Page 31 of Phoenix Falling
THE TRAITOR
The triumph of a hundred-year wait burned in my veins as I stood at the edge of the King’s Garden. The time had finally arrived, the moment I’d dreamed of, the first step in the Archai assent to become the true rulers of this world. Becoming all we were meant to be.
In order to facilitate Helios’s plan, my own would finally be put into play. I closed my eyes, tucking away the satisfaction, hiding the years of useless rage. The king could rip through minds like water; calm was an absolute necessity if I wanted to succeed.
I opened my eyes and entered the garden just as the sun began to peek over the horizon. Solomon sat upon his favorite bench, watching the phoenix’s golden sheen turn to fire as the light slowly illuminated it. It was a magnificent sight—one the king no longer deserved. He had failed our people, failed to bring us into the fullness of our power after over a millennium of rule. He deserved what happened now.
Just as I deserved to deliver the blow. “Your tea, my king.”
“Ah.” Solomon gave me an absent smile. He never truly saw anyone around him except, perhaps, his son. Certainly he would never deign to show interest to one as low as me. “Thank you.”
I passed the steaming drink to Solomon’s hand, noting that the king trembled slightly. He had weakened significantly over the past week, progress I had watched with intense pleasure. We began this nightly ritual months ago, the king accepting my service as his due, allowing me to step in as his relationship with his son deteriorated. If only he had understood that he was accepting his death at the same time. My soul yearned for him to know what was happening, for his eyes to be opened to see that he was no longer the one in control of his fate, much less our people’s.
That revelation would have to wait a little while longer, unfortunately.
Minutes passed in silence, Solomon sipping his tea, his gaze fixated on the phoenix while I stood to one side, waiting. My heartbeat accelerated as the time ticked away, moving both of us closer and closer to our deliverance. Or doom. Anticipation quickened in my gut as I struggled to control it. But thoughts of the future swirled in my head. The Archai were the most powerful creatures to ever walk the Earth, and yet where were we? Holed up in caves, stuck belowground, hiding from mere humans as if they were any kind of threat. Solomon wanted us stuck here, more concerned about calm and quiet than fulfilling our destiny. He had guided us nowhere, to nothing. It was time to make way for a new future, one that would see all of us elevated, not only those of the royal line or those that served the council. Every Archai would rise to rule over the world. All it would take was the destruction of our king.
As I watched, Solomon’s grip became more and more lax on his cup, until finally his fingers released their hold and the cup fell to the grass at his feet. Solomon startled.
“Let me help you, my king.” I moved to his side and picked up the fallen vessel, slipping it into the pouch slung across my chest. No need to leave evidence behind.
“Tired,” Solomon murmured. The word slurred on his tongue.
“It has been a long day,” I assured him. “Perhaps you would allow me to assist you to your chamber.”
“Yes.” He raised that shaking hand, and I gave him my own, used my strength to pull him from the bench. The body that had ruled us with an iron fist now felt fragile, and I realized that beneath his robes, the king’s once undefeatable strength had diminished. I hid my smile at the knowledge.
“Let us go,” I urged him, forcing my voice to remain gentle. Holding one hand in mine, I circled his waist with the other and guided Solomon slowly from the garden into the throne room. Fitting that the last two sights of Solomon’s life would be his phoenix and his throne. Traversing the massive room took a long time, over which the king leaned more and more heavily against me, his body fading quickly. Finally we entered his suite, trailing with care through the rooms until we reached his bedchamber. Solomon remained silent.
At the side of his bed, I stilled. “We should undress you, King Solomon.” In these final moments, with the poison he had ingested incapacitating him, he should be at his most vulnerable, not wearing the royal robes he no longer deserved. The king did not argue, merely standing mute as I stripped the vibrant purple cloth from his body. What remained was a simple silk sheath, much like a nightgown, to cover his nakedness. Seated on the edge of the bed, he waited as I removed his slippers, then allowed me to assist him to lie in the center of the mattress. He folded his hands over his stomach with a deep sigh, as if relieved to settle into his rest, but I could not allow him to sleep.
“Solomon.”
Although his body did not move, the king’s eyes fluttered open.
I drew my sword. “It is time.”
“Time?” Confusion creased his weathered brow.
“For you to step down from your throne.”
“What?”
I turned my back without an answer. Imagining his aging eyes following me, I crossed to the long mirror at the wall opposite the foot of the bed. There, in its protective sheath, hung the king’s sword. As I removed it, the golden phoenix etched into the hilt reflected the candlelight shining in the room.
“Such a beautiful symbol, isn’t it?” I asked, holding the sword in the air for Solomon to see. “How long has it been since you’ve used it?”
The king tried—and failed—to shake his head.
“That is right.” Swinging the weapon sent a soft whoosh through the room. “You haven’t used this sword in years. Decades, even. Most likely more than a century. Why?”
Gurgling came from the bed, louder the nearer I got.
“Because you were weak, Solomon.” I stood over the bed now, staring down at the impotent figurehead of the Archai. “You loved your pleasure more than you loved your people. And here we are, stuck in the dirt.” Holding up the sword, I shook my head. “No more.”
Solomon eyed the sword, trying desperately to move, to bring up his hand to protect himself. The hand flopped onto the mattress, dead, just as the king would soon be.
I brought the tip of Solomon’s sword to the hollow of his throat. “I have judged you for your crimes against our people, for failing in your duties as king to elevate the Archai above the rest of the world, to bring us into the fullness of our power. You have been found guilty, King Solomon. And for your inaction, you have been sentenced to death.”
