Page 3 of A Court of Broken Promises

“There was a rebel attack the same night as the assassination attempt. Are you telling me you think that’s a coincidence?” Victor snarled.

“I know nothing about the rebels, the attack, or the assassination attempt, so I can’t say.” I wasn’t lying to them. I didn’t know anything beyond common knowledge.

“Tell us what you do know about the rebels and your father’s involvement with them,” Councilman Vitahly demanded, getting frustrated with my lack of information.

Power was slowly disappearing from the land, leaving citizens feeling defeated and needing someone to blame. The magic didn’t disappear overnight. It was a slow process, leaving each generation with less than the one before and leaving the country more and more desperate. As a result, people were making choices they normally would have otherwise denied in an attempt to escape their hardships, and rumors of rebel activity had become increasingly more severe.

Many theories existed for the lack of magic, but no real cause had been discovered. Some speculated that the Goddess was taking away what she initially gifted to the Kingdom of Adaria five hundred-plus years ago. Others believed heretics and nonbelievers had somehow cursed the land. And some suggested that the Goddess only granted a finite amount of magic, and we had already used up our allotment. Regardless of the cause, the situation became more and more grave as time passed, with both the magic and the rebels.

Father’s team, the Denalians, had been created to spearhead the resistance against the rebels. Working on behalf of the council, he had formed an elite guard, whom he’d recruited and trained himself.

The irony is not lost on me that they’d just executed the leader of the guard specifically formed to defend against and counter the rebel forces during one of the gravest times of civil unrest in our history. For crimes that included working and sympathizing with the very rebels he had been charged to lead the fight against.

“I am not a rebel or a rebel sympathizer. I know nothing about their organization beyond that they exist,” I declared. “I also know nothing about Father’s connections to them.”

“I do not believe this to be true,” Victor accused like I didn't already know. He was attempting to sound welcoming, which made his whole persona even worse. “At the very least, you must have heard something that would show his ultimate reasons for betraying his king and country.” He let his words hang in the air, attempting civility before deserting it completely and scowling. “Tell us about his involvement with the rebels. Who was he working with?”

I held my head high, not letting any of them intimidate me. I refused to show them weakness, even though each question was leading, the answers already inferred. I’d already answered all these same questions and more in the previous interrogations. They didn’t listen either.

‘Are you working with the rebels?’— slap. ‘Are you aware of your father’s involvement with them?’— kick to the side. ‘What has he told them about our defenses?’? Waterboarding. ‘Has he shared national secrets?’— Brand.

When I answered, I gave nothing away that could incriminate me in any way, oftentimes giving misleading truths that I refused to expand on. Or straight-up lies. Father trained me for this, whether he meant to or not.

‘No, Father didn’t ever talk to me about work,’— he did. ‘No, Father never left any indication that he was cooperating with the rebels,’—he didn’t. ‘No, Father didn’t tell me or anyone state secrets,’—sometimes he did talk to me about things. ‘I could never take on the king and his guards with no formal training,’— I had trained almost every night since I was five. ‘No, I don’t know why he tried to kill the king,’— I truly wished I did.

As hard as it was, I held onto my hope that this was a temporary situation. Surely, I’d be found not guilty and then released. You could handle anything temporarily.

It got worse when Father passed. When they executed him without a single explanation or goodbye, hope had seemed lost to me.

I thought of Liam. Memories of Liam’s strong arms holding me held me together. Thoughts of his loyalty and never-ending comfort embraced me, soothing my soul and driving away the worst of the pain. His smile and bright eyes in my mind’s eye had become my one light in the darkness.

He always would be.

Chapter2

Kaia

After hours of rapid-fire questions circling back with the same results— me not telling them exactly what they wanted to hear— the councilmen were getting as frustrated with my lack of information as I was. I didn’t know what Father was thinking, and wished I did.

Nothing Father had revealed in the past, or anything I had gathered over the course of the last several days, gave me even the slightest indication of why Father would do what he did.

“Kaia, reports are showing you haven’t been very forthcoming in previous interviews,” the Head Councilman continued, leveling me with a pointed stare and a raised brow. “You’ve been the same way today. You must understand that these are grave allegations. We’re giving you time to give your story. Please use it wisely. Work with us.” His face softened and he lowered his voice, trying to draw on a sense of shared familiarity. “Give us something we can use.”

There was a time when I thought of that man as a second father. I was at his suites almost as often as my own growing up. He had been the councilman who’d nominated Father to create and recruit for the Denalians. I wondered if he’d stood up for Father during any of this.

“I am not guilty!” I declared again with finality. If they wanted me to elaborate, I’d elaborate. Some of my annoyance slipped into my voice. “My father, Eryk Noelani—"

Victor’s hand slammed onto the wooden tabletop, rattling the gold candlesticks, the sound reverberating.

I could feel Elijah’s eyes burning into the side of my face more than ever before. My heart picked up as my focus zeroed in on the feeling of his eyes skimming my profile.

We both knew that I’d messed up. You don’t say a traitor’s name. Ever. I chewed on the inside of my lip to hold back any more words. I had already said too much— and too little of what they wanted to hear.

A stiff, red-faced Victor lowered his butt chin so he could look down at me with the coldest look I’d ever seen.

“Your insolence will not be permitted in this chamber. Who do you think you are, speaking to the King and his righteous Council with such disrespect? You are a girl,” he sneered, his tone somehow managing to portray more contempt than his expression.

I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off.

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