The Shadow Throne (Ascendance 3)

They reminded me of Amarinda, who had risked her life to return to the throne in my absence. And Imogen, who had given her life to save mine. It would take entire lifetimes for the men of Carthya to deserve their women.

At supper that night, the soldiers toasted one another and celebrated Roden’s name and mine for the strategies that gave us the win. I raised my own cup to them, but seeds of worry had sprouted in my mind and eventually I had to walk away. I couldn’t quite explain what was wrong, but that only bothered me more.

When Roden followed me to ask about it, I said, “Does it feel like today’s fight was too easy?”

“Easy?” Roden gestured toward the battlefield. “Do you know how many men fell out there? How close we came to losing?”

“Yes, and I don’t take that lightly. But something about it just doesn’t feel right.”

Clearly angry now, Roden crossed directly in front of me. “If it feels easy to you, then it’s because you’ve been apart from the war for too many days. Every man still here fought hard for his life and did his job while his brothers fell around him. Stay with us for longer than a day and you’ll change your mind about how easy you think this was!”

I started to argue back but he stomped away. Mott came up to me, and when I tried to explain, he only took my empty bowl, insisting he would get me more to eat.

It was much later before I had it figured out, why the battle had felt easy. Mott was asleep by then, as were most of the men. Roden still hadn’t returned, but there was another fire not far from ours where I suspected he had gone. Whether he was still angry or not, I would make him listen to me.

Mott and I had come here because of what Fish Breath had said, that the king of Avenia meant to break through these lines. I had noticed a few Avenians in the battle, but not many, and certainly not an army. Beyond that, King Vargan wasn’t here, nor any sign of his banner.

Perhaps Fish Breath had lied to me, or perhaps the plans had changed since he heard them. Either way, it didn’t matter. We’d fought Mendenwal here, but that’s all it was — a fight. Vargan was letting me wear down my numbers while he remained in the background. Avenia was still out there somewhere, spreading destruction in my country like a silent plague. I had to find them. Because until I defeated Vargan, I could never end this war.

I heard Roden’s voice long before I saw him. He wasn’t speaking loudly, but everything else had become so quiet and still. I caught the sound of my name and silently moved toward him. He’d been angry for what he considered my insult to his skills in battle, and I could only imagine what he must have to say about me now.

I saw him in silhouette with his back toward the fire, and planted myself behind the trunk of a tree nearby where I wouldn’t be seen. I vaguely recognized the man he was speaking to. It was the soldier from Bymar who had led us behind the lines, a commander in a fine uniform whom the others addressed as Lord Orison.

“Pardon my observation,” Orison said. “But you are as young as your king. Why did Jaron choose you as his captain?”

“I’m still asking myself that question,” Roden answered. “If you figure it out, please let me know.”

I had already answered him weeks ago, when he and I had fought before the pirates. Anyone fierce enough to threaten Carthya is strong enough to defend it, I’d told him. And I had meant it. When it came to a battle, Roden did not blink.

“I only wonder because we all know how focused King Vargan is on recapturing your king. He has made those intentions very clear, and yet we both know what would happen to Jaron if Vargan gets hold of him again.”

Roden nodded in agreement, but for my part, I didn’t like the way the conversation was going.

Orison continued, “If this war became yours to command, could you do it?”

Roden shrugged. “Jaron won’t let himself be captured again, and he knows how to survive on a battlefield.”

“Yes, but if something did happen, could you command the war?”

There was a long silence while Roden thought it over. I pressed in closer, eager to hear what he had to say. Finally, Roden drew in a breath and said, “When Jaron first sent me to Gelyn, I was a boy with a sword, only pretending to be the captain of an army. But after several hard-fought battles, I am not that boy anymore.”

No, he wasn’t the same. But it still wasn’t the answer Orison wanted.

After another pause, Roden continued, “I went to Gelyn with forty of Jaron’s finest men. At first I thought I was there to teach them how to follow me, but that wasn’t the plan at all. Instead, they were there to teach me how to lead them, to make me into the captain Jaron wanted. I will never have the courage or the wit of my king. But yes, if necessary, I could win this war for Carthya.”

They took a few quiet sips of their drinks, then the Bymarian commander said, “I know little about Jaron, other than the stories Carthyans tell about him.”

I rolled my eyes at that. The last thing I needed was for him to laugh at who I had once been. The war was hard enough; I didn’t need to fight my own history as well.

But when Roden asked what stories, Orison replied, “I heard that the people of Carthya would follow your king to the devils’ lair and back again. Is it true?”

“Yes, and I would be first amongst them,” Roden answered. “I would follow Jaron wherever he goes, and trust with all my heart that he will win this war.”

“How can you be sure?”

Roden’s focus turned to the fire and he lowered his voice. “Some months ago, Jaron made his way to the pirates of Avenia. Their branding is on his right forearm. He tries to keep it covered, but sometimes a person catches a glimpse of it.”

“I saw it earlier when he fought near me.” Orison licked his lips, and then said, “I noticed you have the same mark too, by the way. There are rumors that Jaron is the pirates’ king.”