Page 10 of The King has Fallen (The Kingdom of the Krow #1)

~ YILAN ~

Over the following two days I learned that when the General took it upon his very capable shoulders to torment someone, he was a maddening bastard.

I spent that entire time in the cage, hollow on the inside, weakening on the outside.

Yet, not once did he threaten, or growl.

Not once did he attempt to take the spear, or negotiate with me.

The prick just got the hottest, richest food by the plateful and brought it into the tent several times a day.

It started with a breakfast of sizzling hot sausage, honeycakes, sweet fruit and an accompanying mug full of rich, sharp kafk. I would have groaned. Kafk was my favorite drink in the morning, though usually taken with cream and honey. I watched miserably as he pulled the small table to the center of the tent and placed the plate there, dragging a chair to it and tucking in—but not like a monster. No, this asshole savored every bite, and licked the fat and juices from his fingers, then sat back with a satisfied sigh to drink the warm kafk while staring at me.

“Hungry, Fetch?” he asked casually, as if he were being a good host.

I kept my eyes away from his scraped plate, ignored his smiles, and made rude gestures to his back when he eventually turned away.

Lunch was a plate piled high with roasted pork and fire-seared vegetables, heated applesauce, and a hot cup of cider.

When he set aside the now-empty plate to sit back in his chair, he raised the cup of steaming cider and smiled smugly.

“Hungry, Fetch?” he murmured. Then burped.

I held his gaze until his smile broadened, then looked down at the spear laying over my thighs.

It’s worth it , I told myself, though my clenched jaw had begun to ache.

Dinner was the hardest—and the largest meal that took the longest for him to consume. This pig sipped and savored two bowls of a thick, potato chowder, flavored with bacon and onions. Then he slowly peeled the entire skin off a chicken carcass, tipping his head back to stuff the bounty into his brutish maw, the salted, crispy skin crackling between his teeth as he chewed with a delighted smile. When he’d swallowed that treat, he reached for the carcass that had been slow-roasted to such tenderness, the meat literally fell from the bones.

Had a more evil bastard ever walked the earth?

When he picked a drumstick off the carcass and a piece of the steaming hot meat fell into his lap and burned him, he jumped and hissed. I laughed, delighted.

His eyes snapped to mine. Yet instead of growling and scowling, he smiled.

I watched warily as he got up from his chair and walked towards me with the drumstick.

The scent of the food had filled the tent, and my stomach growled audibly as he squatted on the other side of the bars, lifted the drumstick to his mouth and bit off a mouthful, chewing slowly, then wiping a trickle of fat off his chin with his bare knuckle.

The asshole was still smiling when he swallowed.

“Hungry, Fetch?” he asked slyly, waving the mostly bare bone.

“Not for my own demise,” I replied rather more sharply than I should have. His smile broadened, but before he could taunt me further the tent flap twitched aside and Gall entered, his eyes low, and his jaw and cheekbone red and swollen.

I frowned as he walked straight to Melek, his stiff gait making it clear there were many more bruises and tender spots on his thick body under his uniform.

My heart ached for him, but his jaw was tight as he marched to Melek’s side and saluted, one hand to his chest.

“I have taken my punishment and was told to report to you for… duties,” he said thickly.

I wanted to put a blade through the heart of the male who’d beaten this poor child—for he was a child, no matter the size or development of his body.

Melek, clearly thinking the same, stood and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Well done, Son,” he said, his voice almost as thick as Gall’s. “Are you hungry? I have food.”

Gall nodded once, tightly, his hands clenched at his sides.

They hadn’t replaced his spear, I noticed.

Clearly Melek made the same observation. “He didn’t arm you?” he growled.

Gall’s jaw went even tighter as he shook his head. “He said I had not earned the right to carry arms, so… so you are to give me duties befitting my… my intellect.”

And then he blinked several times, quickly.

I wanted to slice the cock off the man who’d insulted this pour soul and feed it back to him covered in thistles and hot pepper sauce.

“Sit down, Gall,” Melek said sadly. “Your duty tonight is to feed yourself, and rest.”

But Gall stiffened. “I have to pay for what I’ve done. You can’t go easily on me, they’ll know!”

Melek’s lips thinned, but he nodded. “Even those under discipline need to eat, Gall. Sit down. I will give you duties after the meal.”

He shot me a warning look then, as if I might make some cutting remark.

I would feed Melek his own entrails if he thought—

“Where is her food?” Gall said suddenly, following Melek’s gaze.

Melek’s jaw flexed. “She has already had hers,” he said after a moment.

Shocked that he would lie to his child, I left my gaze unguarded when my eyes snapped to him. And Gall saw it.

“Papa! She’s hungry! Have you given her water, even?”

“No,” Melek ground out, speaking quickly before Gall continued. “That will be one of your duties tonight. Eat up so you can fulfill them.”

“But—”

“Soldier, attend!” Melek barked.

Gall immediately snapped to attention and saluted.

Melek sighed heavily. “At ease.”

Gall relaxed but eyed his father cautiously.

Melek clapped a hand to his shoulder again. “Son, you must learn to fight as assiduously for discipline as you do for compassion. She is being punished—and not without reason. The pain in your body was inflicted by her—”

“No, Papa,” Gall said fiercely. “My pain was inflicted by the Sergeant because I failed. You told me never to lay blame on others for actions I chose! So, don’t you do it either!”

Melek blinked, opened his mouth, then closed it… then raised his hands in surrender. “You’re right,” he said calmly. “I’m sorry, Gall. You’re right.”

His humility in dealing with his son stunned me.

Gall nodded, his expression softening immediately. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now eat. Then go get the Fetch some more water, okay?”

Gall smiled. “Okay!”

He then dug into the food with such gusto I prayed a few splatters of the soup might be thrown far enough to reach me. I would have licked them off the bars. Sadly, he wasn’t quite that brutish.

When he was done, Melek gave him orders to take the plates and clean them, then bring my water.

“I can do the water first—”

“You will take the orders you are given and deliver on them, Gall,” Melek snapped.

Gall stiffened, then nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, I will. Of course. Thank you, Sir.”

Melek sighed as his son hurriedly gathered the dirty dishes, then darted out of the tent, almost at a run before he’d even reached the flap.

He slumped when Gall was outside and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. His weariness and care for his son was apparent and thawed my frigid heart—only slightly.

“He is a good man,” I said quietly.

Melek dropped his hands from his face and turned on me, suspicion written all over his face. “You could not possibly—”

“Did you not hear me? My sister is the same way. I know their hearts. They are beautiful and soft, and they do not deserve the harshness with which others deal with them, either as bullies, or in impatience. You’re doing well with him. The fact that he can actually function as a soldier at all is a testament to how hard you’ve worked with him.”

Melek’s gaze went dark. “I haven’t had nearly enough time with him. And his… lack in comparison to his peers is becoming more and more apparent every day.”

He looked towards the tent flap, and all that steel strength and arrogance left him as if it had drained off his skin like water from a bath.

He was slumped, looking weary, and miserable.

“I knew you were not the sharpest blade in the drawer,” I teased carefully. “But I am surprised that he is yours. Was he deprived of air during birth like my sister?”

Melek didn’t move or respond at all for a few moments, and when he did, it was to turn and look at me, his eyes narrowed as if he were measuring me.

But then, as if he gave up, he sighed and just shook his head. “He is not my son by blood. But he is every bit my child. I rescued him from… from a refuse heap as a toddler, where he’d been scavenging for food. He had been left to die, and I couldn’t watch that happen. So I took him in. I hired women to watch over him when I worked and hid him from his true father as best I could. Hid him long enough that they never laid eyes on each other until Gall was several years older. I don’t even know if his father recognized him by then. If he did, he has ignored the boy ever since.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I knew that in some societies—especially among nobles—it was considered shaming to have family with these kinds of issues, but… “Does Gall remember him?”

Melek’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know. I think so. He seems to do what he can to avoid him.” Then his eyes snapped back to mine and his face went fierce. “But no matter how he came to be here, I would die to protect him, and I will not hear anyone suggest anything other than that he is mine. Not a word. Do you understand?”

I nodded, but I was stunned.

The General had adopted a son… who was lacking?

He had to have a soul. There was no other explanation—

Gall hurried back into the tent then, carrying another waterskin and brought it straight to the cage, beaming at me even with his thick lip and swelling on his jaw.

“Drink up, it will help fill your stomach,” he said quietly as he pushed the waterskin between the bars.

I waited until he’d stepped back before inching forward to grab the skin, then scuttling to the back of the cage and guzzling the water straight from the skin, pausing only to breathe.

When I’d swallowed most of it—my stomach now distended and threatening to throw it back up—I sat back, breathing deeply and slowly.

When the nausea passed, I met Gall’s eyes and smiled. “Thank you,” I said.

He gave a strange smile. “You are nothing like what I thought a Fetch would be,” he said.

“What did you think I would be?” I asked him, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know, but… not so… lovely.”

I blinked, touched and slightly moved by the incredible compliment. “Gall, thank—”

Melek growled. “I told you, don’t let an enemy deceive you. They can be lovely—until they suddenly aren’t.”

Gall turned to look at him, opening a palm towards me. “But she is lovely.”

“You are the lovely one, Gall,” I said.

He frowned at me. “I’m a male. Males aren’t lovely.”

Melek rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Enough talk of lovely. Come, Gall, we have duties to discuss. First I need you to run a message…”

I grew drowsy listening to Melek’s deep, quiet voice drone as he listed several tasks for Gall to complete. But then the younger man left and Melek turned to me, his expression angry.

“What?” I snapped.

“If you hurt him or, God forbid, try to seduce him, I will cut you from throat to—”

I leaped to my feet, holding the spear prepared to throw. “You say one more word and I will kill you and consider my life a worthy cost.” I was right at the bars, glaring at him just a few feet away. He stared at me, his eyes flat… but curious as well. I shook my head. “The Great General Melek may be blind, but I know the difference between an enemy in name, and an enemy in truth. And that boy is no enemy of mine!”

Our eyes locked, clashing as surely as swords or spears.

I did not back down. I did not lower my gaze, or the spear. He had deeply offended me and cheapened his son’s precious, innocent heart.

“You don’t like being accused of possessing the wiles of a woman,” he said slowly, as if the idea were surprising to him and he was trying to hide it.

“No, you idiot, I am insulted that you believe I would consider such a heinous act against a child.”

“That is not the body of a child.”

“Clearly you have heard nothing I’ve said—I understand him! My sister is the same! No matter his size or development, his mind is immature—and will stay that way.”

Melek nodded. “That is true.”

“The way he sees the world is beautiful. You would throw shame or perversion on that? How is it possible that guileless heart has not been corrupted by your filth?!”

“You wouldn’t know a pure heart it if was served to you on a platter.”

“You bastard—just because you cannot recognize humanity doesn’t mean I’m incapable of it. That child is pure. You and your people are the ones who would defile him, not me, nor mine!”

Melek muttered a curse and turned away from me, his eyes casting towards the tent flap, then scanning the sides as he turned as if he saw through the canvas to all the gathered, dark Nephilim beyond and… and it worried him.

“Of course he will be defiled. We are all defiled by this world as we mature. But I loathe that for him.”

“Wait… Melek, you’re agreeing with me?”

He whirled to face me. “You speak true words I will agree with them—but that does not mean I trust your motives in saying them!”

Oh, dear Lord…

I sat back on my heels and let the spear drop, point to the ground, though I didn’t let go.

“You love him,” I breathed.

Melek’s brows pinched. “You find a man’s love for his son… shocking?”

“No!” I laughed humorlessly. “I find a Nephilim’s ability to love at all shocking.”

“Then you are not nearly as intelligent as you think you are,” he muttered. “Of course I want the best for him. But… he is soft. Not a fighter–except in compassion for others. And that truth is growing harder and harder to hide.”

I blinked. “You actually believe it’s not already apparent to… well, everyone?” I asked, trying to keep the stunned disbelief from my voice.

He rolled his eyes. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean the rank and file. I meant his f—”

He cut off abruptly and every one of my instincts perked like a starving wolf who’d heard a twig snap.

I frowned. “You must know this isn’t the place to mold a soft heart. Why, if you love him, would you bring him here?”

Melek’s expression was one of frustration and disgust and weary resignation. “I am his father in… in heart,” he said reluctantly. “Not by blood.” Then his eyes snapped back to mine. “But he is mine.”

Stunned by yet another layer of this man, I made myself plant a hand on my hip and just stare to cover for the whirlwind of thoughts in my head. I blinked more than once, trying to—

“What?!” he snapped. “If you must spew your vitriol, do it to me, not to him! I will not have you—”

“His eyes are gold,” I blurted.

“So? Mine were also when I was born. That proves nothing—”

“No,” I said through my teeth. “Don’t start lying to me now. Your eyes are the bright green of a new leaf—on a kind day!”

“They are now. But when I was born, and even as a youth—”

“Bullshit! The yellow eyes are the sign of the irredeemable. If you were born irredeemable, you cannot change that—it is impossible!”

Melek frowned. “Who is spouting that drivel?” he said, though I saw the flicker in his eyes. He had to force himself to hold my gaze.

I let my lower jaw jut forward and pointed with the spear. “You said you were a man of honor—of course I should not have believed—”

“I am not the criminal here,” he snapped, that vein at his temple that Jannus had mentioned, standing proud.

“No, just a liar,” I scoffed.

“I am not lying!”

“The eyes are the window to the soul, Melek. Your son has the eyes of fallen angels. He is soulless—”

“YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!” he roared, his face turning beet red, and the vein on his temple pulsing visibly. His body swelled and he took two storming steps towards me with such ferocity that I stumbled back and whipped the spear back up, holding it in both hands, prepared to defend myself if he tore into the cage.

But he drew up short of the door, teeth bared and eyes ablaze, chest heaving with his panting breath.

“You speak one word against my son, and I will show no more mercy.”

“This is mercy?!”

“SILENCE, BITCH.”

My mouth snapped closed and I took an even firmer grip on the spear as my shoulder blades came up against the back of the cage, even though I hadn’t been aware that I was moving. I drew up short, watching him warily as his chest heaved with his breath.

“Just… be silent,” he rasped, then turned and stormed out of the tent.

I watched him go, my heart pattering far too fast in my chest, and my mind spinning with the implications of it all.

The General had a son who was not his son.

Someone in this camp that the General needed to keep happy was truly the boy’s father.

And… whether that father refused to see it, or Melek tried to hide it, apparently the other male did not know or perhaps believe his own son’s limitations.

But why would a man care about a son he did not claim, who was claimed by—

And then it all clicked into place.

Golden yellow eyes.

Melek’s fierce protection.

An absent father, yet one that needed to be pleased…

There was only one man in this camp—probably in the entire Nephilim Kingdom—who had the power to remove that boy from Melek. And that was the King Himself.

I blew out a breath, genuinely stunned.

Gall was the King’s bastard? How had they kept that silent all these years—even from us?