Chapter 39
The beauty of doing the unexpected is that no one will believe it, even when the truth of it is right before their eyes.
— ALARIC SARE’S PAPERS FOR EMBERLINE ARKOVA
“It seems your guards proved once again useless, gentlemen,” Rodric drawled from his seat on the throne with an annoyed glance to Vaddon and Elias.
Unfortunately, even with the disparagement of his people, he looked no more disturbed by the entrance of twenty rebels than he would if a light breeze had blown a wisp of his gray-streaked hair into his face.
The scene immediately called to mind the last time I had been in this room.
From where we stood before the double doors, the white marble floor spread between us and the dais on which the king sat.
The room was set for a party that appeared to have been hastily deserted.
Messy rows of chairs filled the space between us and the raised platform.
Another twenty guards stood at its base.
Elias stood on Rodric’s left, while Vaddon was a few steps down on his right.
“It wasn’t their fault,” Hart said, taking slow, measured steps into the room.
He walked the aisle between the two groups of chairs.
“They seem to have split priorities.” Hart gestured with a tilt of his head toward the front of the castle.
Though the throne room was deep in the center of the first floor, the clangs of swords, the shouts of direction, and screams of pain drifted to us.
Rodric clapped slowly. “You finally harnessed your Feared. You have us right where you want us. What will you do next?”
I wished Charon would hurry up. The sounds of battle raged in the distance. I knew it wouldn’t be easy for him to get through the lines of the Blessed guards. He’d ensure the Feared had a path to success before he did so, but I didn’t like the way this was going.
My hands balled into fists at my side. I hated how calm Rodric was. How calm all of his guards were. Yes, he had defenses. He’d selfishly kept enough guards for himself, but their numbers didn’t seem insurmountable. He should be more worried.
More notably, the adamas ring on his finger didn’t glow.
“Did you finally learn to hide your adamas, Father?” Hart asked, continuing his slow strides toward the guards at the aisle’s end.
They didn’t flinch. They didn’t show fear. They barely even prepared for Hart’s approach. Their calm was unnatural.
As soon as I thought it, I felt the prickle at the back of my neck. The telltale signal that someone was attempting a mind magic spell against me. One that wouldn’t work.
Next to me, members of the Storm faltered.
Patrick, on my left, stepped into the aisle of chairs as if he had not a care in the world.
He took a seat. Mariah, behind me, slowed to a stop, her gaze drifting to the details of the painting that covered the grand room’s ceiling.
Alysa chewed next to me. I didn’t have to look to know it was another dose of youngleaf.
She elbowed those around her, shoving spare leaves into their mouths.
Rodric laughed, and he pulled an adamas pendant from beneath his tunic.
It glowed blue, giving reason to the eerie calm felt as we crossed the expanse of the throne room.
“I learned that from you, son. So many whispers of the guard who hid his adamas gem. I should have realized sooner that no one would be that self-righteous except for you.”
Hart shook his head, and I was sure he rolled his eyes. With his next step, he crossed the halfway point. The guards opposite him tensed ever so slightly, as if they had instructions to draw their weapons at a precise marker and Hart neared the point.
Each of the guards wore adamas. They, too, would be those capable of wielding mind magics, as with those we faced at the door. At least this reserve of well-trained Blessed meant that the Feared faced less skill with the adamas at the gate.
I no longer heard Charon’s roars. He wasn’t close enough yet to hear my pleas for him to stay safe. I could only assume he’d arrive as soon as he was able. He knew we needed him.
“Your numbers are higher than I expected,” Rodric said, still with more control than I liked.
Vaddon spoke from his position a few steps down from the king on the dais. “It’s the riffraff from outside the city. Those who leave but can’t quite take themselves from everything Kavios has to offer.”
Alysa clenched her teeth at the categorization, but she didn’t let his words distract her. Her focus remained on the guards who stood between Rodric and us.
I searched the room, doing my best to glaze over that one spot—the spot where Alaric had died. Still, I flinched as the snap of Alaric’s neck breaking and the crash of his body hitting the wall replayed in my head.
We’d made it this far. We would make our choice—free Hart from Themis. That was the best revenge for all I’d lost. I reminded myself of this as the Storm regained some semblance of control, fighting King Rodric’s calm with more doses of the youngleaf.
“I didn’t expect the dragon. One would think once he was free from the mines, he wouldn’t care to return.”
I could almost tune out Rodric’s words as I thought of Alaric.
My uncle had made his choice here. Maybe not here specifically—he’d made a lot of choices before the Blessing Ceremony—but he’d known where those choices would lead.
He’d known the risks of his attempts to free Charon.
Yet he’d believed in a future where Hart and I could love each other—where our love could change the course of Kavios.
The pendant Hart wore held all the colors of emotions we had collected.
Each gem glowed continuously, but still, the dragon’s eye, that final piece of adamas, didn’t change.
I glanced at Hart’s stony face. He masked each and every feeling in this room.
It made me grateful for what magic remained between us.
I knew his emotions through the taste of them.
The spice of his anger mixed with the bitter taste of his fear for me.
His gaze darted toward the throne. He had said it called to him. It must be doing so now. It would explain why his anger turned into sparks of frustration as he fought whatever Themis was trying.
I knew how to help. I just didn’t know if my presence at his side would distract from whatever plan he formed to fight his father.
When we were last in the throne room, everything had changed when he’d made it to me, when he focused on me, when he touched me.
As with Themis’s ability to dampen our connection, it only worked when we were physically separated.
So much rested on our connection. One that should have never been formed.
It wouldn’t serve us to ignore it now.
He’d been doing his best not to look at me, not to draw focus to the fact that I was with the group, not to make me a target for Rodric.
I found I didn’t care. I left my place at Alysa’s side and moved to Hart’s.
Together we faced off against the rows of guards between us and the dais.
I reached for his hand, desperate to feel the familiar warmth.
He let me take it, his shoulders dropping inches with my touch.
The whole point of these trials was that Hart and I had to trust each other.
I suspected the ones we’d done so far wouldn’t have succeeded without the deep love that ran between us.
We were unlikely allies, fated opponents, impossible lovers.
All true descriptions, but none of those titles truly fit what Hart was to me.
He was a solid rock upon which the waves the kingdoms threw at us crashed and broke. He was smoldering heat, a passion building inside me that would never wane. He was stolen moments of joy in the darkest nights. He was mine, and I would stand with him against any trial.
“Ah, I see you found my missing jeweler,” Rodric said dryly.
“I told you she was with him,” Vaddon said with a slight puff of his chest.
I was almost impressed with Vaddon’s ability to speak through the calming haze coating the room. Then his jaw worked, and I realized the royal family must also know about youngleaf. I shook my head in disgust. Of course they would.
Rodric wiped his hand through the air in dismissal of Vaddon’s words. “Themis was sure they would not unite in their effort. Sebastien is craftier with her than you or Elias managed. He’s promised her something.”
Every part of me wanted to roll my eyes.
My gaze snagged on Elias’s as I exercised control.
I recognized a matching effort in his own.
He didn’t chew so much as he seemed to suck at something in his mouth.
Maybe another form of the youngleaf? He was far too alert to be completely impacted by the calming magic.
This brought forth another question: what had Vaddon and Elias so on edge that they’d fight through the king’s magic?
I didn’t contemplate it too much. Hart needed me, and the proof of my devotion was plain enough in my inability to separate from him.
That was the problem with Rodric. He couldn’t see what was before his eyes if it didn’t fit a narrative that suited him.
I glanced again at Elias. Had he made the same mistakes with the prince?
“What else does Themis have to say, Father?” Hart asked, adding a note of swagger in his voice as he twisted his sword with a flourish. “Seems she hasn’t made you her Champion yet.”
Rodric leaned forward in his chair. “It’s only a matter of time, son. You know that.”
If Rodric stalled to try to accomplish something similar to what we were, I didn’t want to let that happen. He was seated on the throne. If he became Themis’s Champion now, there was nothing we could do.
I desperately wished I knew what Rodric needed to make the switch.
“You make it easy, coming to me. The failed Champion shall bear witness to the new Champion’s ascension,” Rodric drawled.
Icy cold fear shot down my spine. The words sounded like a riddle, like some of Mother’s predictions from Champions of Kavios.
I knew that book backward and forward, though.
There was no mention of Themis having a second Champion in it.
It had only ever been the Cursed King. This had to be from Themis’s book, What Makes a Champion of Order.
My stomach churned. Did they need Hart here?
Was this why Elias shared the information with us?
I wasn’t sure it mattered. We needed to be here for our final trial—for our choice. The dragon and the throne were the end of our trials. Everything had brought us here. If it also happened to be the necessary pieces for whatever path Rodric chased, then so be it.
“Once again, you need me,” Hart said. “Haven’t you always? You needed me to grow the kingdom. You needed me to find Charon and learn that adamas could be created. You even needed me to legitimize your hold on the city once you created the Blessed. You’ve never really done anything for yourself.”
Vaddon’s face flushed on Rodric’s behalf, and he took a step back toward his king. “You know nothing of what you speak, boy.”
It was then that I saw movement on Rodric’s left side. His arm. He struggled with something in his chair. “No need to defend me, Vaddon. We’ll watch him fall together.”
This time, Elias did roll his eyes, and he shifted ever so slightly away from his father.
Anticipation buzzed between Hart and me. I swore I could sense our connection, even without his touch. I felt it the same way Eris’s curse tethered us with distance, alerting us to the other’s presence. Yet he stood beside me now.
The palpable magic built, but the guards before us didn’t move to attack. They only stood between their king and us.
What did Rodric need besides Hart to bear witness?
Vaddon returned to Rodric’s side. “Now, my king. Let him watch his failure.” The advisor’s gaze moved to Elias.
Rodric gave Vaddon a pitying look. Then the blue of the gem flashed brighter as he whispered, “It was never going to be my heir, Vaddon. You had to know that.”
The king lifted his left hand, holding a gleaming dagger. “Themis, I offer you this sacrifice. My oldest friend.”
Then Rodric drove the dagger toward Vaddon’s chest. Vaddon must have run out of youngleaf, or perhaps he simply wasn’t prepared; either way, he didn’t move to avoid the strike.
I didn’t see the blade pierce its target—because the moment Rodric moved, loud clomps reverberated and hard nails scraped against marble, drawing my attention to the doors.
A scaled claw flung a row of chairs against the wall, and Charon’s voice was clear in my head as he entered. “Let’s get this over with, Champions. I have business to finish with Rodric when you’re done.”