Caelan barely restrained his eye roll at the mention of an audience and slowly crossed to the door with his hands held out in front of him, balled into loose fists. Who the hell did this asshole think he was? An audience with the Lord High Commander? Someone was thinking a little too much of themselves.
But then, this asshole had also taken out the queen of Erya and stolen the Godstone. Maybe some of his confidence was warranted, even if it grated on Caelan’s nerves and left him wanting to shove the man off his own ship to swim back to New Rosanthe.
Once properly restrained, Caelan was marched up several decks, past dozens of Empire seamen and soldiers who’d barely even batted an eye at him, to what looked to be a door guarded by two men. The guard who had spoken knocked twice on the metal hatch and carefully opened it. He grabbed Caelan by the shoulder and shoved him inside.
Caelan stumbled a step but quickly recovered and pulled himself up to his full height. He was the king of Erya, the protector of his people and Guardian of the Godstone, and he would not falter before his country’s invaders. He would make his mother and his people proud.
Glancing over his shoulder, Caelan was shocked to find that the guards hadn’t followed him. Just pushed him in and closed the door. Fucking cowards.
The room was much larger than he’d been expecting. A long boardroom table of dark wood shone in the dim lighting. Thick red carpet covered the floor, muffling his footsteps. The metal walls were gone, replaced with a lighter wood and covered with elegant paintings. Other than the slightest rocking, there was no feeling that he was even on a ship. He could have been inside any of the castles and palaces that dotted Thia. Did the Emperor know the Lord High Commander had treated himself to such posh elegance?
Caelan took a step farther into the room, his gaze catching on the large desk to the left of the table. A man with thick salt-and-pepper hair sat behind it. A matching beard lined his jaw. His navy jacket was covered in shiny gold buttons and piles of medals and ribbons, underscoring his years of military service and conquests. Had he also had a hand in the fall of Damardor? Or Uris-Oladul?
The Lord High Commander’s attention was locked on the papers in his hand. His frown cut deep, aging him even more than the gray in his hair. Whatever he was seeing, he didn’t like it—which had to be good for Caelan and Erya, right?
With a final sniff of disgust, the man gathered the papers into a neat pile, tapping them on the desk before putting them aside. He folded his hands together on the empty surface and looked up at Caelan with cold, piercing blue eyes.
“Prince Caelan Talos,” he pronounced in a deep, rough voice as if it had been shattered on the rocky shores of New Rosanthe.
“Lord High Commander Thorald Grim of New Rosanthe,” Caelan bit out. Just hearing him speak his name had been enough to burn away the last of his fatigue. He was energized with the rage of losing his mother, with losing his throne, and the death of his people. It was time for some answers at last. And maybe a touch of vengeance.
“I thought it odd that you would hand yourself over.”
“I wished to give you a chance to answer for your crimes. This is your only chance to peacefully relinquish any claim you have on Erya and to leave both my kingdom and Caspagir,” Caelan replied, ignoring the bland and bored expression on the Lord High Commander’s face.
“Did you really think that would happen?”
A smirk tugged at one corner of Caelan’s mouth. “I certainly hoped that it wouldn’t. I would much rather see you put to death for your crimes against Erya.”
The Lord High Commander pushed back, lounging in his chair with his hands now folded on his slightly rounded stomach. “Funny that. I was thinking the same thing about you and all of the Talos line.” His cold eyes narrowed, and his upper lip curled into a sneer. “The Talos family has held the power of the Godstone for too long, using it to subjugate all the other peoples of Thia to their will. With the death of Queen Amara, we have struck a blow for all of Thia, breaking the chains that have bound us for too long.”
A sharp, surprised bark of laughter escaped Caelan. “How in the world has Erya subjugated anyone? It’s not as if we’ve conquered and broken other rulers like Damardor or Uris-Oladul. The Godstone isn’t an instrument of harm or war. If that were even remotely true, what would have kept Erya from conquering all of Thia centuries ago?”