by Marian Gray
“I know it’s not my place, but you should get some sleep. Everyone has had at least a few hours except you, and it shows.”
“I will.” I sighed. “Thank you for all that you have done.”
Dagur shook his head and brought his anxious eyes to his palms. “You don’t need to thank me. It was for the glory of Arus and her ark.”
I nodded my head. Dagur had never been the easiest to speak with. He only ever gave trained responses or spoke in a very blunt and seemingly offensive manner. Pushing for anything more felt as monumental as climbing a mountain.
I left the room and headed for the stairs. The early morning spilled through the narrow windows, filling the wooden home with soft pinks and golds. It illuminated the blood and dirt spattered across my clothes.
“You still haven’t washed up?” the healer asked as he watched me climb the steps.
I didn’t answer.
“Greva Dearsu has already received word of your arrival,” he told me in an accented tongue. “He will be arriving within the hour.”
I didn’t care about the tribal leader, and I wasn’t interested in holding an audience with him. “I’ll get cleaned.” But I would. The healer had dressed and attended my men without question. He hadn’t even requested payment for his services, only that I appear presentable when his ark arrived.
“Thank you,” the healer said before returning to his rooms.
My feet felt heavier with each step, but I still managed to drag myself into Cirithe’s room. Herbs hung from the ceiling before the frosted windows, and long, fresh planks of pinewood ran the length of the floor. The combination created an undeniable woodsy scent that almost transported me back to Varund. The only ingredient missing was the sea and her salt.
“You look like the spirits shat down your throat and pissed in your eyes,” Cirithe said.
I couldn’t help but to smile at his words. “I feel that way, too,” I said, sitting in the simple wooden chair near his bed. “Where’s Brungen?” The man hadn’t left Cirithe’s room since we arrived.
“I think he’s with Lars. I finally managed to convince him to get a bath and some sleep.” His dark eyes twinkled. “And it seems I will have to do the same with you.”
“No.” I waved the notion away. “I’m going to bathe after this visit. I must meet with the Greva Dearsu.”
“The Who-the-what-it-do?”
I snickered. “Greva is their title for an ark. Dearsu is the man’s name.”
“I do not envy you.”
“I don’t know. I’d rather be up and speaking with people than in a cot with my shoulder tattered.”
“It’s not that bad.” He rolled his eyes.
“Is that what the healer said?”
His eyes cast downward, and his normal lighthearted glow dissolved. “No, that is not what he said.” He took a deep breath. “He said that I will keep my arm, but he isn’t sure how it will function.”
My heart sank. “You will be okay.”
“How will I be okay?” His eyes opened wide. “I am a soldier. That is how I make a living. I need my arms.”
He wasn’t a soldier anymore though. He was a slave, and until Brungen relinquished that title or Cirithe bought his way out of this, he would always be a slave. “I will see to it that you never go hungry or cold. I don’t abandon those that have fought for me.”
He rubbed a hand down his face, trying to hide the tears that were forming along his eyelids. “Thank you,” he said, looking away from me. Perhaps his calm, joyful resolve had all been a ruse to hide the real emotions that were teeming beneath the surface.
“It’s the least I could do.” I rose to my feet, sensing I wasn’t welcome.
“Do you think their deaths were punishment for Albin’s actions?” Cirithe asked in Sairan. “I remember Irska saying that the gods would punish Albin for serving a troll.”
I swallowed hard. The sound of her name hit me in the chest like a war hammer. I struggled to stay upright. “No, I don’t think they were. It’s likely that when they do punish him, others will suffer as well, but this wasn’t it. He wasn’t harmed or injured in any way. How could that be his punishment?”
“That is true.” Cirithe nodded. “I am going to miss Sigmun. He was the first one of you that actually felt like a friend.”
“Give it some time. More of us will feel like friends,” I said to lighten the mood.
He nodded again, but his eyes had a faraway look. “Yes, thank you. You may leave now. I have finished with you.” He smirked.
A warm chuckle slipped from my lips. “Very well, Ark Cirithe.” I bowed.
XXXIX
Trial & Execution
Svotheim and I stood a foot-length from each other. Our toes pointed forward, spine straight, and our hands held behind our backs. Not once had he glanced my way or said a single word. In fact, he hadn’t spoken to me since I arrived in Rekkesov. He had passed the evening stealing glances at Astra, observing her every movement from his bed. But not once did he open his mouth and voice his thoughts or dismay.
I turned my head. His blonde hair shown like gold before the large maroon tapestries that hung on the walls. If it weren’t for his dark, utilitarian way of dressing, I wouldn’t have been able to tell he was Varundian and not Rekke. He had the same angular face, solid jaw, and slender eyes as the Rekke. But as I stared at his profile, it hit me just how little the Rekke and Varundians differed in appearance in general. Their split must not be as far back as I had once believed.
My gaze returned to the pair of empty thrones in front of me. His unwavering silence bothered me more than it should have. He didn’t just ignore me but pretended as though I didn’t exist. What had happened while I was away? Was he angered by how long it had taken me to kill King Audrios? Had he expected me to return in two-weeks’ time?
“Have I angered you?” I asked, unable to hold my thoughts back.
His eyes flicked to me, but his head remained facing forward. “Why would you think that?”
I furrowed my brow. “You haven’t spoken to me once since I’ve come back. Why are you ignoring me?”
He shook his head. “I’m not angry, nor am I ignoring you. If anything, I’m confused.”
“Confused about what? Why it took so long? Astra? Did you hear something?” The urge to reach out and touch him so he would look at me took hold of me, but I restrained myself. His shoulders weren’t open to me. His head remained turned away. He didn’t want me close. “Just tell me what it is, and I can explain.”
He held out his hand to silence me. “I don’t want to know anything before King Erlend and Torram. I need the ability to convincingly act surprised and deny having any knowledge of your actions.”
He didn’t know whether our plot had angered the brothers and he wanted his hands to stay as clean as possible. I would suffer the blame and punishment should this whole assassination be ill-received. I was on trial once again.
“King Erlend of Rekkesov and Prince Torram,” a servant called out. His voice echoed around the grand brick hall before a side door swung open.
King Erlend was the first to saunter through. The gold chains around his neck clinked with each of his steps. They dipped to his large belly that was wrapped in a wool and silk woven tunic. Behind him, Torram followed. His shoulder-length hair had been pulled back into a short, thick braid that ran across his scalp, revealing the dark tattoos along the side of his head. Several gold earrings dotted his left ear, and a small chain dangled from his right. He wore a burgundy-colored tunic, trimmed in gold filigree that ran along the hem and down his shoulders. It was the most decorated I had ever seen him.
The last to pass through the door was the king’s trusted steward, Solvild. He hadn’t changed in the slightest. Still slender, lean, angular, and wearing as much finery as his position would allow him. He took his place just behind the king’s throne, and his stare fixed upon us. It was severe and cold. He had once felt like an ally, but now it was clear there was a di
viding line between us.
“Svotheim, Derethe,” King Erlend growled as he leaned forward in his throne. His weight shifted to his left elbow that rested on the red velvet arm of his regal seat. He looked as though he were ready to leap out of his chair and pounce on us. “You have insulted me and the Royal Court of Rekkesov through your reckless and selfish actions. You have taken advantage of my bountiful hospitality and deceived me, guarding your true and malicious intentions. You have endangered the Rekke people by inciting instability in the region. I will not turn a blind eye to your diplomatic games. I will not overlook your callous and naive behavior. I will see that you pay for your crimes. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Svotheim took a deep breath. “With all due respect, King Erlend, what proof do you have that these crimes were committed by our hands?”
It was bold of him to challenge the king, and even King Erlend appeared taken aback by Svotheim’s sudden courageous push. His bushy brown eyebrows hiked up to his hairline and his eyes widened. “Our friends down in Essony tell us that a foreign, black-skinned sorceress killed King Audrios before fleeing northward. She is reported to have been a slave belonging to a Varundian trader. About five months ago, this sorceress slipped through the trader’s fingers and wound up in Essony seeking refuge. She found a home in the Esson religion, where she climbed her way to the king’s side and murdered him. I trust these accounts and am certain this assassin is none other than your slave.”
Svotheim stroked the trimmed blonde hairs along his jaw. “A sorceress though? Doesn’t that seem a little preposterous?”
King Erlend’s weight shifted back. “Perhaps, but it matters not. The crime was still committed.”
“Yes, but Derethe is not a sorceress. The description doesn’t exactly fit who you are accusing, and she also isn’t the only black person running around on this earth.”
“If it was not her, then where did Derethe disappear to? What was she doing? Because the timeframe matches perfectly.”
Svotheim shrugged. “I wish I could tell you, King Erlend. But I do not know.” He didn’t flinch or look away as he spoke the words. His body language was impeccable. There was no room for the king to doubt Svotheim’s honesty.
Erlend’s face turned a red hue. “Willful ignorance will not save you here, Svotheim. You think you’re the first man that has come to me claiming innocence since he has sent his slave to do his dirty bidding instead?”
“Let him play the fool.” Torram shrugged, halting his brother’s wrath. “Derethe, tell us where you have been gone to these past months.”
All eyes in the throne dashed to me. Since Svotheim hadn’t spoken to me, I had no idea what to say in order to corroborate his story. It didn’t seem feasible that he had spent all this time in the palace and not once had someone inquire upon my whereabouts.
I took a deep breath as my plan formulated in my head. There was only one way to go about this. The Rekke royalty were wise—surely they’d see reason in this. “I was in Essony.”
A few guards and servants gasped as though I had just confessed to slaying King Audrios, but Torram was unmoved. “And what were you doing in Essony? Why did you run there?”
“Run there?” I shook my head. My braids brushed against my shoulders. It was weird not having them held up in a white scarf. “I was captured around the border and brought to the city.”
“Why did you leave Rekkesov?” Torram continued with the questioning.
Svotheim glanced at me. His forehead glistened in the early morning light that poured through the tall windows. What had he told them was my reason for disappearing so suddenly?
I cleared my throat. “For information.”
King Erlend cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well, you had claimed that you believed your southern neighbor was preparing to invade Rekkesov. I went to find out if it was true.” I twisted the truth to paint us in a better light. He didn’t have any proof I went down there with the sole intention of assassinating King Audrios.
“Why do you care about such matters?” King Erlend asked.
“Because it was pertinent to our relations. For Varund’s sake, we had to know that you were telling the truth. We needed to be sure the alliance was still strong, and that when our ships sailed for Ombria, you wouldn’t attack.”
King Erlend’s face swirled into a scarlet mess of anger. “You dare question my word and loyalty?” Spittle flew from his mouth. “You, a slave?! Questioning a king?! I will have your head.”
“You want to kill me?” I pressed a hand to my chest, feigning surprise. “I would normally expect a king as magnanimous and gracious as yourself would thank me for my efforts.”
“Have you lost your mind?” he shouted.
“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t believe you understand the extent of King Audrios’s plans.” I didn’t give him a chance for a rebuttal. “What? You think he was stacking the border to incur a small skirmish or take a few parcels of land? No.” My voice tightened. “He was planning on sweeping through Rekkesov with an unimaginable force. He had been planning this campaign for years. When I happened to make my way to his side, he was determined and ready to unleash fire and death upon your villages and people.”
King Erlend shook his head. “He would never do such a thing. The other kingdoms in the region wouldn’t allow it.”
“True.” I nodded. “He did say that, but he intended to have you all wiped off the map before the others could even mobilize, much less agree upon a plan of action. As he put it—without Rekkesov to lead them, they’ll flounder.”
King Erlend glared at me. “And you chose to kill him instead of returning and warning us?”
“I never claimed my actions were fully altruistic. Obviously, killing him was far more beneficial to us, but you shouldn’t lose any sleep. With both of Essony’s heads chopped off, she’s destabilized.”
“Both heads? The king and the patriarch?” Torram questioned. “What makes you think both heads have been killed?”
“Because I slit King Audrios’s throat with my own knife and ended Patriarch Menaries’s life on my way out.”
Torram and Erlend exchanged a glance. A small chuckle poured from Torram. “If only it were that simple. Menaries is alive.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No, it’s not. He’s sustained significant injuries, but he’s expected to recover.”
The breath caught in my throat. My knees grew weak beneath my weight. How had I let the opportunity slip between my fingers?
“So, with Menaries still alive, how was assassinating King Audrios beneficial to us?” King Erlend narrowed his eyes.
“At least the element of surprise has been done away with.” Svotheim came to my defense. “Essony was going to declare war on Rekkesov no matter what action you took. This patriarch will surely be a much weaker leader compared to their king, no?”
“At least before the king was assassinated, we had diplomacy that we could leverage,” King Erlend growled.
“No.” I shook my head. “You didn’t. The king already had his plans solidified. Believe me. I was a pawn to be played during the war. I did try to persuade him, but he wouldn’t budge. He said his people needed access to food.”
The brothers shared a second look. “I told you that your greed would hurt us eventually,” Torram said.
“My greed? You were the one who proposed the price.”
“Yes, for one season because our winter stores were lower than normal. That price was only supposed to be for one season.”
King Erlend shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It is done now.”
Torram rolled his eyes. “Regardless, at least acknowledge that it was your decision that led us to war against the Essons, not the Varundian slave’s.”
“What?” Erlend hissed. “Why are you defending her? Do you have some secret agreement with the Varundians that I am unaware of?”
“No. I just know glory and success w
hen I see it.” Torram’s cold stare turned to me. “You are squandering a golden opportunity.”
“Even if I overlooked this disgustingly offensive transgression, I still cannot send Ark Ulfur the men and ships he wants. They are all certainly going to war against Patriarch Menaries now.”
“And without our disgustingly offensive transgression, they may have been slaughtered in their beds without putting up a single fight. At least now Rekkesov has a chance to defend herself,” Svotheim said.
King Erlend frowned. “You are lucky that I do not take off your head this very moment.”
Svotheim and I were right. Rekkesov had no way of avoiding war with Essony. King Erlend was simply mad that we made a decision without his approval. “We are sorry if our actions have offended or harmed you, King Erlend. We only hoped that by ending King Audrios’s life, we might save some Rekke lives.”
“You have,” Torram said. “And I thank you for that, Derethe. I, for one, would much rather face Menaries than Audrios on the battlefield.”
“You traitor,” King Erlend spat.
“When our little quarrel with Essony is over, you will have your men, ships, and commander. However, since you have instigated the abrupt beginning of this war, we do seek atonement.”
“I am the king!” Erlend roared.
Torram sighed. “Fine. Say what you want. Kill the Varundian emissaries, ruin our one solid alliance, and create a schism amongst the Norrender people.”
Erlend’s nostrils flared. “What atonement do we seek, dear brother?”
“Assistance in defeating our enemy, so that we might overwhelm the Essonians.”
Did Svotheim have the power to agree to such a thing? Could he promise to send Varundian soldiers to war?
“Done,” Svotheim said. “We will set out tomorrow and get you your swords.”
“Good,” King Erlend said with a scowl. “Now leave my sight. I don’t want to see either of your faces for the rest of your stay in my home.”