The king leans forward on his throne. “Feral? What kind of creature?”
“A b-basilisk, Sire.”
My interest spikes. Like azdahas, basilisks are creatures of legend, famed for their ability to kill a man with one look of their eyes. How dangerous would a feral basilisk be? From the king’s intense expression, the threat level is high. “Are you certain?” he asks.
“We found a... skin, Sire,” the farmer says.
“It must be a juvenile,” the king says. “They don’t shed as adults unless they’re ill. How large is the skin you saw?”
“More than thirty feet, Sire, and mottled yellow.”
The king swears softly. “Unquestionably a sickened adult then, which means your families are in danger, not just your cattle. I will find the beast, you have my word.”
“Thank you, Sire.” The man bows, looking relieved as though he has no doubt that the king will prevail, and it makes me wonder just how powerful he is to take on a full-grownferalbasilisk that can kill a man with a stare.
I’m still pondering basilisks as the next man steps forward, so I completely miss his words. I only snap to attention when I feel a shift in the energy of the room.
“What do you mean you cannot pay the quarterly taxesagain,Lord Donnan? All noble estates are beholden to the crown and my protections.” The king’s voice is a growl, menace rising from him in waves. The hairs on my nape spike.
The man—Lord Donnan—is short with light hair and clad in fancy robes, standing puffed up and red before the king. “Because they are exorbitant... Your Majesty.” The lord’s tone is scathing, and it’s more than obvious he’s not an advocate of the king. Still, to be so bold to the king’s face takes audacity. “Our yield is small this year.”
Face carved from stone, the king cants his head. “Or is it because you’re lining your own pockets, Donnan, to pay for your gambling habits, while the people on your estate and in your care starve,” he says in a silky voice. The room grows unnaturally silent, and my magic sparks, warning me of danger.
The man pales. “No, Your Majesty.”
“And now you’re lying to me.” The king glances at Ani, who promptly holds up a ledger. The nobleman’s eyes grow so wide that they seem to bulge from his face. “We have evidence of your unpaid accounts. Your debt—alifedebt—is now mine to recoup. And you have the money, don’t you, Lord Donnan?”
“Wait... that is... wait... I was...” he splutters, going puce. Suddenly, the man is unnaturally silent as if something is preventing him from speaking. I squint, watching his color heighten and his eyes redden as he claws at his throat.
“No excuses. The proof is there.” The king’s voice goes multilayered with a powerful burst of compulsion that even I can feel. “Now tell me how you got such an influx of coin.”
By now the lord, so cocky before, is shaking in his expensive, polished boots. His stare swings between the ledger and the king, and grows panicked. His face turns purple. Equally horrified and mesmerized to see the king’s psionic gifts in action, I lean forward. Everything about his seated stance is nonthreatening, except for the coiling dark smoke that expands and retreats like living breath around him as if waiting for permission.
Can everyone see those shadows?
“Wait!” Donnan begs openly now, able to speak again, his eyes on that coiling vortex. Well, that answers my question. “Your Majesty! I can pay!”
The king tilts his head. “How?”
The power in that single word makes every bone in my spine snap tight.Sands.
“I have money! I don’t compensate my workers fairly. I am a liar and a cheat,” the man cries out, sobbing as the truth is yanked from him. He closes his mouth, but he has one more confession. “My men hunt azdaha eggs!”
The revelation bursts through the throne room, leaving whispers in its wake, and I swear the king starts to vibrate with rage.
“Youwhat?” King Darrius thunders.“Explain.”
But the man tears futilely at his throat once more, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. His terrified gaze swings to Ani’s ledger again as if it contains all his secrets. “I... I... I...”
Something else is clearly stopping him from obeying the king’s compulsion and revealing more. An enchantment? It must be, as my stare swings to the king, who looks like he has come to the same conclusion when his face hardens.
“You know the law,” he says softly.
“Spare me, Sire.” Lord Donnan whimpers, reaching toward the ledger. “I... I... right there... paid... please...”
Shadowy smoke bleeds down the stairs of the dais, the man’s eyes widening in fear as he takes several steps back, but the guards who are suddenly behind him prevent him from fleeing. I watch in mute horror as those spectral, inky ropes—the same ones that had held me down in the healing wing—twine up the man’s legs like serpents, banding around his torso and thickening over his neck... slowly tightening. A smothered scream leaves his throat, and the king only stares in sinister silence.
He does not relent, his magic so powerful that there’s not even a twitch of effort from his facial muscles. His shadows swarm like agitated wasps, and then suddenly the only noise in the hall is the nauseating snap of bones as the man’s neck shatters.
