Page 51 of The Sundered Blade

A moment later, he recovered and continued on, his attention once more turned forward, as if he had never seen her at all.

But he had, and at last Karreya could confirm what they had until this moment only suspected. The King of Garimore was indeed an imposter, and his name was Modrevin. Mirror mage and murderer. Second Blade of the Dragurin line and aspirant to the Imperial Throne of Zulle. The man she’d crossed the ocean to find and return to his home.

She’d found her father at last, and he had walked away from her once more.

But this would not make her falter. Could not. She had come too far, and in the end, perhaps she could turn this to her advantage.

Turning to the wall, she searched the long hallway until she noted a place where the stone was worn smooth, as if by the pressure of many fingers. Running her hands across the surface, she located the catch and pressed it, then slipped through the hidden doorway and up the stairs to the balcony.

She found herself in the musicians’ gallery at one end of the long ballroom, opposite the dais, and from the shadows, she watched as the King of Garimore moved silently through the waiting throng and took his seat. There were guards, both on the periphery of the room below, and on the sides of the balcony, but they were focused on the crowd, and did not seem to note Karreya’s presence.

As the king surveyed his audience, the final few guests slipped in, and Karreya noted with a start that Leisa was among them. She made her way swiftly through the press of bodies until she reached Lord Kellan’s side and stood on tiptoes to whisper in his ear, just as the doors to the ballroom shut with an ominous thud.

Lord Kellan’s expression grew pale and grim as he turned to his father, but by then it was too late.

“People of Garimore.” The king’s voice was deeper, more resonant than her father’s had been, and his speech held no trace of his land of origin. “We have arrived at a crossroads in the history of our kingdom—indeed, in the history of Abreia itself. In the centuries since the Five Thrones were established, we have enjoyed peace only at the cost of vigilance. We have guarded against the dark magic of these lands, guarded against the complacency that comes with peace and prosperity, and now we must guard against the desire to forget our past.”

Her father’s present appearance might be a lie, but those words were not. He believed in them, at least, and that realization sent a chill down Karreya’s spine. How deeply had he fallen into this pretense of his? How convinced had he become of his own rhetoric?

“We have suffered a great loss, and now we must reckon with the looming shadow of the enemy that has brought violence and bloodshed to our shores.” He paused and gazed out over the heads of his people, dark eyes burning with fervor. “The Zulleri Empire has struck, and it was a grievous blow. Not only against me—or against all of us who mourn for my beloved wife—but against Farhall, Eddris, Iria, and perhaps even Katal.

“We must assume that this is only the beginning. The opening gambit in their strategy to take these lands and establish their rule on every continent within their reach. And we cannot—wemustnot—allow this to happen.” His hands gripped the arms of his throne, knuckles turning white. “Our peace and our prosperity would be forever at an end. Your farms and your families would burn in the fires of their vengeance, and these lands would be bound by the shackles of imperial governance. Your children would go to swell the ranks of their armies, and your own heads would decorate the walls of the imperial palace as a testament to the empress’s power. All of this will come to pass, unless we—the people of Abreia—are willing to rise up in opposition to the vast might of the Imperial Army.”

The king rose from his chair and took a half-dozen steps to the edge of the dais. Looked out over the crowd, his posture commanding and yet unthreatening. A man who stood ready to do what he must in the face of overwhelming odds.

Karreya’s magic screamed inside her head, a dissonant chorus of panic and repudiation, but she could do nothing to stop what was happening.

“Would that I could stand against this tide alone, but it is too vast and too dark for one man, or even one Throne, to confront. It requires all of us standing together in one accord, and it is with deep regret that I have been forced to accept the denial of my fellow sovereigns. They have chosen not to believe the evidence of my words, the evidence of my wife’s blood, even the evidence of their own eyes as they have suffered their own losses.”

He did not name those losses… Did that mean he was unconvinced that his assassins had done their work?

“And so I stand here with an even heavier heart, to declare that Garimore no longer has any choice. We have extended the hand of alliance and it has been rejected, time and time again, and now time is a luxury we no longer have. The lands of Abreia must be united against this threat if we are to survive, and I am willing to sacrifice whatever might be necessary to ensure that these lands remain peaceful and prosperous for the benefit of our children’s children’s children.”

Peaceful and prosperous? The taint of untruth stained those words, but Karreya did not need her magic to remind her of the barricaded roads, trampled fields, and starving soldiers outside these walls. She could not be the only one in the room wondering what history would make of such “sacrifices.” But the voices below were silent, perhaps because they knew all too well of the guards standing above them, and of the blades that waited in the shadows of the ballroom.

It was only Karreya who wore none of those chains, and so she stepped forward towards the edge of the balcony, to where the lights from the ballroom below just kissed the darkness. To where the gold of her unbound hair and the shimmering embroidery on her sleeves could catch the light and glimmer softly in the gloom. To where her face might just barely be visible to one watching from below.

The king was the only one who faced her, and so he was the only one who saw as she emerged into the light. The only one who marked her standing vigil as he spun a dark new future out of rhetoric and lies.

And she knew he saw her, because his face and his posture shifted. His confidence wavered, and for only the barest instant, he allowed her to see his surprise.

He did not know her—there was no recognition in the slight, startled flare of his nostrils—but some part of him knew what she represented, and it prevented him from calling his guards. He could not be certain whether she stood for or against him, only that she stood apart, and so he returned to his speech, but with a widening crack in his stern facade.

“Today I stand before you to announce that the fight to protect our peaceful kingdom has already begun. Even as I speak to you now, plans are in motion to bring all the people of Abreia together as one, so that we may confront our common enemy with a single voice raised in defiance. And I also stand before you to say that there will be no turning back. We have set our hands to the sword, and we will not yield until our beloved queen has been avenged.”

A shout of affirmation rang out around the ballroom, rising from a hundred throats to echo from the ceiling. But a hundred more remained silent and watchful, wearing the grim aspect of men and women who knew what war portended. Who understood the price that was yet to be paid.

“Our resolve must not be allowed to falter,” the king continued, “nor can our kingdom stand divided, and so I have come to realize that there must be a wind of change. One that will remake and renew us into the strongest that Garimore can be.”

His gaze flickered to Karreya, even as he lifted a hand, beckoning the guards from the shadows.

They moved forward, and on the balcony, the hidden archers stepped into the light and bent their bows.

“Those whose vision for the future is too small to allow for a united Abreia must now step aside, so that we may do what is necessary in the name of peace.”

Murmurs swelled and spread, but he only raised his voice higher. “The following lords have repeatedly demonstrated that they have only their own interests at heart. Lord Iverling. Baron Lasseter of Southshore. Viscount Wynthrop. The Earl of Basingreen. And finally, the Duke of Pergisham. You and all your heirs will be stripped of your titles, and your parties detained on suspicions of aiding and sympathizing with the enemies of the crown.”

The room erupted with outrage, panic, and every emotion in between, but it was like fish flopping on the shore when the tide receded. There was nowhere for them to go, and Karreya observed grimly as the guards rounded up everyone the king had named, binding the hands of anyone who protested their actions. She watched as Leisa looked frantically for a way out, but there was no escape, and her hands, too, were bound. When she struggled against the bonds, one of the guards struck her across the back of the head with a cudgel, before shoving her into the small group of prisoners.

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