Page 59 of Keeper of the Word (The Unsung and the Wolf Duology #2)

Chapter

Fifty-Three

TOLVAR

T he Wolf assessed the scene in the flash of time it took him to inhale, grip his hilt, and exhale.

’Twas grim.

But Tolvar was ready for grim.

Leading dozens of Castle Sidra knights, who charged into the Crown Hall, Tolvar made short work of the three opponents who attacked him together before he’d stepped five paces into the hall.

King Rian lay motionless on the floor, soaked in blood. The queen knelt over him, pressing her gown to his backside. Near them, Prince Dashiell struggled to break through the barrier of guards that stood between him, a Warin, Hux and the chancellor.

Griffith held a bloody dagger loosely in his hands. The man obviously had no idea what to do with the weapon but had clearly done something. He, no doubt, was whom Turas had meant.

A watchdog turning on his master.

Tolvar barreled toward them, slashing his sword across numerous men as he did so. Gus covered his back and shouted a few warnings here and there. His wound nagged at him, but it would not slow him.

The line of guards protecting Griffith and two others sidled toward the side door, shielding the three as they did so. Four more guards gave reinforcement. Hux managed to down one of them as they inched their way off the dais. Tolvar cut across, stepping over bodies to join them.

“Welcome! How delightful of you to finally return,” Hux said, ramming the butt of his hilt into a guard who attacked from the side.

“Aye.” Tolvar parried against his opponent as he sidestepped a second one.

He then lunged and thrust his sword into the first one.

With not as much quickness as he was accustomed to, thanks to his thigh, Tolvar pivoted and beat his sword against the second.

Within moments, though, Tolvar had downed the man.

He took a second to gauge how they fared.

Giffith and the others fled through the side door.

“Enough of this!” Tolvar shouted, plowing his way through the guards and giving chase. Hux close behind, they were on them by the time they’d rounded the second corner.

The first, a bald man with glasses, tripped, and Tolvar grabbed him by his head, lifted him, and broke his neck. He slid to the floor. Hux smashed a nearby vase against the second. He slunk to the floor unconscious.

“We may wish to question them, Lord Wolf. Leave them alive, mayhap?”

Tolvar grunted, and they dashed after Griffith, who fumbled with a ring of keys at a door at the far end of the corridor.

“Enough, Griffith,” Tolvar said, decelerating his approach. “’Tis over.”

Griffith continued to shuffle the keys in his hands. The man’s voice shook. “’Tis only beginning, Lord Tolvar.”

The two rushed him. Hux snatched the keys, and Tolvar held his sword to Griffith’s neck.

“Stabbing the sovereign in the back?” Tolvar fought the itch to swipe his sword across the man’s neck.

“Not too creative,” Hux said. “I will say that.”

Griffith gulped, eyeing the tip of the sword .

“Why, Griffith?” Tolvar narrowed his eyes and poised his impatient hand. “You’ve served here for decades.”

“And to what end? To be ridiculed and belittled. King Rian was a tyrant. I’ve watched him become more so over the last years.

Consumed with naught but frivolousness and self-regard.

So much so that ’twas with ease that we separated the prince from his favor.

The House of Sidra has become a mockery.

’Tis time for a new age, Lord Tolvar. Men cannot wait for the stars to determine it so.

We must act to secure Lenfore’s position. ”

“Lenfore’s? Are you daft? Lenfore is naught without its ties to Grenden. The Capella Realm is what must survive.”

“And why is that? Lenfore is a richer country, to be sure. More resources, stronger armies, superior culture.”

“Culture? What has that to do with anything?”

“Grenden is boorish and primitive.”

Tolvar chuckled. “You’re a snob, Griffith, and a fool. Lenfore will ne’er be an empire on its own.”

“’Twill when it controls Asalle. And do not forget, we have the StarSeers within our borders.”

Tolvar snorted, lowering his sword and shifting his weight to his other leg. “Think you the StarSeers shall condone this? One of them is here with the very purpose of halting this madness.”

Griffith swallowed, glancing at Tolvar’s blade. “If they are not with us, we shall simply rid ourselves of them. Deogol, Orla, and other countries seem to do well without them.”

“‘Rid ourselves?’ You’re a greater fool than you appear. I will not speak of Orla, seeing that we recently won a war against them. Deogol was hit with a cursed force that killed thousands of people. They’re lucky to even exist.” His sword shook in his hand. “Besides, the StarSeers…” He trailed off.

Ashwin. ’Twas clear now why Ashwin had become a target. Without the StarSeers, there was no Capella Realm and no one to protect it. It—its Light—could not exist without them.

And now, Tolvar had a new thought. The Befallen had easily ravaged a faithless land. With the new evidence that the Curse of Adrienne was being unburied in the Greenwood Forest, what would anyone be able to do without the StarSeers? Could the Befallen return? Come to the Capella Realm?

Could the Befallen return?

On the continent, there would be no containing it. No stopping it. Stars, Tolvar had to stop this.

“We’ll have other means of protection,” Griffith said, as if reading his thoughts. “Other powers to employ.”

Stars. This was Deogol all over again. Griffith, Turas, Greenwood, and Crevan, and stars only knew who else, had been enticed by and meant to try to wield the dark power of Adrienne. Like so many other damned fools before them.

Tolvar couldn’t face Griffith anymore. His shaking hand steadied, and he lashed the blade across Griffith’s neck. The wound painted a gruesome open smirk of blood across his throat before he fell face forward onto the corridor floor.

“So much for asking him more questions,” Hux said.

Tolvar gave himself only a moment’s pause to contemplate everything Griffith had said. The Wolf was one for action, not dilly-dallying.

“We need to return to Elanna. And quick.”

“He’s gone.” Hux halted.

Where they’d left the councilor knocked out from the vase, only a small spill of blood puddled amongst the shattered porcelain.

Tolvar scanned the corridor. No sign. “We cannot waste time on him at present. To the hall.”

They returned to the Crown Hall, bracing themselves to cross more enemies.

But the battle had all but terminated. The aftermath, casualties upon casualties, littered the marble floor, slick with blood.

Control had been regained. Almost. The prince and one of the Warins still fought against two other Warins, Petre and another.

The Castle Sidra guards, and what very few were left of the Warins and queensguard, had defeated the others.

The queen hovered over Rian alongside three castle physicians. Was the sovereign still alive?

Tolvar glanced at a body near the door and did a double take .

Crouching, he shifted the collar of the man’s tunic and noted the dark line etched into his neck.

Stars. Adrienne was here .

In Asalle.

Tolvar strode to the dais, and before one of the Warins could shift his position, he drove his sword through his middle.

He jerked oddly, blood spilling from the wound.

Tolvar propped his foot on the man’s back and freed his sword from the guard’s torso.

His thigh wailed, but he was in a better position than the man on the floor.

Petre thrust his hands into the air, dropping his sword. “Do not kill me!”

Coward.

Tolvar was about to show him what happened to cowards, but the prince put himself between them. “Nay, Sir Tolvar. I need information as to the whereabouts of Aven. They’re holding her somewhere.”

“Aven?” Tolvar asked, as three guards rushed to bind Petre.

“The prince’s intended,” Elanna’s voice came from behind them. “You have much to catch up on, Sir Tolvar.”

“The sovereign!” someone shouted.

All attention rushed to King Rian. Tolvar crouched beside him.

One of the surgeons had cut open the back of his tunic and worked to stitch up the wound in his back as the sovereign lay on his side.

Rian’s eyes were closed; his face was lifeless.

The amount of sovereign’s blood on the floor threatened to make even Tolvar ill.

Tolvar focused on the surgeon to assess Rian’s chances. The surgeon was bone-white.

“Father,” Prince Dashiell knelt and took King Rian’s hand. “His hands are like ice. Bring blankets!”

Queen Ferika could only weep.

“Where do you hold Aven?” Prince Dashiell asked.

King Rian remained unconscious.

“Someone tell me!” Prince Dashiell shouted. He turned to Petre. “Where is she?”

“I know nothing! ”

The prince wound up his fist and decked the Warin square in the face.

Petre groaned, his nose bleeding. Through his muffled hands, Petre said, “Promise me the sovereign’s immunity.”

Tolvar rose and bore the tip of his dagger into Petre’s chest. “Choose your next words carefully.”

Petre sealed his mouth.

Normally, Tolvar would be only too glad to cut away a man’s lips, but the prince—who may be the sovereign within moments—was frantic. He shook as he clenched and unclenched his hands.

“Your Highness,” Elanna addressed Prince Dashiell. “We shall find Aven. Now is the time to keep our heads.”

Without a word, Prince Dashiell took a dagger that was held in a dead man’s hand and launched it at Petre. With surprising accuracy—if that’s where his aim had been—it embedded itself in Petre’s shoulder. The Warin cried out.

“Enough.” Prince Dashiell’s voice was cold and mature. “I shall not ask again.”

“’Twas a farce. The girl was ne’er being held. But she is being hunted.”

“Hunted? To what end?” Tolvar asked.

“The chancellor had convinced the sovereign to dispose of her when she is found. She will not be held anywhere.”

Elanna exhaled. “’Twas true,” she whispered to herself.

The prince made for the exit without a second glance at anyone.

“Dashiell!” Queen Ferika called after him. “Where are you going? Your father!” She gestured toward Rian’s increasingly pale form on the floor.

The prince halted at the doorway. “He meant to deceive me. I warned him. I pleaded with him. Mother, do you even know where I have been for the last span of days?”

“The sovereign did not know you were kept in the dungeon,” Petre muttered. “The chancellor was able to keep that from him.”

Prince Dashiell convulsed with emotion. “But had he wished to know, he could have. Nay. He did this. All of this. ”

The prince left.

“Do not allow him to leave!” the queen shouted to waiting guards, who sprinted out after him.

Elanna stifled a sob.

Tolvar turned toward her. “What is it?”

“The last crack. ”

Before Tolvar could inquire after Elanna’s words, the steward appeared in the side doorway. “Your Highness, urgent news! Your Highness!” His eyes searched the hall for Prince Dashiell, and when he couldn’t see him, landed on Queen Ferika, who sobbed anew into a kerchief.

“He’s gone,” Tolvar said, realizing that none of the sovereign’s council were here. Or alive. “What is it?”

“Mobs! In the streets, in at least six boroughs. Guards have been sent out to subdue them, but at least five guards have been killed.”

“Killed? By mobs?”

The steward shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “There are rumors.” He glanced at Elanna. “Rumors that the StarSeers deceived the sovereign.”

Tolvar swore, gazing around the blood-soaked hall strewn with bodies. A massacre. An attempted dethroning? Mobs in the streets killing Asalle guards, thinking that the StarSeers would e’er deceive the sovereign?

“Seal the castle,” Tolvar commanded. Let no one in or out.”

Ashwin.

“Wait.” He turned to Hux and the others. Tara stood in the background, bracing Goodsell. When had they arrived here? “What would you have us do?” This question was for Elanna.

She appeared taken aback. If Tolvar was honest with himself, so, too, was he.

“If what the steward says is true, you are in danger here,” Tolvar said. “And Ashwin is also in danger.”

“What has happened?” Tara stepped forward, and Tolvar gave them the briefest of explanations.

“Oh, Tara,” Elanna whispered .

Tolvar glanced down at Rian hanging between life and death. “Stars’ shadow, everything is a mess. Direct us.”

Elanna met Tara’s eyes, and the two nodded. “We must leave here. Tara will stay in Asalle with the sovereign until we return.”

“Is that a good idea?” Tolvar asked.

“Seal the castle.”

“And the city,” Tara said, regarding the queen.

“What would you have me do, sister?” a Warin asked.

“Ride through Grenden to Mara, giving warning and collecting whatever forces you can, Daved. A war, as such as the realm has never experienced, will be at Asalle’s door in less than two moons.”

“Where are we going?” Tolvar asked.

Elanna’s hand rooted around in her pocket. “We have a great many tasks.”