Kin of Kings (The Kin of Kings Book 1) (29 page)

“Let’s go.”

Without letting go of each other, they ran away from the swelling sounds of the battle looming ever closer.

“Where’s Kerr?” Tauwin’s men yelled to each other. “Spread out and find him, now.”

Their voices faded as Alabell and her mother went deeper into the northern end of the castle on the third floor. Fear caught in her chest at the distant rumble of boots on the stairs.

“I have to get something.” Alabell dragged her mother toward a medicine room.

Genoviva tugged back on her hand. “There’s nothing valuable enough to risk your life.”

“I don’t need it for its value but to save us!” She overpowered her mother, and soon Genoviva gave in. Alabell let go of her mother’s hand to draw out her key ring. There were about a dozen keys, but she knew which one to grab. Her breathing was sharp as she hurried to open the door. The sounds of resistance had ended…now she could hear doors breaking and shrieks following.

“Grab the smoke potions,” she told her mother while she went for the fire potion.

They fled the room soon after. Tauwin’s men were on their floor, but Alabell heard none in front of her as she took her mother down a long hallway that had never been empty in all of her time at the castle. Everyone must’ve locked themselves in their rooms. They might actually be safe there so long as they didn’t pose a threat to Tauwin like Alabell and her mother did, sharing a surname with the king.

They came at the last corridor before the throne room and Alabell felt a surge of hope at the sight that lay before her. The last of their army within the castle had gathered outside the door, warriors, mages, and psychics. The fight wasn’t over.

Alabell ran with her winded mother as their forces parted to let them through.

“Get down!” a warrior brandishing a shield called out.

Alabell threw her arm around her mother’s back and forced her to the ground. Arrows buzzed over them and crashed against shields as their fighters stepped forward. Their mages shot back with fireballs, the hot wind whipping Alabell’s hair and bringing on memories of the battles at the Academy. She heard screams behind her and took a quick look to find an explosion of light, then two of Tauwin’s archers sliding across the slick ironbark floor on their backs. But more came into the hall, though these men only wielded swords and halted at the sight of archers and mages aiming at them. They jumped back out of view.

Alabell pulled up her mother and stumbled past the last of their army and into the throne room. Kerr took hold of her and her mother. “Thank the stars you made it.” He led them away from the door. “Shut it,” he commanded, and the only two swordsmen in the throne room with them stepped out and pulled the ironbark door shut after them.

Kerr got his hands on the first of three beams of wood held to the wall beside the door. “Help me barricade it.”

“Why don’t those outside the door come in?” Alabell asked as she put her hands on the wood next to Kerr.

“Someone needs to protect the rest of the castle’s inhabitants taken as hostage,” Kerr said. “Or at least try to. Now heave.”

With Genoviva’s help, they slid the lowest beam of wood into its steel holder on the other side of the door. Then they moved the middle beam, then the top one.

It wasn’t a moment later that the inevitable brawl commenced with a chorus of screams. Scraping and scuffling followed, then flesh ripping and bodies hitting the floor. The unmistakable crash of fireballs beat against the door as the three of them backed away from it.

“The army commander?” Genoviva shouted to be heard over the terrible symphony of death.

“Dead with the rest of our castle’s forces…except for those right outside.”

“Was the signal sent?” Alabell asked.

“I was told so.” But there was no hope in his tone.

Each throne room was built without windows, only slits for archers to shoot from. It might take some time for a battering ram to get through the door, but the wood and steel eventually would break, and most likely in less time than it took for reinforcements to arrive. Alabell looked around for ideas.

There were no lamps; four sconces with lit torches illuminated the throne room instead. There were two by the door and two at the middle of the side walls, not enough to create a wall of fire once the door went down. Perhaps with a perfectly timed drink of her fire potion she might be able to kill a few of Tauwin’s men after they broke in, but it would just anger the rest who lived, increasing the chances of them killing her and her family.

“Tauwin Takary is responsible for this,” she told them. “I saw him and a woman who appeared to be his mother enter the castle as if it was already theirs.”

“Spoiled brat,” Kerr said. “He was the first one to come to me about taking the crown, and he was surprised when I didn’t hand it over right then.” His wrinkled hand coiled into a fist. “I let this happen. I should’ve had the Takarys and the other powerful families watched more carefully. I ignored counsel because I wanted to believe so badly that vigilance promoted distrust. I thought too much caution and poor leadership led to rebellions, but I underestimated the power of greed.” He slumped onto his throne.

“They would’ve found a way no matter what, Uncle,” Alabell said. “The Takarys of the past were the most strict and stifling rulers, yet that only inspired more people to join the rebellion.”
If anything, we should’ve had psychics questioning our men’s loyalty more frequently.
But it wasn’t as if Alabell had thought such a thing was necessary, either, and there was certainly no point in bringing it up now.

The sporadic screams just outside finally came to an end. Kerr stood and moved in front of Alabell as someone tried the door. Genoviva came to stand at Kerr’s side.

The door shook as men grunted behind it. Alabell heard voices but couldn’t make out any words.

A boom against the door startled the three of them. Another followed, though it didn’t seem loud enough to be a battering ram. Suddenly, there seemed to be ten of them striking the door at once.

Boots,
she realized gleefully,
they’re trying to kick it in. Perhaps they don’t have a battering ram ready.

“Stop! Stop you idiots!” a shrill man’s voice cut through the pounding. Then everything fell silent and Genoviva took Alabell’s hand.

“James Kerr,” the same voice announced, “I know you’re in there.”

Kerr took a step toward the door but made no sound.

“Don’t say anything,” Alabell whispered.

He nodded and put up his hand.

“Right now you’re thinking you might be able to wait for the rest of your men in Kyrro City to arrive,” shouted the man Alabell figured to be Tauwin Takary. “But you should know that they’re not coming, Kerr. The signal wasn’t sent because the men responsible are loyal to me. You should also know that I have far more men than those you’ve seen so far taking back my family’s castle. At this very moment, they’re surprising your men in their homes as they’re cleaning up after supper or putting their children to bed. In another hour, they’ll all be dead.”

Alabell felt caged by her terror, unable to move or think. All she could do was hope these were lies.

“You should now be realizing,” Tauwin continued, “that it’s over for you. But if you cooperate and sign the legal document transferring kingship, you and everyone else in my castle who are still alive will remain unharmed. Do you hear that, old man? The best cooks, maids, chemists, stonemasons, blacksmiths, tailors, and everyone else who’ve assembled here will live…so long as you open this door. But if you don’t, I’ll start killing them.”

A burst of fearful shrieks came muffled through the door. Alabell could picture the castle’s inhabitants enclosed by a swarm of Tauwin’s men.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Genoviva jumped in front of Kerr to stop him from going toward the door. “It’s a trick, reinforcements are coming.”

“I don’t think so,” Kerr answered.

Alabell sadly agreed.

“He’s at least lying about letting everyone live,” Genoviva argued.

“I think my mother’s right about that,” Alabell told Kerr.

“James Kerr!” Tauwin screamed. “I’m about to start killing them!” Their silence seemed to have insulted him, anger now coloring his voice.

“I’m coming,” Kerr yelled back, hurrying to the door. Alabell and her mother helped him slide the wooden beams back, then stepped away.

The door swung open to reveal a throng of emotionless men that extended far into the hall. Mixed among them were the inhabitants of the castle, many with swords held at their throats.

The small army marched into the room, forcing Alabell and the last of her family back toward the throne. Tauwin emerged from between the larger men. He wore a victorious smile, his dark eyes set on Kerr. He wasn’t much taller than Alabell or his mother beside him, but he carried himself as if he were the strongest and tallest man in the world. She wanted to drink her fire potion and shoot him with the resulting fireball, but it was unlikely to kill.

Tauwin’s mother stayed behind him and appeared almost frightened. Perhaps she wasn’t his mother but another relative, an aunt or a cousin, for she seemed to look at Tauwin not with love, but as if awaiting an order she was hesitant to hear.

“No one else needs to die,” Tauwin intoned with his arms spread, as if he felt guilt about the slaughter he’d already caused. “I have the document right here.” He took a scroll from his pocket and directed Kerr to sit at the table toward the edge of the room. The rest of his men ushered the castle’s inhabitants toward the center of the throne room and then circled them.

Kerr hovered over his chair, refusing to sit. “You do realize that a document and a crown won’t make you king. The people must see you as one.”

“I don’t need your advice, old man.” The levity had dropped out of his tone. “Sign it.”

“I will once you bring one of my psychics here to confirm you’ll let my people live.”

Tauwin sneered and stared. No one dared to speak, even as the silence dragged on. Abruptly, he grabbed Kerr by the back of his neck and slammed his head against the table. “You will sign it now!”

Alabell jumped forward without choosing to, but she was struck in the face after just a step and lost her balance. She flung her hands out to brace her fall. As soon as she hit the ground, one hand went to her cheek to muffle the burning pain.

“Don’t touch her!” Genoviva screamed, her feet scuffling around beside Alabell.

“I’m fine!” she tried to tell her mother as she looked up. The man who Alabell assumed was the one who’d struck her let go of her struggling mother and raised his arm as if to hit her.

“Stop!” shouted the woman who’d come in with Tauwin, and the man froze. “There’s no need for this when soon Tauwin will be king.” Alabell caught a glimmer of disappointment in Tauwin’s eyes as he continued to press Kerr’s face against the table. He quickly smiled it away.

“You’re right, Mother. You’re going to live, Kerr, as well as your people. Now
sign
it.” He gave one last push against the older man’s face before letting go.

Genoviva helped Alabell to her feet as Kerr scribbled his signature.

“Now let us go,” Kerr demanded as he stood with more confidence and pride than any man should have been able to show in that moment.

Tauwin whisked out his sword from a sheath that had been covered by his cloak. Everyone fell away from him as the bright bastial steel was revealed. Alabell had only heard of Cleve Polken possessing such a sword, for they were made in Greenedge and there was no trading done over the Starving Ocean. Cleve had gone to Greenedge and come back with the weapon and a horse, neither of which had been seen before by any living person in Ovira. To see the same weapon in Tauwin’s hand no doubt meant he had support from the Takarys across the Starving Ocean.

The bastial steel was a spectrum of reds, oranges, and yellows swirled together like marble. The weapon itself seemed to glow, as if able to brighten a dark room, yet no actual light could be seen emanating from it. There was nothing more expensive in the world, and nothing more deadly.

Kerr was the only one who didn’t cower from the weapon. Tauwin regarded the blade admirably, carefully sliding one hand along its flat side.

“I’ve done everything you’ve asked,” Kerr said, finally taking a step away from the young Takary.

“Any man can be king,” Tauwin practically sang, the lilt of his noble accent growing heavier with his sense of importance. “One just needs the right amount of wealth. Maintaining kingship is the real challenge. Gen Takary, the first king of Kyrro, ruled for fifty-five years.
Fifty-five
! Three years in, there was an uprising, but Gen crushed his enemies so severely that no one challenged his leadership again. Death finally took away his crown, and his son, Derivar Takary, then ruled for
fifty-one
years. He was taught so well by his father that history tells us of no battles, even though the people were unhappy. Since his death from old age, Kyrro has seen many battles for the crown. But no one has ruled even half as long as Gen or Derivar. Until my grandfather, Rinn Takary, took the throne after his father was poisoned.”