5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Zalen
N ow I understood why my magic felt so difficult to use. With the King dead, the magic of his Kingdom—and subjects—had weakened. Magic users drew their power from their King—the more powerful the King, the more powerful the people. And when a King died, much of that power did too, leaving the Kingdom vulnerable until the next in line took the throne. Which was really inconvenient for me right now.
Slamming the doors open, I stormed my way into the Damanthus castle in Kanth. Thane and the two Vords that escorted me remained outside. The moment I crossed the threshold, guards flanked my sides. Sarn was standing in the foyer with his hands resting behind his back and a cold stare. As the counselor of the now-dead King during his entire reign, he was closer to him than anyone. Even myself.
“Take me to him,” I demanded coldly.
He bowed at the waist then turned to lead the way as I followed. I expected him to take me up the stairs to the royal chambers, but instead, he headed in the direction of the throne room. He stopped in front of the wide double doors. I waved off the guards to leave us, and they moved to line up along the corridor.
“ You found him?” I asked Sarn. My eyes were trained on the doors before me.
“Yes. It’s a…gruesome sight, Zalen. Are you sure you want to see?”
I huffed. Of course, I did. I needed to see for myself what happened. I wasn’t just going to take his word for it. Without a response, I pushed open the doors.
I sucked in a breath when I saw my father on his back, strewn across the steps in front of the throne. His skin was in ribbons—his lifeless body shredded, lying in a pool of blood that trickled down the marble steps. Crossing the room to get a closer look, I had to stop myself from gagging at the stench. Although Thane had said he’d only been dead for hours, he smelled of rot. I’d seen bodies decay—I knew how fast the process happened.
I knelt down to examine him, bracing my arms on my bent knees. I had never seen something like this. Sarn was right; it was gruesome.
“What happened?” I asked, feeling Sarn lingering in the doorway.
I wasn’t sure if his apprehension was due to his dead King or my presence. We had never gotten along. In fact, I had hated him since I was a boy. For all the times he had falsely blamed me for things to get me punished, and his own cruel punishments for his son. I wanted to wring the fucker’s neck with my bare hands. And now, there was little stopping me—and he knew it.
Sarn’s shoes clacked against the marble floor as he approached. “I don’t know. I found him like this and tried to identify the cause, but we’ve never seen anything like it before. This is something unknown.”
“Hmm.” I waved my hand over his body, mumbling the spell to reveal any incantations. But just as it was for Sarn, nothing came of it for me either.
“Zalen.”
I looked up from the corpse.
“You’ll need to make an announcement to the people. They’re likely already aware if they have tried to use their magic,” he said with a serious expression. “And preparations need to be made. You’re going to—”
“I know what needs to be done, and it will be in sufficient time. Right now, we need to figure out who did this. The King didn’t do this to himself. He was murdered, and I want to know by whom.”
Damnit, this fucks up everything.
I snarled and abruptly stood, straightening my spine and raising my chin. I needed to get Sarn out of here. I needed to be alone and fast.
“Go assemble the Elders. They will handle the pyre while you oversee the preparations. We’ll keep to tradition and have the funeral in seven days. A preservation spell won’t last longer than that.”
“Understood,” he said with a stiff bow of his head. Regardless of his thoughts about my position, at least he still had the good sense to respect it. He’d be a fool to do otherwise. “And I would also suggest—”
“As counselor to a dead King, your words are as useful as his lifeless body.” I stepped closer to him.
His lips pursed, holding back whatever remark rested on his tongue.
“I’m granting you the courtesy of being involved with King Airo’s pyre, but only as a reward for your loyalty to him. Don’t mistake my kindness as a lapse of judgment for your fate here. You knew this was coming. You made sure of it.”
He averted his eyes with a sneer on his face.
I leaned in close. “Finish your duty, then get the fuck out of my Kingdom.”
I wanted him gone, but it would look better if he were present for the funeral. Not that I cared for appearances, but I needed the Elders on my side, and they did care for appearances. Out of respect for my father, I’d let him live.
Sarn spun on his heel and quickly left the throne room, shutting the double doors behind him. Now that I was alone, I could do what needed to be done.
Finally.
I went back to the body, kneeling down beside King Airo, and trailed my eyes over him. King or not, I had little respect for him. Externally, I had been the epitome of a devoted subject. But in truth, he was a bastard, and I wasn’t upset that he was dead. Not even a little. I was just disappointed that it happened sooner than I had planned, and that I wasn’t the one to do it. Whoever had killed him had done me a favor, and I wanted to know why. And who. If they had the capability to do this to Makkor, then they were a threat.
Makkor—King Airo’s magical title, and ultimately his power—was granted the magic of the Damanthus Kingdom after completing the ritual of Kings, the Drehiri. But even dead, his magic remained. I wasn’t about to let it burn away with his body.
Just remember what you learned from the texts , I told myself as I lifted my hand.
Holding my palm just over his chest, I closed my eyes and recalled the dark spell needed to forcibly absorb his power. “Stela.”
I didn’t know if it would work. It was a dark spell I had learned from an ancient book—a book that went missing after I told my father, likely hidden or destroyed to prevent me from using it against him. Which was my intention.
Bastard.
I hissed as my hand began to sting, and opened my eyes. I could see his power stretching out from his body, being drawn into my palm and forging itself with my blood. It wouldn’t be much, seeing as he’s been dead for some time, and from what I studied about this process, the power would be much weaker for me than it was for him. But it was still more than I had before. Had things gone the way I planned, I would have had even more if I were present at his death. I supposed that meant I had to adjust my strategy a bit.
I would be stronger than him—I would make damn sure of it.
It only took a minute for what remained of Makkor’s power to transfer to me. He had never deserved the title, and now it didn’t mean anything. Now, he was just a dead King. About fucking time. He never deserved it.
As the heir to Damanthus, I now possessed enough magic to strengthen the Kingdom, so we weren’t so damn vulnerable until my ritual. Or until I gained even more power.
Standing and turning on my heel, I shoved my red and irritated hand into my pocket, not wanting anyone to see, and left the throne room without looking back. Thane was waiting just outside the doors. I closed them behind me and approached him.
“Zalen,” he said with a slight bow of his head. With a tight expression, he looked me up and down.
“Thane.” I didn’t return the bow. “Follow me.”
I led the way to the eastern wing of the castle and up to my private study. The entire eastern wing belonged to me, while the western wing was for the late King—my late father. My mother died when I was young. My father had told everyone that she passed from an illness too virulent to be cured, even with the best potions the witches could brew. But the truth was that he killed her himself in a fit of rage, only to find out that the adultery he had believed her guilty of was a false accusation. Just another reason I had wanted the fucker dead.
I walked over and sat behind my desk. Thane sat in the chair across from me.
“Close the door,” I commanded, testing to see if the magic had been restored to others and not just myself.
He rolled his eyes and flicked his hand toward the door. “Luka.” The door slammed shut and the side of my mouth briefly twitched up as his spell worked, confirming the power transfer was successful. “Feeling bossy already?”
“Just keeping up appearances in case anyone overhears,” I muttered, keeping the information about the magic to myself. I’d tell him later. I told him just about everything.
Thane and I grew up together. With his father, Sarn, being the counselor to King Airo, we have been near each other nearly our entire lives. It was inevitable that we became friends, but we quickly bonded over our shared hatred for our fathers.
“What happened?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.
“You didn’t see him?”
Thane shook his head. “No. Sarn told me, but I never actually saw Makkor.” Thane detested his father so much that he only ever referred to him by his name, never verbally acknowledging their relationship.
I blew out a breath. “I don’t know. It was some kind of spell I’ve never seen, and neither Sarn nor I were able to determine what it was.”
I wondered if it was the same form of magic I had used to steal his power, but even that should have been revealed.
“Do you want me to cast one on his body? You aren’t exactly the best with them.” It wasn’t an insult, just the truth.
“I can read a detection spell just fine. Nothing came of it. As if it wasn’t even magic that did it, but those weren’t injuries that could have been caused by any weapon.” I ran a hand down my face.
Thane leaned closer, his elbows resting on his knees. “And you didn’t do it?” he whispered.
“If I had killed him, it wouldn’t have been such a statement. I would have done it more discreetly. This felt like a message.”
“Yeah, but if you didn’t do it, then who did? No one in the Kingdom is powerful enough to kill Makkor.”
He was right. Makkor was the most powerful sorcerer in Damanthus. But that didn’t mean he was the most powerful one in the world. There were still a few who could have killed him. But very few.
I went ahead and told Thane about the dark spell I had used on my father’s body, explaining that was why his magic wasn’t as weak anymore. He didn’t seem all that surprised, which wasn’t unexpected with his nonchalant personality.
“I need to speak with Osar,” I began after my explanation. “The borders need to be maintained. No one in or out.”
Thane’s eyebrows creased. “Are you afraid the killer is still here or that they will come back? You know who is the most likely suspect. He’s had it out for Damanthus since the beginning of his reign.”
It was possible. Even the most probable…
“I don’t know. And I need to speak with the Elders after.”
Then I needed to find a way to talk to Maera. If the Elders came to the same conclusion we had, then my response would put her in harm’s way. If King Erix was really responsible—if he truly was that powerful—then I had it in for myself. There were only two possible outcomes: either I succeeded and gained even more power as I intended, or I failed. And that wasn’t a fucking option.
I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned my head back, looking up at the stone ceiling. “Are you ready for this?” I asked quietly.
“To have my life turned upside down or to change the fate of the entire Kingdom?” I glanced over at him. He shrugged his shoulders. “A bit sooner than expected, but yeah, I’m ready.”
I raised my head and nodded. “Good. Because I have a feeling it’s about to be much bigger than we anticipated.”
“Zalen, you’re about to be King and whatever other title you gain from the Drehiri. How much bigger can it get?”
A malicious smile crossed my lips. “Use your imagination.”
After strategizing with Thane about possible upcoming scenarios, we left and went to the Vord headquarters to speak with the Head of the Vord, Osar. Regardless of my position as Prince, Osar outranked me as a Vord, and he had no problem flaunting it every chance he could.
He was about to regret every time he took advantage of his superiority.
“How are we playing this?” Thane asked as we approached.
“I’m done playing. It’s time he learned his place.” Osar was standing on the balcony, watching over the Vord training. “Osar,” I greeted.
Osar turned around and rolled his eyes upon seeing me. “What do you want?”
“I’m glad you asked,” I said smugly. “In light of recent events, I need you to deploy as many Vord to the borders, effective immediately. ”
“Nice try, Zalen. Take your dog and get your ass back down there and do your job with the rest of them.” He pointed to Thane and nodded his head to the barracks below.
Thane snorted a laugh.
“Oh, I am doing my job, Osar,” I smirked. “Now, I’ll ask nicely one more time: get the Vord to the border by morning. And for being a prick, you will be joining them.”
“I’d watch your tongue if I were you. Regardless of your blood, I’m still Head of the Vord, and you answer to me.”
So he doesn’t know the King is dead yet.
“And if I were you, I’d reconsider my words.” I walked over to the railing and looked down at the training. So many times I had watched him watching me, forcing the other soldiers to go harder on me just because he hoped to break me before I became his ruler.
“And why is that? Because you’re a pompous brat?”
The side of my mouth curved up. “Because,” I leaned closer and lowered my voice, “soon, I’ll be going through the royal ritual and be sworn in as your King.”
Osar sucked in a breath, and I could see the color drain from his face. “King Airo—”
“Is dead.” I turned to face him fully and tilted my head up to look down my nose. He wasn’t so cocky now. And just to make sure he knew it, I flicked my hand at him. “Kyrr,” I muttered.
Osar’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak—but nothing came out. It took little effort to cast the spell. I hid my amazement at my enhanced power but internally relished the feeling.
“Makkor was murdered last night. Likely by someone outside our borders, but they could still be within Damanthus. So you will get the Vord to stop all traffic from entering or leaving the Kingdom, or you will forfeit your title. Or your life.” I shrugged. “Personally, I prefer the latter, but I don’t have a replacement, so I won’t kill you just yet.”
With a sneer he spun on his heel to leave but stopped himself and turned back around, pointing to his throat.
“He can’t exactly order his men with no voice,” Thane said pointedly.
“Shame. I like him better this way.” I released the spell, and Osar growled with discontent before leaving.
I watched after him. He would become a problem, but it was something I’d deal with later. For now, I had more pressing matters.
“I’m thinking Makkor’s funeral should be memorable. An event that no one will ever forget,” I said as I turned to Thane, now leaning against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest.
He raised his eyebrows. “Risky. Given that it’s already going to be a busy night.”
The side of my mouth twitched up but not quite into a smile. “Exactly. If you’re going to make a show of force, make it so everyone can see.”