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Something whistled through the air – a spear, which hurtled towards the culprit, lancing through his cloak and pinning him to the step of the dais.
The guards leapt upon him, all the while, the spear still wobbled with the force with which it had been thrown. Thea sought its point of origin, suspicion already curdling in her gut. Wilder Hawthorne leaned against a pillar as though he had barely lifted a finger. The awed expressions of the nobles around him and the precision of the throw confirmed Thea’s hunch.
Hawthorne had apprehended the king’s poisoner.
It took five men to dislodge the spear.
The noble protested, shouting curses in Thea’s direction and straining against the guards’ grasp. But when his eyes landed on the king at last, he fell silent.
Thea pointed to his hands. ‘See the blue stains there, Sire? Beneath his fingernails? Those are from the Naarvian Nightshade. It was this man who tried to take your life, who claimed the life of your cupbearer.’
The king looked from the colour marking the man’s skin, to his wide-eyed expression. ‘Well, Aemund… You have a choice.’
‘Your Majesty, please —’
‘You can choose death,’ King Artos continued. ‘Or, you can choose the Scarlet Tower.’
Thea’s stomach roiled. She had heard only rumours of the Scarlet Tower, the prison close to the Veil, south of what used to be the kingdom of Naarva. Those rumours had been enough to make her blood run cold. The worst of humanity was sent there; those who had committed unforgivable crimes, those who deserved worse than execution, and those who had conspired against the rightful rulers. All forced onto a pitiful boat that sailed past the Broken Isles, past Naarva, to a tiny spit of land home to the worst place in all the midrealms.
‘Your Majesty, no, I —’
The king stared him down. ‘Death or the Scarlet Tower. Choose.’
Thea had seen a drawing of it once; a single column of stone on an uninhabitable island.
‘Death,’ the man called Aemund choked out. ‘I choose death.’
King Artos studied him for a moment, his gaze lingering on the patches of blue at the man’s fingertips. Then, he turned to his guards. ‘Take him to the dungeons. Interrogate him. We need to know who he is working with. Then, he goes to the Scarlet Tower.’
‘No!’ shrieked the man. ‘Your Majesty, I beg you —’
‘The time for begging has long passed, Aemund.’ And with that final dismissal, the guards dragged him away.
It was then that King Artos’ eyes fell to Thea once more. ‘I owe you a great debt,’ he said.
Thea’s hands tingled at her sides and a jolt shot through her veins. ‘It was an honour to serve, Majesty.’
But the king shook his head, dissatisfied. ‘Usually I would bestow lands and knighthood for such a deed…’ he told her, his voice increasing in volume as he walked around the table to face her. ‘But I know to such a woman that riches would mean little.’
‘I need no repayment, Sire,’ Thea insisted, bowing. ‘I am only sorry for the alarm my actions caused.’
King Artos considered her, glancing at the other rulers and back to her. ‘I wish to re-address your earlier request, Althea Zoltaire.’
Thea froze.What?
‘It appears I was too hasty in my decision.’ He turned to the other kings and queen. ‘Althea wished to be admitted to Thezmarr as a shieldbearer,’ he said. ‘With your blessings, I now hope to grant that request.’
For the first time since Thea had thrown the dagger, chatter broke out around the hall. Hundreds of hushed voices filled the room, vibrating across Thea’s skin, their stares boring into her back. But Thea didn’t move, didn’t dare to hope.
‘It is not your decision alone,’ King Leiko stated, standing, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword.
‘You are quite right,’ King Artos allowed. ‘Which is why I turn to you, my fellow rulers. This young woman has the support of the Guild Master and now me, the King of Harenth in her petition to join the Thezmarrian ranks. What say you?’
King Leiko cleared his throat. ‘What of all you said before? About the stability of Thezmarr and all it stands for?’
‘Our law from two decades ago forbade women to wield blades, but were it not for a woman wielding a blade today, my life would be forfeit,’ King Artos projected his voice to the far reaches of the hall. ‘Were it not for this woman, the kingdom of Harenth would be kingless, my conspirators on the rise to power and this great territory might have descended into chaos and war. It’s my belief that we have found an exception to the laws forged in the past. The courage and skill Althea demonstrated just now in saving my life surely proves that?’
‘I do not deny the girl’s bravery —’
