The Shadow Throne (21 page)

T
rue to Vargan’s word, the vigils came for me again at first light, Terrowic and Commander Kippenger amongst them. I asked if anyone had something to eat, but they only laughed at me. I actually would have liked some food and didn’t appreciate their laughter.

Roden was unchained first and immediately balled his fists, as if eager for a fight. I wondered how he’d do against these vigils while unarmed. He probably wouldn’t last as long as he thought he could.

They came for me next, and took great care in ensuring I never had a free hand. While they worked, I looked at Imogen and said, “I want you to marry me one day.”

Now the tears spilled over her cheeks. “Look where we are.”

I smiled back at her. “We won’t marry here, of course. But in the great hall of my castle, in front of the entire kingdom.”

Imogen bit her lip and nodded. “Yes, Jaron. I will marry you there.”

“Then I’ll find you soon. But if I don’t — if I
can’t
— then be happy and know I loved you.”

More tears fell, but she said nothing.

The vigils pulled me forward, and saw me favoring the ankle wrapped in bandages.
Pretending
to favor it, actually.

Commander Kippenger asked, “What happened to your foot? It wasn’t in bandages last night.”

I winced as I limped forward another step. “Terrowic came in during the night and hurt me.” It was a better-told lie than most I’d ever uttered, and one of the few for which I didn’t feel the slightest shred of guilt. “He tried to wrap it and hoped you wouldn’t notice.”

“I — no, I — didn’t!” Terrowic sputtered.

“We begged him to stop,” Roden said, joining the fun. “But he wanted his revenge before Jaron’s execution.”

“They’re lying!” Terrowic was completely flustered by now.

“I can’t walk far enough to sign the surrender papers,” I continued. “You should tell Vargan to delay the signing for another month while I heal.”

“You’ll sign even if we have to carry you there!” Without warning, Kippenger rounded on Terrowic and cracked a fist against his jaw. “How dare you defy the king’s orders!” Then he ordered his other vigils, “Take him to my room and lock him in there. I will set a harsh discipline for him after the execution.”

Kippenger’s vigils gripped Terrowic’s arms and started to lead him away, still protesting. With everyone watching Terrowic, I clicked my tongue to get his attention. I looked down at my ankle, wiggled it back and forth, then winked at him. He pointed at me and made an objection, but by then my expression had returned to one of appropriate pain and suffering, and he was quickly whisked back up the stairs for his punishment.

Kippenger turned back to me. “Can you walk?”

I shrugged. “I’ll try. Just go easy on me.”

He said, “I suggest
you
go easy, Jaron. If you don’t, there’s no end of things I can do to you that Vargan never has to know about.”

I muttered an agreement I had no intention of honoring, then looked back at Imogen as he led us away. She still held one fist closed, hiding the key for her chains, and I motioned with my eyes that her chance for escape was coming soon. My final glance was to Roden, at my side. He didn’t look entirely enthusiastic about what was about to happen, but he was ready.

Only halfway out of the dungeon, I grabbed the bars to the door and started screaming, “No, wait, I’ve changed my mind! Don’t take me to Vargan!”

A vigil in front of me grabbed my legs to pull me away from the bars. The door swung wide open and still I held on. Now slightly ahead of me on the stairs, Roden started yelling as well, requiring the vigil behind him to scramble for his control.

Kippenger hit my arms with the broadside of his sword until my hold collapsed and I tumbled to the ground. Then two vigils interlocked arms with mine to drag me upstairs. A quick peek behind me revealed everything I needed to know — they had forgotten to close the dungeon door for Imogen. They probably had forgotten she was even in there.

We continued our rant until they dragged us upstairs, at which point Roden tried to make a run for the rear door. I began cursing at him, accusing him of abandoning me in my darkest hour, or something equally silly and dramatic, and the commander shouted for more men to attend to us.

They ran at me first, lacking any grace in shoving me to the floor. I yelled at Kippenger not to let them leave any marks, but that clearly wasn’t his concern at the moment. More men continued to come, and frankly, with the growing audience, I enjoyed screaming even louder. Unfortunately, nobody had been ordered to avoid leaving marks on Roden, so many of his cries might have been sincere.

Before it was over there were probably twenty men assigned to each of us. I felt slightly disappointed by that. I’d have preferred forty each, or a respectable number of thirty, at least. Most only stood around watching in horror and embarrassment for our childishness, but they all followed as we were carried to the office, and all were assigned to wait in the hallway in case they were needed.

I smiled over at Roden. A large bruise was already forming under his left eye and he had a bloody lip and possibly a broken nose. In my thrashing about, my head had collided with the corner of a wall and blood was running from that wound down the side of my face. Maybe some people would view that as my own fault, but I already had plans to put the blame elsewhere. To my delight, Roden smiled back. I wanted to remind him that I had been right before: In its own way, that had been fun. Beyond that, we’d accomplished our goal. Nobody would be watching the dungeon.

We calmed down once we arrived at the office, and after a few pointed threats if I misbehaved again, Commander Kippenger brought us inside.

Conner was alone in there this time, wearing different clothes from what he’d worn the previous evening. There was so much white on his silk shirt and vest, it was as if he had draped himself in the color of the saints to conceal the fact that he was the devils’ worst. I wondered how he’d so suddenly acquired such a vast wardrobe.

Sometime in the night, a new desk had been located for the office. It wasn’t as nice as Conner’s original desk had been, but it was undoubtedly still expensive and likely had been forcibly taken from the closest nearby home.

Roden was shoved to his knees near the back wall and I was led to a chair in front of the desk. With Conner behind the desk, and Kippenger and another vigil standing on either side of me, I was reminded of a similar situation months ago. Back then, I had only suspected Conner of his crimes. Now I understood exactly who he was, and the depths to which he would sink to acquire power. Whatever my opinion had been of him then, it was nothing compared to the loathing I felt now.

“Was that your screaming I just heard?” Conner asked.

My expression was as innocent as ever. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I heard no screaming.”

“You have a nasty gash on your head.”

“Oh, that.” I gestured toward the commander. “He hit me. I begged him not to. He knew that Vargan didn’t want any marks on me. But if there was any screaming, it was probably me pleading with him to stop.”

Kippenger cursed at me, which gave me no small amount of pleasure.

“This boy can’t be hanged in a coat with the Avenian colors,” Conner said. “Remove his chains so I can get this off of him.”

“We should ask the king’s permission first,” Kippenger offered.

“By the end of today I will be Carthya’s king. This outfit offends me!”

“Carthya is honored to offend you,” I said.

Kippenger lowered his voice. Maybe he didn’t want me to hear, which was ridiculous. “Lord Conner, without the chains, this boy can be dangerous. Just before we came in here —”

“If he were any danger to me, I’d be dead long ago. Now, unchain him.”

The chains were undone, leaving my arms feeling almost weightless when Kippenger pulled my livery off, and once again I was wearing only a plain undershirt. I said a farewell to Kippenger that included my wishes for him to develop boils in his armpits, and then told him to be more careful with me next time. Kippenger snarled and muttered something under his breath, but left. In his place, two other vigils entered the room. Maybe to protect me from Conner, or Conner from me. I wasn’t sure which.

Conner sat on the edge of his desk. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to me for the gash on my head. When the bleeding was mostly stopped, he asked, “The night you were crowned, after you exposed my crimes to the court, why didn’t you have me executed?”

“Obviously, that was a mistake on my part.”

“Maybe so. But why didn’t you?”

The heat in my glare could’ve boiled water. After a heavy sigh, I said, “I always felt you had more of a role to play for Carthya. Clearly you do, but it turned out to be somewhat less noble than I had hoped for. What you’ve done now, aligning yourself with Avenia, that’s the ultimate betrayal of your country. You once told me that despite your crimes, you were still a patriot. I’m sure we can agree that’s no longer true.”

Conner’s eyes narrowed. “Arrogant boy! Always so certain you have all the answers.”

“Then answer me this. Imogen is still wounded — she needs food and a bed and a physician. I know how you treated her as a servant, but are you really so cruel as to let her die in the dungeons?”

“I sent her there so that you would know she still lives!” Conner crossed the room to stand directly in front of me. His eyes briefly flicked to the vigils behind us before he said, “You foiled plans I spent a lifetime creating. Took away everything I was, everything I had. I hate you for that. You know things about me I thought no one could, learned the secrets of Farthenwood, and you have crowded many more secrets within its walls. Jaron, you will not destroy this final plan of mine. Do you understand me?”

I stared back at him. “Yes, Sir Master Conner.” I understood him perfectly now.

There was much more to say, but we both quieted when the doors opened behind us and Vargan slithered in with Kippenger and several other attendants on his heels. Conner left his post and bowed to Vargan, who acknowledged him with little more than an impolite grunt. Vargan held Conner in roughly the same respect as a spider admires its prey. Once he’d gotten everything he wanted from Conner, Vargan would hang him too.

Vargan’s face wrinkled as he studied me. “That’s a terrible cut on your head.”

“Blame Commander Kippenger for that. I think it makes me look like a martyr, don’t you?” I made a face of false regret. “You’ll obviously have to delay this morning’s activities until I’m healed.”

“And disappoint your audience?” he countered. “I think not. Why is there a bandage around your ankle?”

In all the commotion, I’d actually forgotten it was there. “Oh, that? My foot got cold in the night.”

“Only your foot?”

“It’s always been extra sensitive. Like my feelings.” I unwrapped it and let the bandages fall to the floor.

“You’ve been playing games with my men,” Vargan said. “Therefore, I will feel no guilt in playing games with yours.”

My eyes narrowed. “Playing games seems rather childish for someone so close to crumbling into dust.”

Vargan chuckled. “I’m never too old to enjoy a good joke. And I know you’ll like this as much as I will.” He gestured to Kippenger, who opened the door and exited. He returned only seconds later with another prisoner, his hands tied behind him and limping heavily. His head was down when he entered, and he raised it as if ashamed to be here. Only when he was forced to kneel beside Roden did his eyes meet mine.

“Tobias,” I breathed. “Not you too.”

“Here, at the end, the three orphan boys together?” Making no attempt to hide his pleasure, Conner clasped his hands and turned to Vargan. “Your Majesty, may I interpret this as your gift to me on the day of my coronation?”

“You may not,” Vargan said tersely. Then to me, he added, “Not long after Kippenger began the exodus from your camp, this boy walked in unarmed and told my remaining men that in exchange for you, he would surrender himself and provide medical care to all of my wounded. It was stupid to think we’d ever consider trading a king for a young physician, but we do give him credit for his loyalty.”

I snuck a glimpse at Tobias, who shrugged helplessly.

“Little did he know, you were already on your way here, and besides, we didn’t need his help. Kippenger’s orders were to kill all our wounded. They’re a drain on our resources.”

My eyes passed from Vargan to Kippenger, who was trying very hard not to betray his true feelings about having disposed of his own wounded men. Vargan may not have had much regard for his own armies, but that order seemed cruel even for him.

“Here is the game, then, Jaron.” Vargan seemed so delighted with himself that he was practically bubbling over with wicked excitement. “I have three necks in here, all worthy of hanging, but only two nooses. I will give you the opportunity to save one of you three. Who will it be? The captain of your guard, perhaps? He is strong and courageous. With so many losses to your armies, he would be vital for Carthya’s continued protection. Or will you save your scholar? He claimed to have saved many of your wounded the night before he surrendered, including a servant he says never leaves your side.”