The carriage pulls to a stop at the main gates before Symon opens the door for us. As we step out, I notice one of the two guards on duty take off into the palace. No doubt to warn of our arrival.
Arlon leads the way, and I follow just behind, trying to tamp down the anxiety that’s been conditioned into me over the past few months. I’ve delivered and retrieved missives, attended countless meetings, but the tense talks between Straetham and Kenitka still rest heavy in my mind. Though the two powers have landed on peaceable terms, it had been harrowing reaching them.
For a time, I even wondered if my tenure at the Crux might end if peace between the two kingdoms fell apart. That was avoided, thank the gods, but ever since, entering the palace never fails to fill me with an impending sense of dread.
We walk through the front gates and into the lavish courtyard that leads to the main doors. Usually another guard is waiting to escort us, but it’s Captain Thora herself today. She’s dressed in her armor as usual, but her helmet is absent, giving us a view of the scar that stretches down her jaw, her short-cropped silver-blond hair.
“Good to see you again, Captain,” Arlon says. “Are you going to ask me what I’m doing outside of the Crux, or do you already know?”
I bite back a sigh. It’s obvious that Arlon’s chafing under the Royal Guard’s heavy hand, but I sometimes wish he wouldn’t make it so obvious.
Thora gives him an unamused look. “If you would come with me? The King’s last meeting just finished, and he is eager to hear what news you have. He also has news for you.”
Ominous.
Arlon and I share a kindred look before we follow Thora through the halls of the palace. She takes us to the same meeting room we have conferenced in before, and the door opens to show KingThermilious sitting at the head of the long polished table, one of his advisers already at his right hand. Thora sweeps past us to take the seat to his left, and we bow before the King motions for us to sit.
“I hope you bring good news for us?” the King asks.
Arlon’s scowl deepens as he settles into the too-small chair. “It depends on your definition of ‘good,’ Sire. Lucien of Frostcliff is dead, in no small part because of the condition the Crown kept him in.”
I bite my tongue even as my hands tighten over the arms of my chair. Gods, is hetryingto fracture the peace between the Crux and the Crown further? Of course I can’t condone how the Crown treated Lucien, disgraced or not, but Arlon’s like a guard dog where his wizards are concerned.
The young King doesn’t seem perturbed. Maybe after being subjected to Arlon’s growling so often these past few months, he’s simply gotten used to it. “When magic failed to get us answers, we pressed Lucien for information as we saw fit.”
“Are Demica and the others being treated similarly?” Arlon demands.
“Due to the reforged alliance with Kenitka, Demica is not,” the King says. That puts me at ease, but knowing that Jaret and the other confirmed traitors from the Tower don’t have that same immunity makes me feel ill.
I don’t care what they did;no onedeserves to be tortured.
“Did we not provide adequate information?” Arlon asks tightly.
King Thermilious waves a hand as he says, “Lucien was the one person who was able to withstand your enchantment methods, which led us to believe that he had some information of Diran’s plans that the others didn’t.”
Hearing that helps me push my unease aside. There’s little need to torture information from someone if you don’t believe they have information in the first place, and Thermilious doesn’t strike me as the type of ruler who enjoys causing pain for fun or vengeance.
“But what he may or may not have known is irrelevant now,” the King continues. “You’re certain he’s dead?”
Arlon’s face is drawn. “His half-crafted conjuration landed him somewhere in the Hobokins. He couldn’t walk, at least not for any stretch of time. He was alive when I got Sight of him, but only just. With nothing more than the rags on his back, there was no surviving the storm yesterday.”
The room falls quiet before Thora says, “Ever since the Immen scouting party was intercepted near Airedale, Duke Targren has had his forces in Frostcliff scouting the mountains. They will confirm Lucien’s corpse once it’s found, Sire, and if the disgraced wizard somehow managed to survive, our own forces will be arriving in Frostcliff any day, if they haven’t already.”
Thora and I share a common fear, then. If Lucien’s spell didn’t put him short of his goal, then that means he wasaimingfor that area of the Hobokins. Gods know Lucien spent plenty of time with Diran in the mountains. Time enough to set up some sort of storehouse.
But, he had been crippled. Had nothing but the rags on his back, and that storm moved in quickly. I’m not sure if it’s optimism or pessimism to hope that he died peacefully.
Even so, I willalsofeel better if we retrieve a body.
“Then the matter of Lucien is settled,” the King says. “Let’s turn to happier news.”
Thora gets up, taking up a piece of parchment as she does before she presents it to us. Arlon takes the missive even as he pulls his spectacles from the pocket of his robe. His eyes widen as he reads before he says, “Peace talks. With Immenbach.”
“King Luther has agreed to meet on neutral grounds to come to peaceable terms between Immenbach and Straetham,” the King says. “While I have no doubt that our magical might would lead us to victory if a skirmish arose, I am eager to avoid such an outcome.”
“As am I, Your Majesty,” Arlon says, his voice tight.
“Good,” the King says. “Then you will have no issue attending the negotiations with me in Marikadar. The messenger from the Shykhdar was delayed by storms, so I’m afraid we only have a few weeks’ time before the talks are set to take place. Though with the teleportations the Crux has created, the entire delegation should be able to travel without issue, correct?”
