Page 171 of The Queens and the Kings
Ingemar, the right hand to His Glory.
In the darkness, Ingemar’s profile was muted. Exhausted, just like Arvid. Certainly not someone ready to betray a tyrannical leader that he had, presumably, spent years supporting. Ingemar strode out, two sailors at his back.
“Ingemar,” Arvid said.
“Arvid.”
Ingemar paused a few steps away, and locked eyes on Arvid. An unearthly quiet rippled through the courtyard as Arvid and Ingemar regarded each other. Henrik’s heart slammed against his ribs. Einar repositioned his weight, crouching ever-so-slightly.
Misgivings welled up in Henrik’s stomach. He slid a sidelong glance to Einar, who kept an eye on the sailors at Ingemar’s back and arcane gliding down the Temple. Clouds of dust and fire billowed from other parts of the island as the malefaction spread.
Ingemar folded his hands behind his back. “Has all gone to plan?”
“Yes. You?”
“Yes. Fifty-four volunteered. Fifty-four accounted for tonight.” With a sigh like relief, Ingemar said, “It’s good to see you, old friend.”
Three things became immediately apparent to Henrik as Ingemar and Arvid embraced. First, Arvid’s tense features had eased considerably. Second, Einar seemed not at all surprised. Third, the sailors surrounding them hadn’t so much as moved. Either Arvid had just betrayed Einar, himself, and all the soldats, or Henrik was missing a piece.
Ingemar a friend? Impossible. He was too tied into His Glory. Too close to their enemy to have any association other than greedy motivation. For several confused seconds, Henrik flailed. He felt as if someone grabbed him by the ankles and spun him around.
He leaned to the side, not tearing his gaze from Ingemar. “What,” Henrik hissed to Einar, “is going on?”
“Arvid will explain.”
At that moment, Ingemar turned his rheumy eyes onto Henrik. “Henrik,” he said quietly. “It’s good to see you. Thank you for returning to help us.” After a pause, he added, “Please understand that I am not your enemy.”
Henrik offered no greeting. He was too busy staring at Arvid, who seemed to brace himself.
“I trust Ingemar,” Arvid said. “Ingemar is the contact on Stenberg that I spoke of back in Kapurnick. Without him, I would have died several times over. He kept me alive, and he’s kept our rebellion alive in my absence.”
Ingemar kept his studious gaze on Henrik, allowing a stunned quiet to roll through the street. He broke it with a calm voice. “Stenberg has always asked too much of you, Henrik,” he said, then concluded, “Stenberg is about to ask too much of you again.”
He spoke with the quiet, steady cadence of someone with absolute certainty in a path. No obvious signs of lying, nervousness, or subterfuge surfaced, but hesitation made it impossible to be sure. Anyone associated with His Glory so tightly, with the ability to fool the leader of Stenberg, had the capacity to betray them as well.
Ingemar spun to more fully face Arvid again.
“Fifty-four sailors are loyal to change and ready to fight with you. Loyal to a new regime.” He let out a stiff breath, gesturing behind him with his arm. “These are your men, Arvid. I’m sorry there are so few, but they’re mighty and prepared for your final stand. Farther behind us is the rest of the navy, gathering to fight in Stenberg’s streets on behalf of His Glory. Arcane was His Glory’s first push. The true battle is about to begin.”
“Navy?” Einar echoed.
Henrik’s rampant suspicions ebbed. This wasn’t a set up. Ingemar wasn’t going to bring the navy against them and demand their heads?
“His Glory has been preparing to fight for Stenberg since he returned from the mainland,” Ingemar said. “He knew the rebellion of soldats and sailors was coming to a point.” He cast a wary glance to the ground where burned marks remained. “Which meant he began the destruction of Stenberg.”
“Why?” Henrik demanded.
“He has no choice. In exchange for arcane, he had to pay. The demand was for all of Stenberg to be burned to the ground with arcane fire.”
Einar demanded, “Was it the Arcanist of Souls who gave His Glory this power?”
With great reluctance, Ingemar nodded.
“Yes.”
Henrik ran a hand over his head, sick to his stomach. “Bloody bastid,” he muttered.
“The rest of the Stenberg navy firmly believes that Arvid is their great enemy. They have commands to kill him and any rebels on sight.” Ingemar lifted a hand toward the sailors at his back, a few of which Henrik recognized. “These sailors have defected.”
