The Runaway King (Ascendance 2)

“Come see him,” Agor said to Devlin, still looking at me. “This is not the body you’d expect of a king.”

Irritated at being treated like a show exhibit, I rolled my eyes, but again I held my tongue. If nothing else, it bought me another minute or two.

Curious, Devlin rose from his chair and walked behind me as well. From where he’d sat, he would already have seen the slash across my stomach from Erick’s thief, and the cut from Roden on my arm. But I was far too thin for someone who was literally given the king’s feast each meal. I was also covered in bruises from my sword match with Agor, I had numerous scrapes from my fight with the pirates just now, and I had the two scars on my back from Farthenwood.

Devlin walked back to face me, but I couldn’t read his expression. It wasn’t quite a look of respect, but it wasn’t anger either.

“I thought you were from a civilized country,” he said. “How have you come to look more like Carthya’s whipping boy than its king?”

“I have a habit of irritating some of our less civilized people,” I answered. “But you seem like a civilized . . . pirate. I’d much prefer it if you didn’t have me whipped.”

“And why shouldn’t I?”

With some effort, I forced a smile to my face. “Because it will hurt.”

“I hope so.” Devlin held his shoulder as he returned to his chair. “You’ll get enough lashes to learn some humility, then we’ll have a talk about that cave.”

“That’s a waste of your time,” I said. “It’s not in me to become humble, nor to reveal secrets to my enemies.”

Agor unwound his whip and snapped it once in the air. I cringed when I heard it and gritted my teeth together. It would be impossible to keep myself from crying out, even to save Imogen from hearing, and a part of me worried that no matter what I had said, eventually I would give in to anything Devlin wanted.

Agor grunted as he reared his arm back in his first move to strike me, only the whip didn’t fly.

“What?” Agor looked behind him, confused.

I looked as well. Roden was standing at the edge of the crowd of pirates who had gathered to watch. In his hand was the end of the whip. He’d wound it around his wrist and continued to wind it, pulling it from Agor’s grip. In all that time, he never took his eyes off me. I could almost feel them boring into me.

Roden had stopped my whipping for now — which I greatly appreciated, but there was a total lack of sympathy in his expression, and that concerned me.

“How dare you,” Agor said.

“Roden! What’s the meaning of this?” Devlin asked.

Roden finished winding the whip and then tossed it to the ground. Addressing me, he said, “A message came ordering me back early. It said that a boy named Sage was with the pirates, promising some sort of treasure. But I told myself it couldn’t be you.”

“It’s not the first time you’ve been wrong about me,” I said.

Roden raised his voice. “Devlin, you promised that any action involving the king of Carthya would be my privilege.”

“That all changed when your king got himself made one of my pirates.”

Roden turned to me, genuinely surprised. He noticed the branding on my forearm and his mouth dropped open. Our eyes met again and I smiled, a little embarrassed at how stupid it sounded when Devlin said it aloud.

“Him?” Roden shook his head fiercely as if the movement would help his understanding. “The king of Carthya is a pirate?”

“We didn’t know who he really was.”

“You should have known!” Roden’s face darkened. “I told you about him. I warned you.”

Even bound and ready to be whipped, I couldn’t help but feel a little honored that the pirates had to be warned about me.

“You told us about Jaron,” Devlin said. “The name of Sage was never mentioned.”

Roden looked at me and his eyes narrowed. “Whatever his name, I’m here now and he’s mine. Release him.”

Devlin shook his head. “He just bargained away his life to me, saving a girl named Imogen.”

Roden shot a glare at me. This time I looked away. I didn’t want any questions about her involvement here.