King of Mist (Steel and Fire Book 2) (17 page)

They were all excited to introduce the new division of the Castle Guard. Rumors were already spreading about them, and Siv wanted to make sure the whole mountain knew about his new team. He had spent a lot of time thinking about how to establish his image as the Fourth Good King, as opposed to good old Prince Siv. With any luck, the New Guard would help him set the tone for his rule.

Siv had also invited everyone who met with his father the day of his murder to attend the festival. Pool would observe them closely for clues as to who might be responsible. The nobles tended to be on their guard whenever they came to the castle for council meetings, but today they’d be at ease as they enjoyed the entertainment. Maybe one of them would let something slip.

Siv worked in the library while the carnival took shape outside. He kept abandoning his papers to peer out the window as the booths materialized around the courtyard. He had ordered the castle gates thrown open, and unofficial vendors had already begun setting up outside the walls too. The celebration would spread all over King’s Peak by the end of the day.

A knock sounded at the library door while Siv had his face pressed against the smoky glass of the window, watching a pair of workers argue over the construction of a colorful awning. He hurried to the table and picked up what was surely an important piece of parchment.

“Enter.”

“Are you almost ready?” Selivia bounced into the room. She had taken another Fire Potion to her hair. Red streaks feathered the ends like flames. She wore a deep-orange dress and a belt of maple leaves wrought in Firegold.

“We can’t be the first ones there, Sel.”

“I don’t want to miss a minute of it.”

“Well, I need to make a grand entrance,” Siv said. “Where’s Sora?”

“Who knows? She wouldn’t let me pick her dress, so I’m not speaking to her.”

“And Mother?”

Selivia shrugged. “She was wearing black again today, but I think she’ll walk around a bit at least.”

“Good.” Siv tossed the parchment back onto the table and stood. “How do I look?”

Selivia bit her lip and studied her brother with a critical eye. He straightened his scarlet coat embroidered with Firegold and struck a pose.

“Flashy,” she said. “Don’t forget your crown.”

“Right.” Siv retrieved the circlet from where he’d set it on the table. He didn’t know why it was so hard to remember to wear it sometimes. The crown was heavier than it looked.

Selivia danced to the window to look down at the courtyard. “Is the New Guard ready?”

“As they’ll ever be,” Siv said. “Shall we go check on them? It’ll kill time while the guests arrive.”

“Sure!”

Siv offered his arm to his younger sister, and they left the library. Telvin Jale guarded the door today, wearing the crisp uniform Selivia and her handmaid had selected for the new squad. The deep blue with subtle embroidery in silver looked sharp on him, Siv had to admit. Damn it. He should have picked some less good-looking guardsmen. The man had been helping Dara train the new recruits, and Siv couldn’t help noticing that they were getting along well. Dara had been absent from the castle on several evenings when Siv had casually dropped by the barracks to check in. He’d begun to suspect that she and Jale were spending time together outside of work.

Fenn Hurling marched beside Jale as they descended through the castle, keeping an eye on Princess Selivia. Fenn wore the new blue uniform too. She didn’t look quite as dashing as the duelists with her square frame and morose expression, but Selivia had insisted she wear the new coat too. Siv knew Fenn had a soft spot for her young charge. She and her brother Denn had seemed rather unimpressed with the New Guard, but they were loyal. Siv trusted them to look after his sisters.

In the barracks courtyard behind the castle, the New Guard had nearly finished assembling. Dara stood in their midst, making sure every buckle was in place and every shoe and hilt shined. Siv thought she looked a little tired, probably from working too hard. She’d proved every bit as dedicated to training the Guard as she had been to her own dueling. She should really get more rest. He glanced back at Telvin Jale. And she definitely shouldn’t be going out in the evenings.

“Your Highness.” Dara snapped to attention when she saw him, but she smiled warmly.

“Is everyone ready?”

“Pool is sweeping the grounds one final time,” Dara said. “We’ve assigned several guardsmen to patrol the castle in case anyone decides to sneak in and cause trouble. Otherwise, we will be with you the entire time.”

Dara rested her hand on her Savven blade as she spoke, calm and confident. The royal blue looked particularly good against her golden hair. No one would even bother looking at the other guards while she was at his side.

“Good,” Siv said. “Let’s go show the people their new king.”

The Guard fell into a loose formation around him. Though they were all cleaned up and wearing matching uniforms, they didn’t look like soldiers. Some had kept their longer hair, like redheaded Yuri with his bushy beard. Bilzar Ten had slicked oil into his locks and made no effort to hide the fanciful tattoos spidering across his neck. A jittery younger fellow—Siv wasn’t sure if this one was Shon or Dell—had shaky hands and twitchy mannerisms that would have been stamped out of him in the army. The Feln siblings, Errol and Tora, wore swords with custom hilts swirled with bronze instead of the standard-issue Castle Guard blades. A few others carried their own weapons too, no doubt following Dara’s lead. Siv was pleased that she continued to use the black-hilted Savven blade he had given her.

Instead of walking in a rigid box like soldiers, the duelists moved with a swagger that screamed of their confidence in their abilities. Siv adopted a little bit of swagger himself, and as they sauntered through the castle to the front entryway, they cut an impressive figure. They were like a team of old-time, swashbuckling warriors. And more importantly, they had the abilities to back up their bluster.

Pool met them before the front doors in the entrance hall. He looked over the motley assembly with a longsuffering expression.

“My king, the carnival has commenced,” he announced. “The guests whose presence you specifically requested have all arrived at this juncture.”

“Good.” Siv glanced at Dara, who stood to his immediate right. He hadn’t mentioned to her that he invited her parents. Her father had been among the tradesmen to visit his father on the day of his death, so Siv had included the Ruminors in his invitation. Even though they didn’t get along well, he hoped Dara would be happy for a chance to talk to her parents in a neutral setting. He was more worried about the other people he’d invited.

“Have the Rollendars arrived?” he asked Pool. “And the good general?”

“Yes, my king.”

“Excellent.” Siv looked around at the New Guard. “Remember you are here to impress,” he said. “Keep your weapons ready and your eyes open. And try to have a little fun.”

“Yes, King Siv,” the Guard shouted in unison.

Dara nodded at him, then she and Pool pushed open the double doors together.

Heads turned as Siv and the Guard strutted into the sunlight. Trumpets blared to announce his entrance (the trumpeters had come highly recommended by Vine Silltine). The company stopped at the top of the castle steps, drawing eyes from all across the carnival. The duelists struck dramatic poses while Siv waved and smiled at the crowd gathering within his walls.

The courtyard had been transformed. The few trees growing between the castle and the outer wall were bursting with color. Leaves drifted from them in a riot of red and orange and gold. Beneath their spreading branches clustered booths for games, bells and whistles and shouts of triumph already ringing from them. In each corner, a different entertainer attracted a crowd of onlookers. There was a juggler, a Worker specializing in Fireblossoms, and even Selivia’s favorite storyteller. Siv had spent many hours hanging on the old man’s words himself. He had asked the storyteller to proclaim his best tales of heroism and nobility throughout the day. Siv wanted to create a mood of gallantry and prosperity at this festival. Music trilled from another corner, adding to the upbeat, cacophonous environment.

And of course, there was food. Delicious smells mingled with the mountain breeze. Pies packed with every type of orchard fruit, savory stews to take the bite out of the cold air, mulled wine and spiced ale, sweet salt cakes expertly frosted in Amintelle colors. A group of children darted past the castle steps with some of these cakes in their hands, their mouths stained blue from the dye.

The courtyard was already crowded, with more people streaming in through the wide-open gates. Nobles were let down from their palanquins outside, and they came in on foot along with the tradesmen and servants and Fireworkers and miners and students and even a few foreign travelers. The atmosphere was already festive, and they were just getting started.

Siv and his Guard descended the steps and made a full circuit of the courtyard, stopping often to admire the performers and try out the carnival games. Whispers followed them, repeating the names of the duelists the onlookers recognized among the Guard. Lips twisted contemptuously on a few faces, but many people grinned as their young king strode among them. It was a spectacle, yes, but if there was one thing Siv’s people loved, it was being entertained.

For his part, Siv was having the time of his life.

He spotted Bolden and his father, both clad in the red and black of House Rollendar. Siv had purposely chosen his scarlet coat to outshine Bolden. There was little doubt whom the people were looking at today. Now, if only the Rollendars would let something slip while they were busy being annoyed at their new king’s flair for drama. He could even do something to provoke them. Perhaps it was a bad idea, but when Siv saw the sneer twisting Bolden’s face he couldn’t help looking around for something that would irritate him.

He spotted Lady Tull by a carnival booth with one of her crusty old advisors. She was playing a ring toss game where she had to throw three circles of iron over a bottle to win a prize—in this case an Everlight small enough to fit in a pocket.

Siv had had plenty of practice tossing rings of metal of late. He strode over to the booth, his Guard strutting along beside him. They gathered a crowd in their wake. Lady Tull looked up, a calculating expression on her face, as Siv offered her a stately bow.

“May I join you, my lady?”

“Your Majesty.” Tull dropped a curtsy and looked up at him through thick eyelashes. She too wore scarlet today. Siv wondered if she had been intending to wear the Rollendar colors. To the people gathering to watch them, it must appear that the tragic and beautiful widow had dressed to match their young king. He could almost feel the romantic sighs of the young ladies in the crowd. They were going to love this.

Lady Tull tossed the last of her rings into the booth. It didn’t land anywhere near the bottles. She gave a delicate shrug.

“Would you like a turn, Sire?”

“I’d love one.”

Siv stepped up to the line beside her. The sullen young man running the game handed him the three rings and ducked his head in a semblance of a bow before slouching back to make sure the bottles were lined up evenly. The crowd of onlookers grew around them.

Siv eyed the target and wound up for the toss. His first ring landed directly over the bottle, clanging loudly against the table. The second one made the bottle totter a bit, but it stayed upright as the ring dropped over it. The spectators cheered. Siv acknowledged them with an easy grin then offered the final ring to his companion.

“Would you like another go, my lady? I’d be happy to teach you.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Lady Tull stepped closer to him, and Siv put his hand on hers to guide the toss. He looked over at Bolden as he put his arm around Lady Tull and was rewarded with a scowl.

The ring landed directly on the bottle with a clang like a bell. The crowd erupted in cheers.

Bolden said something—no doubt snide—to his father and stalked away through the courtyard. Siv grinned.
That’s right, Bolden. Go carry out your schemes. I’m on to you. And she’s going to realize that Amintelle is still the strongest house on this mountain.

He caught Dara’s eye, intending to signal for her to follow Bolden and see what he was up to. He was surprised to see a scowl on her face. Siv realized he was still holding Lady Tull’s hand. Dara looked away, very determinedly scanning the crowd, her face now blank of any expression whatsoever.

He could not win.

“How about a drink for my New Castle Guard!” Siv called. And he swept up his retinue and dove back into the festival.

Siv made a show of greeting nobles and commoners alike as he paraded through the throng. He ordered a mug of mulled wine for every member of his Guard and handed them out himself. He’d create an image of easy camaraderie. He was a king who got along well with the people who protected him. He’d show everyone that his people were his friends, and that they were loyal. If the schemes against him were even a little bit fractured, he would pour water into the cracks and freeze them by wintertime.

As he handed out the steaming cups of mulled wine, he said a few words to each of the guardsmen, showing them he knew their names and remembered something about each of them. Except for Telvin Jale. He might have accidentally on purpose called him Kelvin Kale. The man nodded and accepted the wine, utterly unperturbed. Burning soldiers.

When he reached Dara, Siv caught her hand as he handed over her mug. Steam infused with spices rose between them.

“Can you see what Bolden is up to?” he whispered. “And now for Nightfall, the leader of my elite new dueling squad,” he called in a louder voice. “I’m a lucky king to have Nightfall by my side.”

The crowds cheered, and chants of “Nightfall, Nightfall” rose among them.

Then Oat shouted, “Long live King Siv!” and others took up the refrain. The words spread around the courtyard, vibrating through the air like a new kind of song. “Long live King Siv!”

Dara executed a perfect bow and stepped back to let him continue his rounds. As soon as the attention was off her, she disappeared into the multitude. Good. Dara was more than a match for Bolden.