Page 9 of The Last of the Dark Lords

As he paused, I peered back out in the direction the swordsman had ridden to find that he was…gone! How was that possible? The land was flat, and there were few trees. How could he have disappeared?

“Dammit.” The curse was out of my mouth before I could stop it. The man might have saved my life, but he’d also rattled me.

“Commander, First Lieutenant…” Doren’s voice wrenched my attention back.

“What is so urgent that you needed to rush out here to get us?” Jelenna asked.

“The Prime ordered me to find you as she found out.” Doren straightened, regaining his composure and locking his gaze to mine. “The scouts have returned.”

Chapter 3

The air was thick with tension when I entered Prime Hall. The two scouts, Renna and Burl, passed me as they exited. When I made eye contact, both of them looked at the floor and quickened their pace. Something was up.

I found Grandmother sitting in the Primal Chair, an imposing piece of furniture intricately carved out of deep mahogany, and a seat she rarely inhabited. The crests of the families that had ruled Greatfalls through the generations surrounded her, sculpted vividly in the dark wood.

Grandmother’s eyes snapped to mine as I entered, and her face was grave. Athard stood off her shoulder, an arrogant smirk turning up his lips. The sight of his face made my stomach churn with unspoken frustration.

Grandmother made a sweeping gesture with one hand, and the room emptied of the various other ministers and servants. Jelenna reached out and squeezed my arm. The concern showed on her face.

“Come find me later.”

The steward pulled the great wooden doors shut with an ominous bang. I swallowed, my tongue thick in my mouth. I couldn’t recall a time when we’d had a truly private conversation here. Grandmother was always surrounded with advisors.

“Are we going to war?” I worked to keep my voice even as I asked the question.

“That’s up to you, baby brother,” Athard said in a taunting tone. What the hell did that mean?

Grandmother glared at him and he frowned, but at least he stopped talking. She turned back to me. Her face was pale and still. When she spoke, her voice was clear, not betraying any emotion or turmoil.

“The scouts have returned. The Dark Lord Cyrus engaged with them directly and sent along a missive.” She gestured at an envelope sitting on the nearby table. It bore the flaming emblem of Ashfuror, glowing with an otherworldly orange light. “He’s offered a proposition.”

I felt a flutter of anxiety in my chest. Her words unsettled me.

“What could he possibly want from us?”

“He has offered a peace treaty, to end the feints and skirmishes of the past and to forge a true alliance.”

“How can we trust him?” I had trouble getting the question out.

“I don’t know that we can.” Grandmother sighed, brushing a strand of gray hair from her face. “But I also don’t know that it matters.”

My brows furrowed at her words. What was she getting at? Some deep part of me hummed with alarm.

“According to the scouts,” she continued, “he has come with an overwhelming force. We could hold Greatfalls for a long time, years maybe, but if he was determined, he could outlast us. He has the force of a nation behind him. We are but one city.”

“We can hold him off,” I rebutted. “My people are ready. The Archers are better coordinated and deadlier than they have been in years.”

“How many of them are you willing to lose, Skye?” Grandmother asked, her voice a whisper.

“They would all give their lives willingly for Greatfalls.”

“Would you want that on your conscience?” Grandmother stood and walked to the large bay window to her right. She gazed out onto the lush greenery of Greatfalls, and beyond that, the sparkling waters of the reservoir.

“He has pledged that Ashfuror will not attack our city as long as his reign lasts.” She turned toward me, and for the first time I saw uncertainty flash across her face. “In return for your hand in marriage.”

The room got uncomfortably bright, and I felt my lungs seize. I gasped for air, but it was getting caught in my closed throat.

“What…why? Why would he want me?”

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