Sara Larson - Defy

“Follow me, Alex. The king and I are quite interested in what has happened to our beloved Prince Damian.” He began to walk back the way he’d come. I reluctantly followed, my heart in my throat.

We stopped before the thick mahogany doors that led to the king’s counsel room, next to his private chambers. Iker knocked once briefly and then opened the door.

“Sire, I’ve brought the guard for your questioning.”

“Excellent. Let him enter,” the king’s deep voice answered.

Iker swung the door wide, and gestured for me to precede him into the room.

King Hector sat upon his throne, one of many that he had placed throughout the palace. The signet crown encircled his head. He looked at me with his pale blue eyes — Damian’s and Jax’s eyes — and then beckoned me forward with a flick of his fingers. Sunlight flashed off the jewels of his many rings and the diamonds lining the collar of office draped over the silk robes he wore.

I strode forward and bowed low to the king of Antion. I had to appear confident, calm. A bearer of a message that I should assume would be good news for my king.

“You may rise,” King Hector said. I stood up straight, my fist pressed to my opposite shoulder. I could feel Iker’s presence behind me.

“Sire, I bring word of your son,” I said.

“Yes, I assumed that was why you were brought back. We’ve had reports of my son’s whereabouts. I believe you were being held at General Tinso’s castle in Lentia. Am I correct?” Damian’s eyes had always been piercing — beautiful and sharp. King Hector’s eyes were more gray than blue. There was a spark of intelligence in his eyes, but also a dark hint of the cruelty our king was fond of. This was the man who had killed his wife in front of his sons. He was the man who had ordered countless girls raped to breed a bigger army. I had to take a deep breath to calm the fury that began to pulse through me.

“I don’t know the name of the town we passed through, my liege, but the man whose castle we were imprisoned in was General Tinso, as you say,” I replied, thankful that my voice remained steady and calm. I’d never needed my years of practice pretending to feel and be something I wasn’t more than I did right then.

“You may proceed with your message.”

“I’ve been asked to tell you that General Tinso and his army are preparing to march on Tubatse with the prince as their prisoner. He said to warn you that he has gathered together the most powerful sorcerers in the land of Blevon to rain fire upon our walls and our nation until we burn to our deaths, if you do not agree to a truce with Blevon.

“However, if you are willing to sign a treaty of peace, he will release Prince Damian back to you, unharmed, and will take his army and leave Antion without further loss of life.”

As I spoke, Iker made his way over to the king, taking his place on his right side, staring at me as well. He bent and whispered something in the king’s ear. The silence stretched out for a long moment as Iker straightened back up, and they both looked down at me.

And then the king began to laugh. A cruel, mocking sound that turned my blood to ice in my veins.

“Is this their big plan, then?” He stopped laughing and pointed at me, his voice thunderous. “They think to fool me into believing my son is their prisoner? Of the nation he loves so dearly?”

“Sire, I don’t understand —” I began, but he cut me off.

“You and your men are ignorant of a great many things regarding my son. He has never loved Antion; his heart is with Blevon, where his mother came from. And I will not see my efforts come to an early and unsatisfactory end to save his worthless life.” He stood up to glare down at me. Iker stood just behind him, his mouth twisted into a derisive smile. “He wants to end this war? So do I. We will crush General Tinso and his army of sorcerers, and Blevon will fall to my power.” His gaze was wild as he shouted at me. In that moment, I wasn’t sure if he was entirely sane.

I dropped to one knee before the king. “Sire, please, do not be so hasty. We have been imprisoned, and the prince does love Antion. He has told me of his love for his nation many times.”

“Take him away.” The king waved his hand at me.

Desperation made my stomach turn violently as I jumped to my feet. Iker walked toward me, and I backed up, blurting out, “Sire, please! I know who his sorcerers are — I can point them out to you. If you let them think you are agreeing to their treaty, they’ll return your son to you. Then you can surround them and kill them all.”

King Hector held up his hand and Iker paused, though his eyes flashed ominously.

“What good is having a traitor for a son?”

“He is not, my king. He is loyal to Antion,” I said. It was the truth — Damian was loyal to Antion, just not to its king.

“Does he lie?” the king hissed, his voice low.

Iker gave me a look of pure disgust, and then turned to bow to Hector. “No, sire. I believe he is telling the truth.”

King Hector contemplated me for a long moment, his cold gaze calculating. Finally, he waved at Iker again. “If my son is a traitor, that would mean you are as well, Alex. And though you say he is loyal to Antion, I have my doubts. I’ll think on the guard’s words. Take him to the dungeons until I decide what to do.”

“Sire, please.” I tried to keep my voice low, gruff, but I was afraid my panic had already given me away. “They are only a day or two behind me — they could be here tomorrow!”

But King Hector was truly done with me this time. Iker grabbed my arm and yanked me away, pushing me to walk in front of him. Once we’d exited the counsel room and the door shut behind us, he faced me.

“After you, Alex. I believe you know the way.” He gave me a little mocking bow, gesturing toward the courtyard surrounded by all of the palace wings, and far below us, the dungeons.

I pulled my shoulders back and lifted my chin, walking as confidently as I could, even though I was trembling inside.

I’d failed. The king had seen right through the lies, just as I’d feared he would. All of that discomfort and acting to convince the Blevonese army — and Antion’s spies — we were truly prisoners was for nothing.

Now Damian, Tinso, and the others would arrive tomorrow, believing I would be there, waiting to stop Iker. Instead, they would find themselves walking straight into a bloodbath.

THE DUNGEON WAS worse than I’d remembered.

“What are you doing down here, Little Boss?” Jaerom asked when he saw me come down the stairs with Iker on my heels.

“He is to be imprisoned until the king decides what further use — if any — he has for him,” Iker said, his voice as oily as his thinning hair.

“He wants to imprison Alex ?”

The shock on Jaerom’s face obviously didn’t sit well with Iker, because he immediately snapped at him, “Give me those keys, keeper!”

Jaerom jumped to attention, seeming to remember who he was talking to. “Yes, sir. Here is the master key.”

Iker grabbed a torch and shoved me past Jaerom’s desk and into the dark, putrid depths of the dungeon.

“This is as good as any, I suppose,” he said, stopping before an empty cell about halfway down. He tried to grab my arm to toss me in, but I pulled out of his grip and walked in of my own accord. “Prideful to the end, I see. They say pride goeth before the fall, Alex.” Iker smirked at me.

“Tell the king that I can help him win this battle, if he’ll let me,” I said, making one last desperate attempt to accomplish my goal. “I heard rumors when our guards thought we were sleeping. King Osgand’s general is amassing sorcerers from all across the nation of Blevon. He’s bringing as much of the army as he can. You will be outnumbered. At the very least, let me fight for you!”