The Runaway King (Ascendance 2)
“He asked your name,” Erick said.
I turned to Harlowe. “No, sir, I don’t want you to remember my name. Nor to remember this night.” Then I pulled Erick away. “We’ve got to go.”
Erick’s eyes locked on my bloodstained knife, and Harlowe let out a horrified gasp when he realized what I must have done. “So that’s what you’re capable of,” Erick mumbled. “I underestimated you.”
“He asked for it,” I said, then nodded to Erick. “You go first.”
When he ducked out the window I turned back to Harlowe, who said, “Tell me you didn’t just —”
“Someday I hope you’ll understand.” I spoke so softly I was nearly mouthing the words. “Forgive me.”
Harlowe only shook his head, feeling horrified and betrayed if he felt anything at all. And I climbed down the tree, knowing that this was a crime for which I might never be forgiven.
You look upset,” Erick said as we rode out of Libeth only a few minutes later. Beside me, the other thieves were quietly celebrating, counting the number of drinks they could buy with their share of Harlowe’s money. It was disgusting how they already considered it theirs, and how they congratulated me as if I’d done something good.
“Smile,” Erick said. “This is a time to celebrate.”
“He saw my face,” I mumbled.
“Is that all?” Erick’s laugh was crass and made my muscles tense. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. What’s Carthya going to do about us? Nothing! You must know the reputation of their king.”
“Eckbert’s gone. They have a new king now.”
“That’s who I’m talking about. Eckbert’s son. What was his name again?”
“Jaron.”
“That’s right. I don’t know much about him, but from what I hear, we’ll have all the freedom in Carthya that we want.”
For some reason, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “What’s wrong with Jaron?”
“They say he’s wild and reckless, always has been. Everyone knows he was missing for a long time, but now he’s come back to rule. What could a boy with that history possibly know about ruling an entire country?”
“Probably not much.” I knew just enough to understand that I’d already made plenty of mistakes. Riding here with Erick right now was undoubtedly the biggest of them all.
“Exactly.” Erick chuckled. “But all we care about is that our own stupid Avenian king can deny knowledge of what we do.”
“Does he know?”
“If he does, we’re too small for him to care. When he wants something done without getting his own hands dirty, he’ll use the pirates.”
Which Vargan himself had all but admitted. Avenia wanted my land. The pirates wanted my life. They were a natural team.
Erick didn’t seem to notice my distress. Beside me, he chuckled to himself, then said, “Vargan’s main target is Carthya. You should know that if he finds out you’re a pirate, he might use your knowledge of Carthya to help him destroy it.”
Yes, that I knew.
Getting little response from me, Erick rode forward to tell the others more details about what had happened inside Harlowe’s home. He even pulled out the pocket watch to show them, then tucked it back inside his shirt without the slightest care for its real value. I couldn’t understand why Harlowe had given it up so easily and cursed myself for not keeping control of it.
We were almost back to our camp when my irritation turned to sudden anxiety. As we approached the ridge of a hill, we saw at least a dozen horses standing across the road, much farther down, blocking our passage. With one look at who was astride the horses, I knew I was in serious trouble.
I halted Mystic and said to a pockmarked thief beside me, “Are those King Vargan’s men?”
He squinted to see better, then frowned. “Looks that way. I suppose the good king has decided it’s time to collect taxes again.”
Erick was already riding toward us. “Everyone, back up your horses.”
We obeyed until we were protected from the soldiers’ sight. Then Erick gathered us closer and pulled from his saddlebag the sack of coins I had stolen from Harlowe. “Everyone take a share and hide it wherever you can,” he said. “In your boots or beneath your saddles, or wherever. Hurry!”