5. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Archer
“Let in the next one,” King Wystan said with a lazy wave of his hand. He sat sprawled on his throne with the princess and me on either side of him, waiting for anyone who would seek assistance or favor from the crown.
It had been months since I’d made my ill-fated bargain with Mortius, and I had yet to hear from him.
No confirmation it was a death-loving phoenix raising our dead to destroy Emberglade.
No word that it was a foreigner smelling weakness after King Wystan’s coup and trying to shake his grasp on the throne.
And though I’d started a new protocol of having any captured death-lovers interrogated before we executed them, none had given us anything helpful.
Either they didn’t know who the necromancer was, or they’d found a spell that permitted them to lie.
Considering their manipulative nature, I was half-convinced it was the latter.
Meanwhile, the message keeper continued to share news of the revenant numbers growing across Emberglade, and Father continued to refuse to send any further help.
Instead, he threw endless parties, ones that turned the citizens’ focus toward debauchery and excess and pleasure rather than any of the crown’s failings.
I made appearances at the ridiculous spectacles, even if I hated them.
On the outside, my court saw a carefree prince ready to have a good time, but on the inside, Mortius’ curse of despair and my own concern for Emberglade wrought havoc.
I tried and failed to drink away the sorrow, often retreating to my rooms and lying in bed for half the next day, nursing my hangover and my growing sense that life was meaningless.
Parties. Wine. Phoenix shifter executions. We couldn’t survive as a kingdom on this indefinitely, but any time I tried to bring up my concerns to Father, he brushed them off.
Now, one of the guards beside the double doors announced our next visitor. “A citizen of Mossgrove!” The guards opened the doors to admit a distraught-looking male. His clothes were covered in dried mud and filth, as if he’d walked a great distance.
“Your Majesty.” The male dropped to his knees before the throne, his shaggy golden hair falling before his eyes as he dipped his head in deference.
A child of four or five stood behind him, clinging anxiously to his shirt, trying to avoid the piercing orange stare and terrifying appearance of my father, King Wystan, the mind-reading usurper king.
“So, you ran here from Mossgrove,” Father droned. The male nodded, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Look at me.”
The male, trying to control his trembling, lifted his eyes to meet my father’s gaze.
It was widely known that eye contact was how the king read someone’s mind, easily detecting who had traitorous thoughts.
It was one of the reasons why the execution rate had increased under his rule—or that’s what historical accounts and scholars whispered behind his back.
“You fear the revenants,” King Wystan said after a moment. “Maris gave your daughter’s prophecy. She told you if you didn’t do something, a group of undead would attack your village and take many lives, along with hers.”
“I can’t lose her. I already lost her mother, and we don’t have the forces to hold off another attack, not after the recent goblin raids we have endured.
We are positioned too close to the Ivorycrown Mountains and the goblin tunnels, but have never been favored with trained guards or soldiers from the capital. I came to request help.”
“I’ve made my decision,” the king cut in sharply. “Emberglade cannot sacrifice more soldiers to villages that cannot protect themselves. You have magic. Weapons. Use them.”
The male’s eyes widened, horrified and enraged. My heart dropped, knowing what was to come with the thoughts he could not hide.
King Wystan’s nostrils flared as he leaned forward. The late evening sunlight, a bloodred glow filtering through the throne room’s windows, reflected off his ghastly grey skin. “Your thoughts reek of treason,” Father spat. He snapped his fingers, summoning the guards. “Kill him.”
“Wait,” I interrupted, keeping my tone carefully level so Father couldn’t hear my desperation. “I’d like to have him questioned.”
Father scoffed. “If Mossgrove even houses phoenixes, they aren’t a problem to us anymore. He has nothing of value to share.”
I shot him a look. “You never know. There are too many in Rainsong still. I think there may be a way they’ve been sneaking in. If he knows anything, I want to hear about it.”
“Fine, take him to the dungeons.”
“Wait! My daughter!” the male begged as his crying child clung to him.
Briar tilted her head. “Maybe I could dress her up; she’s pretty enough. Feed her and show her a good time in our court.”
“She’s a child; not a pet.” I stood, straightening my jacket. “I’ll handle them both. Don’t waste your time.”
Sauntering off the dais casually, I pretended like my heart wasn’t pounding against my ribcage so painfully it hurt.
Sweat was gathering at the back of my neck, and my hands were growing cold and clammy.
Along with the sorrow and hopelessness, I’d started having episodes of pure terror too, ones where it was hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to move.
Ones where I thought my heart would burst out of my chest. I couldn’t afford to have one overtake me now.
“Very well. Find out what you need and then dispose of them so they trouble us no more,” Father said carelessly.
Calling on my magic, I turned to the male and his daughter. “Follow me to my quarters and we’ll talk,” I said pleasantly, like they were guests.
Two pairs of eyes glazed over as I wove my magic through my words, influencing them to want to obey me, to spend time with me.
Convincing them they were safe. They calmed, instantly obeying as I led them out of the throne room and through the winding halls toward my quarters.
No one thought anything of it, for I’d used my magic plenty of times to interrogate suspected and known phoenix shifters, determined to get to the bottom of the revenant problem.
And yet, I wasn’t fully at ease until we were all safely enclosed in my rooms, seated in the plush armchairs scattered throughout my personal library.
The energy it took to use my magic was taxing, but not nearly as much as the knowledge that when I released them, Mortius’ curse would set in with a vengeance.
With a sigh, I released my grip on my magic and let the wave of despair rush over me. Heaviness settled in my bones, my chest caving in on itself. Every breath was an effort, and suddenly, I questioned the wisdom of trying to save these two. Better to find a drink and lose myself in it.
I scowled, shaking off the thoughts that only grew darker as time passed. Maybe Mortius hoped the despair would become so great, I’d eventually give in and he’d have another soul to add to his collection in the afterlife.
“What—why did you bring us here?” the male demanded, blinking away the haze from his eyes as my magic dissipated. Seated in his lap, his daughter whimpered and clung to him.
I held up a hand, forcing a smile. “I’m going to help you escape.”
“We’re smuggling them out of Rainsong?” Lily demanded.
I raised my eyebrows at her. “Do you have a better plan?”
“This isn’t a plan,” Owen interjected. “This is madness.”
Lily nodded, her expression pinched. “I don’t want them to suffer any more than you, but even if you get them out of the castle—and your father never reads our minds to discover how Owen and I helped you—where do we take them after that? Where do you plan to hide them in the capital?”
Pacing across my library, I paused to pat Onyx, where he lay purring on my desk.
“No, I’ve thought this through…somewhat.
” I offered them a lopsided smirk, but Owen continued to frown and Lily still looked worried.
“Tonight, we leave via the secret tunnels and Cliff will drive us. No one will stop and question a royal carriage.”
“Cross the barrier? And then we…what? Deliver them back to the village that’s about to be destroyed?” Lily’s voice cracked. “You said the child is four? Five?” Her eyes shone with unshed tears.
“No,” I said, my voice low. “We fight.”
Owen scowled, crossing his arms. “Archer, I worry about Emberglade as much as you, but now I really think you’ve lost your mind.”
Lily shared a significant glance with him before turning to me, clearing her throat.
“We’ve been worried about you. The way you’ve been hiding in your rooms, drinking after your father’s parties, sleeping away the days.
” She hesitated. “I saw some of the cuts on your arm the other day. I know you want to help these people, but running off to sacrifice yourself in battle won’t save Emberglade. ”
My stomach twisted. I didn’t want to share how I’d bargained with Mortius, but I also didn’t like that they believed I was harming myself out of hopelessness and despair. With my frequent bouts of despair and melancholy, it wasn’t far-fetched of them to worry about my physical well-being too.
“I’m not trying to make this a suicide mission.
Trust me, I’d never ask either of you to accompany me if I thought anything would happen to you.
” I raked a hand through my hair. “You both have exceptionally powerful magic, along with being highly trained. The general’s daughter and the captain of the guard?
You can help Mossgrove more than anyone else I know.
The revenant numbers aren’t large, but for a town of untrained fae, they would be deadly enough.
We could make a difference. Keep them organized in battle.
Give them leaders. Most of all, we can offer them hope.
If they know they haven’t been abandoned, we’ll help morale so they can keep defending themselves. ”
Lily stared out the window thoughtfully before walking over to join me near Onyx. She picked him up, nuzzling his face. “You want to make a show of letting the people know they don’t fight alone. That the crown—or the crown prince, anyway—fights with them.”
I nodded.
“And when word gets back to your father?” Owen arched a brow, his arms still crossed.
“I’ve made charms that you can wear to repel his mind-reading magic.
Imbued with my blood, they will prevent him from seeing into your minds.
” Opening the drawer of my writing desk, I pulled out a necklace bearing a tiny translucent vial that looked like a bloodred ruby for Lily and a simple ring with a similar vial for Owen.
“How do you know they’ll work?” Owen asked, studying the charms as if they’d personally offended him.
I laughed. “I already tested one out on Liana.”
“The Message Keeper?” Lily’s eyes widened.
“Yes. Father sees her all the time, so she can’t conceal any of her thoughts—usually. But I wanted her to start telling me anything she sees regarding the revenants, and I didn’t want Father to know.”
Owen frowned. “But isn’t he suspicious now that he can’t read her mind?”
“That’s the beauty of this charm. It lets you choose what he can and can’t see. He’s none the wiser that you are withholding specific thoughts from him and leaving the unimportant ones for him to read.” I smiled proudly as I held out the necklace to Lily.
“If I’d known you were getting me jewelry, I would have asked for a more formal offer of courtship first,” Lily joked, fluttering her lashes. “And then I would have refused.” She laughed and smacked my arm lightly. “But what excuse am I going to make to Father? He’ll think I have an admirer.”
I shrugged, relieved that the tension in the room had eased. “I don’t know. Say Owen gave it to you,” I teased.
For a half-second, I thought Lily stiffened beside me as she latched the necklace around her throat, but when I glanced her way, her smile was serene, betraying nothing. Owen snorted as he accepted the ring from me, sliding it on his index finger. “That would be a lie.”
“Oh, for the ability to lie like Archer,” Lily muttered playfully, but something about her smile and the lightness in her voice seemed forced.
“Just be vague about getting it from a friend and he’ll assume it was from your cousin Selene,” I said. “Doesn’t she always encourage you to spoil yourself?”
“Of course.” Lily flounced back to the armchair she’d been sitting in, and I once again wondered if she was trying to hurry away from Owen or pretend she wasn’t ruffled.
“I suppose you make good points,” Owen conceded after a long moment, circling back to the pressing topic at hand.
“About giving the people hope. Not about much else. I still think your plan is madness, but I know you. You’re going with or without us, and I’ll be cursed to the underworld by Mortius himself before I let you leave on this foolhardy mission alone. You need someone to watch out for you.”
“Make that two someones,” Lily cut in. “What time do we leave?”