Page 32 of Immortal Sentry

The guards swung the doors wide. Eron passed them by with a sneer—and stopped.

Eron knew this room! Had played here! Normally, tables occupied the space, filled with courtiers enjoying an evening meal like roasted venison. His mouth watered at the memory. He’d give just about anything to have a plate of roast venison now.

Benches had replaced the tables, though not a soul sat on them. Tapestries hung on the walls, depicting scenes from what must have been his ancestors’ lives, some more familiar thanothers. His heart ached at the image of a beautiful woman captured in thread, who reminded him of… his mother? A memory came to him and promptly left.

Damn the mage for messing with his mind!

His guards marched him forward in the empty room, their bootheels echoing in the cavernous space. At the end of the room, a large chair sat on a raised dais—no, not a chair.

A throne.

“Kneel,” the chattier of his guards ordered.

Why?Eron wanted to ask.

A side door opened, and in strutted Duke Crau, in robes so resplendent they restricted his movements. If Eron only had a sword.… Next came the mage who’d visited Kene’s estate, wearing deep purple robes. He held a staff in one hand. Hadn’t Kene called the man “Father?” Had the mage betrayed Kene’s trust as well as Eron’s?

But wait. She’d also referred to him as a highwayman. There must be more to him than met the casual eye, though Kene must’ve taken after her mother in looks, a fact she surely thanked the goddess for every day.

Two uniformed men took positions on either side of the throne. Oh, the pretention. Eron wouldn’t be surprised to hear trumpeters announcing the next person to enter.

The king’s appearance, though expected, jolted Eron. Another memory returned of King Lo… Father. This man resembled the image in Eron’s mind, though much older and with a bitter twist to his thin lips.

He arranged himself on the throne. So much pomp to meet with a mere thief. The false king wore Father’s signet ring, but a gaudy, bejeweled crown Father would have laughed at. Wait. How did Eron know these details?

“Your Majesty,” Eron’s guards said in unison, with an arm crossed over their chests.

“Leave us,” the duke barked.

A king who needed a lackey to speak for him? Or was the king too grand to speak to lowly guards?

Eron kneeled, filthy, unkept, in ripped clothing, before the king. The woman hired to teach Eron court manners would be appalled. Or gracefully swoon.

Arrogance shone from King Bain, from his sneer to his pretentious goatee. He’d come to gloat to a thief yet appeared to have spent hours dressing, as did the duke, who’d copied the king’s facial hair with a bit less success.

On the other hand, the mage looked as though someone rolled him out of bed and told him to come, similar to Eron’s own treatment. Eron and the mage studied each other, but nothing changed on the mage’s craggy face. What was his name? Miisov? A feeling of peace swept over Eron, like when bad dreams woke him as a child and Kene had dismissed the staff to provide comfort herself.

Eron had felt safe in Kene’s arms—possibly the only time he’d felt safe. Miisov couldn’t be Kene’s father. Eron snapped his gaze away, breaking whatever spell Miisov held him under—his apprehension returning in full.

The king rose. “You have dared to accost travelers on my lands.” His voice came out too high-pitched and whiney to intimidate.

“What proof have you? You found me in the forest, on the site of my father’s cottage. I came to pay my respects. Next thing I know, I’m arrested and treated like a common criminal.”

“You deny you’re a highwayman?”

“I am a scholar, lover of books, an adventurer. I’m also from the north.” Eron copied the accent of an Estian noble who’d often visited Kene. “How can I be your highwayman when I’m not from here?”

“If you’re a traveler, where is your horse?”

“I do not know. The ornery beast likely ran home when I didn’t return. He’s very well-trained.” Not a complete lie. The finest horseman in all of Ala trained Rhedos.

Bain leaned forward on his throne as though taking a closer look.

Please let him not see me for who I really am.

“You don’t look like a traveler. My soldiers found no packs.”

Eron fought the urge to snort. “They were on the horse.” At least the king didn’t seem to recognize Eron’s likeness to Dafron. Of course, that meant he intended harm, based on Kene’s words. “Do you always attack visitors to your lands? Perhaps you accosted your guests and not me.”

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