Page 53 of Witchcraft and Fury (Chronicles of the Divided Isle #1)

Cal took a deep breath, then began pacing around the room, running a hand through his hair.

Finally, he turned to face her. ‘Fine. I accept that it would be wrong for us to run. But are you sure that speaking to the king in front of the whole court is the best option here? Wouldn’t it be better to get him alone? ’

‘Will we, a witch and a practically disowned son, be granted a private conversation with the king?’

‘Hmm. You have a point.’

‘Attending the court session, and standing in line with the petitioners, almost guarantees us an audience.’

‘But a public one.’

‘Exactly. You’re almost certainly right when you say that the king won’t believe us.

But other people of consequence will be there: wizards, courtiers, nobles.

If the king doesn’t listen, one of them might, and take their own course of action.

And no matter what happens, the commoners in attendance will make sure the news spreads through the city like wildfire. ’

‘What if Loveday is at court today? Securing a private audience with the king would mean we can speak to him without interference.’

‘If Loveday’s there, then all the better. We saw him take the poison from his Arkundi accomplice and stow it inside his cloak. We can accuse him with the evidence on him!’

Cal still did not look convinced.

‘Look, we’ve already established that we won’t be granted a private audience with the king, especially not promptly,’ Solar persisted.

‘We have to make this plot known immediately. The only other person I can think of who it might be worth speaking to, and who might have time for us, is Storrbury. ’

‘That’s too risky as well. We don’t know who else is in on Loveday’s plot.

And even if Storrbury isn’t, he still won’t believe us over Loveday.

The king may never even hear of the plot on his life until its complete.

No. We have to speak to the king directly.

At least we can then guarantee he’s been forewarned. ’

‘Well, then. The court it is.’

Cal stood very still, brow furrowed, eyes averted in thought. Eventually he met her gaze, regarding her, weighing his words. ‘If that’s the path you choose, I’ll be right beside you. No matter how this plays out, I’ll be with you.’

Solar felt gratitude surge inside her. Speaking to the king in front of the whole court would have been terrifying alone. ‘Wield justice. Honour the code,’ she stated, mouth dry, in little more than a whisper.

‘Wield justice. Honour the code,’ Cal repeated gravely.

Solar was silent for a moment that seemed to stretch all the way back to the day when, en route to Ravenbridge, Loveday had taught the trainees those words. ‘We’d better hurry. The session starts soon, and if we don’t get there early we’ll be behind all the other petitioners in a great long queue.’

‘Solar, you really need to get used to your status in the capital,’ said Cal, a rueful chuckle just detectable in his voice.

‘We are studying in a royal encampment, and our classmates come from the most powerful families of the land. We are expected to be two of Ashwood’s future leaders.

We may not yet be the sort who get granted private audiences with the king, but we’ll certainly be put straight to the front of a line of commoners. ’

*

Cal was right. No sooner had they reached the throne room doors than two burly guards armed with swords ushered them inside and past the queue of petitioners. Cal carried his new ash staff, which Solar thought gave him an air of importance and authority.

The room was a long hall. On a dais at the far end sat King Algar Firebraid on a throne of solid gold.

He was a fit and handsome man with a square jaw, green eyes and fiery red hair.

In his hand was a gold sceptre with a huge emerald at its head.

He wore a plain gold crown and a cloak of deep purple.

At his right-hand side sat a young man who Solar recognised as Prince Burgheard, who had inherited his father’s good looks but also wore a short, neat beard, and he was lean rather than obviously muscled.

Before both men were low oak tables, each with a gold platter of grapes and ivory wine cups.

Standing slightly behind and to the right of the prince was an old man in a grey cloak who clutched a magic staff with frail hands.

To King Algar’s left, seated on plain chairs, were three important-looking men.

Solar recognised one of them as Lord Sceotend.

Three guards in heavy armour stood at the foot of the dais, leaning on enormous battle axes.

Great tapestries draped the walls. They showed maps of the Divided Isle as if it were one kingdom, with the great city of Khylfierum represented as nothing more than a suburb of Riverhawk.

Famous kings of old dispensed justice in cities north and south of the River Vulnus, rode into battle against trolls and centaurs on enormous chargers and held council with staff-bearing wizards.

Courtiers and members of the aristocracy lined the throne room, watching the proceedings. Solar saw Loveday among them, a smug smile on his face, and Binns at his shoulder. For once the master-at-arms looked sober. Was he in on the plot too ?

She felt rage boil up inside her again, and she reached for Fury. Cal must have seen the action, for he grasped her wrist tightly before her fingers could find the hilt.

‘Just breathe. Relax,’ he murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

A man was on his knees before the dais.

‘The centaurs came up out of the valley and across your border as if it did not exist. They carried off our livestock and set fire to our villages. They’ll be back for more plunder before long, and I ask that you protect us, Your Majesty.’

‘Sir Cyril,’ said the king, his voice deep and rumbling.

A knight in chainmail strode out from the lords and ladies around the walls.

‘Your Majesty,’ he said simply.

‘Take two hundred horsemen and patrol our border with the centaurs. Slay any that cross into Ashwood.’

‘Your Majesty,’ Sir Cyril replied, nodding his head and leaving the room.

The kneeling man took his leave also. The swordsmen who had walked Solar and Cal to the front of the queue now escorted them to a position directly before the dais, and all eyes in the room turned on them. Solar saw Binns arch a black eyebrow. She suddenly felt very small.

A man hurried forward from the left of the dais to take their names.

‘Cal, of House Roundtower, and Solar, of House Carpenter, students of Lord Gaderian Loveday’s royally sanctioned magic encampment,’ he announced to the king and court, before backing away to his place beside the dais.

‘Speak,’ commanded the king in his rumbling voice.

Solar felt Loveday’s eyes boring into her like a hot knife. She took a deep breath .

‘Your Majesty,’ she began. ‘I come before you not with a petition, but rather a warning.’

‘Warning?’ the king looked both angered and surprised. ‘What warning could you possibly have for me, trainee?’

Before Solar could answer, the courtier nearest to the king leaned forward and spoke in a low voice.

He was very young to be seated so close to the king, no older than his late twenties.

He was pale and clean-shaven, and had short, jet-black hair and a slim build.

‘My king,’ he said. ‘You need not bother yourself with this witch . Allow my priests to hear her words in private, and I will report back to you if there is anything worthy of your attention.’ Each word was enunciated clearly and purposefully, and his voice had an almost unnerving pureness to it.

‘And yet, Lord Heolstor,’ said Lord Sceotend, from his seat that was next in line, ‘witch or no, she is a magical trainee. I hardly think using your priests as intermediaries is necessary.’

Heolstor made to retort, but Solar, sensing her opportunity fading away from her, spoke first. ‘Your life is in danger, my king,’ she said, voice ringing out, ‘and it is threatened by someone standing within this very room.’

The hall went very still. Heolstor and Sceotend both looked shocked, an expression that neither appeared used to wearing.

‘What plot is this?’ asked the king, furrowing his brow.

‘One hatched by a wizard from your very own Magic Circle – perhaps the most famous wizard of the realm. He has procured a poison from Arkundu: Vixen’s Vengeance. He means to kill you and the prince with it, and name me as the assassin.’

The king rose to his feet, his face flushed with anger. He was very tall. ‘And who is the real assassin, girl? ’

‘His name is Lord Gaderian Loveday, your cousin and, though it pains me to say it, my instructor.’

This time there were shouts of alarm from the spectators, and the axemen at the dais raised their weapons menacingly. Those surrounding Loveday backed away from him until he was standing quite alone.

‘Solar, Solar, Solar,’ he said coolly, striding forwards to stand between her and the king.

‘I had my doubts when taking you on as a student, really I did. You showed such promise, and yet I worried that the rigour of magical study might prove to be too much for you. You are, after all, just a girl. It appears my doubts were well-founded. Studying magic appears to have addled your mind. A plot to kill the king, by the gods! What nonsense!’

‘You know it’s true!’ Solar spat. ‘Not even an hour ago you were in your chambers, scheming with your accomplice!’

‘May I remind you, carpenter’s daughter,’ said Lord Heolstor, raising his voice for all to hear, ‘that you accuse a lord and wizard of great renown? It is the gods who decide our station in life. To question your instructor and, though it pains me to state something so obvious, your social superior is to question divine judgement itself.’

Solar looked at Lord Sceotend, hoping that help would come from his quarter. She felt great regret that she had previously shunned him.

Sceotend remained silent, his expression unreadable.