A Crumble of Walls (The Kin of Kings Book 4) (34 page)

Hector, the royal executioner, came in after Sanya.

“Shut the door,” Tauwin commanded, and Hector obeyed. He stood against it with his arms resting on the blunt top of his ax.

“Have you heard the terrible news?” Tauwin asked her.

She nodded.

“I’m preparing a boat for you. It will leave in a few days to take you back to Greenedge.”

No.
She took a note from her pocket and held it up. Tauwin gestured for her to come closer. As he took it from her hand, he peered into her eyes. She lowered her head and turned away.

He opened her note and read it aloud. “I’m your blood. You’re my king.”

She hadn’t known what he would say to her, so it seemed like the best message to cover all scenarios.

“You wish to
stay
?” he asked incredulously.

She nodded.

“You weren’t here for his funeral, so let me tell you the same thing I told everyone else. I will find out who did this to him and remove the killer’s head. You don’t need to stay to ensure there will be justice. I will take care of that and send notice to Greenedge of the capture of his assassin as well as the progress of the war. All the other Takarys are following this war.”

Sanya shook her head, then pointed at the marble throne room floor. She then pointed at Tauwin and the note.

“Why would you want to stay?” he asked.

She gave no response.

“Speak!” Tauwin made a fist. Soon, he would be slamming it against the armrest if she didn’t obey.

“She can’t,” Kithala interjected. How she knew Sanya was a woman, Sanya couldn’t guess.

She nodded to agree.

“She?” Tauwin asked Sanya.

Sanya nodded again.

That gave him pause to consider something, but he shrugged it away. “What could you possibly do here if you can’t even speak?”

“She’s a Takary,” Kithala said. “If she wishes to stay, she should be able to.”

“We don’t even know if she’s related to us,” Tauwin complained. “Ulric could’ve lied. My psychics never tested his statement about her.”

“Are you worried about the coin she requires? Because it’s more expensive to send her off in a ship than to feed and shelter her.”

With Ulric no longer helping finance this war, money certainly had become an issue for Tauwin.

“The ships are leaving no matter what, Mother. Putting her on one will cost nothing.”

“And who will be on Ulric’s ships?” Kithala asked.

“No one save a small crew to sail them out and then back again in a month.”

“What is the point of that?” She was beginning to sound nervous, probably realizing her questions were irritating her son.

“If you must know everything, then I will tell you. But first you will agree that I make the final decision about her.” He pointed at Sanya.

“You are the king,” Kithala reminded him. “You will make the final decision about everything.”

That seemed to satisfy him. “Terren Polken has scouts watching my cities. We’ve chased them off, but they always return. Raywhite Forest is too big and dense to keep them from spying. So I’ve decided to use their incessant scouting against them. Soon they will hear news of Ulric’s death, and they will watch his ships leave. What else can they assume other than his troops are on those ships?”

Tauwin smiled devilishly. “They will attack in hopes of striking while we are weak and before we can recruit more citizens to strengthen our ranks. First, they will plan to destroy our siege weapons that we never wished to use against the Academy anyway. Then they will storm the capital.”

Psyche confirmed that Tauwin had meant everything he said, except that he wasn’t the one who’d come up with this ploy. Ulric was the strategist who’d developed this plan, sharing it with Stanmar, who’d passed it along to Tauwin. It would help demonstrate why Stanmar should be reinstated as Tauwin’s commander.

“That’s a good plan,” Kithala said. “But I think our Takary guest should have the choice of staying here or returning to Greenedge.”

“I don’t trust her,” Tauwin said and looked deeply into Sanya’s eyes. “Something about her bothers me.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure a few honest answers will help,” Kithala suggested. “Your psychic is right here.”

“Fine.” The young king slid his fingers together and cleared his throat. Then he chuckled bitterly. “I don’t even know what to call you.”

“I heard that her name is Laree Takary.”

Sanya figured that name must’ve come from Ulric.

“Is that really your name?” Tauwin asked.

She nodded and manipulated her energy to convince them of her honesty.

“It’s true,” Tauwin’s psychic said.

Sanya had little confidence she could make it out of the castle alive if this went wrong, but she would put up an epic fight. Part of her longed to be caught. It had been a while since she’d had the chance to swing a sword, and she was feeling more agitated each night she went to sleep without experiencing a battle.

At first, she couldn’t figure out why she rose out of bed with a pounding heart and why the thought of going to Warrior’s Field calmed her. She became more panicked as she realized she would never again have that opportunity, unless she fought in the battle everyone knew was coming. But there was no side she could join for which a victory would benefit her. And if there was no point in victory, then there was no point in fighting.

“Are you loyal to me?” Tauwin asked.

She nodded.

“It’s true, sire.”

Tauwin put up his palm as if annoyed by his psychic. “You don’t need to speak unless she lies.” The monarch turned his head as he squinted at Sanya. “Why are you loyal?”

“Is it because you are a Takary?” Kithala asked, clearly trying to help “Laree” through an inquisition that would be difficult for the timid, mute girl she pretended to be.

Sanya nodded.

“Do you seek vengeance against Ulric’s assassin?”

This was the first troublesome question. She had only to answer the way Tauwin wanted, but why did he care about her vengeance, or lack of it? If he’d sent Ulric’s assassin, which was almost certain, her need for vengeance might pose a risk to him. Or was he so confident he wouldn’t be caught that her need for vengeance would prove her loyalty to the family?

She shook her head. She didn’t want Tauwin to know she was capable of hurting anyone. It would only help her cause when it came time to kill him.

He seemed satisfied by her answer, leaning back on his throne.

“Are you wearing a mask to hide your identity?”

She shook her head.

“To hide your ugliness?” Tauwin asked.

She nodded.

“Show me.”

Sanya didn’t move.

“Take off your mask.” Tauwin wasn’t demanding, but he would be soon. Sanya shifted to face Kithala.

“Tauwin,” his mother said in a careful voice. “I’m sure she doesn’t want to do that, which is the reason she keeps herself covered.”

“If she’s to stay here and overhear my sensitive plans, she’ll need to show herself to me.”

“You’ve already questioned her loyalty and her name. You would embarrass her just to satisfy your curiosity?”

“It’s more than just curiosity. What if someone else comes into the castle disguised with a silver mask and black robes and we need to identify him or her? What if she gets lost or captured? There are many situations that, if we never know Laree’s face, will prove difficult for us.”

Had Tauwin gotten smarter since Sanya had last been here? She could feel with psyche that it
was
only curiosity that drove his request, but without psyche, she never would’ve known.

“You’re right,” Kithala agreed. “I’m sorry, Laree, but please remove your hood and mask for a moment.”

Sanya glanced at Hector. He stepped toward her, cocking his head to the side and taking his ax in hand.

She carefully adjusted her silver mask, making sure it wasn’t stuck. She could only hope her preparation and her psyche would keep her alive.

She slowly slid the mask up to reveal a chin that looked as if it had been coated in rust and dried blood. Her flayed flesh continued up to her mouth as she lifted her mask higher, her lips turning inward. Her cheeks looked like mangled plums stomped into white dirt. She got her mask up over her head to reveal one eye. The other was closed, her eyelid painted a grotesque mix of red and white like the rest of her face. She revealed her forehead last, sliding up the mask to hide her hair beneath her hood.

The ground leaves and mixture of oil, butter, and glue wouldn’t normally create such a hideous appearance. But when set in the right way, and when the audience knew what to expect, the result was unmistakable.

Tauwin made a sound of disgust. He closed his eyes and looked away as he pushed his hand down. “Put your mask back on.”

“Does it hurt?” Kithala asked with a concerned expression.

Sanya nodded. Sympathy would help her cause.

Sanya was a woman of many skills, but altering the appearance of her face was not one of them. It was Ulric who’d taught her how to do this, using his own bare face as an example. After Yeso’s death, she and Ulric had spent a couple days together in the Fjallejon Mountains as his plan came together.

There had been nothing ugly about his face one might want to hide. He was as handsome as any man could be in his fifties, with piercing brown eyes that radiated wisdom beyond his years. He’d given her no warning before removing his mask. He’d simply taken it off the way a man might remove his hat.

“It’s finally time,” he’d told a shocked Sanya. “You need to remember how I look because it will be important later.”

When she’d asked him why, all he would say was that someone would die soon. This man would be wearing Ulric’s clothes, have the same hairstyle, the same bronze skin tone, and be of the same height and weight. “But he’s not me,” Ulric had added. “Prepare a note for Tauwin that, no matter what he asks of you, will convince him you are loyal. And be ready to show him your hideous face.”

She had done exactly that during her short trip back to the castle. It had been uncomfortable, her skin feeling stretched and itchy from the alteration. But now, with her mask back on and Tauwin in her pocket, she finally relaxed. She could tell from his expression he would never ask her to prove a single thing again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Basen trained hard with Abith every hour of every day and collapsed into bed each night after the long walk back from the northern wall.

All was well, until one night when someone came into his room to kill him.
Sanya
. He fell out of bed and scrambled toward his sword.

I should’ve locked my door! I should’ve had my sword closer!

Then Annah screamed, and he realized his mistake.

“It’s all right!” he told her, sitting with his hand clutched to his chest. He let his sword fall, metal clanking against the wooden floor. “God’s mercy, what are you doing coming into my room at night? I thought you were Sanya.”

“I just wanted to make sure—”

Someone burst through the front door of their house. “Annah!” It was Alabell. She came running down the hall. “Basen!” She fell to her knees in front of him. “Is it your chest?”

He lowered his hand. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” She slipped her hand under his shirt to put her palm against his chest. “It’s racing.”

“Because you’re touching me.”

She closed her eyes and put her forehead against his. “You worried me.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated.

She removed her hand and stood to face Annah. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I apologize for screaming.”

“What happened?” Alabell asked.

“She came into my room,” Basen said as he pushed himself up. “I went for my sword thinking it was Sanya.”

“I’m sorry,” Annah said. “I haven’t seen you in days, so I wanted to check on you. I didn’t even know if you were still living here. Have you been sleeping somewhere else?”

“If everyone’s all right, I should be leaving,” Alabell said abruptly.

“Stay.” Basen gave her a pleading look. He needed her to hear that he wasn’t spending his nights in other women’s beds. “I’ve been here every night, Annah.”

“So then you’re coming home after I’m asleep and leaving in the morning before I’m up.”

“I’ve been training.” He wished he could show them the speeds he could reach, the heights he could jump, the theatrical yet effective attacks he’d learned that would surprise any enemy.

Each day, Abith had brought a new mage to train with them. By the end of the day, the mage would be sent back to his group and a new man would be selected the following day. It was really unfortunate Sanya had turned out to be a traitor, because she was the only person, man or woman, who Basen was certain could meet Abith’s strict requirements.

Basen was barely keeping up with his instructor’s demands. Abith had one habit in particular Basen wished he hadn’t forgotten about. He expected greater achievements the more Basen accomplished, so Abith was never satisfied, only momentarily pleased. This made Basen strive harder to earn his respect.