City in Ruins (19 page)

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Authors: R.K. Ryals

Tags: #romance, #fantasy, #magic, #dragons, #prince, #mage, #scribes, #medieval action fantasy, #fantasy medieval

BOOK: City in Ruins
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Nervous flutters danced within my stomach. I
was making big decisions; decisions involving men, ships, and war,
and it scared me.

“Cadeyrn and Lochlen?”

“They’re en route to New Hope. Their ship
should dock on the morrow. They aren’t flying battle flags, but
they’re prepared for a fight. Lochlen told me to tell you he knows
you’re hiding something. Also, he’s impressed you’ve convinced the
rest of us not to say anything.”

I chuckled, the amusement
short-lived.

“Cadeyrn?” At his name, my hand flew to my
stomach. It seemed a habit now.

Ari didn’t miss the gesture. “Are you asking me
about his plans or about him personally?” the falcon
asked.

“Personally,” I whispered.

Ari’s gaze studied mine. “It wasn’t good when
Lochlen, Reenah, and Oran returned to the ship with a half-mad
Catriona, an unconscious Gryphon, and no you. The prince went into
a rage, spending days at sea pacing the deck. Both Gryphon and
Catriona have healed, and the babe the princess is carrying is
flourishing. But while Catriona is healthy physically, she’s been
battling nightmares. As for the prince, he heard what you did for
the child, how you healed the princess and offered your life for
the rest.” She paused.

“And?” I prompted.

Ari preened her feathers. “Stone, are you
wanting me to tell you that the prince is going to be yours one
day? Because if that’s the case, I can’t.”

Swallowing past the sudden lump that formed in
my throat, I whispered, “No, I don’t expect that.”

Ari gave me one final look before
rising into the air, her loud
kek,kek
filtering down from the trees
as she took to the sky.

Soft footfalls fell behind me. “I’m feeling
more like a king already.”

Turning, I found Brahn watching me, his beard
and hair dripping wet, an odd expression on his face. The clothes
were too loose on him, but they were fine clothes, the material
suited for a king. Something told me Feras had a lot to do with
that.

Holding up the bundle, I smiled. “I think I’ll
take my turn in the stream while you shave.”

Pulling a second set of clothes free, I
accepted the soap from Brahn and stumbled down the bank, tears
crowding my eyes. I’d left the shaving kit in the bundle on the
log, and I dropped my clothes on the stream bank, stripping the
dirty, ripped garments from the prison off before wading into the
rushing water. The stream was cold, and I clenched my teeth as I
scrubbed, first my body and then my hair. Raised flesh marred my
back from the whip in the dungeon, but the wounds were healed, and
I was fairly positive even the scars would disappear over time.
Unlike Kye, who’d been a map of scars because he’d had no powers,
most mages didn’t have any. There were times I wished the marks
would remain, not because I wanted to be reminded of the bad times
but because I was also afraid to forget what I’d learned from
them.

Falling to my knees in the stream, I cried,
letting the rushing water carry away my tears. There was no shame
in crying. The shame was in not letting it hurt to begin with. In a
way, I needed the tears to remind me that I was human, that no
matter what I’d chosen to endure, it was okay to hurt. It was okay
to feel loss.

When the cold became too much, I stood and
moved into the trees to shake the water free of my hair. The clean
clothes Ari had brought were light, the tunic a little loose, and I
slipped them on.

With a deep fortifying breath, I climbed the
bank, a forced smile on my face. It slipped as soon as I saw the
king standing on the hill.

He caught sight of me, and his brows cocked.
“Well, do I look like a king?” he asked.

Clean shaven, Brahn didn’t look anything like
the decrepit old man I’d found in the palace dungeon. He wasn’t
young, but neither was he decrepit, his lined face refined and
wise, as if the bad things he’d done and the choices he’d made had
left a well of wisdom in his heart.

Falling on my knees on the forest floor, I
bowed my head. “Your Majesty,” I whispered.

The king laughed, his bare feet pausing before
me. I’d forgotten about shoes.

“Rise, Queen of the Forest,” he told me,
offering me his palm. “You’ve earned the right to stand before
royalty, my dear, without the need to fall to your
knees.”

My fingers touched his hand, and he pulled me
to my feet, his kind gaze searching my face. “You’ve been through a
lot of pain,” he said. “Pain far beyond the dungeons of New Hope,
I’m guessing.”

Silence.

Brahn’s hand suddenly found my chin, his
fingers lifting my face. “At one time, I think I made a pretty good
grandfather. I made too many mistakes with my children, but my
grandchildren never knew the man before my alliance with Sadeemia.”
He sighed, a reminiscent smile on his face. “I’m going to be that
grandfather now. Politics chooses many paths for people. Most
often, it isn’t the right one. I am not my grandson, but I think
it’s safe to say you shouldn’t give up hope in him just
yet.”

Stepping back, I smiled. “I’m afraid even if
politics didn’t play a part in my life that I’d be unsuitable for
the throne.”

“Ah,” Brahn murmured. “Not a noble woman, I
take it?”

“I was raised as one. I’m the illegitimate
child of a Sadeemian man of power and a middle class Medeisian
woman.”

Brahn scowled. “There needs to be some changes
in the monarchy. When did we get so picky?”

I grinned. “It wouldn’t help anyhow, Brahn.
Your grandson is already married, and I actually really like his
bride.”

The king’s brows rose. “That would pose a
problem.” Sitting on the log, he rubbed his jaw as if he were
considering a solution.

Laughing, I sat next to him. We’d had to move
often since entering the forest, the trees warning us each time
Blayne’s patrols came too close. His men were still searching the
woods, and I knew it was because Blayne feared what I’d
discovered.

“If we succeed,” Brahn said suddenly, “you
always have a place at my court.”

His offer warmed my heart, and I reached for
his hand, squeezing it the same way I had when we’d held hands
beyond our cells. That was the thing about war and bloodshed. It
created bonds that no council room could ever create. In war, you
learned who to trust.

“Thank you, but I have a scribe school back
home that I’m looking to see flourish one day. It’s still under
construction at the moment.”

“A scribe school,” the king said thoughtfully.
“That’s quite an impressive endeavor.”

My smile answered him.

Silence.

It was then while we sat in companionable quiet
that the trees warned us to move again. Rather than balk, I looked
forward to the run. The adrenaline felt good, the things I knew we
faced on the morrow leaving me breathless and nervous.

Tomorrow, I fought a war of words, and if I
wasn’t careful, I would lose.

 

 

 

Chapter 27

 

The next morning, King Brahn and I waited until
Ari brought us word of Cadeyrn’s moored ship before we started
walking toward town, keeping off well-known paths until we’d
learned the prince and those who traveled with him had been
welcomed into the palace.

It was then, once we knew our people were
safely inside, that we quit evading capture. We simply walked into
the courtyard, our hands up, surrendering. By the looks on the
guards’ faces, they’d been told to kill us on sight, but I’d been
prepared for that, the sky filling with fluttering wings; birds and
insects. The cacophony caused men to fall from the watch while
others cursed, their confusion apparent. They’d been prepared to
kill unwashed prisoners, not animals.

Taking advantage of the chaos, we stepped past
the commotion and entered the palace, the ease making me grateful
Brahn’s fortress didn’t have a draw bridge.

Inside the entrance, two guards stood, their
swords hissing as they pulled them free of their scabbards. One
look at the clean shaven Brahn, and they froze, their brows
furrowed.

“We came to see the king,” I announced, my gaze
dropping to their swords. “I’d prefer we avoid a fight, but if
you’re unwilling …” I lifted my hands. Hundreds of small feet
scurried across the palace floors.

The guards’ eyes grew round.

“Bloody hell!” one of them cried.

A sea of mice, rodents, and insects entered the
space and froze on my command.

“A fight, gentlemen?” I asked “Or shall we
pass?”

After a moment’s consideration, the guards
stepped aside, their hesitant gazes following King
Brahn.

Pausing before them, I held out my hand. “Your
swords please. We’re a little underdressed after all.”

The guards hesitated. I glanced at the wall of
creatures behind me.

The hilt of a sword smacked my palm, and my
fingers wrapped around the cool metal, the weight welcoming. I’d
never been particularly good with a sword, but it was better than
no weapon at all. The second sword I offered to King
Brahn.

He accepted it, his gaze flicking to my face.
“I’m impressed,” the king said. “Where did this girl come
from?”

I smiled. “Don’t ruin the bravado I’ve built
up.”

He winked.

Swords in hand, we marched forward, our faces
hard, our mouths firm. My ratty boots, and the king’s bare feet
slapped against marble floors, the irony making my lips twitch. We
were a sight to behold, the grandfather king and me.

Pausing before the throne room’s arched double
door, the design impressively decadent, we glanced at each
other.

My brows rose at the lavish
entrance.

“The silk business is affluent,” the king
defended.

I snorted. “We should have a talk about much
better dungeon conditions then, Your Majesty.”

He grinned, his wrinkled thumb rubbing the hilt
of his sword. “Let’s pretend I’ve used one of these in the last
four years.”

Together, we flattened our palms against the
styled entrance, our eyes catching. Inhaling deeply, we shoved the
doors open.

Swinging inward, they revealed a tumultuous
scene.

Across a gleaming green-marbled
floor, Blayne Dragern of New Hope stood facing the Prince of
Sadeemia, his royal guard surrounding Cadeyrn, Lochlen, Gryphon,
Oran, Daegan, SeeVan, and a handful of the
Beatrice’s
crew. All of them had
weapons drawn, anger marring their features. Lochlen was in danger
of transforming. Oran snarled.

At our arrival, everyone froze.

All eyes flew to the clean shaven man next to
me. Only one pair of eyes found me: Cadeyrn’s. His unreadable gaze
raked my figure before glancing at Brahn.

“And here,” Prince Cadeyrn called, his
rage-filled gaze swinging to Blayne, “I’d just been told my
grandfather was dead.”

Blayne Dragern’s hand rose, signaling his
guards, but before they could advance on us, the knights’ swords
went flying from their hands, all of them landing in a massive heap
at Blayne’s feet. No one moved.

Cadeyrn’s eyes flashed. “Let’s talk politics,
uncle,” he said. “Let’s talk about honesty.”

It made sense now why Cadeyrn and his men had
drawn their swords before we’d arrived. Blayne had told him his
grandfather was dead, and with Cadeyrn’s ability to discern truth
from lie, he’d known it was untrue.

Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, his
sword pointed at Blayne Dragern’s throat, Cadeyrn asked, “Are you
King Brahn of New Hope?”

Brahn cleared his throat, his sad eyes swinging
from his son to his grandson. “Yes,” he answered
finally.

Blayne’s face reddened. “Lies! I swear to you!
It’s all lies! I attended his death myself.”

“When?” I called suddenly. “Four years
ago?”

Blayne’s gaze found my face, the hatred in his
eyes stark. It fed my courage.

Taking a step forward, I peered up at him.
“Where’s your wife, Your Majesty? Where’s Princess Gabriella
Trellon?” I asked. “Or have you annulled your marriage so
quickly?”

Blayne started to lunge, his momentum cut off
by Cadeyrn’s and Lochlen’s sudden crossed swords.

Cadeyrn’s gaze found mine, and even though I
wanted to see something more than the burning curiosity in his
eyes, I knew now was not the time or the place.

“Talk,” Cadeyrn told me.

Rather than moving forward, I remained with
King Brahn. “We’ve had it all wrong,” I said. “The problems in
Medeisia never had anything to do with King Raemon. Oh, he was mad,
and he was cruel, a dictator who had no issue killing his people,
but the threat of war came from New Hope.” Glancing away from
Cadeyrn, I inhaled. “It came from Blayne Dragern of New Hope and
Queen Isabella of Sadeemia.”

The Sadeemian sailors with Cadeyrn protested,
their faces red with anger.

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