energy to get him partway there. But that didn’t make any sense.
From the door of the cellar, Dyon strode forward, holding something. A circlet, she realized, a band made of a shining silver metal and studded with sapphires that glittered even in the dull firelight.
The room had fallen silent. Samul took the crown carefully in both hands. “In times of war like this one, when the wounded fall, shields shatter, and towers burn, the old must step aside,” Samul said, his voice rough. He lowered the shining band onto Aven’s brow. “In times such as these, we make room for the new.” Samul regarded Aven for a moment, a smile like she hadn’t seen before on his face. “Rise, Aven Lanuken, King of Akaria.”
A cry rose up around Miara, a shout, a roar of triumph.
A war cry.
Well. All things considered, this calculated risk had turned out far better than Daes could have hoped.
Daes glanced at Marielle, her form beautifully arrayed across the throne next to him. Perhaps the gods were on his side. Either that, or she’d been an immense stroke of luck. He could never have arranged something like this on his own, and even if he had, it probably wouldn’t have gone off as planned.
Sure, they’d lost the brand, but they’d have a new one soon. His first scouting party should have reached Panar by now and attacked the location Lord Alikar had so dutifully supplied. His first mage squad was in the Akarian mountains. His assassins were still hard at work in Estun. Everything that he wanted was in motion, hurtling him and Marielle toward victory.
He shifted on the hard marble. Leave it to that idiot Demikin to make a throne that looked grandiose but was horrifyingly uncomfortable. And white. Who made a chair out of marble anyway and didn’t even put a cushion on it?
Oh, there were so many things to change around here.
He only sat on black chairs. He suppressed a grin. The doors to the throne room opened, and nobles filed in. Nobles that had once looked down on his half-noble birth. Nobles that had once mocked his post at Mage Hall as a child-minder to miscreants. Nobles he had manipulated carefully over the years.
Nobles that he would now rule.
The room fell silent. With appropriate gravity, the queen stood. She moved slowly, casually, as if to say, I could take all day to do this, and you would all wait and watch me as long as I willed it. And they would too. None among them would dare to challenge her.
Or more particularly, him.
A slight flick of her fingers summoned a servant carrying a red velvet pillow, on top of which rested a newly minted golden circlet studded with three rubies. She held the crown aloft, then glided gracefully to him and placed it on his brow. He bowed his head to accept it but never rose.
“Lords and ladies of Evrical, and of the kingdom of Kavanar, our finest realm in all the land,” she said, facing the gathering. “May I present to you Royal Consort Daes Cavalion. Abide him as you would abide me.”
The nobles of Kavanar bowed before him, as did the queen, and Daes smiled.
Oh, there were so many things to change around here.
Afterword
Thank you so much for reading this book! I hope you enjoyed it. Please consider leaving a review at your favorite retailer. Reviews help others like you discover books they may love for themselves.
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Acknowledgments
Thanks to my editor, Elizabeth Nover of Razor Sharp Editing, for all her wonderful work and feedback on this book. Thanks to Jeff Hoskinson for beta reading and also my husband for both of their valuable feedback. You all made this book so much better, and I am grateful.
To all my family and friends, thank you for your support and enthusiasm as I’ve embarked on this journey.
About the Author
R. K. Thorne is an independent fantasy author whose addiction to notebooks, role-playing games, coffee, and red wine have resulted in this series.
She has read speculative fiction since before she was probably much too young to be doing so and encourages you to do the same.
She lives in the green hills of Pittsburgh with her family and two gray cats. They may or may not pull her chariot in their spare time.
For more information:
@rk_thorne
ThorneBooks
rkthorne.com
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