CHAPTER 8
NIC
AURANOS
Cleaning up after King Gaius’s vicious wolfhounds was not the duty of a palace guard. But it was Nic’s duty. He didn’t think it was a coincidence.
A nasty pair of guards named Burrus and Milo laughed as one of the leashed dogs dragged Nic, quite literally, toward the stables in her search for the best place to relieve herself.
“Having fun?” Burrus asked.
“So much fun,” Nic replied without hesitation.
“Be thankful this is the worst the king’s asked of you this week. He seems to be in a foul mood.”
Was the king ever in a good mood? One that wasn’t just for show?
“Don’t worry, though,” Milo said with a sneer. “I’m sure he’s nearly done with you. Looking after his mutts will seem like a luxury compared to what your future holds.”
“Auranians,” Burrus mumbled. “Good for nothing.”
“Except wiping the arses of the king’s hounds.”
They both burst into gales of laughter over their own incredible wits.
Ignoring his fellow guards had become easier in the weeks since Nic had been promoted from stable boy to palace guard (although promoted was arguable given his current duties). It didn’t take long for Nic to decide that, though he shared living, sleeping, and eating space with the other guards, he had no desire to become their friend.
He’d only gotten into one fight this week, which had earned him a black eye from Burrus that had yet to fade completely.
Limerians. He spat to the side.
He hated every last one of them.
He usually tried to be quick with a quip or a joke or a story, anything to distract the enemies that wore the same uniform as he.
He’d come to despise the color red.
Milo and Burrus finally wandered off. “You done?” he said to the wolfhound. She looked over her shoulder and growled at him, baring the same sharp teeth that had torn apart a fat rabbit mere minutes earlier. “No, no, that’s fine. Go at your leisure, madam. I have all the time in the world.”
She squatted. He waited.
So this was it. This was how he would survive in this new age of the conquered Auranos.
Why am I still here?
“Shouldn’t be,” he answered himself.
His family was dead. His sister, Mira, had been murdered by the king himself for allegedly eavesdropping on his conversation with the loathsome Prince Magnus.
He’d failed Mira. He should have been there to protect her, but he wasn’t. The thought tortured him day and night. He wanted vengeance, but instead he took orders. He was a coward trying to survive, lost in a sea of his enemies.
With a heavy heart, Nic turned to guide the hounds back toward the castle and felt his left boot sink into a pile of dung.
“Fantastic.” His voice trembled as the last of his strength left him and he felt on the verge of tears.
Why did he stay here? Why didn’t he slip out of the gates, get on a ship, and sail away across the sea to start a new life somewhere far away from here?
He was a palace guard, not the palace jester. Perhaps he should start acting like it.