Page 66 of House of Embers (Royal Houses #5)

Chapter Fifty-Seven

The Forum

His shadows swept away from him as they landed in the sand to a chorus of gasps. “Always love a good entrance.”

Kerrigan barely suppressed a laugh. This was not a laughing matter. And yet…

The dragon tournament arena had been hastily reconstructed over the months since Bastian’s coup d’état. The once-grand arena still looked as if someone had cleaved the space in half. Bits of mortar and some creative earthwork couldn’t cover what Bastian had done when he had seized power.

Even with all the new seating, the place was only about a third full. Typically a forum brought in the entire city of Kinkadia and a show of force from all the houses. Everyone wanted an excuse to speak their mind to the Society, even if Fae were the only ones to get a voice.

The humans and half-Fae still came to listen to the problems of the day.

It was a good excuse to drink and feast. It helped that it usually aligned with the last days of fall, when no one reasonable traveled up north—except perhaps dragons, and even they had limits with the weather.

The only winter travel after this was for Geivhrea.

Which meant that if their forces didn’t accomplish their mission, the next chance would be with the spring thaw.

“Did we miss the party?” Kerrigan asked as everyone in the forum turned their eyes to the intruders. “I do love a good faerie punch. The red kind is my favorite, but I’m not picky.”

Screams rang up from the audience as members scrambled away from the intruders. The line of Fae waiting to speak with the council about their concerns scattered like ants in an overturned anthill. Kerrigan had no intention of hurting these simpering sycophants, but they certainly didn’t know that.

Her eyes were only for Bastian, who sat clearly at the head of the erected platform at the end of the arena, not a hundred feet away from where she and Fordham stood.

The twenty additional council members were arranged around him.

She knew all their names, who had been added to replace Helly after her murder, who among them were seated for power or fear or shame.

Only Alura did she truly believe felt regret for what had happened.

The rest would pay. They would all pay for what they had done.

But first, Bastian.

“No punch then, I guess,” Kerrigan said as she stepped forward.

Her walking toward the council broke the spell on the arena floor.

Guards rushed them, drawing swords and magic.

Most guards weren’t incredibly proficient with magic, but a quick assessment of the dozen who approached her proved that they were probably the best of the lot. These were Red Masks in guard uniforms.

Fordham shot her a grin. “Ready?”

“My favorite part.”

She might not have been at a hundred percent, but as soon as she’d stepped into the arena, her nerves had settled. The what-ifs cleared. The planning was over. There was only the here and now. No more waiting. Just the fight that she’d stepped into. And from here on out, there was only forward.

The first guard came at her with such poor form that she didn’t even feel bad when she cut him down like a scythe through a wheat field.

Fordham was at her back, hacking at guards with the ease of a practiced soldier.

It was almost unfair to the guards, but they had made their choice.

Whether because of their beliefs or their duty, this was who they had stood behind.

Kerrigan kept waiting for Society members to join in. For someone with real power to try to stop them. But no one did. The council members stood from their seats until they were ordered to sit again, but no one else came forward.

That was when she took another look at the crowd. No black robes. There were no other Society members in the arena. Which meant…

“He has all the dragons in reserve,” Kerrigan said as she slid the crystal blade through the gut of another guard.

Fordham elbowed one in the face and then kicked the next Fae’s feet out from under him. “Just guards in the arena. Why?”

“Aerial assault,” she said.

“Society members can voice their opinion at the forum too.”

They could, but they weren’t. That wasn’t what this was for. This was a trap.

She’d known they were walking into it, and that didn’t surprise her. Bastian wanted her and Fordham here while he had the Society dragons and riders engaged with her forces. She just hoped that he hadn’t been expecting the lack of bonds. That was their greatest strength right now.

“Good for us. Bad for our allies,” she said.

Guards would always be easier than a contingent of battle-hardened Society members.

Dragons had chosen them for their power, which meant any one Society member was worth a dozen guards.

Add their dragons in, and it would be a bloodbath.

She just had to trust in her advance that they could handle the dragons with their own.

Kerrigan met the next guard, who was easily a foot and a half taller than her. Her eyes widened in alarm. Fordham was otherwise engaged, or else he probably would have taken on the brute.

Luckily Kerrigan had fought against people this size back in Domara. Constantine had drilled into her that her size was an asset and not just a liability. It had been the same way in the Dragon Ring, back when Dozan was king of the Wastes. Her size made people underestimate her.

This guy didn’t look like he underestimated her.

“Hey there,” she said, twirling her sword as he approached her.

He was solid muscle, all bulk. She wasn’t even sure he had magic. He didn’t seem to have a shield up and wasn’t carting around any fireballs. And strangely absent was the use of any magical artifacts.

Red Masks had been fighting dirty with them for too long for Bastian to give up on them now.

Surely they hadn’t taken out all their artifacts when they’d raided that warehouse.

He wasn’t dumb enough to put all his eggs in one basket, not the Bastian she knew.

He was frequently playing chess while everyone else was playing checkers.

The beefy Fae male blocked the slice of her blade with his forearm. A heavy metal bracer caught the attack, and he shoved with all his considerable might. Kerrigan flew backward a few steps. The sand shifted under her feet, and she felt herself slip.

With a grunt, she dove away from his swinging fists and ended up deeper in the arena, cut off from Fordham. Bad move.

“That wasn’t nice,” she taunted.

The male just grunted. “Leatha trash.”

“Glad we understand each other,” she growled and then went on the offensive, rushing toward him at lightning speed.

Somehow he got through her defenses, smashing his hand down on her wrist. It was only force of habit that kept the blade in her hand as she went down. And then an uppercut went straight into her stomach.

The air whooshed out of her lungs as she went up before crashing down into the sand.

She hadn’t taken a hit like that in a while, and with her diminished energy, she took the hit like it was a knockout.

In the Dragon Ring, they would have been counting down to whether she could scrape herself off the arena floor.

This hadn’t even been magic. Just a huge guy and a well-placed punch.

“Bravo,” she wheezed.

“The Father doesn’t want you dead yet,” he snarled as he lifted her by the scruff of her collar like a puppy. “But I will kill you if you give me any trouble.”

“Sure, sure,” she said. “Only one problem…”

“No problems,” he growled.

A shadow appeared behind him.

“Me,” Fordham said as he dropped into place at the guard’s back. His hands came to either side of the male’s face, and then he twisted until his head cracked at an unnatural angle. The male went limp, dropping Kerrigan as he fell down dead.

Fordham offered Kerrigan his hand, and she let him pull her up. She dusted herself off with a grumbled, “Took you long enough.”

“Use your magic next time.”

She nodded in acknowledgment. No amount of saving it up could get her to the end of her mission if she died from not using it at all.

“Let’s skip the pleasantries then,” Kerrigan said.

As another wave of guards headed for them, she grasped Fordham’s hand, and together they both grasped that line of shadow magic and pulled together. It answered their call, united in its use as they disappeared from view and landed a moment later at the end of the council stage.

More screams this time from the remaining few who hadn’t been smart enough to leave the arena floor. They huddled before the platform in their finery, covered in jewels, and cowered in fear.

Kerrigan ignored the nearest male, who cowered at her feet reciting litanies not to kill him. “You don’t have to stop on my account,” she said. “Stand up. Speak your demands to the council.”

“N-no…no,” he gasped. “Please…please don’t kill me.”

“No? You don’t want to ask this mock council for help with your fields or a break on your taxes or something else while they make the weakest among us suffer?” Kerrigan demanded, her eyes never leaving Bastian. “What do you think? Should we give him a break on his taxes?”

“Hello, Kerrigan,” Bastian said as if nothing had transpired between them at all.

He had all the warmth he’d always had for her. Real affection in his voice. A smile on his wicked face. The scars from the fire etched like a map down his face. He wasn’t the Father, leader of the Red Masks, in this moment. He was the head of the council, a revered Society member, and her mentor.

A duality that she could see like looking at him with double vision. One person layered on top of the other. But she wasn’t shaken by his duplicity. He had survived this long on the duality of his nature.

It was the break in his facade that stood at the edge of the platform poised like a knife that broke it all to pieces. Isa, at attention, her collar tight around her neck, her eyes narrowed to pinpoints. He hadn’t sent her into the fight. He wanted this to last. Or he wanted her to watch.

“Bastian,” Kerrigan said. “Quite a spectacle you’ve put on here of normalcy. But I guess you’re pretty good at that, aren’t you?”

“It’s good to have you home.”

“I bet.”

Fordham shifted at her side and then put his boot into the face of one of the forum onlookers who had just produced a knife out of his pockets. “Nuh-uh.”

The male cowered, and Fordham quickly disarmed him.

“And you brought Fordham,” Bastian said. “As expected. I hear congratulations are in order.”

“We don’t particularly want them from you,” Fordham said.

“A king doesn’t need congratulations, I suppose,” Bastian continued as if he hadn’t heard. “But a royal wedding. That’s something to look forward to.”

“Are you fishing for an invitation?” Kerrigan asked, unsure where he was taking this line of conversation. If he was just showing that he knew what was happening in the House of Shadows, it didn’t matter. None of that was private. In fact, it had all been declared very publicly.

“I think we’re past that, don’t you?” Bastian asked. He raised the hand that had been severed to reveal his metal prosthetic and used the metal fingers to twirl the Ring of Endings on his finger.

“Long past it,” she assured him.

The Ring of Endings kept him immune from magic even if its real purpose was healing. She needed to get it off his finger before they could end this. But she had a plan for that. She just needed to keep him talking.

“While this has been amusing,” Bastian said, “I would like to continue with the forum.”

“Oh, of course,” she said, taking a step to the side as if to allow the sycophants to come forward. “Looks like you’ve lost your worshippers.”

“We can start with you,” he said.

She laughed in his face. “I never worshipped you.”

“Feel free to list your unreasonable demands for the council, and we can decide whether to keep you alive after we put down your petty rebellion.”

Kerrigan’s eyes cut to Fordham. This was a new angle.

“We both know that one of us isn’t leaving this arena alive,” she said as she took a step back to Fordham’s side.

“You’re right,” Bastian said with a nod.

Then he waved his hand at Isa, some unknown command. The girl visibly bristled as she tried to resist what was coming. Kerrigan brought her magic up, expecting an attack from the assassin.

But all Isa did was drop into the sand on some unseen artifact. A hiss sounded as soon as her foot made contact, and then a trap sprang around Kerrigan and Fordham, holding them in place.