Kin of Kings (The Kin of Kings Book 1) (28 page)

“What are you doing?”

“Checking his body,” Basen replied.

“We already checked. There was nothing.”

“Are you crying?”

“Shut up.”

Cleve closed the door to their room. “Are you all right?” he asked Reela.

“I think I am.”

“Whatever’s happening, we can handle it.”

She nodded halfheartedly. “I wish my brother would return. I don’t know what he could be doing with the Krepps and the Elves all this time.”

“He said he would come back, so he will. Hopefully it will be soon.” He embraced her. “Whatever this is, it can’t be any worse than what we’ve overcome so far.”

“I don’t know, Cleve. Before, we’ve always had a sense of what was coming well in advance—the war against Tenred, the Krepps joining them. Except for when the traitors attacked, we knew when we would have to fight. But there’s something about this that makes me feel as if the ground is about to open beneath my feet…and it’s going to happen soon. I don’t think we’re looking at war. I think we’re looking at a surprise that’s going to change everything.”

Cleve wanted to tell her it was all in her imagination, but that wasn’t something he could do with a psychic. Everything he told Reela, he had to believe.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

When it came time for supper, Alabell decided she would first check on the akorell stone she’d wanted to look at since Basen had left at lunch. The day had been busier than usual since his departure, made even more chaotic by her distracted thoughts. Panic had been building inside of her. It felt like a storm was coming, causing her to constantly check the sky each time she was near a window. But the day remained cool and clear. So why did she have this feeling of foreboding?

Through her worry, the memory of Basen’s lips against her cheek sprung up throughout the day, speeding her pulse as if he was there in front of her. The feeling he evoked was a swell of heat that started in her chest and exploded across her entire body whenever he looked at her. She felt like a first-year student again, when she’d been overwhelmed by the number of handsome men at the Academy.

As the weeks had gone by, she’d come to realize that most of the warriors she met were more interested in her breasts than in her. While staring, these men offered nothing but flattery, often expressed crudely. However, three years was a long time to be among thousands of people her age, and she’d been involved with a few good-hearted men before her graduation. When the war began, however, there was no man that she had any stake in above friendship. She’d been in no mood for romance.

Basen had sparked something she’d been too busy to realize she’d been missing: the thrill of the chase, like a cat after string. The boy was two years her younger, yet he had a face that could lure a queen’s gaze, with his dark eyes that brought out his brilliantly white smile and his black hair that hung loosely, just long enough for her to feel on the back of her hand if she ran her fingers through it…slowly.

He wasn’t enormous and bulky, but tall and strapping. The way he carried himself gave a hint of his physical prowess, ready to fight but only if needed. She felt safe with him, protected, a feeling she’d begun to relish since the war, a feeling she wanted to spread to others whenever the opportunity arose.

She needed access to the locked room where the akorell stone was kept. There were few with the key, but James Kerr was one of them. She always used every excuse she could think of to see her great-uncle, and this was a great one. After asking a choice servant of the castle who Alabell knew would be privy to the king’s whereabouts, she found him and asked if she could check on the akorell stone.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, “and then we’ll have supper. How does that sound?”

A bubble of joy popped within her. “Perfect.”

During his first week on the throne, her great-uncle had reassigned the guards who usually followed the king everywhere he went in his own castle. This gave them privacy whenever he and Alabell met, and she enjoyed how knowledgeable and direct he was with her, no matter the subject.

As a councilman to the late king, Alabell’s great-uncle had always been addressed as Councilman Kerr, so people had taken to using his surname. No one had called him James, and now it seemed as if his first name no longer suited him.

“I hear many changes are beginning,” she said. “More focus on preventing rebellion than before.”

“Yes, that Hiller gentleman you introduced me to has brought up too many good points for me to ignore. I wish there was a way to trust all my people and, at the same time, take measures to prevent them from forming an army against us. But the two cannot coexist.”

“What kinds of measures are being taken?”

Kerr’s answer had to wait as he was approached by Liaison Wilfre with documents in hand. “I’m on my way to the Academy with your messages,” Wilfre said as he bowed. “The rankings of mages and warriors will be posted by the time I get there. I’ll bring back a copy for our records here at the castle.”

“When will you return?”

“Later tonight if I’m needed, sire.”

“That’s not necessary. Stay at the Academy and speak with Terren tomorrow. I want to hear what he and his instructors think of the new recruits so far.” He leaned toward Wilfre and lowered his voice. “And I want a suspect for that murder.” Discussion of Nick’s death was always spoken in hushed tones within the castle, as if no one quite believed it yet and thought saying it too loud would make it real.

“Yes, sire.”

Kerr showed Alabell a grievous look as Wilfre left. “Less than a week ago, someone was killed during the night at the Academy,” he said.

“I’m aware already, Uncle.” He much preferred this title from her over “sire” or “great-uncle,” which he told her reminded him of his age.

“Then your mother must know as well.”

“She does.”

As they continued toward the locked room where valuables were stored on the fourth floor, she told him a little about Basen’s visit earlier that day. Alabell mentioned nothing of her attraction, but Kerr was grinning by the time she finished.

“Does Genoviva know of your interest in a Hiller?”

“No! And my mother certainly shouldn’t hear it from you, Uncle.”

He pushed out his wrinkly hands. “All right. I won’t say anything.”

She took her great-uncle’s arm as they came to the last set of stairs. When they arrived, Kerr drew a key and opened one lock, then drew a different key to unlock the second. The door seemed stuck at first as he leaned into it, then it flung open and he stumbled forward and fell onto his hands and knees.

Alabell ran to him. “Are you hurt?”

He chuckled as he got up on his own, refusing to take her hand. “I’m not
that
old, Alabell.”

Eighty-three is that old,
she dared not say.

“Of course, Uncle.”

The vault hadn’t yet been replaced with ironbark, except for the door. The walls were lined with weapons from warriors whose names Alabell recognized from books and stories. A shelf ran along each wall, holding up the handles of said weapons—the most valuable in Kyrro besides Cleve Polken’s bastial steel sword. The same shelf acted as the roof of a glass casing in which various trinkets, gems, bracelets, and necklaces were on display.

It took only a moment for Alabell to locate the fine silver bracelet with the glowing rock at its center. Kerr used another key to unlock the casing and reached in to retrieve it.

“That’s all right,” Alabell said to stop him. “I just wanted to ensure it was there.”

“Well now that we’re here, don’t you want to hold it?”

She giggled. His desire was palpable. “I’d rather not, but I can see that you do.” She glanced over her shoulder to find one of the two guards outside checking on them.

“Certainly do. Reach in and get it for me, dear. Careful, it’s likely to be hot.”

The sound of screams stopped her. They seemed distant, possibly coming from the ground floor. Metal clashed as a cacophony of unintelligible orders were shouted. The guards at the doorway ran in to close ranks around Kerr.

“Might be an attack, sire,” one said.

“How could they get in?”

“I don’t know.”

Kerr rushed out of the room. “Come on, Alabell.”

She grabbed the akorell bracelet, put it in the small box that was its casing, and slid it into her pocket before following. In just the short time it took to leave the vault, the sounds of aggression had become clear enough to prove that this was indeed some sort of attack.

Her great-uncle moved as quickly as his old legs could carry him, Alabell holding on to one of his arms while one of his guards held the other. Soon they came to the balcony overlooking the enormous great hall, where they halted for a quick look.

A battle was in the making. A stream of men wearing common clothing poured in through the open doors, many with a sword and some with a bow. Kerr’s men, armored and trained, tried to fight them off, but they looked like a few spiders trying to stop a swarm of ants.

“My stars, what is this?” Kerr asked no one in particular.

It looked to be an uprising to Alabell.
But how can that be when the people are happy with their current king?
There had to be more to it than angry denizens. More importantly, why hadn’t the doors been barricaded at the first sign of a threat?

Frozen by fear and confusion, Alabell didn’t notice Kerr was trying to pull her away from the balcony until he repeated her name for the third time. Suddenly she was bustling through the halls with him again, but now flushed from panic.

“Where’s the army commander?” Kerr asked his guards as the sounds of steel and death came closer from below.

“We don’t know,” one guard answered for both of them.

“We need the rest of our army,” Kerr said. He pointed at one of them. “Go make sure the signal flare has been shot.”

“Yes, sire.” He ran and disappeared around the corner.

“We need to defend ourselves until reinforcements arrive,” Kerr said. “The northern throne room is the most fortified place within the castle—that’s where we’ll barricade ourselves. Alabell, get your mother from her quarters and meet us there. I’ll gather all the guards I can find along the way.”

With her heart pounding, she made her way back to the balcony where she stopped for a quick look at the enemies pouring in. The stairways were filled by what she now assumed to be trained swordsmen without armor, not commoners with weapons. There were only a few warriors and mages of Kyrro left, and each man and woman was killed before Alabell had a chance to recognize who had fallen.

The signal flare would alert those who didn’t live in the castle and were paid to serve the king. There were thousands. About half of them lived in Kyrro City, working at other jobs while awaiting orders. They would be the first to arrive, though it could be an hour before enough of them came to make a difference. The rest were in the other cities and the Academy less than five miles away. All were required to defend the castle when commanded, but it certainly would be too late by the time they got there.

This shouldn’t have happened. There were countless measures to prevent such an attack.

How many enemies had poured in through the gaping entrance? It must’ve been hundreds. She could hear them—now spreading across the second floor. Genoviva should be on the third.

Just before Alabell tore herself away from the balcony, she saw the river of enemies finally come to an end. The last two in were a man and a woman, their age difference yet similar features making them appear as mother and son. They weren’t dressed as commoners but as two nobles flaunting their wealth.

A red velvet dress covered the woman except where it was open at her collar. Her bronze skin matched that of her son, who wore a white satin shirt with flared sleeves that showed he had no intention of fighting.

As they turned to shut the enormous ironbark door behind them, the tapestry on their identical cloaks told Alabell of their identity. A pair of outstretched wings, azure in color: These were Takarys, the most powerful dynasty in Ovira as well as across the Starving Ocean. They were the first rulers of Kyrro—arriving just after the original settlers came from Greenedge. The Takarys took over the colonization of the lush territory and ruled for just over a hundred years before their tyranny was successfully broken for the first time. Since then, however, they’d retaken the throne in Kyrro several times, though no Takary kings had remained in power for long. The young man appeared to be nearly the same age as Alabell, meaning he had to be Tauwin Takary.

His presence confirmed what she’d been too panicked to fully realize. This attack was the result of months of planning, likely started during the last war, and only a betrayal of loyalty could’ve allowed this to happen. But worst of all, it meant the castle really was about to be taken.

This all crossed her mind as she hurried down to the third floor. She caught her name in the air among the screams.

“Alabell! Where are you?” It was her mother’s voice.

“Here!”

They met at a corridor and clasped hands. “Uncle wants us to barricade ourselves with him in the northern throne room while we wait for reinforcements.”