I had arrived early for my own assassination.
It was the evening of my familys funeral, and I should have
already been at the chapel. But the thought of mourning alongside
the arrogant coxcombs who would also be there sickened me. If I
were anyone else, this would have been a private matter.
For a month, I had been the king of Carthya, a role for which I
had never been prepared and which most Carthyans believed was
entirely unsuitable for me. Even if I wanted to disagree, I had
no credibility for such an argument. During these first weeks of
my reign, courting favorable public opinion had hardly been my
top priority. Instead, I had a much bigger task: convincing my
regents to help prepare for a war I felt sure was coming.
The biggest threat came from Avenia, to the west. Its leader,
King Vargan, had come to the funeral unexpectedly. Maybe his
claims of only wanting to pay his respects sounded sincere, but I
was not deceived: Hed grieve more for the loss of his
after-supper cake than for my parents and my brother. No, Vargan
had come to learn my weaknesses and assess my strengths. He had
come to test me.
Before engaging in any confrontation with Vargan, I had needed
time to think, to be sure of myself. So rather than enter the
funeral, I had told them to start without me, then escaped here,
to the royal gardens.
This had become my favorite place on the frequent occasions when
I needed to get away from everyone. The bright springtime flowers
were surrounded by tall, dense hedges and lined with plants of
every variety. Majestic trees kept the view from above concealed
through most seasons of the year, and the grass was soft enough
to make bare feet nearly mandatory. In the center of it all was a
marble fountain with a statue at the top depicting King Artolius
I, a grandfather from generations ago who had won independence
for Carthya. My name, Jaron Artolius Eckbert III, partially came
from him.
In hindsight, these gardens were the perfect place for a nice and
quiet attempted murder.
I didnt even consider something as passive as sitting tonight.
Overwhelmed with conflicted feelings surrounding the funeral, and
with Vargans late arrival, my body was tense and my emotions raw.
I needed to climb, to work off some energy.
I quickly scaled the first level of the castle, using the
unevenly cut rocks as grips for my fingers and feet. The lowest
ledge at this part of the wall was broad and swallowed up in ivy,
but I rather liked that. I could fold myself into the dense
leaves and glance out at the gardens with the feeling that I was
a part of it all, rather than a simple observer.
After less than a minute, the gardeners door opened below me.
That was odd. It was far too late for a caretaker to be out here,
and this ground was forbidden to anyone else unless I invited them in. I crept to the edge of the wall and saw a figure dressed
in black cautiously making his way forward. This was no servant,
who would have announced himself properly, if he even dared enter
at all. The figure made a quick survey of the area, then withdrew
a long knife and took refuge in some bushes directly beneath me.
I shook my head, more amused than angry. Everyone would have
expected me to come here for reflection tonight, but they wouldnt
have planned for me until after the funeral.
The assassin thought hed have surprise on his side. But now the
advantage was mine.
Silently, I unlatched my cloak so it wouldnt interfere. Then I
withdrew my own knife, gripped it tightly in my left hand as I
crouched at the tip of the ledge, and leapt directly onto the
mans back.
As I jumped, he moved, so I only clipped his shoulder as we fell
in opposite directions. I was up first and took a swipe at his
leg with my knife, but it didnt cut nearly as deep as Id hoped.
He kicked me to the ground, then knelt across my forearm and
wrenched the knife from my grasp, tossing it far from us.
The man caught me on the jaw with a powerful punch that knocked
my head against the ground. I was slow to get up, but when he
reached for me, I kicked him as hard as I could. He stumbled back
and crashed into a tall vase, then fell to the ground, not moving.
I rolled to face the castle wall and massaged my jaw. The fact
that my hand was already on my face probably saved my life.
Because a second attacker came out of nowhere, holding a rope
that he wrapped around my neck. He pulled it tight, pinching off
my air. But with my hand trapped inside the rope, at least I
could give myself some chance to breathe.
I punched an elbow backward, connecting with the chest of this
new attacker. He grunted, but it took three hits before he was
forced to readjust his position and loosen the rope. When he
shifted, I rounded on him and reared back an arm for a swing.
Then I froze. In the instant I locked eyes with the intruder,
time stopped.
It was Roden. Once my friend. Then my enemy. Now my assassin.
I t had only been a matter of weeks since Id seen Roden, yet it
seemed like months. In our last encounter, he had tried to kill
me as a final attempt to get the throne for himself. But I sensed
his reasons for being here tonight were even darker.
Together wed been trained by a nobleman named Bevin Conner, whod
snatched us and two other boys, Tobias and Latamer, from Carthyan
orphanages with the intention of passing one of us off as Jaron,
the lost prince of Carthya. Jarons parents had attempted to send
him to a boarding school where he might learn some much-needed
manners, but after hed escaped the ship bound for Bymar, pirates
had attacked with the intention of bringing about Jarons demise.
Nobody not Conner, not Roden, not the other boys knew that I
was, in fact, Jaron in disguise. Roden still didnt know this. As
far as he knew, I was an orphan named Sage, no more worthy of the
throne than he was.
It was a good thing Conner hadnt attempted to pass him off as
Prince Jaron, because in this short time hed changed enough to
look even less like me. Rodens brown hair had lightened and his
skin was tanner than before. He looked older and certainly acted
that way. When Id last seen him, he had been upset, but it was
nothing compared to his expression now. This went far beyond
anger.
Dropping the rope, Roden got to his feet and drew out a sword. He
held it like an extension of his arm, as if hed been born with
that very weapon in his hand. My knife was somewhere behind him,
hidden in shadow. The odds werent exactly in my favor.
Get up, Sage, and face me.
Thats not my name, I said. And I wasnt going to get up yet.
I was with you at Farthenwood. You cant lie to me about who you
really are.
Which was exactly my point, if he thought about it. Speaking as
calmly as I could, I said, Lower your sword, and Ill explain
everything. I had located the place where my knife lay, but it
was too far to be retrieved before he could use that sword. So at
this point, I much preferred to talk with him.
Im not here for your explanations, he growled.
His sword remained ready, but I slowly stood, keeping my hands
visible. Youve come to kill me, then?
This fraud of yours is over. Its time you learn who is really in
command.
I snorted. You?
He shook his head. Im with powerful people now. And were coming
for you. Id rather kill you here, but the pirate king has some
business with you first.
Although I appreciated the delay in my death, somehow I doubted
any meeting with the pirate king was good news. With a smirk, I
said, So you joined up with the pirates? I couldnt imagine anyone
but the ladies knitting club accepting you.
The pirates gladly accepted me, and one day Ill command them.
They killed Jaron, and when its time, Ill be the one to kill you.
You mean they failed to kill me. You joined up with failures. If
I escaped them four years ago, why would you think I cant do it
again?
Now his face hardened. I have orders for you. And I suggest you
accept them.
Id take orders from the gong scourer before I obeyed him. But I
was curious. What do you want then? I asked.
Ill be at sea for ten days. When we dock, youll be in Isel to
surrender to me. If you do, well leave Carthya untouched. But if
you refuse, well destroy Carthya to get to you.
On their own, the Avenian pirates were destructive, but Carthya
would ultimately prevail. So if this was their threat, then they
must have allies. My mind immediately went to King Vargan. Maybe
he wasnt here to test me after all. It couldnt be a coincidence
that this attack was happening so soon after Vargan had walked
through my gates.
I prefer the third option, I said to Roden.
Which is?
The pirates have nine days to surrender to me. But if they do it
in eight, Ill be more merciful.
He laughed, as if Id been joking. Costumed like a king, but youre
still the same foolish orphan. Theres one more demand. The
pirates want you to release Bevin Conner.
I snorted again. So he can join them too?
Roden shook his head. I only know that someone wants him dead.
Surely you couldnt object to that.
Surely I could. Conner was no friend of mine. He was my familys
murderer, and the reason pirates had tried to kill me four years
earlier. During my short stay at his estate, he had been brutal
to me. However, I would not turn him over to Roden any more than
I intended to give myself up. Conners death will do nothing for
the pirates, I said. Its only revenge they seek, for both our
lives.
So what if it is? Your life is over, Sage. Accept your fate with
some dignity and save your country. Or try to fight back and see
us destroy everything. Well burn your farms, raze your towns, and
kill everyone who stands between us and you. He stepped closer to
me. And if you try to hide, well take the people you love and
punish them for your cowardice. I know exactly whose death would
hurt you most.
Maybe thats your death, I said. Why dont you go ahead and punish
yourself right now?
With that, Roden lunged forward. I tried to grab his sword, but
he kept hold of it and swiped down at me. It cut across my arm,
and I yelped and released him. Shouts of my vigils echoed behind
us. Finally. I wondered if my cries had disturbed their naps. It
was about time they realized I was in trouble.
Somewhere near us was my knife, but Roden kept swinging, forcing
me to back away from him. With my next step, I tripped and fell
into the fountain. He came to the fountains edge with the obvious
intent to strike, but now my vigils had arrived to help. Without
a shred of fear on his face, he began fighting whichever man was
closest. I could only sit there, stunned to see how much progress
Roden had made in his skills in such a short time. He cut through
them as if they were little more threat than snowflakes.
I jumped from the fountain and dove for the sword of one of my
fallen vigils. At the same time, Roden wounded another man, who
fell backward and tripped over me, knocking me to the ground and
landing on my legs.
Roden kicked away the sword Id wanted. Then, with his blade at my
throat, he crouched near me and said, The decision is yours. Ten
days to surrender, or well destroy Carthya.
I was only midway through one of my better curses at him when he
raised the sword and crashed it down on my head.
When I came to, Roden and his accomplice had made their escape.
Considering the injury to my arm and the thunderous pounding in
my head, it was probably a good thing they were gone. However,
Rodens threats still lingered in the air. I was lucky he had not
carried out the worst threat while I lay unconscious.
Wet from the fountain and bleeding from my arm, I stumbled into
the courtyard to see another patrol of vigils running toward me.
I singled out one of them and told him to give me his cloak,
which he did. They said something about my needing a physician,
but instead I asked he be brought into the gardens to attend to
the men there. Then I ordered the vigils to keep everything as
quiet as possible, at least until the funeral ended.
With a hand clamped over the wound on my arm, I slowly walked to
the chapel, where the funeral was underway. I shouldve gone to
the funeral in the first place, rather than to the gardens. The
attack on me would have happened anyway, eventually, but at least
Id have paid proper respect to my family. They deserved that much
from me.
I had always missed my family while I was on my own at the
orphanage, but here at the castle, their absence haunted my every
step. I desperately wanted to go inside where I could properly
mourn for them. But looking as I did, that was impossible. So I
huddled like a spy beneath a small open window to listen, hoping
that wherever my family was, they would forgive me.
Inside I heard the voice of Joth Kerwyn, my high chamberlain. He
had been my fathers adviser and my grandfathers adviser too.
Possibly even further back. It seemed to me that Kerwyn had
always existed. He was speaking of my brother, Darius, now, and I
barely recognized the description of him. Darius was four years
older than me, and had been about my age now when I last knew
him. Still, if there was any truth to Kerwyns words, Carthya now
had the lesser of Eckberts sons for a king. As if I needed
another reminder of that.
Next, each of the regents was offered the opportunity to speak.
Those who did gave predictably exaggerated honors to my family. A
few were coarse enough to work in their politics. From Master
Termouthe, who was currently the most senior of my regents: And
now we have King Jaron, who will certainly honor all his fathers
cautious trade agreements. Or Mistress Orlaine, a friend of
Santhias Veldergrath, who couldnt contain the ridicule in her
voice as she said, Long live King Jaron. If he leads us half as
well as he entertains us, then Carthya has a truly great future
ahead.
Even in my condition, I nearly barged into the funeral then. I
had in mind a few impolite words that wouldve provided weeks of
entertaining gossip for the court.
Jaron?
I turned, not sure whether to be pleased or embarrassed to see
Imogen walking toward me. She moved cautiously, clearly confused
about why I was here and not inside.
Imogen had been a servant at Conners estate of Farthenwood and
had undoubtedly saved my life there. One of my first acts as king
was the small repayment of making her a noble. It was interesting
how little her new status had affected her. Certainly, her
clothes were finer and she often wore her dark brown hair
straight down her back rather than in a servants braid, but she
still remained friendly with everyone, no matter their status.
Her eyes scanned the dark skies. Did it rain? Why are you all
wet?
A nighttime bath.
Fully dressed?
Im modest.
Wrinkles formed on her forehead. When you didnt show up at the funeral, the princess asked me to come find you.
Princess Amarinda of Bultain was the niece of the king of Bymar,
our only ally country. Because of that, it had been arranged from
her birth that she would marry whoever sat on the throne of
Carthya, sealing the alliance. This was supposed to be my
brothers duty, one I believed he was happy to fulfill. Now the
duty had come to me. The happiness over it had not. Amarinda had
made it clear she was equally miserable over our betrothal.
Compared to Darius, I felt like a consolation prize, and a poor
one at that.
For the first time, Imogen noticed my wounded arm. She gave a
soft cry, then moved closer to get a better look. Without a word,
she crouched down and lifted her dress just enough to grab the
fabric of an underskirt. She tore off a length, and used it as a
bandage to bind my arm.
Its not so bad, I said as she wrapped the injury. The blood makes
it look worse than it is.
Who did this? I hesitated, and she said, Let me get the princess.
No.
Imogens eyes narrowed. This is important. You have to talk to
her.
TO BE CONTINUED
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