An Oath Of The Kings (Book 4) (4 page)

Beck held the vial of swirling red mist next to the candlelight. It beckoned to him seductively.

Drink.

A sip now would set him on the path to immortality—or close to it. Hundreds of years of life.

The LifeFire Tonic.

Drink.

At forty-two years and a grandfather now, he supposed it was normal to think about one’s death. Normal to want to slow the hands of time to accomplish goals, spend time with loved ones.

He glanced over at Kiernan sleeping in their large canopied bed. The blanket was bunched down around her waist allowing him to trace the curve of her spine with his eyes. Her long hair, tousled from sleep, fanned out beside her on the pillow. Her light breathing whispered a lullaby that had comforted him for so many nights he had lost count.

She already told him she wouldn’t drink from the vial.
Unnatural
was the term she used. Could he go on living without Kiernan? Watching her and generations of his family pass away while he lived a thousand deaths? His Mage oath stirred inside his body reminding him of the power he had been granted to help others. The LifeFire Tonic would enable him to fulfill that oath for a very long time.

Drink.

Vial clutched in his hand, Beck stood and walked to the balcony. The sun hung in the sky as though high noon, although it was the early morning hour.

Nearby a dog suddenly barked, heralding the distinctive sound of hoof beats that soon followed. He swung his gaze toward Candace Way, the wide cobblestone street that intersected with the southern road to Nysa.

A lone rider was coming hard and fast.

Beck returned the vial to its hiding place and left his chambers.

“
Dagarmon
!” he barked into the hallway, unsure who was on duty tonight.

A slight wizard with red hair peeking out from his hood appeared at his side. “First Mage?”

“Gidon. There’s a rider out front. Stay and protect the Princess while I find out what this is all about.”

“Of course.”

Beck trotted to the stairs and met a Royal Saber climbing toward him.

“A messenger, Your Grace.”

He nodded. “I’ll meet with him personally.”

The Saber led the way outside and three others quickly joined them. The messenger hauled on the reins of his mount in the middle of the courtyard, but the frothing horse continued to dance restlessly from its long run.

“News from Nysa, Your Grace,” the young man announced.

“Demon’s breath, if it’s that important, why wasn’t a bodyshifter sent?” Beck asked.

“Lord Hamilton issued the order, Your Grace.”

Beck growled in frustration. The prejudiced Johan Hamilton wouldn’t use a shifter to light a pipe. “Very well, deliver your message.”

The young man slid off his horse and dropped to one knee. “I…I apologize, Your Grace, but…”

“It’s all right, son. What is your message?”

“The…the Court demands your presence at once. The…the King has been murdered.”

Beck froze in shock. “Murdered? Maximus is dead?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Dear Highworld.” Maximus Everard? Dead? His mind refused to process the idea of such a dynamic, powerful individual who meant so much to him as dead.

Not just dead, murdered.

He ran a hand through his hair.
How am I going to tell Kiernan? And, the children?
Someone had targeted his family again, and it chilled the blood in his veins. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to gather his daughter and sons to his side where he could keep them safe. Only, what he wanted was impossible at the moment.

“Tell Lord Hamilton we’ll be there in a few hours,” he instructed the messenger and made his way back to his chambers. At the entrance to the bedroom he shared with his wife, he hesitated, searching for the gentle words he would need. Kiernan must have felt his presence because she sat up with a questioning look in her eyes.

“Beck?”

He simply shook his head, those words nowhere within reach.

She held a hand out to him. “What’s the matter? Come here and tell me.”

Swallowing down his grief, he sat next to her, unable to speak. He reached out and tucked a messy tress behind her ear. Dear Highworld, but he loved this woman. He would do anything to protect her.

She took his hands in hers. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s your father,” he finally said.

“What about him? Is he ill?”

A single tear dripped from his eye and she thumbed it away. “Beck, what is the matter?”

“He’s gone.”

She shook her head. “Gone?”

“Yes, my love, I’m so sorry.”

“Gone as in…?”

“Yes.”

“It can’t be, Beck. We…we’re going to see him tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry.”

She squeezed his hands. “This is some kind of mistake, Beck. He’ll be there waiting for us. You’ll see!”

“No, he won’t.”

“How…?”

“He was murdered, but I don’t have any other details.”

“No! You’re lying!” She pushed him away and stumbled from the bed toward the balcony. Her mournful cries echoed out over the silence of Bardot. Beck went after her and caught her as she slid to the ground. He fell with her, pulled her into his lap and rocked her as she wept. He would stay with her as long as it took, comforting her, loving her.

But, by the Highworld, he vowed that he would find out who did this. No matter what it took, he would seek justice for Maximus and his wife.

Under an awakening sky, the city of Nysa mourned the death of their King, Maximus Everard. Black drapes adorned residential windows and storefronts. Veils and scarves covered faces. A palpable solemnity filled the air.

Beck rode beside Kiernan along Dannery Row toward the royal palace.
Dagarmon
leader, Gil Jordin, and Dax, as well as a half dozen Scarlet Sabers followed close behind.

Subdued shouts of Queen Kiernan or King Beck drifted to his ears, but it was too early for such declaration. The Iserlohn system of inheriting titles was complex and the ruling House did not always retain their seats with the death of a monarch. The vultures would be circling now, testing the strength of House Everard. Poking for weakness. Evaluating the support of citizens and nobles alike.

It would take a strong contender to rally others against Kiernan, but it seemed probable now that one would try. The King had been murdered after all and Beck could think of no motive greater than political gain. Despite the risks, someone on the Court seemed willing to make a big move. But, who?

He wouldn’t get the answer to that question until after the funeral for Maximus as the heir of the ruling House was not permitted to ask for swords until after the King was buried.

Succession politics, backbiting, jockeying for favor. All of the seedier parts of governing Kiernan dealt with on a manageable level would now intensify threefold. He just hoped they could avoid the bloodshed, for all their sakes.

While Beck had no wish to be King himself, he had no doubt that Kiernan would ask for those swords. She would do whatever was necessary to preserve Maximus’s legacy.
Her
legacy. Let there be no doubt. Kiernan Grace Everard Atlan was born to rule.

He looked at her straight back as she rode in her saddle.
She’s so bloody strong!
Yet, he knew how hard this was for her. Later tonight, alone with him, she would let down her guard, but right now she couldn’t allow the rapacious nobles a single glimpse of the precarious grasp she held on her emotions.

As they entered the courtyard, royal grooms hurried over to take their horses. On the steps of the palace, Scarlet Sabers stood soberly at attention in their red and black tunics. All clapped fists to chests as Kiernan and Beck dismounted and passed them by.

The six members of the King’s Court were lined up just inside the foyer with some lesser nobles gathered behind their liege lords or ladies.

Gage Gregaros, the former Scarlet Saber and oldest of the group, pulled Kiernan into a genuine embrace as she came through the doors. “I am very sorry for your loss, Your Grace. As much as I grieve for my beloved King, I know it is worse for you.”

Kiernan thanked him and continued along the line.

Lady Lillian Knapp, a staunch supporter of House Everard, dabbed at her eyes as she bowed to Kiernan.

Lord Johan Hamilton also bowed but did not bother to hide the snarl that appeared on his face at sight of the two
Dagarmon
entering behind Beck and Kiernan.

Lord Duncan Bartlett, an overweight man in his middle years with thinning brown hair and spectacles and Lady Elinor Morningstar, a fair-haired woman about the same age, nodded their heads as shallowly as they could get away with. Beck felt both were ambitious enough to attempt a coup.

The last member in line was Lady Mila Stowe, the youngest at only eighteen years of age and the only shifter on the Court. A stunning beauty with short, dark hair. An accomplished equestrian, she wore a billowing white silk blouse and form-fitting trousers tucked into knee-high boots. She inherited her seat just this past year when her lord father passed away.

Mila curtsied deeply though it was not required. “My sincere condolences, Your Grace. The King was a great man and his presence will be deeply missed by all.”

Kiernan nodded her head tersely. For some reason, his wife had never warmed to the young noble, but Beck could never figure out why. Unless, of course, it had something to do with the fact that the lovely Mila Stowe had captured Kellan Atlan’s heart.  

“Thank you all for coming,” Kiernan told them. “If you will excuse me, I wish to see my father now.”

Larkin Malley, Kiernan’s childhood friend who had taken on the role of steward of the palace when Miss Belle retired to Bardot, hurried over. “This way, Your Grace.”

For the first time, a tremulous smile appeared on Kiernan’s face as she threaded her arm through Larkin’s and they walked together up the stairs to Maximus’s rooms.

****

Kiernan paused in the doorway to her father’s chambers and took a deep breath. The thought of seeing him terrified her and she had to curl her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. Beck placed a comforting hand at the small of her back and she reluctantly let go of Larkin’s arm to step into the room. It smelled of incense and rose-scented bath water. Soft candlelight provided just enough light to see.

The female attendant who had been preparing her father’s body stepped respectfully away from the bed when she saw them enter. Kiernan’s heart pounded uncontrollably when he finally came into view. He looked so peaceful, lying there in the bed as though asleep. His dark hair was neatly combed and his beard trimmed. He wore his imperial scarlet robe and held the hilt of his sword in his fist over his chest.

Every time Kiernan thought she had finally accepted the fact that he was gone, it crumbled under a fresh onslaught of memories and denial.

Although her father had never been very demonstrative, there had never been any doubt in her mind that she had been loved by this man. Even if he never really said the words.

As a rule, she avoided thinking about the time he sent her away to exile in Pyraan. Oh, how she hated him then! She still remembered the anger and betrayal she felt as a young child cast out from the home and land she loved. But, she had buried those feelings long ago. There had been far too many wonderful times together since then to hold on to past slights.

She had to admit, it warmed her heart to see him interact so sweetly with Kenley and now Gracyn. To her, it indicated some personal acknowledgment on his part of his failures and a desire to make things right.

Beck’s hands moved up to her shoulders and guided her hesitant steps forward. At the edge of the bed, she slowly sank down beside her father and placed her hand upon his cheek. It felt cold. Far too cold to sustain life.
Have we really had our last conversation? Enjoyed our last meal? Shared our last laugh?

“You may begin the sending,” the attendant said softly.

Kiernan nodded and wiped away the tear that threatened to fall. She leaned forward and kissed his lips in order to release his spirit to the Highworld. “Spirits above,” she whispered in prayer above his mouth, “please accept Maximus Everard into your warm embrace. Please forgive all mortal sins and grant him entry into your realm.” Choking back a sob, she sat up and reached for the two silver coins the attendant had placed on the table next to the bed. With a reverent hand, she placed a coin over each closed eye. “To shroud your sight from creatures below,” she whispered. Next, she removed the sword and handed it to Beck. In its place, she positioned a small taper and closed his fingers around it. “A candle to light your way in the darkness.” Finally, she removed a gold chain from around her neck—a gift from her father several years ago—and carefully entwined it through his hands. “To remind you of those you left behind.”

The sending now over, she placed both of her hands on the sides of his face and traced the contours of his strong features, committing them to memory. “Thank you for the wonderful life you gave me, Father. Thank you for teaching me the importance of humility and service. Take no regrets with you to the Highworld. I
knew
, Father. I always knew. You are the first man I ever loved, and you’ve held my heart in your hands ever since.” She placed one last kiss on his forehead. “Until we meet again.”

She stood then and hastily scrubbed the wetness from her cheeks. Composed once again, she turned to Larkin hovering in the doorway. “Please send for the royal scribe at once. I would like a proclamation in the hands of the heralds and the town criers by noon that the King’s funeral will be held tomorrow at sunrise.”

Larkin’s face paled. “But, Your Grace! What of the children?”

“It cannot be helped, Larkin. Kenley is weeks away by ship and it is impossible to get word to my sons. We will have to proceed without them.”

“Surely, King Thorn and King Erik will want to show their respects! And, Rogan and Airron!”

Kiernan shook her head adamantly. “No! It would take days to get word to the other lands and additional days to travel, providing they could even come. No! Airron and Rogan will have to understand. I will not have my father lying here rotting at the whim of the living when—!”

“Kiernan,” Beck interrupted and she spun to face him. “Your wishes are understood. We will proceed at dawn.” He nodded to Larkin and the steward scurried from the room in tears.

Kiernan hung her head. “I’m sorry.”

Beck wrapped his muscular arms around her and held her close. “Don’t be. You are entitled to your grief, Kiernan. You don’t have to hold everything inside.”

She snorted. “If only that were true.” She looked up at him. “Tomorrow, after the funeral, we must ask for swords.”

“How do you think we’ll fare?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure. I didn’t think I’d have to worry about this for many years yet. Regardless, we have to put fears to rest and demonstrate that Iserlohn still has a strong ruler in place.”

He nodded. “We have Gage and Lillian, of that I’m sure.”

She nodded her agreement. “Tomorrow will tell us where loyalties lie. Until then, I want to know what happened.”

“I’ll set up a meeting with Gage.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flicker of movement and glanced back at the bed. A black cat sat next to her father, serenely watching them with bright yellow eyes.

“Get down!” she shouted and stepped away from Beck to wave her arms at the trespasser. “Who let this wretched cat in here?”

One of the Scarlet Sabers posted outside rushed in, sword in hand. “What is it, Your Grace?”

The cat jumped from the bed and scooted out through the legs of the Saber.

“That cat!”

“Oh, that’s Natasha, Your Grace.”

“Natasha?”

“The King’s cat.”

“When did he get a cat?” she asked, but even as the words left her mouth, she realized that it could have been any time within the past year or more. She had not been back to Nysa as much as she should have which meant it would make keeping control of the throne that much more difficult. Keeping track of domestic pets? Impossible.

She looked at Beck. “Set up that meeting with Gage as soon as you can. We have a far bigger beast to deal with than Natasha.”