King's Blood

by Jill Williamson

  A year ago Wilek might have raged to defend his concubine, but there was no point now. Not that he had the strength, anyway. The wound was too great. And he could barely breathe.

  Behind Fonu something moved. A man on his feet. Bloodied face, bloodied arm.

  Novan Heln.

  In one smooth movement he shoved a sword up into Fonu’s lower back and, with his other hand, brought a knife’s blade across his throat. The sword exited bloody out the front of Fonu’s chest.

  Both men fell. Novan pushed Fonu off and crawled to Wilek’s side.

  “Think you got him?” Wilek chuckled, but it hurt and he had to stop.

  “Didn’t want him to make any noise. Let’s go, Your Highness.”

  Novan lifted Wilek over his shoulder and staggered into the woods. Wilek lulled in and out of consciousness, held hostage by excruciating pain and thoughts of failure.

  Why hadn’t he suspected a trap? Had there truly been no signs? And now Trevn was left to pay for his mistakes. His brother would inherit a fractured kingdom with half an army and no allies. Rogedoth would devour his untrained little brother.

  “I’m sorry, Trevn.”

  “Wil?”

  He ignored Trevn’s voice, in no hurry to ruin the young man’s life. Let him have a few more hours. Wilek instead thought of Zeroah, her golden eyes, her long coils of hair. He wished he could see her one last time. Apologize for being such a fool.

  Instead he found himself standing in a vast meadow before a gleaming white gate, intricately carved with scrolls and flowers. It was not silver, not ivory . . . It seemed to be made of light. Behind him a thick, leafy forest, greener even than the trees on Bakurah Island, hedged the meadow. The sky was a glorious blue—and red and purple and orange all at the same time. The colors seemed to move as if someone were painting them this very moment. He could hear music, completely transcendent, like nothing he had ever heard before. And the smell . . . Wilek inhaled something like honey and pine and fresh bread and the sea. It smelled like everything he loved, and his heart swelled at the idea that he might go inside this place.

  He was not alone. Others had crowded outside the gate. Some of his own men. Rystan and Dendrick among them.

  Though Dendrick’s presence struck Wilek as odd, he felt no fear. No concern for anything. Peace radiated within him. Aches and pains gone. No gash in his chest, no cuts on his shoulder or leg. Amazingly, he could see through his body to the fresh blades of grass beneath his feet. He was transparent, which seemed perfectly normal.

  From a distance he heard someone call his name. He looked through the gate, finding that he could see ever so far. A group of people stood on the other side, waving. He knew them at once. His brother Chadek. And Gran, holding an infant. Holding Chadek II, Wilek’s son.

  Suddenly he stood at the gate and reached between the bars. He kissed his family and felt the force of their love.

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” Gran said.

  The gate opened, casting a beam of light that radiated glorious warmth. The light beckoned. Wilek heard another voice call his name, and he walked inside.

  Trevn

  I tell you he is dead.”

  “That cannot be, Mother.” Trevn set his jaw and started up the ladder out of the pit house he was sharing with Mielle. It was far too hot and stuffy underground. His mother’s news had so upset him that he needed to go up for some fresh air to pace and think.

  “One of Rosbert’s daughters voiced Hrettah and said her maid saw all the Sarikarian royal men beheaded.”

  How awful. “What does that have to do with Wilek?”

  “The battle was a trap and a slaughter, Trevn. I have voiced with Zeroah, and she confirms it. Wilek is dead. Thank Mikreh you weren’t there. Now, you must return to Armanguard at once and—”

  Trevn pushed her out of his head. He climbed the rest of the way up and sat on the ground beside the entrance to the pit house. Took a deep breath. “Wilek?”

  He had been calling to his brother ever since Wilek had voiced the words “I’m sorry, Trevn.” There was still no answer.

  Cadoc climbed out of the house and stood a few steps away. Reluctantly, Trevn tried a different tactic. “Zeroah?”

  She answered almost instantly. “Trevn? Is that you?”

  He would get the truth now. He took another breath. “Have you spoken to Wilek?”

  “I have, Sâr Trevn.” There was no doubting the shaky timbre of her voice. “I think he has died.”

  Emotion choked Trevn’s throat and knotted his stomach. “You think? Do you know it for a fact?”

  “He told me he thought he was dying. And that was the last I heard from him.” She began to cry.

  Trevn shook his head, closed out Zeroah, and reached again for Wilek. “Where are you, brother? Tell me you are alive.”

  No answer came.

  A great weight pressed in on Trevn’s chest. What did this mean?

  Arman? Help me.

  “Trevn, there you are.” Mielle jogged toward him, flanked by the two soldiers he had assigned to guard her. Her anger washed over him, mixing with his shock over Wilek and completely disorienting him. She had been angry ever since hearing about her sister’s involvement in poisoning the queen and prince, but he sensed this was something new. “I have been speaking with Grayson and Conaw and have learned the most alarming thing. The Jiir-Yeke are sorcerers. Conaw believes they practice human sacrifice. That’s why they took the orphans, and the Puru gave up the children because they’re afraid. Isn’t that despicable?”

  He watched his wife. She was beautiful when she was upset. So determined to right the wrongs in the world.

  Some things couldn’t be fixed.

  “Trevn, what’s wrong? You are frightened. I’m sorry I only just felt it.” She knelt beside him and took hold of his hand. “Trevn? What is it?”

  “I . . .” What could he say? He knew nothing, really. Only guesses and rumors.

  “They’re all dead,” a woman said.

  Trevn glanced over his shoulder. Princess Saria and five of her guards marched up behind him. Her eyes were raw, her cheeks streaked with smudged tears.

  Mielle’s alarm mingled with his, strengthening the negative emotion. “Who is dead?” she asked.

  “Everyone!” Saria said. “My father, my brother, my uncle, my cousins, and Rosâr Wilek too.”

  Mielle’s eyes bulged. “Surely not.”

  “You are king of Armania now, Trevn,” Saria said, “and I am—”

  “No,” Trevn said. Such a thing could not be possible.

  “—queen of Sarikar.”

  “Trevn.” Mielle tugged his arm. “What have you heard?”

  “My mother . . . Zeroah . . . they think it is true,” Trevn said, his voice sounding hoarse in his ears. “Who else could I ask?”

  “You ask Novan Heln,” Mielle said. “You ask Captain Veralla. You ask Dendrick. They are always with him.”

  “I tried. They did not answer.” Trevn found himself breathing rapidly, his eyes blurring with unshed tears.

  “Sâr Trevn, this is Barek Hadar.”

  Trevn inhaled sharply at the knock. There was no reason that Barek should be contacting him. None at all. “The Duke of Odarka is voicing me,” he told Mielle. “I hear you, Duke.”

  “I am at Castle Armanguard,” Barek said. “I have just received news of the battle of New Sarikar. It was a trap. Master Fonu Edekk had infiltrated the fortress a few weeks ago. He had compelled King Loran and the other royals to obey him and lure Rosâr Wilek and his army into a rescue. When the rosâr attacked, Master Fonu’s compelled army of giants ambushed them from behind. And while there were many casualties, the army did manage to take and hold the fortress.”

  Hope kindled within Trevn’s chest. “They did?”

  “We owe the success to two things. First, a tribe of giants joined us in battle against their comrades and saved us from complete slaughter. We have had little success communicating with them. They claim
to come from the mountains, though I thought all the giants came from there.”

  “The Uul-Yeke come from the mountains,” Trevn said. “I’m told they are a peaceful tribe, and one of them helped us escape from the mines. Fonu compelled giants from the Ahj-Yeke forest tribe. They are the ones who made slaves of me and my men.”

  “Ah, well, that is helpful to know.”

  “What was the second success?” Trevn asked.

  “Novan Heln killed Fonu Edekk. He was the only mantic stationed in New Sarikar, and upon his death, the giants and pales he had enslaved fled. What was left of our army entered the fortress and claimed it.”

  Good. That was good news. He swallowed. “And Wilek?”

  “I’m afraid Rosâr Wilek fell.”

  Trevn’s throat tightened. A tear fell down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away. His breath quickened, and he breathed in long and deep to try to control it.

  Mielle wrapped her arms around his waist and held tight.

  “How soon can you return, Your Highness?” Barek asked.

  Trevn shook his head. “I am not strong like he was. Not as wise about politics. I’m no warrior. There must be someone else who can rule.”

  “There will be claimants, for sure. Rogedoth will act swiftly. And I’m told there is a potential threat to the throne in Magos. You can help us stop them, but only if you are here.”

  Trevn choked out a sob. “Will you advise me?”

  “Of course I will—you will have the whole council. But do not treat yourself as incompetent, Sâr Trevn. You can do this.”

  Trevn wasn’t so sure. “How can we stop Rogedoth? His magic is so powerful.”

  “Worry about that later. For now, get home. You must be crowned king before Rogedoth or anyone else tries to claim the throne.”

  “But I don’t want to be king, Your Grace.”

  “I know, but you must, my boy. This is your role to play.”

  Not the End.

  A Note From the Author

  Thanks for reading King’s Blood, the second book in THE KINSMAN CHRONICLES, which includes the parts Kingdom at Sea, Maelstrom, and Voices of Blood. Continue the adventure in King’s War, which opens with The Reluctant King.

  King’s Blood was challenging in a very different way from King’s Folly. Part of it was in the details. I had to learn about ships, seafaring, and navigation—topics of which I had no prior knowledge. The real struggle, however, in writing this book was how the themes mirrored my life. Circumstances always influence in some way the projects I write, but the season in which I wrote King’s Blood was one of the most difficult of my life. I dealt specifically with loss, betrayal, heartbreak, and suffering, so to be writing characters who were living through similar grief was a blessing and a curse. Any emotion that bled onto the page came directly from my wounded heart. While I learned much during that season and grew closer to God, my husband, and our children, I still have many questions, the biggest of which is Why? We may never know why God allows troubles to derail our lives, but I also learned that God does not want us to cling to that question with all that we have. It is not a question that matters. I think God would rather we ask What?

  What now?

  What does it mean to have reached the other side of this valley?

  What shall I do with myself now that I’m here?

  What does life look like in this new place?

  What can I do to love others?

  What can I say to people who are suffering as I did?

  What have I learned?

  What will I do differently now that I’ve learned it?

  If you’ve been caught in one of life’s storms, know this: God sees you. He knows the way out, even if you don’t. And if you will trust him, he will bring calm in the midst of the storm (Mark 6:45–52). Thank him for the blessings, because a thankful heart cannot so easily become bitter.

  I’d love to hear from you. You can email me through my website and sign up for my Sanctum newsletter to get updates on upcoming books and events. If you’d like to help make this book a success, tell people about it, loan your copy to a friend, or ask your library or bookstore to order it. Writing a book review for online stores is also very helpful.

  Discussion questions for THE KINSMAN CHRONICLES series can be found online at www.jillwilliamson.com/discuss.

  If you’d like to see a larger version of the Seffynaw cross-section map, check out the book’s Pinterest inspiration page, or discover a lot of fun extras, visit my website at www.jillwilliamson.com/books/kinsman-chronicles.

  Acknowledgments

  First I want to thank my husband, Brad, for all his help. I also want to thank my loyal readers on the Readers of Jill Williamson Facebook page, who helped with brainstorming here and there whenever I asked. As always, I would be lost without my writing world friends: John Otte, Dana Black, Amanda Luedeke, Stephanie Morrill, Shannon Dittemore, and Melanie Dickerson. A special thank you to Tom Luque for his help with sailing and to Peter Glöege for designing such gorgeous book covers. And I am indebted to the amazing team at Bethany House Publishers, including editors Dave Long and Elisa Tally, who helped make the book so much stronger, and marketing geniuses Noelle Chew and Amy Green, who continue to amaze me with everything they do. I am thankful to be working with such talented people.

  About the Author

  Jill Williamson writes fantasy and science fiction for teens and adults. She grew up in Alaska, staying up and reading by the summer daylight that wouldn’t go away. This led to a love of books and writing, and her debut novel, By Darkness Hid, won several awards and was named a Best Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror novel of 2009 by VOYA magazine. She loves giving writing workshops and blogs for teen writers at www.GoTeenWriters.com. She now lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, two children, and a whole lot of deer. Visit her online at www.jillwilliamson.com.

  THE KINSMAN CHRONICLES

  King’s Folly

  Darkness Reigns: Part One

  The Heir War: Part Two

  The End of All Things: Part Three

  King’s Blood

  Kingdom at Sea: Part Four

  Maelstrom: Part Five

  Voices of Blood: Part Six

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