Death of the Immortal King

by Sarah McCarthy

  Paric nodded thoughtfully, running a hand across his stubbled chin. “All right, yeah, a lot of new faces, crowds. Those are all pluses. On the minus side, though, security will be high. Everyone will be on the lookout… you didn’t see any other ways? Times of day he’s usually alone? Foods he eats that no one else does?”

  Kara hopped up onto a chair, her feet extending straight out in front of her. She was tiny, but the expression on her face, framed by those dark ringlets, was deadly serious. “Jedren is very careful about what he eats. His food is all tested by multiple food tasters and kept in a locked vault guarded by no less than two men at once. He is rarely alone, as far as I know, and never unarmed.”

  “Not that he needs it, I hear,” Paric said. “Penchant for neck-breaking, it seems.”

  Gird put down a teacup. It clinked heavily against its saucer. “Perhaps this talk should wait until morning.”

  “Good idea,” Aron said. “Let’s get some rest.” He cocked his head, listening. “Lilianna and Kara, how about you two sleep down here? The rest of us will go back upstairs. Pretend like everything is normal.”

  “They know you were the one who recommended me, though, right?” Lilianna said. “Won’t they come and question you?”

  “Likely so, good point.” Aron rubbed his hands together. “All right, I guess we’re all sleeping down here, then.”

  Lilianna glanced at Coralie, who wasn’t looking at her. She was looking at the girl and frowning.

  50

  Coralie

  The next morning, they all stayed inside, down in the basement. In the early afternoon, another group of soldiers came and searched the house again.

  Coralie sat listening to Lilianna and Paric plan their assassination attempt, assisted by the little girl. Lilianna seemed to be avoiding her eyes. She wanted to talk to her, but there was too much to say. She wanted to apologize but she couldn’t do it in front of the others. Lilianna would hate that anyway. She didn’t want to embarrass her.

  As the day wore on, the plans got wilder and wilder. More and more elaborate, involving multiple poisons, diversions, arrows fired from multiple locations, and at least three seductions. Coralie couldn’t have done any better. There just probably wasn’t a plan that would actually work. And even if there was one, would that really help? Even if they assassinated Jedren, wouldn’t another denizen of Yqtos just rise up and take his place? She shook herself. This wasn’t how she wanted to think. When had she become the negative one?

  She picked at her skirt, leaned her head against the plush back of the chair, and watched Lilianna out of the corner of her eye. She looked away, not wanting to be too obvious.

  “All right, I’m sick of this. Either let’s go upstairs and stop worrying or someone else go get us water.”

  It had been a week, with the searches coming less and less frequently. The last one had been three days ago.

  “You think they’re giving up?” Lilianna asked.

  “Unlikely. Widening their search maybe.”

  The searches stopped, and the festival was a week away. The plan had come together, slowly and agonizingly at first, and then quickly. Coralie still hadn’t spoken with Lilianna. One afternoon, Lilianna left with Paric to get supplies. They disguised themselves heavily before they left. Not wanting to be there when they left, Coralie went to walk the bluffs. It was too painful when Lilianna was pointedly not looking at her.

  51

  Jedren

  The next day, Ryn came to Jedren, and eyes heavy.

  “Have you found her?” But Jedren knew the answer, could see it in the man’s eyes, even before he asked.

  “No, sir, I’m sorry. We have every man searching every street, no ships will leave the harbor without being boarded and examined from stem to stern.”

  Jedren nodded, then noticed the man was shuffling his feet.

  “Is there more?”

  The man looked truly miserable now, not meeting his eyes.

  “There is.”

  “Well?”

  “Sir, we searched your wife’s rooms, as you asked.”

  “And?”

  “We found this.” He held out a scrap of paper.

  Dear Jed,

  Firstly, I love you. I am so sorry. For everything. For what I’ve asked you to give up. For what you gave up for me without my asking. For what you’ve gone through, and what you’ve become, in the name of protecting me. I release you from all that now. I love you always, and I will pray to Numenos that she may forgive us, and that she will bring us together in another life. I am leaving now. Don’t look for me.

  Yours always,

  Kallia

  Jedren sank down into the chair behind his desk.

  What had he ever done? He wracked his memory, tried to come up with an unkind word or gesture. What could he have possibly done to deserve this?

  He ran his hands through his hair, one hand skimming the mutilated spot where his ear had once been. He’d given up everything for her, and she was leaving? How could she? There had been not a single thing he’d kept from her. Not a single shameful detail of anything he’d done that he’d failed to confess. And how did she repay him? With secret rooms, with keeping his daughter from him. And now she was planning to leave. To sneak away without even explaining.

  “Where is she now?” Jedren never went to Kallia’s parts of the castle, never asked for reports on what was there. All he did was ask that someone know where she was at all times so that he could protect her.

  “I can have her brought to your chambers, sir.”

  “No.” Jedren felt his heart speeding up, felt the darkness swimming through his veins, through his mind. “No. Take me to her.”

  Ryn’s eyelids flickered, but he only bowed. “Yes, sir.”

  Jedren stalked after Ryn, gritting his teeth, the hurt giving way to rage. Through the door in the great hall that Jedren had never been through. The door in the castle that he had won for her. The castle that he had killed and murdered and sacrificed everything for. Where he was not even allowed to go where he wished. He ripped the door off its hinges, the strength of the death god rippling through his veins as he hurled it back into the great hall.

  Down a wide corridor, and here he stopped and stared, his scalp prickling in horror. He had never been here, but his men had. His own men had seen this. How were there not whispers everywhere? They must all of them be laughing behind his back. He, who served the god of death, who destroyed every temple and symbol of worship of every other god but that one. Here in his very castle, ten feet high and eight feet wide, were dazzling blue and silver tapestries. Twelve. He willed himself to move, took a disbelieving step forward and saw more. Even their names were embroidered in silver. Onera. Xamion. Eclelia. Ava. Zastros. The gods and goddesses depicted larger than life, small tables in front of each. Altars arrayed with candles and incense, offerings to the very beings he was tasked with destroying.

  You knew this was here, a tiny part of his mind whispered. Yes, he’d known this was what she was keeping from him. But he hadn’t known it was this brazen. He’d imagined, when his mental walls had slipped, a small closet, with a single candle, maybe a few tiny statues. Not an entire castle decorated with images of her defiance of him. Of his sacrifice.

  The wall at the far end was almost entirely taken up with a fifteen-foot-high golden tapestry of Numenos herself. His stomach roiled. The black heat pulsed through him. He gripped the fabric, ripped it off its hangers. Screaming in fury, he pulled each of the tapestries one by one off the walls, piling them in the center of the hall.

  “Burn these,” he said to Ryn, who stood, hands clasped, in the corner, watching him silently. The man bowed. “And make sure no one sees.” No one else. How many men had seen what his wife had been doing behind his back?

  Why do you care? You don’t really mean what you’ve been saying. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that she’d worshipped the gods. What mattered was that she let everyone who served him see. What were
they saying about him behind his back? That Kallia was the real power around here? That Jedren was just a weakling who did whatever she said? He pounded his fist against the wall. It was true. He did whatever she wanted. Any tiny whim, he complied with. And what did he get in return? Loyalty? No. Lies. Betrayal. She made a mockery of him behind his back.

  Ryn began bundling up the tapestries.

  “Not now,” Jedren snapped. “Take me to her first.”

  Ryn dropped the tapestries. “Of course, lord.” He bowed and swept past Jedren for the door at the far end.

  They entered a spiral staircase, which Jedren vaguely remembered from his first tour of the castle. Now it was filled with decorations. The gods and goddesses were everywhere. No sign of Yqtos.

  Stopping at a landing, Ryn bowed and pointed to a doorway.

  “These are her private rooms, my lord.”

  Jedren ground his teeth, surveying the door. “Go burn the tapestries, Ryn.”

  The man bowed and disappeared down the staircase.

  Jedren raised a hand to knock, then gripped the door handle instead, turning it and pushing the door open.

  A temple. Again, twelve of the gods and goddesses.

  He swept through it into the next room. He found himself in a large sitting room, with windows overlooking the sea. She stood at one of these, looking out, but turned when she heard him come in.

  Their eyes locked wordlessly. Accusations fought one another in his mind, each one more terrible than the last. Each one vying for supremacy. His fist clenched, his knuckles itching.

  “Jed, what are you—”

  “Don’t call me that,” he snapped. He found the note was still clenched in his hand and he shook it at her furiously. “Explain this.”

  Her eyes focused on the paper, puzzled at first, then realization dawned.

  “If I’d meant for you to have that, I would have given it to you.”

  “So, what, then? You’re planning to leave and not tell me? What about—” He dropped the note. “She wasn’t taken at all, was she?”

  “Of… of course she—”

  “Don’t lie to me Kallia. You’re terrible at it.”

  She thrust her jaw out petulantly. He used to find that adorable.

  “All right, no,” she said. “I sent her away.”

  His voice was low. “Why?”

  Something flickered in his wife’s eyes. There was something she wasn’t telling him.

  “Why?” he demanded again, louder.

  “Because you’re dangerous,” she finally blurted out. “Have you seen what you’ve become?”

  “I would never hurt Kara.”

  “No? How many people have you killed? I’ve seen you. I—” she faltered. “I’ve seen how much you enjoy it.”

  He moved towards her, shoving the couch out of the way. She flinched but held her ground. “How dare you judge me? I was going to leave! I would have let those soldiers take me away and none of this would have happened. If this is anyone’s doing, it’s yours. All I’ve ever done is what you’ve asked of me.”

  “Don’t blame me for your choices. That’s such a—”

  He shoved her up against the wall, and she stopped talking, her face going white.

  He saw the fear in her eyes and took a deep breath, pulling himself back.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She swallowed, her hand going to her throat. “I’m sorry, too, Jed. I’m sorry I asked that of you. I shouldn’t have. I just… I didn’t want to lose you.”

  He looked at her. “And now, after all that, you’re just going to leave? Take our daughter and leave without saying anything? Without even asking me to…”

  “I’m done with asking you for things. You always do what I ask. It’s too much.”

  He ran his hands through his hair and sank onto the couch, now at an askew angle, the rug bunched up underneath it. For a long time they stayed like that, him sitting on the couch, her leaning against the wall. Outside the window, the sun was high and bright in a cloudless blue sky, the ocean sparkling, stretching out miles and miles in the distance. Grasses bent in the breeze, somewhere out there people were going about their days, running their businesses, making money, laughing. He wished he was one of them. He looked at her.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Do you think what we’re doing is wrong?” he asked. The question hung in the air between them.

  “Yes.”

  “How long have you thought that?”

  “The whole time.”

  “I guess I have, too.”

  She moved to sit on the windowsill, leaning against the stone and looking out at the sea.

  “We’ve abandoned the gods. But they haven’t abandoned us,” Kallia said at last.

  “Yqtos is a god, though. Who are we to question what he asks? He’s the oldest god. He and Numenos.” Something in his chest shuddered as he pronounced the name of the divine mother.

  “He hasn’t given us any good reason for what he’s asked you to do, though.”

  “Why should he? He’s a god, after all. There may be something larger, something important that he’s doing.”

  “If he is fighting the other gods, which side do we want to be on?” Kallia said idly.

  “Who are we to say? Who are we to even try to understand what the gods are doing? If Ava had approached me and asked for help, or Eclelia, or any of them, I would have helped them, too. And if one of them would show up and explain, tell me to do something different, I would.”

  Kallia looked at him, then at her temple.

  Jedren stood and slowly came to stand by her at the window. He gently took her hands in his. “We’ve been going about this all wrong. We’ve been lying to each other this whole time. I knew you had this temple. I wanted you to have it. I want us to… listen to the other gods if they choose to speak to us.” He ran a thumb gently across the back of her hand. “I love you. And… even if we’ve been going about this all wrong, following Yqtos blindly… we’ve still been working for a god. That hasn’t changed. And…” He looked into her bright green eyes. “The only one I truly serve is you. You… you don’t need to leave to get what you want. I want us to do what we decide is right. If that means turning on Yqtos, it means turning on Yqtos.”

  Tears welled in her eyes and she leaned into him, her face buried in his chest, her arms snaking around his back. He stroked the back of her head, smoothing the dark hair and cradling her body gently in his arms. All the tension in him drained away and a sense of completeness, of everything being right with the world returned in a way it hadn’t in years… possibly since he’d first made his bargain. There was just one more question he had.

  “Kallia, love?”

  “Mmm?” Her head was still buried in his chest.

  “Where is our daughter?”

  52

  Aron

  After the others had left, Aron sat with Kara while she knitted. Something felt off, but he couldn’t tell quite what. They’d moved up to the living room, figuring they would hear anyone coming and have enough time to hide. He moved about restlessly, roaming the room, picking things up and putting them back down again. He picked up a shoe Lilianna had discarded, picked at the sole until the glue came partially loose, then dropped it again.

  Suddenly, he stiffened. Boots. He could hear them coming.

  “Kara,” he whispered urgently, but the monk had heard it, too. She was already at the hatch.

  Aron dove in after her, pulling it closed over their heads and yanking the cord to pull the rug into place.

  Someone entered the house above them. The wood floors shook under their weight. Then another and another. No one was speaking. The heaviness in Aron’s heart intensified.

  Kara was at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at him with wide eyes. His gaze swept the small, cozy space. Where could she hide?

  She dropped to the floor and began shimmying under a couch. Aron shook his head wordlessly, not willing
to risk speaking, but she couldn’t see him. Hesitantly, he took a step towards her, but the wood creaked under his foot and he froze, listening intently. Had anyone heard? The steps overhead paused. Silence reigned.

  The silence was broken as the porch steps creaked and groaned under the weight of something much heavier. The door banged open and heavy footfalls entered the house.

  53

  Jedren

  Jedren entered the tiny house where his daughter was being held. His gaze swept the living room, alighting on a pair of knitting needles resting on a side table.

  “It’s empty, sir. We’ve already searched this place a dozen times.”

  It wasn’t empty. He could feel it. Slowly, he made a circuit through the house, through the small kitchen, the upper bedrooms, peering into all the closets, then back to the living room and those small knitting needles. A rug caught his eye. Nudging it aside with the toe of his boot revealed a hatch. There was some uncomfortable shuffling from his men.

  He grasped the ring and yanked it open. A man stood there, smiling politely up at him.

  “Oh, hello,” the man said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you up there.”

  Jedren didn’t quite know what to say to this.

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Aron de Tamley, sir, of the Tamloch Tamleys. I believe we’ve already surrendered to you.”

  One of his men leaned in and whispered in Jedren’s ear. “That’s the one who recommended the serving girl your wife accused.”

  Jedren considered this. Now that he knew his wife had been the one planning to send his daughter away, he could no longer blame the girl for helping. It appeared it hadn’t been her fault after all. However, despite what he’d said to Kallia, he wasn’t sure she was telling him the complete truth. He’d act as if she was, at least for the time being, but gone were the days of taking her at her word, never keeping tabs on her, and accommodating her wishes to leave her to her secrets.