The Shadow Throne (Ascendance 3)

I choked back a laugh, slightly shocked and greatly amused. Really, that was better than I’d expected from him.

The men immediately responded by withdrawing their swords. Roden raised his as well and a sort of standoff began. I started forward — it felt natural that I should. But again, I reined myself in so that Roden could speak. Still, I kept a hand near my own sword and hoped he knew what he was doing.

Now that he had their attention, Roden shouted, “I am your captain, and I have given you an order!”

The men kicked at the dirt, clearly not convinced, but they lowered their weapons.

“You will all form a line,” Roden said. “The king is with us and he will see you now.”

I wasn’t sure if they lined up because Roden was demanding it, or out of deference to me. But either way, the men immediately created two rows on either side of the garrison’s narrow courtyard.

Roden began by addressing the men. “You fought well,” he said. “Another battle is coming soon and so I hope you will get some rest tonight.”

He looked over at me and I muttered, “That was the worst speech anyone has ever given. Ever. Work on that too.”

He only rolled his eyes and then followed at my side as we walked down one row, assessing the health of each man and trying to get a picture of what strength still remained.

As I passed, one older man touched my arm. I stopped to give him my full attention and he immediately went to one knee. “King Jaron, do you remember me?” he asked. I shook my head, and he said, “When you were ten years old, your father commissioned me to make you a gift, a sword.”

“You’re the swordsmith! I do remember now.” I’d used the sword in a duel against King Humfrey of Mendenwal, who now waged war against us. Conner had duplicated that same sword as part of his plan to install a false prince upon the throne. It was too small for my use now, but I still had it amongst my most valued possessions. Still looking at the swordsmith, I said, “You stood in the great hall when my father gave it to me. That sword has served me well.”

“Yes, sire.” With a cautious smile, he added, “I confess, I urged your father to give you a different gift, a horse or a journal for writing. But he only said that you’d use the horse to run away or the journal as kindling for a fire somewhere in the castle. He wanted the sword to encourage you to take your studies more seriously.”

“And I did.” Then I grinned back at him, as mischievous as ever. “Though you should know that I found other horses to help me run away and still started my share of fires.”

His laugh didn’t come as easily, and ended with an expression of sadness. “I remember the boy you were. So when you became king, I doubted you. But I was wrong, and I beg your forgiveness.”

I angled my head toward Roden. “You will not be equally wrong regarding my captain, I hope.”

“No, sire.”

Roden and I continued walking until we reached the area where the remaining Gelynians had been corralled. The walls around them were smooth and tall, and iron bars were set between rock and mortar walls. There was barely enough space for them to sit and not enough to lie down unless they agreed to stack themselves up. Buckets of water had already been provided for their thirst and they would be given any food we could spare. Hopefully they would not need to be in there for long.

“Remain at peace and you will live until Gelyn’s final surrender,” I said to them. “But there are consequences if you cause any trouble before then.”

I started to walk on, but a tall soldier with the markings of being their captain stepped forward and said, “We won’t be imprisoned for long. We’re only the advance group. Gelyn will pour out the whole of its strength with the army that is still coming.”

“The whole of what strength?” I asked. “Gelyn fights like bedridden grandmothers, only with longer knitting needles.”

“They’re not three days behind us,” he said. “And Mendenwal is coming too. Once we have defeated your men here, we will attack Drylliad and destroy everything there that moves.”

I snorted. “Your needles pierce walls now?”

“No, but their cannon does. It’s probably crossing the plains of Carthya as we speak.”

That stopped me. I’d heard that Mendenwal had been experimenting with cannons, and I didn’t like the idea of one being tested on my castle. They were more common in other lands, I’d heard, but something entirely new to this region. My hope had been for Carthya to develop its own cannon, but there hadn’t been time. Now, the blast from a single weapon could bring down whole walls. Even with all our protections, Drylliad could be overrun in minutes.

Certain that my worries would be revealed if our conversation continued, I instructed Roden to learn what he could from the man, then said I needed a private place to think and rest.

Except the man called after me, “I confess that I am surprised to see you here, Jaron. Avenia’s king thought your people would protect you better than this.”

“My people do protect me,” I said, still walking away. “And I protect them.”

“Oh? What about the girl King Vargan captured? Did you protect her? I heard her described as a servant girl rumored to have caught your eye.”

I turned on my heel and returned to him. “You know about that?”

He motioned to the prison behind him. “Promise me a private room with food and a bed. I’ll give your men no trouble, but I cannot stay in here.”