CHAPTER 13
Tyghan pressed one hand against the vault door, leaning in, thinking, the dark of the narrow stone hallway swallowing him up.
His thoughts skipped unevenly between then and now.
He contemplated what he would say, what he would do.
But at this point, what was left to say? He felt cold inside. Dead. Vengeful.
He had sent everyone else away. They understood.
This was more than a king addressing a prisoner.
He fingered the hilt of the demon blade sheathed at his side.
He hadn’t removed it from its locked cabinet since the first day it was placed there after his stabbing, but after Eris told him the news, it was the first thing he retrieved.
The second thing was a bottle of whiskey.
He gripped its smooth neck in his other hand.
It was only a little stab. His chest seized with something wild and lost as he remembered Kierus’s words.
His jaw clenched, trying to contain the storm swirling inside him, and then he turned and opened the door.
Sconces on either side of the entrance flickered dimly, leaving much of the room in shadow.
A single votive burned on a small table in the room, illuminating the prisoner sitting just behind it.
He was shackled to his chair, and a thick collar was secure around his neck to prevent any magic from within or without.
His eyes cut into Tyghan, defiant, challenging, in spite of his circumstances, as if he were still the acclaimed hero of Danu.
Tyghan walked closer, pulling two small shot glasses from his vest and setting them down on the table.
“A last drink for the condemned?” Kierus asked.
Tyghan shrugged. “We have a few minutes to kill. Why not?”
“And a last meal? Is that coming too?”
“It can be arranged if that’s what you want.”
Kierus swallowed, then shook his head. “A drink is enough.”
Tyghan sat down opposite him and pulled the stopper from the whiskey. He filled both shots. “This used to be your favorite.”
Kierus lifted his glass and sipped, a low, approving rumble rolling from his chest. “They don’t make whiskey like this in the mortal world.”
“If I’d had your address, I would have sent you some.”
Kierus smiled. “I’m sure you would have. Next time.”
Tyghan didn’t reply, the charade of friendship already wearing on him.
This wasn’t a game he wanted to play, and yet he didn’t want to move forward either.
He wanted something he couldn’t have, something that didn’t exist anymore.
“Who helped you get a note to Bristol inside the palace?” he finally asked.
“Come on, brother, you know I can’t tell you that.”
“Even if they’re a traitor to the Crown?”
Kierus’s dark eyes drilled into him, scrutinizing, superior. Older. “Is that all you are now, Tyghan? A crown? Aren’t you a man anymore?”
Tyghan ignored the taunt. “A knight’s oath used to mean something to you.”
“A friend’s oath. That’s what you mean. Isn’t that what this is all about?”
The ache that had plagued him all these months swelled, tearing at his insides, but instead of the pent-up words he had planned, he only poured more whiskey for them both.
Carefully. He worked hard to keep his hand steady, to not spill a drop, in spite of the tremor shaking beneath his ribs.
Kierus had over twenty years to get past his betrayal.
For Tyghan it had only been a few months. His wound was still fresh.
Kierus leaned forward, his hands protectively cupping the shot glass, and a flood of words poured out.
“I know what I did was wrong. Is that what you want to hear from me? That I know? But what if every choice I had was wrong? That day . . . it haunted me. I relived it over and over, trying to think of all the ways I could have done something different. Things I could have said, done. Begged harder? Begged more? But I knew you, Tygh. I knew you too well. I used to finish your sentences, and you mine. You know that’s true.
And that day—” He shook his head, as though the memory was fresh and alive in his head.
Like it was making something inside him tear in half too.
“That day, I looked into your eyes. The resolve, I saw it. It was already done in your mind. I saw the knight in me, inside you. I knew what you had to do, the oath you had to honor. I didn’t know how I was going to stop you, and I only had a split second to decide. ”
“You decided wrong.”
Kierus leaned back, his eyes darkening. “Really?” he said, his superior air returning.
He wasn’t ready to back down from his choices.
“I’ve had a life now, Tygh. The life I always wanted.
My art. A woman I loved and who loved me.
Three beautiful daughters. What about them?
What about Bristol? Do you think she’s a mistake? ”
Tyghan’s fist tightened. He would not discuss Bristol with him. “Any thief can sow a field of wheat. That doesn’t pardon him from what he stole.”
“What have you stolen? Her trust? She thinks you love her. Or are you only using her to get at me?”
Tyghan shook his head. “I won’t discuss Bristol.”
Kierus’s chains rattled as he strained against them, his fist pounding the table. “She’s my daughter, dammit! I have a right to know!”
“You abandoned her. Don’t talk to me about rights. This is not about me and Bristol. It’s about you and what you did!”
“Who made me the Butcher of Celwyth? Your brother? Sloan? You? All the knights who lifted me up on their shoulders? Praising my kills. I was the amusing mortal who exceeded everyone’s expectations. As long as I was doing these things for you, I was your hero.”
That much was true. He had been the charming hero, quick of tongue, who delivered his lethal blows with finesse. His fellow knights brought back stories of his exploits.
Tyghan shrugged. “All knights do their share of killing to defend the kingdom. You weren’t special in that regard.”
“But what if I never wanted to be that person at all? What if I wanted to be something else? Someone else. That’s all I wanted. A second chance. That’s what Maire wanted too.”
“And you got it. You’ve had twenty-three more years than you deserved. Your time is up on that second chance.”
“So I’m going to die.”
“No, Kierus . . . you’re not.”
His lips parted, his imputed sentence sinking in. He was still enough of a knight to feel the disgrace, the humiliation. “The worst of the worst? Is that really what I am?”
“The council passed sentence. You committed regicide.”
The color at his temples surged. “But you’re still alive!”
“It was your intent. And other good knights died searching for you.” Tyghan called out a few names, knights Kierus had known.
His gaze faltered at each mention, but when Tyghan finished, Kierus quickly countered, “And how many died looking for Cael because of his recklessness? He was betrothed, and he snuck off to fuck his mistress. Are their deaths on him? What sentence does he face? Don’t play with your words. This is about you.”
“Then let it be about me.”
“Don’t do this, Tyghan. For Bristol’s sake. She will never forgive you.”
“She’ll never know.”
Kierus’s head sank into his hands, and he stared down at the table.
Tyghan knew he was only regrouping, thinking of more arguments or, more likely, a way to disarm him.
Kierus never gave up. But when he looked back at Tyghan, his words were quiet, pleading, leading in a new direction.
“Don’t kill Maire. I’m begging you, Tyghan.
I would get down on my knees if I wasn’t chained to this chair.
Kill me. Do whatever you want to me. Put my head on a pike and parade it around Elphame. But Maire, she doesn’t deserve this.”
Tyghan pushed his drink aside. Veins rose in his neck. “Glennis is dead. Her head was delivered to the palace gates this morning. A gift from your wife. Don’t tell me what she deserves.”
“Because she knows you have Bristol. She’s scared, dammit! She is terrified.”
Tyghan stood, his head pounding. “I don’t give a shit that she’s terrified!
Neither does Glennis! She will never feel anything in this world again!
” He pulled the demon blade from its sheath and stabbed it into the table, a hair’s breadth from Kierus’s hand.
“This is my mercy to you. My only mercy. I was going to stab you with it before you began your sentence. Just a little stab.” He pulled the blade free from the table and returned it to its sheath.
“But I remembered that you were once my friend, and I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy. ”
Kasta was waiting for Tyghan when he emerged from the vault. As First Officer, it was her job to carry out the sentence. She was ready, eager even, so he kept his orders brief. He needed to get out of there, get away. The vault was airless. His lungs ached.
“Take care of it quickly. One month. That will be his full sentence.”
She balked, as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. “A month? You mean a thousand years. That’s what Judge’s Walk always is. It’s what the council ordered.”
“One month,” he repeated. “In that length of time, this conflict will be settled, and he can quietly go on with his life.”
“Let him go? Have you completely lost your senses?”
“I’m the king, and I have the power to commute a sentence.”
“No you don’t, not after a full council vote!” she argued. “Once his punishment is entered into the record—”
“Delay the entry.”
“But if they find out—”
“They won’t. No one else is to know, not even Eris. The council ignored his summons to rescind the order. One month is what Kierus took from me. That’s what I’m taking back from him.”
“He took more than a month from you. You’re still not whole. You might never be. Not to mention, he stole the trust of an entire company of knights, including me. You can’t—”
“Take care of it, Kasta, and don’t instruct me again on what I can or cannot do. Remember your place.”
She looked at him like he had struck her. Her shoulders pulled back. “You’re risking everything. Why are you doing this?”
Because Bristol loves Kierus. Because he’s her father. Because he was once my friend, he thought. His throat swelled, and he only answered, “Because I’m king and I can.”
He walked away quickly, muttering some excuse.
The hallway to his chamber seemed to lengthen to miles, every step growing more unbearable.
What if every choice I had was wrong? When he finally reached his room, he slammed his door behind him and fell back against it, his breaths uneven, and he swiped the sting from his eyes.