AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘What for?’
Esyllt seemed to hesitate a moment before answering tersely. ‘King Artos wished to celebrate the victory at Delmira.’
The trio stilled.
Celebrate?Thea thought. While they had defeated most of the reapers, not only had one escaped, but they’d returned to Thezmarr to burn funeral pyres. How could they think to celebrate in the face of that loss?
The thoughts must have been plain on her face, for the weapons master cleared his throat. ‘The king also wishes to honour the dead and their sacrifice for the midrealms,’ he told them stiffly. ‘His Majesty has generously brought all the supplies for the feast, along with his household staff to tend to the tasks at hand.’
‘That’s a lot of people…’ Cal murmured.
Esyllt nodded. ‘King Artos intends to reward all of Thezmarr. You’d best get back to your quarters and clean yourselves up. Everyone is to be presentable, dressed in their best for our royal guests.’
The three friends did as their weapons master bid and rushed off to their rooms.
The fortress was buzzing and those who hadn’t been at Delmira were downright excited. Thezmarr had never played host to a royal feast before, and that King Artos had brought the palace chefs with him was all anyone could talk about. But to Thea, it seemed wrong. The embers in the pyres were barely cold. A reaper was free somewhere out there, and there had been a moment each day where she could still feel the trickle of fresh blood down her face.
But there was nothing for it. Thea made quick work of changing into a clean shirt, wondering if Wren and the otherswould don their best dresses. Sam and Ida had always dreamed of attending a ball, and Thea supposed this was the closest they might ever come to a formal occasion.
In the rush to the Great Hall, Thea got separated from Cal and Kipp, bodies pressed all around her as they shoved their way through the corridors, everyone eager to get a good seat where they might glimpse upon the king – or better still, the beautiful young princess.
Thea was forced onto a bench with shieldbearers whose faces she recognised but names she didn’t know. She craned her neck, looking for Cal and Kipp, but the tables were more crowded than normal and she couldn’t spot them amidst the fortress staff and warriors. Instead, she turned her attention to the head table, where the Guild Master had offered his usual place to the king.
King Artos of Harenth sat in the high-backed chair, his gilded crown gleaming atop his head, his daughter, Princess Jasira to his right and Osiris to his left. The Warswords were at their regular seats, whereas people like Audra and Esyllt had been moved to another table entirely.
Thea’s breath caught as Hawthorne’s eyes met hers for the briefest of moments. He wore the same mask of unbroken violence as always, but the twitch in his jaw told Thea that something was amiss.
She trained her gaze elsewhere.
Even from a distance, Thea could sense the magic rolling off the king, and for a brief moment, she wondered what he felt from them all. He was an empath, not a mind whisperer, but what did that entail? Was it merely a matter of feeling emotion from others or was it more than that? Could he influence it? Manipulate it? Kipp had said he was the most powerful in the Fairmoore family in centuries…
Servants from the palace came forward with silver trays of food, the aroma of roasted meat making Thea’s mouth water.Great dishes of baked potatoes, honeyed carrots and buttered greens were placed all down the middle of their table, along with freshly baked bread, jugs of rich gravy and decanters of fine wine. It was a display of decadence that Thezmarr had never seen before.
When what seemed to be the entire population of the fortress had been seated, King Artos raised his palm in a wordless command for silence.
Quiet fell, and the king got to his feet, goblet in hand.
‘Greetings, people of Thezmarr,’ he said, his voice projecting to the far corners of the Great Hall. ‘First, thank you for hosting myself and my household in your wondrous fortress. After the events that transpired at the ruins of Delmira last week, both myself and my fellow rulers of the midrealms felt it was important to show our gratitude and unity in a tangible way. I am here as a representative of not only my kingdom, Harenth, but Tver and Aveum as well. The feast we have tonight is to honour the great work you do here and across the lands to protect us and our people.’
He paused a moment, allowing his words to settle over the hall.
‘Last week, the midrealms experienced a furious assault, an assault that threatened the very fabric of the peace we have worked so hard for. But our warriors of Thezmarr, our Warswords, liberated our lands from the darkness. Tonight we celebrate that liberation.’
Thea shifted in her seat, feeling a tightness in her gut. Around her, several others were fidgeting as well. Again she tried to search the tables for her friends, wishing they were at her sides to exchange glances with. She couldn’t see her sister’s bronze top knot either, the hall was simply too full.
‘Of course, we wish to honour those who lost their lives,’ the king was saying, his voice sombre. He listed the six names oneby one. Thea’s hand clenched around her goblet and she couldn’t help but look to the giant swords where only days ago they had carved their comrade’s name. Who else’s name would she see marked there before she met her own end?
King Artos raised his drink. ‘To the fallen!’ he called.
‘To the fallen!’ the hall echoed back, raising their own goblets and tankards and drinking deeply.
The king, however, was not finished. ‘The events at Delmira and the loss of such promising warriors have forced our hand,’ he told them.
At those words, Thea’s skin prickled and she watched as the unease washed across her cohort. She sought Hawthorne’s gaze again, but he didn’t look at her. His eyes were on the king.
King Artos addressed Osiris. ‘Guild Master, shall I share the news?’
Osiris stiffened in his seat and Thea got the impression that sharing whatever news it was had not been the original plan. But the Guild Master had no choice but to clasp his fingers together on the table and nod.
