Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Krujha
“You’re coming with me?” Alwyn asked, frowning.
“To make sure you don’t trip,” Krujha said, grinning down at the elf and hoping the worry he felt wasn’t obvious on his face.
He had no intention of letting Alwyn out of his sight anytime soon.
The summons might have been for him specifically, and they might not have been able to refuse a king; but surely a second eyewitness account would be just as welcome.
Alwyn looked up at him with an uncertain expression for a moment, but then relented, gesturing for him to follow.
Though his focus was on Alwyn, Krujha couldn’t help marveling at the enormity of the castle as they walked through a courtyard, full of vibrant greenery and flowers despite the season, and up the stone steps to a pair of massive doors.
He had never seen a castle before—the thought of a single building taking up so much space, all for a king, was hard to wrap his mind around.
The walls were made of gleaming white stone, each of the many windows polished to a mirror shine, with a myriad of decorative plants and vines making it look almost as if it had grown out of the earth.
At the grand foyer, Alwyn showed the summons to a guard, who directed them to wait there until the king called for them. He and Alwyn had only just found a comfortable position to sit on the hard stone benches that lined the walls when the guard returned, gesturing for Alwyn to come with him.
The guard hesitated when Krujha rose, too; but he followed as casually as if he’d been expecting the summons himself, and the guard didn’t refuse him.
The elf led them through the castle, just as elegant and airy within as it was outside.
Eventually, they were brought to a long hallway with a single wooden door in the center, where another elf guard stood watch.
The door was carved with a design that looked almost like willow branches, inlaid with silver and gems. The first guard knocked twice on the wooden door, then opened it and gestured for them to enter.
A familiar sense of static on his skin passed over Krujha as they crossed the threshold—some kind of magic, obviously meant to protect the office’s resident, the elven king himself.
He wondered if he could only detect it because it was the same feeling that had clung to him since that day, Alwyn’s lingering magic within him, but pushed the thought from his mind as they stepped inside.
The room was neatly arranged with bookshelves lining the walls, and several small tables and chairs on each side to create a clear walkway to the larger desk near the back of the room.
Krujha had never seen the king and had only caught glimpses of his son, Prince Taegan, during his time in Drol Kuggradh.
The elf sitting behind the desk bore only a passing resemblance to the memories Krujha had of the prince, but had a regal countenance that left a far more lasting impression.
Though he was dressed in a simple, deep burgundy robe with a plain circlet atop his curtain of dark hair, his presence seemed to fill the room. It wasn’t magic, Krujha thought, but the aura of a man keenly aware of how much power he wielded.
The king’s eyes were fixed on both of them as they stepped inside. Beside him, Alwyn immediately lowered himself into a deep bow; Krujha hesitated, then followed suit. For now, he would simply observe, letting Alwyn take the lead in a situation that he was surely more familiar with.
“Rise,” the king’s even voice came from the far end of the office. “You may approach. Please, sit.”
“Thank you, King Ruven,” Alwyn said, keeping his head bowed even as they stepped toward the desk and each sat in a chair facing the king.
They were sized for elves, so Krujha lowered himself gingerly, careful not to lean too much of his weight all at once into the cramped seat.
“I am High Sorcerer Alwyn Alara. Please forgive my slowness, your majesty. I was injured in the battle and am not entirely well yet.”
“There is nothing to forgive. Thank you for answering my summons on such short notice,” King Ruven said, waving a dismissive hand. He paused, his eyes flicking to Krujha. He felt his back straighten under his scrutiny. “I am afraid I am not familiar with you, sir.”
Krujha lowered his head as Alwyn had done, keeping the same pleasant smile on his face. “I’m Krujha of the Shifting Sands, your majesty. I was part of the group sent by Gorza to help Alwyn and his team with their mission.”
“I see,” the king said. His tone was entirely unreadable. “And you are assisting High Sorcerer Alwyn while he is still injured.”
“That’s right,” Krujha replied, nodding.
For a long moment, none of them spoke. Whatever the king thought of all this, Krujha couldn’t get a beat on; the dark-haired elf had evidently mastered the complete stoicism that so many elves aspired to.
Finally, the king’s eyes landed back on Alwyn.
“I understand you were the one who slew Zesh and his co-conspirator,” he said.
Alwyn hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, your majesty,” he said. His voice already sounded less sure.
“I see,” King Ruven replied. “Please explain to me your reasoning behind this decision.”
“I...” Alwyn started, his brows furrowing for just a moment before consciously smoothing his face back into neutrality.
It was an endearing habit when it was only him and Krujha alone—now, though, Krujha could see the distress it was bringing him.
“That is, Krujha and I were separated when we arrived in the rebel camp. I was brought to a private audience with Zesh and Yarug, his druid, where they indicated to me they were aware I was working for Aefraya, as well as Krujha. They wanted information from me, or they would kill me.”
For the first time, he saw a hint of emotion on the king’s face—a very slight narrowing of his eyes. Krujha thought he might have been annoyed or frustrated, but still couldn’t quite get a beat on why, or where this conversation was leading.
“You acted in self-defense,” the king said.
“That is understandable. But it is unfortunate that your original mission could not be carried out. The death of King Zorvut’s brother at the hands of a representative of Aefraya, regardless of the rebellion he was attempting to incite, will be viewed in a poor light by many within our kingdom and outside its borders. ”
Alwyn glanced sidelong at Krujha, who returned the look; the elf looked as confused as he felt.
Krujha wanted to defend Alwyn—he had only been doing what he was told, after all—but maybe it would be better to hold his tongue, at least for now.
He might not have interacted with royalty, but even he knew how dangerous it could be to contradict a king.
“Your majesty,” Alwyn finally said. “If I may—the group’s mission was to bring Zesh to face King Zorvut’s justice, yes. But I was obeying my secondary orders from the Mage Princeps.”
“From the Mage Princeps,” King Ruven repeated, his voice carefully neutral now. “And what orders were those?”
A sharp jolt of surprise shot through Krujha’s body.
How could the king not know what Alwyn’s orders were?
Though Alwyn had told him little about his master and the Order of Twilight, it was hardly a leap of logic to assume this Order was a ring of assassins working for the king and led by the Mage Princeps.
Surely, they would not have been acting without the king’s express knowledge, would they?
As Krujha tried to think back to the few conversations they had on the matter, though, he couldn’t recall Alwyn ever mentioning the orders coming from anyone but this mysterious Tessarion.
“What were the orders, High Sorcerer?” King Ruven asked. Beside him, Alwyn snapped to attention, clearly as taken aback as Krujha was. The king’s words were sharp, and Krujha was sure he would not ask a third time.
“Tessarion ordered me to kill Zesh before he could be captured,” Alwyn forced out. His voice was shaking, and Krujha’s heart ached, hearing his obvious worry. “Forgive me, your majesty, but I… it never occurred to me that those orders might have been without your approval.”
The king’s face was a perfectly stoic mask, but the long stretch of silence that followed left Krujha frantically trying to map out an escape route in his head.
After everything they had been through, he couldn’t let Alwyn be punished for what had happened, not even by the king.
It might be a losing battle, but it was one he would fight to the bitter end all the same.
Eventually, though, King Ruven sighed, his eyes flickering back down to his desk with his mouth in a tight, straight line.
“Unfortunately, Mage Princeps Tessarion seems to have acted without my approval,” he finally said. “I cannot fault you for obeying the orders you received, High Sorcerer. But the consequences of those orders may be far-reaching.”
“Your majesty,” Krujha said, wishing more than ever that any of these elves could just speak plainly for once.
Beside him, he could feel Alwyn tense, probably panicking that he was about to put his foot in his mouth in front of the king; but King Ruven’s eyes darted over to him expectantly, so he continued anyway.
“Please forgive my lack of understanding. But I’m not sure why Zesh’s death seems to be such a problem.
Aside from the rebels he rallied to his cause, he was not exactly well-loved by the people.
It’s... unfortunate that this order was made without your approval, of course, but I don’t see what far-reaching consequences you’re referring to. ”
He held the king’s gaze, if only because he could feel Alwyn all but glaring a hole into the side of his head. To his surprise, though, the king’s eyes seemed to soften, and there was even the hint of a smile on his face as he answered.