by Ben Wolf
Chapter Twenty-Seven
When Lilly saw the same beautiful black-haired woman in the red dress escorting a downcast Calum and a battered Axel into the King’s throne room, her heart leaped with momentary relief.
She’d initially thought they’d come to negotiate for her release, but the shackles on their wrists and ankles suggested otherwise. They’d been captured, too, which meant they would be tried as criminals, just like her.
Upon seeing her, both Calum’s and Axel’s eyes widened with relief. Calum smiled at her and tried to wave, but a chunk of a wooden beam connected to the shackle on his left wrist made it an awkward motion. Rather than wave back, she kept her own shackled hands down near her midsection.
By contrast, Axel alternated glances at her and then at the brunette as if comparing them. Lilly realized it immediately, and the heat of jealousy threatened to rise in her chest. She banished the sensation, though, by reminding herself of Axel’s behavior back at her home in the Sky Fortress. There was truly nothing to be jealous of.
The soldiers accompanying her friends ushered them to standing positions next to her, and Calum and Axel took in the enormous throne room just as she had when she’d first been brought inside. Altogether, she estimated it to be at least twice the size of the throne room back home in the Sky Palace.
The same shimmering white stone that made up the entirety of Valkendell also formed the interior walls of this room. Silver and gold trimmed the room, and a colorful array of tapestries hung from the walls.
High above them, the vaulted ceiling shone with light from countless small windows which allowed sunlight inside at varying angles throughout the day. It was a beautiful and simple effect, and along with additional windows cut into the walls, the light easily banished the shadows from the room.
The floor was a spiraling pattern of white and gray stone, and in the center of the space rose a platform three steps higher than the rest of the room. On it sat a solitary throne of opalescent stone.
Everything in the throne room was perfect. Clean, polished, undamaged. Immaculate.
But the crucial difference that stood out to Lilly about the King’s throne room was the distinct lack of people inside it.
Back home, her father had welcomed dozens of court officials and nobles alike to occupy his throne room nearly every waking hour. It was a place of commerce and cooperation, of relationships, of discussion. And, when necessary, it was a place of judgment, too.
Apart from Lilly, Calum, and Axel, and the woman and the four soldiers who’d accompanied their captives, on one else was inside. And just as Lilly noticed the lack of people, the soldiers started to return toward the grand entrance.
Were they really going to leave the three of them alone with only one woman to watch over them? An unarmed woman in a dress, no less? Surely they weren’t so foolish or thoughtless.
Calum’s voice interrupted Lilly’s thoughts, but she still didn’t take her eyes off the woman.
“What happened to you?” he asked.
“Matthios,” she replied. “The Imperator. He tore through my Royal Guard, defeated Condor, and took me hostage.”
That got Axel’s attention again. He’d been unashamedly focused on Valerie ever since the soldiers had left, but at Lilly’s story, he turned toward her.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice both concerned and edged with rage. “Did that bronze monster hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” she replied. You can go back to staring at your new obsession. She didn’t say it, but she wanted to.
Perhaps she was still a little jealous after all, even though she shouldn’t be.
Calum looked her up and down. “They took your armor as well?”
“And my crown, and I dropped the Calios before Matthios hit me the last time,” she said with a sigh. Hopefully Condor had recovered in time to grab the sacred weapon so it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. “When I woke up, I was in a room—almost like a guest room—lying in bed, clad in this.”
She motioned to the simple blue dress that now covered her body. Then she held up her wrists and jingled her shackles.
“And these.”
“For what it’s worth,” Calum gave a modest shrug, “I like the dress. Brings out the color in your eyes.”
A familiar rush flowed through Lilly’s chest, and she could feel her cheeks heating up. They’d already discussed this. “Calum…”
He held up his shackled hands, including the chunk of wood still attached to his left wrist. “I know. I’m sorry. I won’t say anything else.”
The truth was, Lilly did want him to say more. For the sake of her people, she just couldn’t follow through on any of it. And then there was Condor to consider…
Another pulse of emotion hit her, and she spoke to help push it away. “What happened to you?”
“A lot more than what happened to you,” Calum said.
As he shared his story with her, he didn’t bother to keep his tone quiet, despite the dark-haired woman patiently standing ten paces behind them like a mother hen watching over her brood.
Lilly figured she must’ve already heard what he had to say, so there was no reason to conceal anything. Or perhaps Calum had come to the same conclusion Lilly had: their trial would be swift, and their judgment even swifter.
When Calum got to the part about shattering the bed, Lilly couldn’t help but smile. It was a very Calum-like happenstance, and the thought of it brought her relief even amid their situation.
But as soon as Calum concluded his story, the woman cleared her throat from behind them. Lilly and Calum turned to look at her, and Axel had scarcely torn his eyes from her since they’d entered the throne room.
She gave them a pleasant smile and motioned toward the throne. When they turned back, a man clad in white robes and wearing a white crown was seated on it.
The King.
The sight of him sitting there startled Lilly. It shouldn’t have been possible—had he just appeared out of nowhere?
She recalled that Lumen could traverse great distances through glowing white voids as well, and that partially answered her query, but it did nothing to make her feel any less unnerved at the King’s sudden appearance.
Even more unnerving was the overwhelming sensation that accompanied his vibrant green-eyed gaze. At first, Lilly felt as though she was suffocating, and the tips of her fingers and toes felt as if they were buzzing like bees. She realized she was trembling, and she clenched her fists tightly to resist.
Over the past few months, she’d finally come to realize and consider herself a ruler. But in the presence of the King of all Kanarah, she felt like a small child again, looking up at her father seated on the throne. Did Calum and Axel feel the same way?
As the King scrutinized them, the sound of footsteps resonated behind them. Lilly and the others turned back for a look. She, in particular, was grateful for the excuse to break eye contact with the King.
Then she saw Matthios walking into the throne room. His bronze armor, bald head, and double-bladed spear were unmistakable, even from a distance. He casually walked toward the platform, past Lilly and the others, ignoring them as if they weren’t even there, despite Lilly trying to burn through him with her eyes.
He joined the King on the platform, standing to the left of the throne. Lilly didn’t quite understand why, but the woman continued to stand behind Lilly and her friends, still pleasantly smiling.
The room stayed silent for a long moment, and Lilly fought to control her emotions. No matter how she tried to rationalize it, she knew she could never live up to the stature of someone like the King. In terms of ruling her people, she just couldn’t compare to him. It left her feeling inadequate, like a failure.
I am a failure, she admitted to herself. I couldn’t lead my people well enough, and now I’m stuck here.
The realization broke her heart. After everything she’d done, everything her people had already endured, she couldn’t fully give them what they tr
uly needed.
I’m not enough. I never was.
And soon it would all be over. Amid the silence, she did her best to steel herself for whatever was coming next.
Then she felt a hand take hold of hers.
She looked down and saw a chunk of wood dangling from the shackle on Calum’s arm, and she saw his fingers curled around hers.
It almost broke her the rest of the way. Lilly fought to restrain her tears, and she refused to meet his eyes. She couldn’t. Not now. She even considered pulling away.
Instead, she exhaled a shaky breath and squeezed his hand in return.
No matter what, they were still friends, and they would be until the end. Calum would stand with Lilly, and she would stand with him, even in the face of certain death, as they had so many times before.
She locked her eyes onto the King with renewed resolve.
And then the King spoke.
The first time he heard the King’s voice, Calum’s heart hammered in his chest, but not because of what he said, or his tone of voice, or the volume.
Rather, Calum’s heart thrummed because of something else—something both deep yet lofty, ethereal yet arcane, powerful yet gentle. What that quality was, Calum couldn’t say, but its presence was undeniable.
It was so strong that Calum lowered to one knee and bowed, more out of reflex than anything. To his surprise, so had Lilly, and even Axel did as well, albeit with huge drops of sweat dripping from his forehead.
Calum felt beads of sweat clinging to his own face from whatever pressure the King was somehow exerting, but he didn’t dare look up or try to stand up. He doubted he could’ve done either of those things even if he’d wanted to.
The one thing he could do was keep holding onto Lilly’s hand, so he did.
Truth be told, Calum hadn’t even heard what the King had actually said. If he had heard it, he hadn’t understood it. But the second time the King spoke, Calum understood the word as if he had spoken it himself.
“Rise.”
In unison with Lilly and Axel, Calum stood and dared to look at the King again.
Those vibrant green eyes locked on his, and although Calum couldn’t discern whether he was seeing empathy or apathy behind them, he knew they lacked even a hint of anger or rage or fury.
It didn’t make sense. Calum had tried to assassinate the King, but the King didn’t even seem mad about it.
Perhaps if Calum had actually gotten closer to succeeding, the King wouldn’t be presenting such a neutral front. Or, more likely, Calum was out of his depth and couldn’t begin to guess at the King’s thoughts. That seemed the most likely scenario.
The three of them remained silent as the King surveyed them yet again. A minute later, he reached within his robe and pulled out a crown made of bright-yellow crystal. Calum recognized it immediately, and Lilly perked up at the sight of it.
The King extended it toward Matthios. “Return this to the Premieress.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Matthios accepted the crown and, still carrying his spear, stepped off the platform.
When the Imperator reached Lilly, she squeezed Calum’s hand tighter, but to her credit, she didn’t recoil. Matthios held out the crown for her to take, and she accepted it and let go of Calum’s hand to place it on her head. It seemed to reinvigorate her, and she didn’t take hold of his hand again, and he didn’t try to make her.
“Remove their bonds,” the King ordered while Matthios still stood before them.
Without using a key, Matthios touched each pair of shackles on their hands and feet, and they clanked to the floor. Then he collected each set and proceeded back to stand in his spot next to the King, still holding the shackles, including Calum’s set with the chunk of wood still attached.
Now freed from their chains, all three of them rubbed their wrists. For another long moment, nobody spoke. Then, for whatever reason, Axel broke the silence.
“This isn’t the kind of trial I was expecting,” he said.
Calum agreed with him. He’d expected Captain Anigo would be there, at minimum, to speak against them, but they were alone. Maybe the King had already decided their fates. It was pretty obvious whose side they were on, after all.
The King’s attention fixed on him. “And what were you expecting?”
Axel gulped audibly, then he opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out for a few seconds. He finally said, “Accusations. Some evidence or witnesses. Maybe the chance to say something before you have me executed.”
“What is it you wish to say?” the King asked.
The question caught Calum as off-guard as it had Axel, who stood there with his mouth agape again. Only this time, Axel didn’t speak again.
Instead, Lilly did.
“Your Majesty,” she repeated the term Matthios had used to address the King, “evidently you already know who I am in relation to my people, the Windgales. Before you pass any judgment, I must ask you to consider our reasons for joining Lumen’s cause.”
“So you admit to siding with the sworn enemy of the King?” Matthios barked at her.
The King raised his hand as if to quiet Matthios, and it worked. Matthios didn’t speak again. Then the King leaned forward and motioned for Lilly to continue.
Thus far, Calum had to agree with Axel—this was definitely a weird experience so far. Was the King disinterested in them? Was he here out of some forced obligation?
It all confused Calum, so he refocused his mind on the one thing that he knew for certain. The one constant throughout nearly his entire life. The one truth that no one could ever take away from him.
The King’s men had killed Calum’s parents, and although Calum would likely never find the exact men who’d done it, the man ultimately responsible for those soldiers’ actions sat on the throne before him, impassive. It infuriated Calum.
Before Lilly could continue, Calum blurted his accusation.
“Your soldiers murdered my parents,” he almost yelled. “That is why I oppose you.”
Matthios flinched at Calum’s outburst, but the King’s hand stayed him again.
Those vibrant green eyes locked onto Calum’s, displaying the same pity as back in the garden, only somehow deeper this time.
Again, the sight enraged Calum. He didn’t need this man’s pity. He needed vengeance—no, justice—for his parents’ deaths. It was only right that the King die as well.
Just when Calum thought he couldn’t grow any angrier, the King said two words that stoked the flames in Calum’s heart to unprecedented heights.
“I know.”
Calum lurched forward with a roar. He had no weapon, no plan, and no hope of succeeding. Matthios would strike him down well before he ever reached the King.
Sure enough, even before Calum completed his first leaping step forward, Matthios had already pointed his spearhead directly at him.
But the King’s hand froze Matthios in place yet again. Instead, he himself rose from his throne as Calum’s second step hit the stone floor. He stood before his throne with his arms down at his sides, his eyes still full of pity.
Calum reached him in three more steps and slammed his right fist into the King’s gut.
The King took the blow as if he’d been struck by a small child while play-fighting. Calum’s next punch to the King’s ribs did even less damage, it seemed. He threw another devastating attack, this time at the King’s face, but the King’s head barely moved.
On and on Calum threw punches, shouting in rage and frustration and impotence. The King absorbed every swing. When Calum finally stopped, sucking in rapid breaths and pushing them right back out to calm his rattling heart rate, he looked up into the King’s green eyes again.
They stared at each other for an eternity, with Calum panting like a beaten dog and the King standing in place like a timeless statue.
The two words the King had previously said to Calum had enraged him beyond belief, but the two words he now spoke changed Calum’s life forever.
The King said, “I’m sorry.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Calum’s parents were dead. They had been for years. And the King’s response was “I’m sorry?”
What was he supposed to do with that? An apology, even from the King himself, wouldn’t resurrect his parents. It wouldn’t erase the lifetime of harm his soldiers had inflicted upon Calum. It wouldn’t stop any of the ongoing atrocities perpetuated by the King’s men across Eastern Kanarah. It wouldn’t change anything out in the real world.
Yet despite Calum’s fury at hearing those words come from the King’s mouth, he couldn’t deny that he felt different inside. It wasn’t as if those words had wiped away the years of heartache and suffering Calum had endured, nor had they served to usurp his beliefs regarding the King, but he did sense a spark within himself that wasn’t there before.
He felt… better. A little bit, at least. He didn’t know why or how, but he couldn’t deny it was there. It was almost as if a part of him that had long since been broken was now beginning to heal.
Calum blinked. Did he actually believe that? And even if it were true, would he allow it? Would he really let the King off that easily?
Then again, did Calum have any other choice? As he’d rightfully assessed, the King couldn’t bring back his parents or erase the travails of the last several years.
But it wasn’t only Calum’s life that mattered. Others were out there now, suffering at the hands of the King’s soldiers. A war was being waged to remove the King from power so Kanarah could reconceive herself and be reborn as a country where no one would suffer oppression.
Calum couldn’t change his past, but perhaps he could still change the future.
“That’s not enough,” he finally said to the King, still standing only inches away.
The King still towered over Calum, staring down at him with those vibrant green eyes. “What would you have me do?”
Even before Calum spoke, he knew he was asking the impossible, but he asked anyway. “I want you to give up your crown to Lumen. Let him rule Kanarah in your place. He will see to it that the suffering of your people—the people of this world—comes to an end.”