Page 90 of Memory of Ashes

“Yes. By blood and law, I am Tiryn’s heir.” He lifted his chin.

Salkin laughed. “You’re only king if we decide you are.”

“He may have been the king, but these are my men. I fought alongside them while he sat on his throne and played with his pet. Do you know what he did to me?”

Salkin’s eyes narrowed. He knew.

Amelia’s blood boiled. He had known and let it happen. She wanted to see him suffer for it.

Casyl turned to the men behind him and raised his arms, gesturing at their surroundings. “This is our prize? This is what we left our home for? There is no honour in what we’ve done.”

Silence met his challenge. One by one, the men lowered their heads.

“Who will challenge me?” He looked at Salkin. “Will you? If any man here believes himself better suited to lead, step forward now.”

Everyone was still.

Then a man stepped out from behind Salkin, his sword drawn.

“I challenge you.”

Casyl stepped forward and drew his own.

Amelia moved closer to Ruven as the two men drew their swords and circled each other. Casyl took on his dangerous fighting stance. He was like a large cat, stalking his prey.

Ruven stood beside her, watching.

“Who is he?” she whispered to him.

“He’s one of Salkin’s officers.”

The officer struck first, aiming his sword at Casyl’s head. Casyl blocked it easily and spun, kicking him in the back. The officer fell to the ground and rolled as Casyl’s blade barely missed him.

“Get up,” Casyl ordered.

This was an important moment. He had been challenged. He needed to show his strength to his men.

The man stood, and Casyl lunged, driving his sword into the officer’s shoulder. Casyl kicked him to the ground. He’d wasted no time putting on a show, demonstrating his strength and skill. He hadn’t even used his power.

“Let that be an end to it.” He walked away, leaving the man moaning on the ground.

Salkin looked around at the men. Too many were watching Casyl with admiration rather than outrage. Even Salkin knew that now was not the moment to force a divide.

“Very well, Your Majesty,” Salkin seethed. He stormed off towards the palace, his men following.

“Get someone to keep an eye on him,” Casyl told Ruven. “And get some rest.” He turned to Elthar. “There are plenty of rooms in the palace. Take your pick.”

Amelia followed behind more slowly. She lingered in the palace gardens where the jasmine once grew. Its scent was lost beneath the layers of ash and the stench of death. This was the route she once walked with Emin to the palace meetings.

She found herself wandering over to the guild’s headquarters, one of the few buildings left mostly untouched. The emptiness of the halls hit her. They were all gone. Emin was probably dead. How many remained of this world? The Singing Stone Guild was nothing without its members.

Her desk sat indifferent to the carnage on the streets. Her notes were scrawled across the surface. The parchment from Ryjul still lay where she’d last left it, trapped beneath the corner of a book. She moved the book aside and arranged the scattered tools before carefully lifting the parchment, staring at the uneven symbols that she’d replicated in haste. She had copied them, believing they would become her discovery. Emin had stood beside this desk when she’d shown them to him. She could almost recall his amusement at her implying he was old.

She pressed the parchment to her chest. Tears struck the paper, blurring one of the symbols. She had found the civilisation she’d been looking for. She’d stepped out from her father’s shadow only to regret it.

A scrape sounded behind her.

Amelia lowered the parchment. “Who’s there?”