The Wizard's Heir (11 page)

The rage Tybolt kept so neatly buried reared its head, and he wanted to drop Aja to the ground and kick him. “Come on,” he growled.

The moment they dragged Aja out of the prison, he regained his strength. Aja put his feet down and stood straight, pulling his chin up to resume his defiant position. Even Kelton found this odd and looked at Aja like a viper about to strike.

Tybolt removed Aja’s arm from his shoulder and pulled it tightly behind the wizard’s back, securing his wrists with iron cuffs. “Get him in the cage.”

In the courtyard between the castle and the Hold, and safely behind the gates, stood a large wooden barred box on wheels. It was harnessed to six horses that had been groomed and brushed until they shined. Each horse had a large black plume on its head, and their manes had been intricately braided.

Asher opened the door to the wooden cage while Tybolt and Kelton pushed Aja up the two small stairs suspended from the wagon. Tybolt noticed another symbol, the two interlocking circles, carved on the edge of the cage. How had he never noticed these before?

Once inside, Aja turned and fixed his eyes on Tybolt. The look was intense and held emotions that Tybolt didn’t understand and didn’t want to. Tenderness, sadness…maybe more. Something about his gaze brought a sense of déjà vu, and it slid through his mind like a whisper.

“Looks like you have an admirer, Tybolt,” Kelton said. “Maybe he likes those pretty blue eyes of yours.”

Tybolt jolted. “I bet he’s wondering how I put up with your mouth.”

“Do you wanna say that to my face?”

Tybolt leaned just far enough forward to remain out of Kelton’s range. He put one hand to the side of his mouth in a mock whisper. “I believe I just did.”

Kelton lunged forward only to be jerked back by Asher. “Not on Festival—the king will have your head.”

“And we can’t have that now, can we?” Tybolt said to Kelton. “You without a head would be…” He shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t think there would be much difference.”

Kelton growled and jerked against Asher’s grip.

Tybolt had to turn away to keep from laughing.

Across the castle grounds, Auriella stormed towards them, her cloak billowing out behind her. Tybolt crossed to meet her.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” Auriella said tightly.

She clearly wasn’t fine. Before he could push the issue, Terric strolled to the front of the line, shouting orders for the parade route. Four Hunters would flank Aja’s cage—Kelton, Asher, Tybolt, and Auriella. Tybolt took his place and stepped behind Auriella.

The street performers, a ragtag group of actors and acrobats dressed in rags, would open the parade. They were pressed against the gate, watching with wide eyes as the rest of the wizards were removed from the Hold and put into place. A few of the lesser wizards were chained together to walk behind the street performers, and the young Hunters escorted them to the front of the line. That was where Tybolt had walked his first year in the parade. He missed that position—the children always
ooed
and
ahhed
over the jugglers. The parade grew in excitement from there: fire eaters, acrobats, and wizards of increasing notoriety. Aja was last.

The gates opened and the juggling balls went up as the performers started out the parade. Tybolt heard cheers and laughter followed shortly by “boos” as the first group of wizards came into sight. Soon after that, a group of five wizards trudged out, chained, gagged, and wearing an iron band around their necks. Two chains came off each neck band, held by one Hunter on each side. The crowd hissed at their appearance. The fire-eaters were next, soothing the crowd of their anger but feeding their frenzy.

Next came smaller carts pulled by donkeys that each held a single wizard. The wizards in these cages were the ones who’d slipped their gags and whose lips had been stitched with black twine x’s. The crowd loved them. The hisses and boos were met with jeers and laughter at such horrific mutilation. The parade continued, and Tybolt shifted from one foot to the other while the rest of the groups exited the gate.

Then it was time for Aja. Terric climbed into the driver’s seat and snapped the whip. The horses lunged forward and the heavy wooden cage began to move. Auriella and Tybolt walked on one side while Kelton and Asher walked the other. The villagers were lined all the way down the narrow streets. People hung from windows and stood in door frames.

The crowd roared as they cleared the gates. Years ago the villagers had thrown rotten food at the carriage as it had passed. Now there was no food to throw, so they hurled insults and curses instead. Some held crude drawings of loved ones they’d lost.

The progress was slow, hindered by the crowd pushing into the street. It felt like an eternity before they made it back to the square. The king was waiting for them atop the hanging platform, sitting in a gilded chair that was at odds with the old wood and twisted rope next to him. The wizards were placed on either side of the king’s platform, and then they waited for the people to filter into the square. When it was packed to capacity, King Rowan stood.

“My good people,” Rowan shouted. “It’s been another long year for us. A year devoid of water, of crops, and of the security we so desperately seek. It pains me to see your starving children and know that I am helpless.” Rowan looked contrite as he gazed down at the crowd. “We suffer, and we continue to suffer because of this man.” He flung his finger in the direction of Aja’s cart. The crowd roared its approval. “And now someone is stopping the little rain we might have had. Is it not enough that we were almost destroyed by Aja? Now we are plagued by his brother, Alistair. We’ve brought in many wizards, but it’s not enough.” As if on cue, lightning flashed in the distance. “We must find Alistair!”

The crowd again roared their approval.

“As is custom tonight, we will show these wizards what happens to those who will not reveal to us Alistair’s location. Bring him!”

Tilly strode forward, pulling the wizard who wasn’t really a wizard at all—Sam. His eyes were wide, and his nostrils flared as he desperately searched the crowd. His eyes landed on Tybolt and he lurched towards him, trying to talk though his gag. Tilly kneed him in the back and jerked him to the platform.

Tybolt looked to the ground. There was nothing he could do for him now.

The breeze crept down the neck of Auriella’s cloak and whispered against the bare skin of her back and chest. She had no desire to watch another hanging. She looked everywhere but the platform, ignoring whatever speech King Rowan was giving this year. Terric was still on the seat of the cart, but he wasn’t watching the event either. He was watching her.

Auriella shuddered, her mind returning to the stables—the feel of Terric’s hands on her shoulders, the roughness with which he’d slammed her backwards. It would’ve been terrifying no matter what, but it was all too familiar a scenario, tied to one of the most horrifying moments of her life.

She clenched her fists at her side and breathed deeply through her nose, trying to push those feelings deep into the recesses of her mind where she hid things she didn’t like. But the recesses of her mind were becoming quite full and refused to be silenced.

She was vaguely aware of the cheers of the villagers around her as the trap door beneath the wizard dropped out, but she was more preoccupied with the thoughts that tumbled and pinged against her skull—little unwelcome reminders of her inner weaknesses. After all this time and training, of running from what she’d been, here she stood at the mercy of the king. She slid her hand to her side, feeling the small blade she’d concealed beneath her cloak. The cold steel offered only a small amount of comfort.

“Auriella.” Tybolt’s voice broke through her thoughts, his tone indicating that it wasn’t the first time he’d called her name.

“Hmmm?”

“Would you like to get some dinner?”

The crowd was dispersing. The younger Hunters were taking the wizards back to the Hold but the King was still on his stand, his eyes fixated on her. Terric had vanished. Blood pounded in Auriella’s ears. “No. I can’t…I’m sorry. I…need to get some rest.”

She turned before Tybolt could respond and shouldered her way through the crowds and into an alley between the three-story homes. She pushed back into the shadows, grateful as they swallowed her. The sounds of revelry were everywhere. Laughter and songs floated down the alley and invaded her hideaway. They all sounded so
happy
.

Auriella leaned back against the wall and blinked, trying to restrain her emotions. The tears came anyway, flowing down her cheeks. She couldn’t be queen. The thought of having Rowan touch her, of sharing his bed as his wife. Death wouldn’t be the worst part—perhaps she would even wish for it when it came. A sob jerked its way free, then another. She bent over, her face in her hands, unable to keep the pain back anymore.

She wished her mother were here. She wished she could talk to her father. But she couldn’t. She’d learned long ago that being a Hunter was a danger to all those you loved. Her father was hidden in the forest, and he would stay that way. She wouldn’t risk his safety for a shoulder to cry on.

Her father had come to the city once and tried to convince her to come home with him. She’d yelled, told him she never wanted to see him again. It was a lie, such a heart-wrenching lie. She could still see the look on his face as he backed away. It was her fault that he was alone without a wife or daughter—all her fault. And now she would protect her father no matter what the cost.

Rowan would use whatever means necessary to keep his wives in line. She’d seen it before, and she would not allow her father to be used as a puppet. Family was a weakness to be exploited.

Auriella calmed her breathing and stood straight, wiping away any proof of her mental breakdown. She’d dealt with everything so far, and she would deal with this. Perhaps a knife in the bedroom on the wedding night—finishing off the cruel king with one slice of her blade. The corner of her mouth twisted into a little smile at that nice thought.

She heard a whimper and then a scream that was cut short. It was close, and Auriella moved slowly out of the ally, listening.

“No, please,” came a female voice. And then she heard a gruff voice she knew very well—Terric.

Auriella ran towards the sound, peeking down each alley as she went. Terric was three alleys down. He had a village girl shoved against the wall, her hands pinned over her head.

“Terric!” she yelled, pulling her dagger as she bolted towards him. “Let her go!”

The look in his eyes was so demonic her heart caught somewhere in her throat. “I’m warning you, Auriella. Turn around and go back the way you came.”

The village girl whimpered and struggled beneath his grasp—she hadn’t a prayer of escaping.

Auriella worried Terric might kill the poor girl before she could stop him. She held her dagger out in front and lowered her center of gravity, ready to spring if necessary. “You couldn’t force your way with me, so you decided to pick on someone smaller? Is that what’s going on here?”

He snarled. “Shut up.”

“Did you run out of willing participants? Surely there are a number of girls who would do whatever you had in mind without raping them.”

Terric released the village girl and spun to face Auriella. The poor girl just stood there like a wounded deer, shaking with wide eyes.

“Get out of here!” Auriella yelled, then dove for Terric.

Terric stepped to the side, deftly avoiding her blade. He brought his hand around and slammed a fist into her back. She stumbled forward. She nearly dropped to her knees but managed to stay on her feet.

She whirled. Terric now had a sick grin painted beneath those demonic eyes. The look was horrifying, but Auriella felt a sense of relief. His victim was nearly out of the ally.

“Why do you have to do everything the hard way?” The next moment he was on her. He grabbed her and slammed her against the wall, ripping the clasp from her cloak so it fell from her shoulders. Auriella struggled against him, but Terric shoved his arm into her windpipe. She gagged and swung forward with her dagger. It bit into flesh.

Terric roared and stepped backwards. He rolled his shoulder, testing for movement where she’d stabbed. “We can make this as rough as you want,” he said. His smile had turned wolfish, and Auriella flashed back to her past. Different face, same look. Child-like terror flowed over her. She fought against it using the only logic she could summon—she’d killed the last one, she could kill this one too.

She held up the dagger, his blood dripping from the tip. “Yes, we can.”

“What are you going to do?” He laughed. “It’s Festival, Auriella. You know how the king disapproves of violence on Festival.”

That was the least of her worries. The punishment for killing a fellow Hunter was death.

Terric leapt straight up with no warning and flipped over her head, landing between her and the exit. “How about we call a truce,” he said coyly. “I won’t tell the king that you stabbed me in the back and…” He trailed off, waggling his eyebrows.