Cain rolled his eyes behind his spectacles, as if he wasn’t sure. “I don’t know. But she needs help, right? And I can give it. I know I needed whatever I could get when I first came to this city.”
The street hero, just like in the books,Arienne thought again, asshe caught a glimpse of sadness briefly disturbing his calm face. Did he have a troubled past as well, just like those heroes?
Lukan emptied another glass and turned to Arienne. “I won’t report you.” He took out a metal box from under the bar, counted out a handful of silver coins, and shoved them in her direction. “You’re going to have to run far if you don’t want those Office of Truth bastards to catch you.”
And how far could these few coins get her? Arienne grabbed the coins, gratitude, anger, and shame warring inside her.
Lukan must’ve also been embarrassed at his own stinginess as he cleared his throat and said, “Leave by the back door. Take a good look to see if anyone is watching you. And if the Office inquisitors come looking for me—”
“Tell them she was someone I came in with,” interrupted Cain, “and you have no idea who she was because you didn’t recognize her after all these years.”
“You want me to mention you as well?”
“There are limits to how much you can lie convincingly, I’ve noticed.”
Cain turned to Arienne and took her hand. “This way.”
Arienne allowed herself to be led to the door, where Cain peeked out for a moment before stepping out ahead of her. The streetlamps flickered their blue lights, a sign that the Power generator in this neighborhood was old. Was there an end, even for dead sorcerers in lead coffins? It was oddly comforting to think that. Still covered with the blanket, she took off her shoes so they wouldn’t make a sound on the cobblestones and walked the cold ground on her bare feet. The door of the tavern closed silently behind them.
9LORAN
Loran looked around the large room made of white stone. It was, unlike what she expected from an underground cave, dry and warm. Small, compared to the one in the volcano where she’d made the life-altering deal with the dragon, but there were rooms of all sizes down here, like a rabbit warren. Worn reliefs decorated the walls, with scenes of battle, noble gatherings, and peasants harvesting in fields.
Hung on a wall was a tapestry map, newer than anything else in the room. Drawn, Loran walked up to it, Gwaharad following her. On the upper edge of the map were embroidered words:THE WORLD TO BE LIBERATED. It was different from any other world map she had seen in Imperial atlases. Kamori and the rest of Lontaria were depicted in a grand manner, inflated to be as large as the Imperial heartland, whereas many provinces that she knew by name were shrunken or even omitted completely. The bottom of the tapestry readFOR KING GWAHARAD OF KAMORI, FROM HIS MOSTDEVOTED SUBJECT. MAY HE LEAD THE WAY TO THE LIBERATION OF OUR HOMELAND AND THE WORLD THAT SUFFERS. Loran ran her fingers over the tapestry. Cassian velvet, she surmised.
The king of Kamori had his mind on liberating theworldfrom the Empire, even when he was struggling to free his own kingdom. In contrast, she still didn’t know what to do with the power she had been given. She tried to imagine the world freed, then sighed.
Gwaharad cleared his throat and spoke. “This is the underground palace built by Kamori’s first king, Uter. They say he ruled all of the Three Kingdoms except the northern part of Ledon.”
Loran noted Gwaharad using the old term for Arland, Kamori, and Ledon, instead of the name the Empire gave them: Lontaria. As long as Loran could remember, it was considered archaic to refer to the region as the Three Kingdoms. The Empire’s language and culture had come long before their legions did.
They were surrounded by stone walls, but Gwaharad’s voice did not echo.
In the center of the room was a large stone throne, its once-intricate carvings worn down after years of use. Loran had known of King Uter, but he was a legend of so long ago that no one knew how far back. Loran traced the right armrest of the throne with a finger. The parts where countless royal hands had rested over the centuries were especially worn, making it impossible to tell what had been carved in those places.
“The later kings of Kamori did not use this place, and it was eventually forgotten. Until I found it again.”
Loran listened. He had a way of speaking that made her wary of interrupting him, even by accident. Loran, since watching the last king of Arland die in battle, had not laid eyes on another kingagain until now. She had only a vague idea of them being similar to prefects but even grander. Despite her ambition to rid her lands of the Empire and become king, she didn’t really know how exactly a king should be.
“We shall give you a room, Princess. Please stay as long as you wish.”
“Your Majesty. I do have a question.”
“Ask.”
“How is it that you became king?”
Gwaharad smiled.
“It’s because I am the child of the former king, of course. Kamori may be ruled by the Empire, but our royal bloodline persists. My older sister, the original successor of the royal house, has been dragged to the Capital to sit in their puppet Commons. Instead, I stay here in the kingdom and fight for it. The crown and this palace are all mine, and the people put themselves forward as soldiers to fight with me. Do such things not make me fit to be king?”
“I beg Your Majesty to forgive me, it was not my intention to imply that I doubted your legitimacy. It’s just—”
“Just what?”
“I have promised to become… King of Arland. But I am not the child of a king, the people do not recognize me, and I have no soldiers to fight the Empire with.”
“But you said you were a princess?”
