Chapter 62
Ikar
Iwake in the back of a wagon. The distinct lack of fresh air moving about me tells me it’s enclosed, but with my eyes covered and my hands and legs bound, it’s difficult to properly scope out the situation.
My head throbs, and I muffle a groan as I attempt to move.
I lay still and think back to the last thing I can remember… the nymphs… that kiss with Vera. Vera.
An image of her with Renton flashes in my mind, reminding me what got me here, and immediately my chest tightens with a mixture of rage and concern.
Where did he take her? I have to trust that Renton truly does want her to bridge, and that he won’t hurt her.
It’ll at least give me a chance to get her back.
“Darvy? Rhosse?” I whisper.
A swift kick in the ribs forces a surprised shout from my lips as my head slams against the ground.
A man’s harsh voice barks from my left. “No talking.”
I suppress another groan. Can I not go a day without an injury?
It’s not long before the large wheels bump across cobblestone streets, which indicates we’re in a larger town or city.
I continue to listen carefully, preparing for escape.
A heavy breath sounds from beside me, followed by another from my other side a few moments later.
I have no doubt it’s Darvy and Rhosse signaling their awareness, and it’s enough to buoy me as I prepare myself to fight with no weapon.
We’ve been through worse; we can do it again.
The wheels roll to a stop, and the neighing of a disgruntled horse sounds from outside the wagon.
Then the wagon door swings open with a loud creak, and the familiar smell of a stable washes over me.
Anticipation thrums in my veins as the binding around my feet is cut.
I’m roughly yanked from the wagon, and I expect some sort of fight, words…
something. But I’m left alone, still blindfolded and wrists tied.
I attune my senses, testing the amount of lucent available… listen for my brothers. I hear the scuffle of boots, followed by a door moving on oiled hinges, and then, a familiar voice.
“Ikar?”
Nadiette?
I stand there, confused. She rushes closer, and her fingers fumble with the ropes until I’m free. I immediately pull the tie over my head to see her freeing Darvy and Rhosse… in my own stable.
“What’s going on?” I ask slowly, frowning as she comes my way.
She throws her arms around me. “You’re safe.”
I remain stiff and unmoving.
Her eyes scan over me. “Did they hurt you? Renton promised he wouldn’t.
I know this doesn’t make sense, but I had to do it for your safety and our kingdom.
” She hardly takes a breath before continuing.
“Waylon is on his way with his and the other low king’s armies.
We must marry, or there will be war. You returned just in time, but be assured, preparations are already underway. ”
“Unbelievable,” Rhosse mutters from behind me.
“Preparations?” I pry her arms from around me and set her back, and her brows drop in disappointment.
“For our wedding. So there’s no war.” She says it slower this time, appearing to grow irritated that I didn’t listen closer the first time. “We must hurry.” She reaches for my hand, and I step back.
Did she truly plan a wedding I told her I’d never participate in?
I shake my head in disbelief. I was that close to finally bridging with Vera.
To finally healing our kingdom of the disease of gloam and preventing our enemies from taking my kingdom.
Now I’m here, Vera is captured again, and the flower is gone.
Anger grows so hot within me I’m surprised flames don’t erupt from my body.
She opens and shuts her mouth, then begins again. “He required it in exchange for your life, and the others—” She looks at Darvy and Rhosse.
“You have no idea how badly you’ve ruined everything.” I push past her, giving orders to Darvy and Rhosse. “Get weapons, and meet me in Jethonan’s office.”
Nadiette’s face morphs into several different expressions: confusion, hurt, anger.
But still, she follows me out the stable doors and all the way across exquisite gardens that are filled with flowers and garden tents that only further confirm the truth of her words.
I cringe seeing the evidence of her scheming around us as I stomp past.
“Ikar, wait! How can you say that?” Nadiette asks with disbelief, sounding as frustrated as I feel with her hands fisted at her sides. “Waylon will be here in hours, or less. All you have to do is marry me, and he will stop all of this.”
I whip around. “You are confused to think I view Waylon as a threat.” My voice is cold. “I know my enemies better than you ever will. Don’t think to act for me again.”
Fear and hurt flash across her eyes, and she steps back. “You’d rather have war than marry me?”
“We will have much more than war if I marry you.” I turn and make my way toward a private side door where two of my soldiers stand, waiting. Now that I’m home, I need to find Jethonan and figure out how to fix this mess.
“Ikar—”
The guards offer sharp salutes before opening the door, and I step inside, leaving Nadiette behind.
I don’t have time to process the fact that she has been working directly with my greatest enemy behind my back.
I lock up the betrayal I feel. I’ll deal with her later.
Now, more than ever, I’m grateful I didn’t marry the blazing traitor.
I find Jethonan’s rooms empty and clean.
I would smirk at the sight, knowing he’s been too busy with the work I usually handle to have time for his experiments, but I don’t.
Instead, I rush to my office. The guard spots me and hastily jerks to attention, stepping out of the way as I throw the door open.
Jethonan jumps in my chair, and a loose piece of parchment floats off the front of the desk. “Your Majesty!”
“Did Nadiette inform you Waylon is about to attempt to take my throne?”
Jethonan straightens a few of the scattered parchments. “Of course she did. She’s been flitting about like an anxious hen since you left.”
His unwavering confidence in me is a balm after finding out Nadiette appears to believe I’m incapable of handling a job I was raised for.
“I know I just returned, but I must leave. I don’t have time to share everything, but I need every weapon you’ve ever made or tested for me. Quickly.” I don’t have a plan, but I figure more weapons won’t hurt.
Jethonan’s eyes widen with excitement at my interest in his concoctions. “Yes, Your Majesty. Come with me.” He sweeps around the side of the desk and back into the hallway with his robes floating around him.
We reach his personal office, and I watch without patience as he rummages through a cupboard, haphazardly placing a variety of small and large vials on his large desk nearby, one by one.
I eye the vials carefully, prepared to commit the instructions to memory. “Tell me how to use them, the best you can.”
“How to say this in the short version?” he mutters to himself.
“Let’s begin with this one here—” He grabs a vial filled with bright-blue powder and holds it up, pinched between his forefinger and thumb, as if he’s a teacher about to give a lengthy lecture.
I motion him to continue with an impatient hand and raised brows.
He begins. “This one—”
The door behind us bursts open with a loud bang as it smacks against the wall, and a large group of soldiers wearing Waylon’s patches spills in. I reach for one of my weapons before remembering I don’t have one. Renton took everything. This day continues to grow worse.
Waylon struts in behind them like a blasted peacock as they encircle Jethonan and I. I inch toward Jethonan’s desk, ready to snatch one of the vials, willing to risk all our lives by using it in these close quarters, but before I reach it, Waylon’s soldiers surround me.
“What is this?” I look at the men, but they deliberately avoid my gaze.
“Bind him,” Waylon commands as he pulls a folded paper from his pocket.
He snaps it open and begins reading, “Due to the lack of consideration for the safety of the kingdom of Moneyre, three of the four low kings have voted in favor of placing the High King, Ikar Moneyre, under arrest. He will voluntarily abdicate the throne to King Waylon, and the kingdom will be divided amongst the four low kings…”
I scoff beneath my breath and wonder which one wasn’t willing to go along with this sham.
I’m pulling the small bit of lucent magic available, ready to fight my way out even without a weapon—I’m relatively sure I can make it from the room alive.
Before I can move, though, my arms are forced behind me.
I jerk against the soldiers’ grips while Jethonan shouts indignantly as he receives the same treatment.
I don’t hear what else Waylon reads of his fraudulent arrest warrant as my ears buzz with hot fury.
I’m pushed roughly past Waylon and his cocksure smirk and led to the dungeon beneath my castle in silence.
Jethonan and I are thrown into adjoining cells. The doors slam shut, and we’re left in darkness—the only light coming from two tiny cracks that are considered windows.
Jethonan groans dramatically as he picks himself up from the floor. “This is terribly inconvenient, my lord, but see it this way: I now have time to educate you on the weapons.”
I slide to the floor against the cold block wall, and rest my forearms across my knees. “If you hurry, you might finish before Renton arrives.”
I thought I felt hopeless at the beginning of this journey, but that was nothing compared to now.
I run my fingers through my hair, pulling at the strands roughly.
The low kings have taken my throne, Renton has Vera and the tulip, I’m imprisoned and likely on my way to a public execution, and I can guarantee Renton will be marching his army here soon.
Waylon is no match for him, which means my kingdom will be lost.
I lean my head back against the cold stone and listen to Jethonan begin a history-book-length lesson on how he created the weapon made of blue powder.
His words become mere buzzing as my thoughts drift to Vera.
Is Renton capable of having feelings for her?
The way he choked her—hurt her—implies not.
But there was something about the way he looked at her…
The memory sparks an inferno of rage. Would he have killed her if I hadn’t dropped my weapon?
I don’t know, but I wasn’t willing to risk it.
If I die and he takes my kingdom and my queen…
My chest tightens to the point I can hardly draw breath.
“Sire?” Jethonan asks, concern pulling his brows together.
I look up to see his face pressed against the bars between our cells. It would be comical if my life weren’t in ruins. “Yes?”
“Are you alright?”
I can’t bring myself to answer. I’ve never been less alright than I am right now. I dodge his question with one of my own. “Renton is my long-lost uncle. I know he and my grandfather were twins, but he believes he’s the rightful heir. Do you know anything about his claim?”
Jethonan clasps his hands behind his back and paces a few steps in both directions within his small cell. “Rightful heir?”
“So he says,” I drawl.
“In my study of Lucentia, she gifted magic to Ricard, your grandfather, because she believed him worthy, which we take to mean she agrees he was the true king. Ultimately, though, it was their father who decided years before then. According to our record, Ricard was honorable. Renton was a strong fighter, popular with the people, but proud and bloodthirsty. I believe the king chose right between his sons. Not that my opinion matters.” He continues to pace, avoiding a puddle of murky water growing steadily wider from the slow drip coming from above, each one echoing ominously off the cold stone walls.
“Renton wants a Black Tulip,” I say, my voice void of emotion. Numb.
Jethonan stops pacing, his back turned to me, and holds a finger in the air as if pleased he finally knows an answer. “Yes, he’ll want one to destroy Lucentia with their magic. It’s vital to ensure he doesn’t find one.”
I lean my head back against the slimy wall. “He has Vera,” I growl.
Jethonan makes a strangled sound, and his eyes grow wide as saucers as he turns around to look at me, his long hair swinging widely around his shoulders with the movement.
If I wasn’t filled with complete and utter despair, I may have laughed.
This is the first time I’ve seen his feathers ruffled, and I can’t even enjoy it.
He seems to have trouble gathering his thoughts upon hearing my upsetting revelation. He opens and closes his mouth before he clears his throat and grabs one of the iron bars to steady himself, his knuckles white.
“If you remember, Lucentia said it was very important that her Tulips were protected by the kings. Why do you think that was?” His voice lowers.
“Because they are filled with parts of her own magic. If Vera’s power is directly linked to Lucentia and she bridges with gloam, three things could happen.
Either the lucent and gloam will mix into some unusual combination, the lucent will overtake the gloam, or…
the gloam will take advantage of that direct link to Lucentia and weaken her so that she’s easier to destroy.
You know she has a brother, don’t you? Gloam. ”
“Yes, I remember our discussion.” I sigh, weary. Lucentia is our only chance of winning this… if Renton bridges with Vera, lucent magic could be extinguished forever, and gloam would grow unchecked.
“If I were able to escape my imminent death and somehow find and bridge with Vera… what happens to the gloam masters?” I ask.
Jethonan appears slightly lost without one of his ancient tomes to reference.
“Well, my lord, that has not yet occurred in history, so I have no way of knowing. I only have assumptions and my own logic to go on, but I’ve wondered if their banishment was an act of mercy on Ricard’s part.
Couldn’t stand to kill his twin, maybe? Either way, I assume if…
” He catches sight of my glare. “Er… when you bridge, they’ll either be killed, or you’ll need to find a way to banish them again like your grandfather did.
But to still be alive after this long indicates they’re no longer fully mortal, so if gloam is destroyed… it’s likely they will be too.”
I groan. My ancestors had broken the rules, refusing to bridge with Tulips like Lucentia instructed, and now we’re paying for it.