Page 43 of Crown of the Dunes (The Ballan Desert #2)

Chapter sixteen

Erix

T he drumbeats from the ongoing festivities carried faintly through the empty halls.

I wondered if Keera would be dancing to their rhythm, her smile shining just as bright as her golden dress, but I shook the image from my head.

I had left the coronation celebration for a reason, and I couldn’t be distracted by imagining how she looked kneeling before me as I placed the crown on her head.

My feral little fighter, now the city’s gilded queen.

Something both sweet and bitter ran down my spine, but I refused to examine it closer, even as the chittering of magic in my mind urged me to dive into the feeling.

My presence here continued to threaten Keera’s rule, even as she had insisted that we could make the people believe that I had no intention of making a move on the throne—it was the truth after all.

I had never interacted with the archon who had refused to place the circlet on Keera’s head and had no idea why he might oppose her—if it was a bid to win my favor, or a move to see me crowned instead. He would soon find out that opposing Keera was a sure way to earn my ire.

My footsteps echoed, despite my efforts to keep them quiet as I hurried through the empty palace.

The archon had slipped inside immediately after Keera was crowned, and I had not been able to sneak away to follow him until long minutes later.

Despite not having walked these halls in years, my legs carried me up the stairs toward the official chambers in the middle levels.

As I turned off the main stairway onto the hall, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled.

While I had expected Dravis to retreat to his study to hide after the scene at the coronation, there were no signs of life.

The only noise was the chittering in my own skull as the voices of the desert grew like they often did before battle.

My next step made a quiet splash, and I looked down to find myself standing in a spreading puddle.

Though the hallway was dim, the only light coming from a thin window at one end, I could just make out the dark color of the viscous liquid.

It creeped out from under the closed door to one of the chambers.

My heart hammered like hoofbeats as I pushed the door open, already fearing what I would find.

Dravis sat slumped in his chair, burgundy robes stained even darker with the blood trailing from his slit throat.

He couldn’t have been dead for longer than a few minutes from the way the crimson liquid still dribbled from the deep gash.

I pushed into the room, looking around for any sign of an attacker.

Nothing was disturbed, but a glint of silver caught my eye. A bloodied knife lay on the desk just an inch from the archon’s limp hand. Bile rose in my throat. I likely would have passed an attacker in the hallway, but I had seen nobody on my trip through the palace.

As I stared at his slack face, I wracked my brain for what might compel Dravis to take his own life. While the risk he had taken at the coronation had certainly failed, these were not the actions of a level-headed politician.

Still, the mess of ripped flesh at the front of his neck was consistent with the serrated blade that lay near his hand and the desperate stabbing of a man messily stabbing at his own throat.

It was not the single deep cut of a victim who had been attacked from behind.

A smart murderer might have made those marks to cover their trail, though.

One thing was for certain: Whether Dravis had died by his own hand or another’s, more sinister forces than I imagined were at work in the palace, and I needed to stop them before they harmed the desert.

Or Keera. After all, Dravis had been supportive of Keera up until the coronation.

He might have been forced to reject her and then killed by the conspirator to cover their tracks.

And if forces conspired to damage Kelvadan, they might next turn their sights to the clans, or the Heart. After all I had sacrificed, I could not let them be harmed.

My fingers tingled with the need to be doing something, and I settled for drumming them across the desk before me as I waited.

I longed for the scrape of a whetstone across a blade, that sound one of the only things that could drown out the chattering in my brain.

Of course, I hadn’t carried a sword in the two weeks that I had been living in the palace.

While nobody had tried to lock me away or put me in chains yet, openly bearing a weapon might force people to address the fact that I was still technically a prisoner, even though I had proved my loyalty.

So, I stayed out of the way, spending most of my time in the stables helping my father.

While the stone around me made tension build in my shoulders and cold sweat gather in the small of my back, being around horses assuaged some of the uneasiness.

When my hands were busy brushing them, they were not picking my cuticles raw, at least.

Of course, now I sat alone in the chambers that belonged to the commander of the riders, and I had no such comfort. The voices in my head grew to distraction, and I clenched my teeth until my jaw ached.

My heart jumped as a hand grabbed my shoulder.

My reflexes responded before my mind registered who it was.

I grabbed the wrist and wrenched my assailant forward, slamming them into the desk before me.

Even as I pinned them in place against the heavy wooden surface, the tip of a dirk, drawn lightning fast, pricked under my chin.

I froze, staring into Aderyn’s flinty gaze as she stared at me in challenge, her knife tip steady at my Adam’s apple .

“What were you doing in my chair?” she asked.

I loosened my hold on her, but her gaze did not soften.

“Waiting for you,” I admitted.

“You didn’t do a good job of ambushing me, if I caught you off guard so easily.”

I frowned. “I wasn’t planning on ambushing you.”

Her eyes flicked to our posture, and she raised a brow.

“You should know better than to sneak up on me,” I said, finally releasing her completely and stepping back.

She drew her dirk away from my throat but didn’t lower it completely.

“I know no such thing.” Her voice was cool and business-like—the voice of a commander who brooked no argument from her riders. She had grown into a leader in the time I had been away from Kelvadan. Muscles corded her bare arms, the softness of youth replaced by strong efficiency.

“I came for your help,” I explained.

“Why should I help you?”

Irritation climbed up my spine, raising my mental hackles. I grit my teeth, trying to swallow it down. I had signed up for this mistrust when I chose to remain in Kelvadan.

“Because you protect this city, and this is a matter of Kelvadan’s security,” I explained.

She folded her arms and waited for me to continue.

“I went to confront Archon Dravis after the coronation. It seems that somebody else got there first and greeted him with a knife to the throat.”

Aderyn blanched. “He’s dead?”

I nodded.

“And I’m supposed to believe it wasn’t you who killed him?”

My composure cracked, and a growl bubbled up in my throat. “If I had killed him, I wouldn’t be here announcing his death to you. And if I wanted violence, why would I dispose of somebody who appeared to support my claim to power?”

“Because I don’t trust you, and I refuse to be fooled by you like everyone else,” she said, baring her own teeth at me .

Two large steps, and I was back in her space, crowding her against the desk. She didn’t flinch, staring up at me in cold defiance.

“Your queen has decided to trust me,” I spat, my voice rising with every word. “Even my father and I have come to an understanding. Why do you refuse to believe that I’ve surrendered? If they can accept my return, after I abandoned this city, why do you still loathe me?”

A long silence stretched in the wake of my outburst. For a moment, I thought Aderyn was not going to grant me a response. I shifted my weight back, ready to turn on my heel and find Dravis’s murderer on my own, when I spotted the slightest tremble in Aderyn’s jaw.

“You speak as if your parents were the only people you left behind when you ran out into the sands, letting all believe you dead,” she said, voice little more than a whisper. The quiet of her tone jarring from one who always projected such confidence.

My brow furrowed. “Aderyn—”

“You give up your crown to Keera and act like that undoes all the pain you caused,” she interjected before I could continue.

“I had no parents—no siblings—when Kaius and Ginevra took me in.

I thought I had found a family. You trained with me and sparred with me, and I thought that meant something.

I thought it helped you with whatever demons plague you.

“And then you were gone, and I lost the only brother I had ever known. I was left behind trying to hold this city together when Queen Ginevra struggled to do anything but stare at the horizon hoping you would appear. I was the one who stayed.”

My chest tightened, but Aderyn barreled on, picking up speed as she went.

“And then Keera came. I saw the same demons in her, and I swore I would not fail again. I built a family from nothing, and I will not let you cost me a sister as well as a brother. You work your way back into their good graces and act like I should just accept your return. As if I didn’t also stare out over the sands for too many years, wondering if I would ever see you again. ”

Aderyn breathed heavily, as if she had just run a long distance. I too struggled to catch my breath, as it fled my lungs like I had been punched in the stomach .

“I…” Words failed me, and I shook my head.

“I am sorry I could not change whatever it was that made you flee this city. But that doesn’t mean I will stand aside and let you destroy it.”

Guilt burned in my chest, hotter than one of Lord Alasdar’s brands.

There were many reasons I hated this city—the lifelessness of the stone walls, the constant sensation of being trapped, the weight of both the mountains and insurmountable expectations driving me to my knees—but Aderyn had never been one of them.

As I buried myself behind the mask of the Viper, burying my heart in blood and sand, I had never even considered what Aderyn had faced while I was gone.

Lord Alasdar had forged me into an unfeeling sword.

“I don’t have anything to say,” I admitted, my voice hoarse. I wished I had grand words of justification or apology, but she was right. The thought stabbed me like a dirk to the heart.

“Good,” Aderyn said sharply. “Words are for politicians, and we both know you aren’t one of those.”

“Warriors speak through actions,” I agreed.

“Help me find the enemies hiding within these walls, and you might earn my forgiveness,” she said.

I nodded. I might be a blade, but I was their blade now.