Page 34 of Immortal Sentry

“Good evening. I am Miisov, chief mage of King Bain.” Miisov’s white hair, beard, and eyebrows, plus his rather largish nose, bore no likeness to Kene’s fairness. “Rest assured, I am shielding this conversation. You may speak freely. Not even the rats will hear.”

Good, because Eron had been cursing the ever-present rodents all day, and they likely needed a rest. “Pleasant evening,” Eron responded automatically before remembering this man could be here to kill him. “As I understand matters, I’m here at your bidding. Why?”

Miisov lifted his brows, a nearly magical feat based on their size. “Did you hear nothing while you eavesdropped at Baroness Kennestone’s estate?”

So much for being sneaky. “Only that Kene referred to you as Father.” Eron would take the rest of his illicitly gleaned knowledge to his grave. Feigning ignorance usually got people to speak freely, a handy tool. “Is it true Kene knew Prince Dafron?”

Miisov inclined his head. “Yes, I suppose I am Kene’s father, though she’d be quick to add ‘in name only.’ About Prince Dafron. It is an interesting story. You see, when Kene lived here, she and your brother grew quite fond of each other. So fond that Dafron actually vowed to abdicate so they could be together.”

Why had Kene never mentioned the closeness in all the time Eron had been her ward? “So, you sent Kene away. Why don’t I know this?”

“You were around five summers at the time. Hardly your brother’s confidante. While I considered King Lothan a kind man and admirable king, he had greater plans for his heir than a mage’s daughter. Also, if my daughter married the crown prince, rumors would say I bewitched him since the nobility considered her station far below his. Then there was the whole highwayman debacle.”

“Highwayman debacle?” Wow. How eloquent. And to think Kene paid good money for a tutor to teach Eron the art of conversation—in several languages.

“My great-grandfather was the first Lord Night, my grandmother the second, my father the third, and my uncle the fourth. I was the fifth, and my uncle and I taught my daughterto be the sixth, though usually it wasn’t Hisar citizens in need of help. By that time, I’d put my magical skills to use. I couldn’t have anyone looking too closely at my family.”

Eron took a moment to visualize a younger version of Kene with an older version of himself—light and dark. She and Dafron would have been beautiful together—and a force to be reckoned with. “Anyone who truly knew her wouldn’t believe she’d had to bewitch anyone. I never understood why suitors weren’t lined up at her door. She is a noblewoman, after all, with an immense fortune. Wait. How did she go from highwayman’s daughter to noblewoman?”

“I won the heart of a baron’s daughter in my lawless younger days, who’d been betrothed to another. Her father threatened to kill our child for standing in the way of his ambitions. I took Elzabai with me and accepted the position of King’s mage at Hisar Castle.” Miisov let out a world-weary sigh. “When I was forced to send my daughter away, I found out her mother had inherited and never married. Elzabai returned to her as heir. Dillane custom allows women to inherit.”

Women deserved equal rights, regardless of whether they had brothers. No man, no matter how great, could compare to Kene. “You taught her to hunt?”

“Ah, yes.” Miisov rubbed his hands together. “Her hunting. She honed her skills with me and that wayward uncle no one talked about in polite society. Never in Hisar, though. I held your father in high regard. My willful child has some magical talent, as I’m sure you know. Never wanted to follow in my footsteps as a mage, though, only in highway robbery.”

The ball of light rose and fell as though carried on a gentle breeze. Kene sometimes created mage light, though she never talked of having much magic.Closer, mage, closer,Eron willed Miisov.

Miisov stepped closer to the bars.

Eron struck lightning fast, grabbed the collar of Miisov’s robe, and yanked, pulling the mage into the bars. “You brought me here to murder my sister? Her sons? I will not touch them. If you don’t want me to do everything in my power to save them, you’d best kill me now, old man.”

Miisov answered calmly. “I have no intention of you murdering Lessa or her sons. That’s not why you’re here.”

Eron relaxed his grip but didn’t let go. “Then why am I here?”

“Remember what I told you in the throne room? That someone of King Lothan’s line will replace King Bain?”

“I remember.” It was the only dialogue Miisov had uttered during the exchange. However, he’d told Kene that Eron’s place was on the throne.

“That someone is you. The common folk are counting on you, though they do not know you still exist. They need Bain’s foot removed from their throats in order to feed their families rather than have Bain take more and more from them to entertain his friends and provide lavish gifts for his mistresses. The people deserve a fair king.”

Something icy cold formed in the pit of Eron’s stomach. “I’m no king.”

“Not yet, but you will be.”

“Why bring me in as a highwayman?”

“IpersuadedBain that you are from Estia, which works well with your accent. As he’s been seeking a war with Estia, having an Estian kill Queen Lessa accomplishes two of his goals. A servant or soldier couldn’t get near enough to her or Bain for what is needed. It took some…convincing… to get him to agree.”

“Convincing like a magical knock-out fog?” Eron might never forgive Miisov for that.

“Similar, though less theatrical.”

“How am I supposed to overthrow Bain? Who I’d gladly kill, by the way, on general principle.”

“Four neighboring monarchies will provide soldiers and back the legitimate heir of King Lothan to get avaricious Bain off their borders. Not to mention the loyal guards who will serve you until their dying breath.”

“Where are these loyal guards?” Eron could sure use their help to escape this cell.

---