King Oren stroked his beard, contemplating the words. “Where is your father now? We will send one of our own healers to tend to his care.”
Dolion’s lips twitched, then his whole face crumpled in devastation. “He’s dead, Sire. Infection took him three nights ago.”
Helaina lifted a hand to cover her lips. Glen was dead?
“Can you confirm this?” King Oren asked.
Helaina was furious with him. A son was grieving his father, and he was asking for proof? It seemed inhumane. She glanced at her sister, sure her reaction would be the same as her own. But Krysta looked down at Dolion with the utmost scrutiny.
“The healer at the center of town received his body last night. He drew up the certificate of death this morning.” Dolion approached with caution, handing the king’s soldier a single parchment.
The soldier nodded in Oren’s direction, confirming the report.
The king rubbed the back of his neck in deep contemplation. “I am sorry for your loss. You may go. The guards will escort you off the grounds.”
Dolion rushed the dais, crashing to his knees just before the throne. “Your Majesty, please!” He took the king’s hand, pressed his forehead to the king’s knuckles before the guards could intervene.
The guards pulled Dolion off as he fought to get his words out, but he certainly had the king’s attention. Oren couldn’t take his eyes off him. Neither could Helaina.
“Let him speak,” Oren commanded. The guards stopped shuffling him backward, allowing Dolion to stand at his full height.
“There is no other job in town that pays this well. Without it, without my father... I’ll have to sell our home come springtime. Please keep me in your service, please, Your Grace.”
Helaina looked between her father and his begging subject. To her surprise, he wasn’t dismissive; he looked like he was actually considering Dolion’s request.
“Father, you can’t—” Krysta tried to protest.
Oren held up a hand, stopping her. “Let him go.” The guards dropped Dolion’s arms. He stood there, awaiting the king’s verdict. Helaina couldn’t breathe.
“We do things a certain way here. We require discretion,” Oren started.
Dolion frantically nodded. “Anything, Sire. Anything you ask of me, I swear it will be done.”
Krysta opened her mouth again. Helaina wanted to scream at her to just be quiet.
“My father believed in second chances. I’d like to think I resemble him in that regard. But listen well, boy, third chances are not in my nature.”
Dolion bowed in gratitude, giving a fleeting look toward Helaina.
Krysta scowled.
Helaina smiled triumphantly. Her sister could pout all she liked.
Dolion was here to stay.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Sconces danced past her vision as she hurried down the narrow tunnel.
Which way? Which way?
She darted left, then right, then left again. She hit a dead end, hastily backtracked as her breathing picked up. These catacombs, this Elkron Fortress, was an infuriating labyrinth.
She was growing tired already. Her body was no longer used to any sort of physical activity. That dizzy feeling began to creep into her head again. Her vision was starting to fail her.
Stay alert. Keep going.
She took another right, releasing a haggard sound of relief. There was light, a faint bit of sun in the distance, accompanied by the booming sound of rushing water up ahead. A waterfall.
