Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden (55 page)

“Rule in his stead? Until Prince Deegan is old enough to take the crown?”

“Yes. They’ll vote in a steward.”

Gib’s heart thudded to a stop. “Wh–who would qualify for that? Will Koal—?”

“The seneschal would be the first choice.” Dark despair lined Hasain’s voice. “But the High Councilor would be another option. Father had no surviving brothers.”

Gib had to concentrate to stop his knees from knocking together.
The High Councilor? Neetra? He can’t run Arden.
“What about you? Aren’t you old enough to take the crown? Even if it’s only until—”

A broken, desperate laugh cut through the air. “Allow the
bastard
son to take the crown? The temples would collapse.” Hasain shook his head. “No. Kieran and I don’t exist to them.”

Gib’s brow creased. Kieran? Who the hell was Kieran?

He had no opportunity to question Hasain, for Nawaz had approached without making a sound and was giving Hasain a hearty clasp on the shoulder. Heidi was by her new husband’s side, her powdered face buried in a kerchief.

“Oh, Hasain,” she gasped through sniffles. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe he’s gone.”

Hasain inclined his head, nodding stiffly. “Thank you. Both of you.” His eyes flicked from Heidi to Nawaz, and it seemed he was having a difficult time meeting his best friend’s stare. Was that guilt flashing behind Hasain’s dark eyes? Through the grief, it was hard for Gib to tell.

The four of them waited in silence; the only sounds to be heard were the shuffling of feet and the buzz of whispers echoing off the stone walls. Gib stared at his boots so he didn’t have to meet Hasain’s pained eyes or witness Heidi’s damp cheeks. Likewise, he was frightened to look upon the tomb again. Another glimpse of the King’s lifeless, sallow form might be enough to do him in completely.

He couldn’t escape it for long though. When the chamber at last began to clear, Gib found himself swept into the procession and edging slowly toward the open tomb. His mouth went dry at the prospect of having to say goodbye to King Rishi. He wasn’t ready. He’d probably
never
be ready.

Up ahead, Neetra and Liro were taking their turns to pay their respects. As expected, each gave the least they could, opting only to bow to the dead king and spare no words for the mighty ruler who’d brought so much good to the land. Gib knew he was powerless to do anything, but the sight of Liro’s smug expression made his temper flame. How could he be so heartless?

“Take strength, Aunt,” Liro said as he stopped before Dahlia. “Despite the teachings of the Blessed Son of Light, perhaps one so clever as Rishi Radek will find a way out of eternal damnation.”

The Queen squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Gib had to wonder where she found the strength to remain courageous in the face of such adversity. “
King
Rishi Radek. And you will never convince me that any soul desperate enough to end their own life would then be condemned for eternity. Perhaps your Blessed Son of Light isn’t the best example to be followed, nephew.”

Gib was sure he witnessed a tinge of pink blossom on Liro’s cheeks as he bowed to Dahlia. Surely he’d leave without stirring up further trouble—but no. Instead of walking away, Liro turned next to Aodan, and Gib could hear Liro’s artful voice, muted as it was, all the way from where Gib stood. “With no king left to guard, you may consider packing your bags, Derr.”

The color drained from Aodan’s face. For once, the bodyguard’s untamable fury seemed to have abandoned him. Clenching his jaw, he looked away from Liro and tightened his grip on Princess Gudrin’s hand. Liro curled his mouth into a sinister smile and finally took his leave.

A moment later, Gudrin began to cry, the desperate sobs tearing at Gib’s heart. Dahlia and Aodan held her tight and whispered comforting words, but the young girl had reached her capacity. Everyone had. Diddy and Deegan wept with the others.

Hasain breathed a deep sigh, tears pooling in the corner of each slanted eye. “We’ll await tomorrow and see what happens. Drastic measures may have to be taken.”

Gib watched the young lord make his way up to the tomb. He didn’t know exactly what Hasain meant, but he thought he understood. As Gib waited for his turn to bid farewell to the King, a feeling of duty sprung to life deep inside his core. He didn’t know what he was going to say to King Rishi, but in his heart, he made a promise—a promise to do all he could to keep Arden whole.

Gib held onto the wall as he made his way toward the council room, taking care to go slowly so his heart didn’t fail from overuse. This was it. Today the High Council would choose a steward to rule Arden.

His mind attempted to whirl away from him, to entomb him in panic, but he locked his jaw and firmly refused to despair. Koal was the seneschal of Arden, the dead king’s Right Hand since well before Gib had even been born. Why wouldn’t Koal be chosen to be steward? He was the only logical choice.

But Neetra was cunning. The High Councilor had many supporters. If anyone were to give Koal a run for his money, it would be his younger brother.

Gib’s jaw was clenched so tightly it began to ache. Letting out a whoosh of air, he attempted to loosen his stance. He couldn’t worry over this now. In just a moment he’d be inside the council room, where Arden’s fate would be decided. He needed to stay focused and have a clear mind.

Turning the last bend in the hall, a new anguish washed over him. The grand oak doors leading to the council chamber were closed, and Hasain and Diddy stood beside them, looking confused and worried. Gib knew something was amiss. They’d never bothered to wait for him outside the chamber before.

Hasain paced back and forth with his arms wrapped tightly around himself. Diddy remained as still as a statue, with one hand pressed over his mouth and eyes staring vacantly. When he took notice of Gib, the prince snapped out of his trance.

“Gib!” Diddy called as he came within earshot. “Where’s Koal? Has he told you to join him inside today?”

Gib furrowed his brow. “I haven’t seen him yet. Join him inside? I always sit in on the council meetings. You know that.”

Hasain drew to a halt and spun around. His hair and clothing were in utter disarray. “Not today, Nemesio. Neetra has commanded no understudies be present.”

“What?” Gib asked, mouth falling open. “How can he do that? It’s not—does he have that authority?”

“Today he does.”

The three young men turned toward the new voice.

Koal strode down the corridor, his face set in a hard grimace. He kept one hand on the hilt of his broadsword while the other swung freely at his side. Red cape billowing in his wake and steel blue eyes narrowed into fierce slits, the seneschal had never looked more intimidating. Marc trailed close behind, the usual twinkle in his dark eyes and crooked smile nowhere to be seen.

Gib took an unwilling step back. “You look like you’re going to war, not council.”

Koal’s dismal gaze speared the understudy. “Today it
is
war.”

“If anyone has prayers, say them now,” Marc added gravely.

As Koal passed, he extended a hand and clasped Hasain’s shoulder. “You know what’s to be done should our worst fears come to realization. Be sure to stay here.”

“Yes.” Hasain glanced around the empty corridor. “The others will come along as they can. We’ll be ready.”

Gib’s mind piqued with curiosity, wondering what they were speaking about, but he held his tongue. Now wasn’t the time for questions. If he’d learned anything while being Koal’s understudy, it was that secrets couldn’t be forced to light. If they needed him, they would ask.

Koal and Marc left without a word of goodbye. The bang of the heavy doors slamming shut echoed down the hall until unnerving silence was all that remained. With nothing else to do, Hasain, Diddy, and Gib sat on the marble floor and waited.
 

Perhaps a mark later, Gib looked up when he heard light footfalls. Joel and Nawaz trotted toward them, confusion etched across each of their faces. At the sight of Joel’s flowing robes, Gib blinked and his heart twisted against his will. It’d been so long since he’d seen the mage. Why did it feel like Gib was looking upon a near stranger?

“What are you guys doin’ here?” Nawaz asked. The young lord had donned his healer’s jerkin, and he could have been on his way to the pavilion if not for the crossbow strapped over one shoulder. The sight of the weapon caused Gib’s blood to run cold. What use would there be for it inside the palace?

Joel’s eyes scanned the corridor, looking from one face to the next yet avoiding any prolonged gaze directed at Gib. “Why aren’t you all inside?”

“We’ve been banned,” Hasain choked, on the verge of tears. “The other understudies already wandered off.”

Joel and Nawaz exchanged glances before moving to flank Hasain.

Nawaz shook his head. “It’s already starting. Neetra won’t be happy until he has Arden under his thumb.”

“We must hold onto hope,” Diddy insisted. “The councilmen aren’t imbeciles. They
have
to vote for Uncle Koal!”

“Not imbeciles,” Joel said. “But they are misled. Anything could happen in there.”

Nawaz set his hand atop the butt of his crossbow. “We’re prepared.”

Gib bit his tongue.
Prepared for what?

More time passed before Kezra stormed through the corridor. Since she was still clad in her sentinel tunic and breeches, her sword was slightly less unsettling when she came to a stop before them. With one cool scan, she chose to ignore Nawaz and instead turned her attention to Hasain. “What’s this then? Why is everyone outside?”

Something dark flashed in Hasain’s eyes as he launched himself to his feet to greet her. As he explained their plight yet again, Gib couldn’t help but glance over at Nawaz. The young lord kept his red face inclined, yet every time Kezra spoke, his eyes would dart toward her. Gib took a deep breath. He understood. Gods, he understood. His own gaze kept treacherously returning to Joel.

Kezra leaned against the cold wall. “So, we wait for the fate of Arden to be decided?”

“What else can we do?” Hasain offered his hand, but she hardly even acknowledged it. When he realized she had no intention of taking hold, he went back to his place. “Would you sit with me?”

Kezra folded her arms. “I’ll stand.”

Once more during their wait, newcomers joined them. Weapons Master Roland and Tular Galloway approached, side by side. The master’s face was set in a stone mask, but Gib was still glad to see him. Somehow, it was comforting to have an authority figure present.

Roland cast shrewd, calculating eyes around the ragtag group. “The bastard’s already changed the rules, I see. Fantastic.” With a grunt of displeasure, he leaned against the wall and fell quiet.

Silence descended once more. Gib rested his forehead on his knees and closed his eyes. Worry still churned his stomach, making dozing impossible, but when Kezra sat beside him and drew his attention, Gib had no idea how much time had passed. Had he been sitting there a bell toll or whole marks?

Kezra sighed, her breath a wisp of air in the stagnant hall. “You’re to be a witness too, then?”

Gib’s eyebrows knitted. He still had no inkling what everyone was speaking about or why they were all gathered in the corridor. “Witness?”

Kezra gave a stiff nod and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Yes, for the Queen Mother’s—”

The deafening bang of the council room doors flying open made both Gib and Kezra jump. They scrambled to their feet an instant later when councilors began to pour out of the chamber.

“What’s happened?” Hasain asked, his voice a high, panicked squeal. “What’s going on?”

No one stopped to speak to him or even acknowledge his presence. Gib craned his neck, trying to see inside the dim room. Blood rushed through his ears, and he could feel the tight pounding of his heart within his chest. Had they come to a decision? Was Arden’s fate decided?

General Morathi’s voice carried over the crowd. “Congratulations are in order, High Councilor.”

The bottom of Gib’s stomach dropped. Morathi was shaking hands with Anders Malin-Rai.

“High Councilor?” Kezra gasped.

Gib cringed and turned in time to see her back away, emerald eyes wide and lips trembling.

“
How?
” She shook her head in disbelief.

Gib didn’t know what to say. If Anders had been promoted to High Councilor, then where was Neetra?

Morathi made his exit, and Anders turned cold, dark eyes on the lot of them still standing in the corridor. His frown flipped into a cruel, wicked smile when he noticed his daughter among those gathered.

“Daughter, have you come to congratulate me as well?”

His voice slithered through Gib’s ears, making him shudder. Anders advanced, and Kezra backed away until she met the wall and had no room left. Still feral and afraid, she reminded Gib of a caged animal.

“How?” Kezra continued to shake her head. “How did
you
become High Councilor?”

Anders smiled. “Good old-fashioned work ethic, my gem.” The sugar-sweet lilt in his voice was darkly reminiscent of Zandi’s, and it made Gib want to vomit. “If you had any idea how to be a real woman, you’d understand work ethic and the rewards it grants.”

Kezra pulled her mouth into a wild snarl. “What gives you the authority to judge how a woman should behave?”

Anders’ smile slipped away as he strode closer, trapping Kezra against the wall. Gib thought to call for help, but everyone else was so absorbed in watching the council room doors they didn’t even seem to notice what was happening right in front of them. Anders extended one hand, touching her neck. He spoke to his daughter in a low, husky tone. “With the new authority granted me, I could surely show you how to be a proper woman.”

Gib felt his stomach clench, fighting to retch. Was this how Kezra’s father had always treated her? No one should ever have to tolerate this—

A shriek erupted from Kezra’s mouth as she slapped Anders’ hand away. Everyone remaining in the hall stopped and turned to stare. The spell was broken. They were visible again.

“You don’t get to touch me!” Kezra’s wail pierced the frozen air. With teeth bared and fire in her eyes, she reached out and shoved Anders, sending him lurching back. “
Never again!
”

The silence was suffocating. No matter how hard Gib sucked air into his lungs, he couldn’t catch his breath. The commotion had drawn the attention of Nawaz and Roland. Both men were on their way, crossing the room in long strides, their sights set on the new High Councilor.

Anders seemed to sense his time was up. Straightening his robes, he coolly addressed his daughter. “You’ll learn your place one day. If I have to beat it into you myself, you’ll learn.” He turned and fled with a clenched jaw and nose high in the air.

Kezra’s hands balled into fists. “I’ll be your undoing, Anders Malin-Rai. You can count on it!” Her words chased after him, but in the chaos, it was anyone’s guess as to whether he heard.

Nawaz reached out a tentative hand as he came within arm’s length. “Are you all right?”

Kezra slapped the hand away and turned her back on him. With a red face, Nawaz tromped over to stand beside Joel on the opposing wall. Gib wrung his own hands together, wanting to offer words of solace but not daring to speak.

Harsh words shot through the open door, and Gib turned away from Kezra in time to see Koal and Marc bustle out from the depths of the council room. Koal’s head was twisted around as he argued with someone still too far inside the chamber for Gib to see.

“Is this your final word on it then? You’ve both signed the scroll. If you wish to contest the decisions, now is the time.” A cold chill settled in Gib’s heart. He knew that voice. He’d recognize Liro Adelwijn’s airy hiss anywhere.

Koal rounded on his son as if meaning to strike him, but Liro didn’t so much as flinch. “You have my signature and Arden has my loyalty. You and that bastard have my answer!”

Liro’s eyes were fierce and glad. “Be careful, Seneschal. You claim loyalty to Arden yet insult her new steward. I’m sure you’re aware such a thing is viewed as treason.”

Koal clenched his hands into fists. “Neetra may be steward, but my devotion is to Arden alone. I support her
king
.”

“Arden has no king.”

No one in the hall moved. No one even dared breathe. The silence was tangible, encompassing, and terrible.

Koal took a single step forward, looking down on his elder son with cold, unfeeling eyes. “For now. And I promise you, Liro Adelwijn, should I ever find out who is responsible for that, I’ll deliver swift justice myself. No one, for any reason, shall be spared my wrath on that day.”