Shadows of the Realm (The Circle of Talia) (31 page)

“
I sense you would do this thing regardless of whether I were the prize.” Leon wasn’t sure now who was using who.

“
Please, do tell me what this
thing
is.”

“
My father will never agree to a marriage between us. He is old-fashioned and believes only another Inkran is suitable for his daughter. I truly believe he feels no one is good enough for me and will leave me rotting as a spinster until he dies. He wants to hold the throne as long as he can. He lives for nothing else but his totalitarian power.” Her eyes held fire but Leon was too mesmerised by his anticipation to take heed. 

“
I want that power. I will be willing to share some of it with you.” She stopped speaking, waiting for some sign of his thoughts.

“
I want you. I want you to have that power, and I will help you get it. Tell me what you want me to do.” He had walked over to her again. He grabbed her around the waist, staring intensely into her eyes.

“
I want you to kill my father. If you do this I know I can trust you, and I will marry you.”

“
I will kill him for you.” He grabbed a fistful of the long hair tumbling down her back. He pulled it hard, exposing her throat and she let out a small squeal of pain. “If you don’t marry me, I will kill you too.”

He kissed her smooth skin and she laughed. Leon released his hold on her and pushed her to the ground. He was rough with her. Fendill was disgusted to see she enjoyed it. They truly were crazy, and very well suited; two monsters working together. Fendill shuddered to think what they were capable of. He fled to the other side of the room whilst Leon had his way with her. When they finished, and Tusklar opened the door to leave, he shot past her, into the comfort of his own body.

Leon followed her out, not bothering to check on the condition of his realmist. When the door shut, Fendill sat up in bed. He had been shocked by what he’d heard, but knew he should have expected it. Pernus sat on the floor, cross-legged, waiting for Fendill to return. Fendill was rather touched at the worry on the captain’s face. “How are you?”

“
As well as can be expected. The news is not good. I think we’d better come up with a way to escape as soon as possible. Things around here are about to get a whole lot worse.” Pernus listened as Fendill repeated what he’d heard. What they had done afterwards did not surprise him in the least—actually none of it did.

They discussed different methods of escape and Pernus was amazed at Fendill’s capabilities. There were times in their flight when they would need to be invisible. Whilst that wasn
’t actually possible without drawing power from the Second Realm, Fendill had good ideas about what he could do to aid their escape. Their biggest problem was their lack of knowledge about the layout of the castle. They both remembered the places they had been, but it was limited compared to what they needed to know. There was one other problem they faced. “Should we try and warn King Suklar about her plan.”

“
Don’t be so naïve, my friend. He would never believe us. To even suggest it could get us killed.” Pernus admired Fendill’s misplaced sense of propriety. “Besides, we can’t speak to him without leaving this room. Leon would immediately smell a rat.”

They discussed tactics for the remainder of the night, stopping only to eat dinner. Leon didn
’t return that evening and both men hoped he had not yet killed the king, as they would surely be next. They stayed up all night, ceasing their scheming only when breakfast arrived. The Inkran who brought them breakfast didn’t seem any different. He was silent as usual, and didn’t seem unusually tense.

When Leon arrived mid-morning, he had a slightly whimsical expression on his face. Both men rose to greet him, and Fendill spoke,
“Good morning my Prince. Are you alright?”

“
Yes, Fendill. Looks like you’ve recovered from yesterday.”

“
Yes sir, thank you. I was worried when you didn’t return last night. I don’t trust the king. He may harm you.”

“
I appreciate your concern. The king has made no move to harm me, yet. I can take care of myself. I am the Ki… ah, Prince of Veresia, after all.” Fendill and Pernus found it hard not to react at his slip of the tongue. Leon nodded in dismissal and walked to his door. At the last instant he turned to address the realmist. “Oh. By the way, the king has invited you and my brother’s lapdog for dinner tonight in the grand hall. I will send some men to take you when it’s time.” 

Fendill bowed, making his features as neutral as possible. This may be their only chance to escape. The captain and realmist made last-minute adjustments to their plan and waited nervously to be taken to dinner.

Leon sat contentedly in his room. The princess was enamoured of him. He was happy to admit he even enjoyed spending time with her. He didn’t always see the fear in her eyes, but he knew it was there, and enjoyed it when she was as evil as he. She may try to get the better of him, but he knew she never would. He controlled the relationship and soon he would control Inkra. From there he would attack Veresia and then that would be his too. He would relish the torturing and killing of some of the citizens—in particular his brother and that slut of a queen—but he wouldn’t kill everyone; he would need a workforce. If he only indulged his blood lust every once in a while it would not make too much of a dent in the population.

Late in the afternoon he dressed for dinner. He wore a white shirt, the Laraulen crest embroidered on the collar. His long, fitted coat was as black as his soul. He stood in front of the mirror and looked at himself. He cut an impressive figure. In his mind, Tusklar stood at his side, dressed in a gold-spun dress, long cape flowing down her back, crown on her head. Soon he would wear a crown, two in fact. The years his brother told him what to do, treating him as a fool, were almost at an end. King Edmund would soon be kneeling at his feet, begging him for mercy—mercy that would not be forthcoming. Leon remembered, years ago, the fear and pleading in the kitten
’s eyes before he had killed it. He bared his teeth as he fell further into madness.     

His delusions were interrupted when two black-clad men arrived to escort him to dinner. These men had been sent by the king—they neglected to bow, summoning him with a jerk of the head. Everything would be rectified shortly; he made a mental note to kill these two as well. They would be the first to die, after King Suklar. Leon felt the coldness under his sleeve. Between elbow and wrist was the silver dagger Princess Tusklar had given him this morning. It had been anointed by one of her priests and dipped in poison that the princess had mixed herself. It was up to Leon to choose a moment to use it: the sooner the better.

Leon had been relieved to know the king’s realmist was actually loyal to the princess, although when he asked why, she deftly avoided answering him by changing the subject. Leon shrugged, knowing he would find out eventually. If he didn’t like her answer, she would feel pain, but he would never kill her. She was the only person who understood his needs and wants. She didn’t look at him with disgust as some others had, over the years. Her eyes amplified his desire: desire to maim, kill, and watch others suffer.

His shiny shoes, polished to perfection, clicked on the buffed stone as he made his way to dinner. Suklar
’s men glided silently on bare feet, comfortable on the warm stone. One walked ahead, the other behind, neither bothering to look at him. Their eyes darted around, although what they feared in their own castle was beyond Leon. He found their uneasiness heightened his anticipation. They had no idea what was going to occur. The surprise Leon would deliver this evening thrilled him. On entering the dining room, the men escorted him to the king’s table. The king and his daughter were not yet seated; they would come in last to make a grand entrance.

Leon sat and took time to survey the tables. He saw Pernus and Fendill sitting at the foot of the least of all tables.  The men they sat with were low-ranking castle officials, as indicated by the particular colour of stripes on their collars. Tusklar had explained what each colour meant. Everyone in the kingdom wore them. One indicated marital status, the other the status in the community. At his table sat the heads of government. Each one had a gold stripe, some two, depending on whom Suklar favoured. Those with fewer gold stripes looked enviously, even murderously, at those with more.

It appeared Leon had been the penultimate to arrive. Everyone rose and bowed as the king and his daughter entered the hall. They walked regally to the table, which sat higher than the others. Leon stood and bowed deeply. In his own mind he was saying goodbye to the king, who would be dead before the night was over. Leon felt no danger. Tusklar had assured him he would not be harmed. She had won over many of her father’s staff and had paid the others handsomely. None would interfere. The only two he had to worry about were those who had brought him here.

The king and his daughter sat. Suklar raised his voice.
“My subjects, you may all be seated.” His distinctive wave punctuated the order. He turned to Leon. “My daughter tells me you have been most attentive in attempting to win her affection. Not too attentive I hope.” He ran a manicured finger over the blade of his table knife.

Leon grinned, showing hard, white teeth. 

“You flatter me with the suggestion Princess Tusklar would be so accommodating to a mere Veresian prince, such as myself. Even if she were, I am aware of the protocol all royalty must follow. I would hope the princess is not insulted by her father’s suggestion of impropriety.” Leon turned to the princess, who gave nothing away, her expression serene, almost bored. The king, however, slammed his balled fists on the table, causing his knife to clatter to the floor.

“
I would suggest that your intention was not to insult me, for if it were, you would be put to death immediately.”  King Suklar sat rigid in his chair, hand poised to summon his guards. Leon came back to reality and dropped his head in submission.

“
Please forgive me Your Highness, I was merely shocked at the offence our conversation may have caused the lovely princess. I was not aware of myself for a time.” He raised his eyes to the king’s face. “If I deserve death for defending the Light of the Kingdom, then so be it.”

He was proud of himself for that last bit. The king was satisfied, but only just. His hand moved slowly to rest, again, in his lap.

The tension dissipated when the food arrived. Spicy aromas filled the room. The king was served. Only when he commenced eating was anyone else served. Silence filled the room whilst the meal was taken. Leon sat next to the princess, who was rubbing his foot with hers. So close to her father, she was asking for trouble, but Leon understood. Knowledge of what was to occur excited them both, and Tusklar was having trouble holding onto serenity. Leon couldn’t believe she enjoyed danger as much as he.

During the meal Leon almost pitied the king and hoped he was enjoying his food, seeing as it was his last meal. Leon wanted to kill him in front of everyone. He wanted everyone to know who would be ruling them, just in case they thought he would be softer than his predecessor. It would have been easier if he could have trusted his realmist and that stupid soldier of his brother
’s. They could have taken care of Suklar’s two guards and been accidentally killed afterward. As it was, Tusklar had people ready to take them into custody at the end of the meal. Leon’s attention was captured by a commotion at one of the common tables.

Pernus was trying to help Fendill, who appeared to have fainted again. Two brown-robed, minor guards rushed to the scene. Pernus was assuring everyone he would be all right. It appeared as if Edmund
’s soldier was requesting an escort to their room. Well, at least it would take care of them for the moment. Pernus nodded toward Leon just before he lifted Fendill over his shoulder. Leon ever-so-slightly inclined his head in recognition. He would never see those two alive again. Any regretful pangs he may have had were frozen in his cold heart.

Pernus let the guards take him to the main stairway, which would lead them to any level within the castle. They were alone. Pernus halted and placed Fendill on the ground.  The guards stopped, giving him an enquiring look. Pernus knew they wouldn’t be able to understand him if he spoke, so he indicated his shoulder hurt. He motioned the guards to give him a hand lifting the realmist. The guards shrugged, seeing no harm in the request. Pernus was careful not to touch his friend, however made a motion as if to help.

The moment the guardsmen touched Fendill they were trapped. Fendill gripped each one with a stone-strong hold as he funneled heat from the floor into their bodies. Fendill drew as much heat as he could, adding his own life-force to it until their blood boiled.  In seconds the men collapsed, their charred veins and organs no longer able to function. Fendill stood, groggy for a moment; he had expended much energy. Pernus grabbed the men’s weapons, arming himself and Fendill, who followed him up the stairs.

Their plan had not been too involved. They had no knowledge of the castle. They felt their strategy was rather pathetic, but it was the only one they could come up with that had even the remotest chance of working. They simply ran for the entry. Realistically, Pernus expected they would be killed trying to escape, but that was better than sitting in a room, waiting for it to happen. They reached the ground floor. A pair of black-clad, bare-footed guards were in their way. Surprise was on their side and it made all the difference. The guards had barely armed themselves when one already lay dead, blood seeping a slippery mess on the floor. Pernus had delivered the deathblow. He turned to dispatch the other guard, whose attention was on Fendill. Pernus slid his sword into the man
’s back and out of his stomach.