Page 60 of Immortal Sentry

“We’re here to depose Bain and put you on the throne, aren’t we?” Her grin would’ve even given ravenous wolves pause.

“I don’t want the throne.” No one else listened. Maybe Lessa would.

Lessa probably wouldn’t be so loving to that gargoyle’s wing if she knew he’d been a man—one she likely had been acquainted with. “I’m told Father didn’t either, and look what a great king he turned out to be.”

The pit of Eron’s stomach churned. “I… I don’t want to rule a kingdom.”

“I’m afraid you’re the only choice we have. My boys are too young.” They strolled along, Lessa running her fingers along each statue. “You don’t know this because you just arrived, but several of us have been planning to depose Bain for some time. We simply needed a viable alternative to place on the throne. Now we have you.”

A chill swept up Eron’s spine. “Who is this ‘we’?”

“You’re my brother, but without their approval, I won’t reveal who I’m working with. But they have armies nearby, waiting for my command. Miisov had sent word that they’d be needed. Now I know why.”

“Will they back my claim?” Hadn’t Miisov mentioned four kingdoms, or queendoms, that might support Eron’s claim to the throne?

“Without a doubt. They would’ve settled for a distant cousin at this point. Any legitimate adult male of Father’s line.”

The words shouldn’t have hurt, especially since Eron didn’t want to be king. “Nice to know I’m irreplaceable,” he groused, then strolled along, trying to catch Kerric’s eye. Kerric remained a respectful distance behind. “I have a question for you.”

“Ask me anything.” All during the conversation, Lessa hadn’t released her hold on Eron’s arm. Afraid he’d disappear?

“Would you be overly mad if I killed your husband?”

Lessa inclined her head, whispering conspiratorially. “I’ll help you.” She took Eron into her arms once more, squeezing nearly too tightly for him to breathe. “I’m so glad to have you back, brother. You’ll never know. I’ve felt so alone.” She drew back and smacked his arm.

“Hey! What’s that for?” Eron rubbed his arm.

“Deliver it to Elzabai when next you see her.Shecould’ve contacted me. Now, come. The hour is late. I’m afraid I’m to be held captive, I mean, entertained by Queen Jaidia most of the day tomorrow, but I’ll see you if I can.”

Eron tried to stay and spend more time with Kerric, but when he turned around, Kerric was gone. At least he’d taken the basket with him.

Chapter Twenty-two

Kerric became flesh once more at sunset. He’d seen far from the castle into the distant mountains from his vantage point. How he wished he could keep his gargoyle’s wings. He’d fly there to ensure what he suspected held true.

But wait. There in the far distance, a thin trickle of black smoke was visible in the last of the waning light. His blood ran cold for a moment. The invading armies who’d brought about the downfall of King Lothan had likely appeared much the same way on first arrival. If only Kerric had been assigned to the ramparts, then. Were those the armies Queen Lessa spoke of? Kerric would need to ask her for certain, but the position of another fire and then another spoke of several military camps.

Bain’s lookout had an older man’s eyes and a younger man’s penchant for strong drink and women. He’d never spot armies in time.

When would Kerric’s men awaken? He could use Malcolm's steady logic and Georgi’s spying skills. One by one, he stood nextto his men, explaining what he knew. If only they would come alive. How he longed to see them, some of the few people left in the world he called friends, even if they followed his orders.

Kerric descended into the castle after being reasonably certain his men would have some idea of the situation if and when they awakened. He wandered the hallways while Queen Lessa and Prince Eron hopefully caught up under Miisov's watchful eyes—and likely a few enchantments. While Kerric might seek them out later, the time had come to settle an old score. There would be no arrest, no trial.

He’d leave the soldiers to the queen and prince while he sought the deceitful brute who’d no doubt find a bolt hole at the first sign of trouble. He’d not get away this time.

No chance for the weasel to slither his way out of a confrontation. Crau had once been a mentor, friend, and protector. He’d championed for a lowly maid’s child to train as a king’s guard. Kerric owed him loyalty once. Any debts ended when Crau used Kerric to accomplish his own goals. Goals Crau and Kerric had taken vows against.

Betrayal stung even after so much time had passed. Seasons upon seasons for grievances to simmer. For plots to hatch. From his lofty perch, Kerric often noticed Crau come and go from the castle and watched his wealth increase until he went from riding a horse to a grand carriage. He’d also seen his mother leave what had been their home. She’d died, likely thinking her only son was a traitor. He’d not been there to offer comfort—or the truth.

He’d watched Crau leaving the castle with his pretty young duchess in tow after his wedding and saw him arrive with his heir.

Kerric had no wish to make the duchess a widow or the heir an orphan if they were innocent of Crau’s plotting, but Crau had to be stopped and must pay for his crimes.

While Kerric worked to restore the reputations of himself and his men.

He spent several hours checking on sentries, finding guards he’d have punished for their laxness. They might not have noticed the force gathering to attack even if they had been paying attention.

Where was Eron now? What was he doing? How Kerric longed to find him, hold him, and take advantage of the perceived equality in their current statuses. No. He could never forget Eron was a prince and would one day become king.

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