David Dalglish - The Prison of Angels

“Don’t do this,” Susan whispered. “Please, you don’t need to do this. At least let their little girl live.”

Kevin swallowed.

“This is an ugly business,” he said. “I’m not sure if she can be spared. No one must know what takes place here. We can still save our land, my dear sister. It will just take a little sacrifice. Can you do that for me? Can you be strong like I need you to be?”

Susan tried to push him away, but he held onto her, his grip on her arms tightening.

“You bastard,” she said. “You’ll kill us all, won’t you? My baby boy, even him, you sick-”

He slapped her across the face, silencing her. A hard shove knocked her to the ground. Shaking his head, he pulled out a small length of rope that had been looped about his belt.

“I do what must be done,” he said. “Something you’d never understand.”

She wanted to laugh at him. What must be done? She’d married a stranger so their household could prosper in the chaos following the war. Just a man of common blood, a man who loved his lost homeland more than her. She’d sat in the shadow of a half-blood hero, named steward because she was seen as too vulnerable to be declared ruler herself. For family, for friends, she understood enduring such things. But this wasn’t for family. It wasn’t for country. She saw greed in her brother’s eyes, a lust for power she should have quashed years ago.

“You won’t kill them,” she said, giving him her hardest glare. “Harruq’s stronger than any man you have, and the elf’s magic is unstoppable. They’ll escape, and when they do they’ll tell the whole world of your betrayal.”

Kevin smiled that confident smile of his as he forced her to her knees, wrapping his rope around her wrists.

“My dear sister, trust me,” he said as men in strange clothes and gray masks entered the room behind him. “I’ve taken care of that.”

“What do you think?” Harruq asked as he held up two different shirts, one crimson and shiny, the other a deep, subdued green. “Which will look better on me at the ball tonight? I want tough but smart. Think we can do that with these frilly outfits? You know, Haern always managed to…”

He stopped, mouth hanging open, as Aurelia suddenly collapsed, falling off the bed and onto her knees, her hands clutching the sides of her head.

“Aurry?” he asked, rushing to her side. She let out a gasp as he put his arms around her, holding her against him.

“Stop it!” she screamed, her eyes rolling back into her head. “Stop it, you’re burning him!”

And then, just like that, it ceased. Her body crumpled and he held her, stroking her hair, completely baffled and terrified because of it. For a long while she trembled in his arms, crying softly. It was only when she finally sat up, sniffling and wiping at her eyes, that he was convinced she’d regained her senses.

“Tarlak,” she said. “That was Tarlak. He’s dead, Harruq. Antonil as well. They’re all dead.”

He opened his mouth, closed it. Her words were a knife to his heart.

“No,” he blubbered. “No, that’s not right. You…what you saw was a dream, a vision, maybe you…”

“Stop it,” she said. “I know what that was. He was trying to warn us about something. All I saw was fire. I felt it, Harruq. Antonil dove atop him to save him, but they both burned.”

“Warn us?” Harruq asked. He was still trying to wrap his head around the idea of such good friends dying in so terrible a way. “Warn us about what?”

She rose unsteadily to her feet.

“The king is dead,” she said. “I don’t know if he knew I heard, but Antonil’s last words were him begging you to protect his family. Think, Harruq. Gregory’s now the heir. Who benefits most? Who’s now in the most danger?”

Before she’d even finished her sentence Harruq was belting his swords to his waist, not even bothering with his armor.

“Where’s Gregory?” he asked as he cinched the belt tight, then looped the extra leather beyond the buckle into a knot. When finished, he tossed Aurelia her staff from a corner of the room.

“He and Aubrienna are with their tutor,” she said as she caught it.

“Good, they’re together. That’ll save us time. Once we get them we’ll gather some guards, keep everyone on alert. There’s not going to be any sort of coup today, I promise.”

They left his room and hurried down the hall.

“Stay calm,” Aurelia said, pulling on him to slow him down. “There’s no way anyone can know about it yet.”

“You know about it,” Harruq countered.

They reached the stairwell and climbed to the upper floor of the castle. Down the hall stood four soldiers holding short swords. Harruq nodded at them, then barged through the door they guarded. Gregory and Aubrienna sat at small desks, scraps of paper before them. Hovering over them was an older man with white hair, the tutor brought in to teach the children their letters. Gregory was fairly young for it, but Aubrienna had taken to writing. Both their hands were smeared with ink, and at his noisy entrance they jumped.

“Lessons are over,” Harruq said to the tutor. “Go on home.”

The old man bowed, clearly confused but not pressing for a reason. He said goodbye to the children, then left. With him gone Harruq checked every part of the room, even what seemed like empty spaces. Haern had taught him how well the best of the best could hide in plain sight. Once certain the room was secure, he flung the bolt on the door in place, locking them inside.

“Keep playing,” Aurelia told Aubrienna when she asked what was going on. Beside her Gregory had fallen silent, watching with his ink-covered hands in his lap, staining his outfit black.

“We’ve got some time to think,” Harruq said, feeling infinitely better now that he was with his daughter. “Now that Antonil is…”

He paused, glancing at Gregory.

“…not around,” he continued, “that means Gregory’s king, right?”

“They won’t let a child rule at such a young age,” Aurelia said.

“Then it’ll be Susan. We need to get her to safety. She’ll be next in line to rule.”

Aurelia gave him a look, and he realized he was still missing something.

“What?” he asked.

“A steward is appointed to rule when a child cannot,” she explained. “And in this case, the king’s last act was to appoint such a steward. Susan won’t rule, Harruq. You will.”

Harruq’s emotions felt too raw to act appropriately, so he just acted like himself.

“Shit.” He punched the wall, ignoring how much the stone hurt his hand. “Shit, shit, shit!”

He caught both children watching him, and he felt his neck flush.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Ignore daddy’s mouth.”

“Susan’s life might still be in danger,” Aurelia said, keeping her voice subdued in hopes Aubrienna and Gregory would not pay attention. “If anyone wants to usurp the throne, she’ll still need to be eliminated.”

Harruq nodded, trying to think. He’d accepted his position thinking it’d only be temporary. In a year at most Antonil was supposed to return, having conquered the scattered orc armies. But now…Gregory wasn’t even four. How long until the boy was considered a man by law? He didn’t know, but he severely wished he did. Eight years? Ten? He thought of the years passing, the weight of everything on his shoulders, and felt panic rising in his chest.

“I can’t do this,” he said. “I can’t. I can’t keep going, I can’t rule for that long even with Susan’s help. She’ll have to do it. She has to.” He walked over to the window, gesturing out to the city stretching out before them, a great expanse of homes and shops. “I can’t rule all that! I can’t…”