Frozen Tides (Falling Kingdoms 4)

“Are you sure about that? If I’m lying, I’ll end up in the dungeon anyway. But if I’m telling the truth, and you don’t inform the king about it, you’ll end up holding your own severed head in your hands.”

“If you are lying,” Lord Gareth said, narrowing his gaze, “you won’t even make it to the dungeon.”

With a nod from the grand kingsliege, a guard brought the heavy hilt of his sword down against Felix’s head, and everything went black.

• • •

When Felix came to, he had only one thought: The dungeon didn’t smell nearly as bad as he would have expected it to. As he pried open his eyes, he realized that was for a very good reason. He wasn’t in the dungeon.

He was in the throne room, lying flat on his back at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the royal dais. And there was the king seated upon the golden throne he’d stolen.

Or won, depending on what side one was on.

This throne room was nearly identical to the one in the north, only where the Limerian one was dark and gray and hard, this one was gold and bright and . . . hard.

Felix pushed himself up to his feet and bowed deeply, ignoring the pounding pain in his head.

“Your majesty.”

Standing to the right of King Gaius was Lord Gareth. His arms were crossed, and his lined expression was dour as he peered down his sharp nose at Felix.

“Felix Graebas,” the king addressed him. “I’ve been very disappointed not to receive word from you in all this time. Many believed you to be dead, which would have been a loss for both the Clan and for Limeros. But here you are, alive and well.”

Felix spread his hands. “Allow me to explain my lengthy silence, your majesty.”

“The only reason you’re still breathing,” the king said, leaning forward on his throne, “is because I very much would like an explanation. And make it a good one. I’ve been disappointed many times by those I formerly held in high estimation in recent months. I cannot tell you how much I despise being disappointed.”

Lord Gareth’s expression darkened. “Your majesty, I don’t understand why you’ve chosen to give this stupid, insolent boy even a moment of your valuable time. He’s committed treason, and treason is punishable by death.”

“At what time did I commit treason, might I ask?” Felix ventured. “I don’t seem to recall.”

The king’s attention remained firmly on Felix, his gaze sharp and assessing. “You don’t seem to recall assisting Jonas Agallon in freeing two rebel prisoners I’d chosen to execute? You have no memory of being responsible for the explosions that caused the deaths of many loyal citizens?”

Felix blinked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, your majesty.”

Lord Gareth let out an exasperated huff. “You were seen, you stupid boy. The guards’ uniforms you and the rebel stole didn’t cover your faces.”

Oh, shit.

“I can explain,” he began.

“Save your breath,” the king hissed. “I had given you the task of getting close to the rebel, not to assist him in opposing me.”

Had Felix honestly thought it would be so easy to stroll into the palace and go back to life as usual after all he’d done?

His mouth had gone dry, but he tried to find the words to speak. To explain. “I served you and the Clan very well for many years, your highness. I gave my life over to the kingdom and I learned how to survive, how to thrive in that environment, and how to kill in your name without question. I was only eleven when the Clan took me in.”

“Eleven, yes.” The king nodded. “I remember you, Felix, more clearly than any of the others. When you were brought before me—a boy only a year older than my own son, who had seen his family killed, his village destroyed—you did not look at me with fear. You met my eyes with defiance and strength. Eleven years old. I knew there was something special within you. A rough spirit that I could harness to create greatness. I thought I had succeeded. Clearly, given your recent choices, I was wrong. Admit to your crimes, boy, and then let’s be done with this foolishness.”

There was once a member of the Clan of the Cobra, an old man who’d served as the group’s wise guardian. When he was on his deathbed, he’d said that, in life, a man only comes to a few crossroads that can shape his future for good or for bad. Sometimes one recognized these crossroads, and could stop and think about the right decision. But other times, the choice could only be seen with the clarity that came afterward.

This crossroad was well-lit and impossible for Felix to miss.

While Felix considered himself a skilled liar, he knew that the king might be the one person able to see right through him to the truth.

Felix took a deep breath and gathered every last ounce of courage and bravado he had left. “It’s true, I helped Jonas save his friends, and in doing so I committed treason against you, your majesty. Abandoning the Clan wasn’t a plan I’d had in the works for ages, but it happened. I made a mistake. I came to trust the wrong people—to believe I had a choice in how my future could unfold. But I was wrong. I am exactly what you see before you, your loyal servant who regrets his recent actions and wishes to beg for your forgiveness.”

“I see.” The king pursed his lips. “And where is Jonas Agallon now?”