“Honored?Honored?”Kade shook his head, his temper flaring. “You think I want to be honored forthis?”
Porthos grit his teeth. “You know, Kade, youknowthis needs to happen. You see my cousin for what he is. You’re not blinded like everyone else. You see he can’t be allowed to sit on the throne any longer. Netyere will pay for it.”
“Not like this.”
“It’s nothing he hasn’t done himself.”
“What?”
“Oh, come on. Did you really think my uncle just succumbed to his illness? So suddenly?” Porthos gave Kade a bitter smile. “You’re not stupid, Kade, yet you still believed his lies. My cousin—the perfect king. What else has he lied about?”
“You have no proof.”
“Lyra tried. He went before the council to tell them what Fyar did. They dismissed his findings, his concerns, his testimonies. He was banished for it.” Porthos took a breath. “There are only three who truly know and can testify to what happened that day. My uncle. Fyar. And Killian.”
No.
Kade’s stomach lurched. “Don’t you touch him. Don’t you dare.”
“This is justice.” Porthos truly seemed to believe what he was saying. That made it all the worse. “It needs to be done. Make sure you’re on the right side of this.” He swallowed. “Listen, I’m sorry it happened this way, I truly am. I consider you a friend, Kade. I do. I want you with me on this.”
So focused on the matters at hand, they didn’t hear it. Theslowly building commotion as the hunters became aware of their prey.
Or the ground beginning to rumble beneath their feet.
It all happened so fast. One moment they were there, Porthos and Kade, the world crashing down on them, and the next…
Pain ripped through Kade’s shoulder as he was shoved aside. The air knocked from his lungs as he hit the ground, and what he stood up to was chaos.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
KILLIAN’S EARS PRICKED at the distant sound of fighting, voices overlapping in shouts and calls, the roars of the beast as it raged. A difficult prey, it seemed. He thought they were best off going in the opposite direction.
Fyar had different plans, pressing his heels into his stallion’s sides, he changed course.
It was a mess by the time they arrived. Four hunters were brandishing spears at the massive form of a wild boar. A brave but stupid task. The wild boars that roamed the forests were menaces, overgrown pigs the size of small houses with enough aggression pumping through their thick, hairy bodies to run the world into the ground. They fought until their last breath, determined to take as many down with them as possible.
The smell of blood was acid in Killian’s nose, thick and coiling and heavy. Oppressive in the tense atmosphere, a reminder of what could happen if they dropped their guard.
A few of Killian’s men, along with the lords’ personal guards, watched from a distance. They perched on low branches of the surrounding trees, climbing being the only escape from the ivory tusks and charging feet of the boar, their own weapons drawn and at the ready. They wouldn’t step in, but they wereprepared to protect themselves, if needed.
A jolt ran down Killian’s spine at the familiar voice now calling out for Hokda. Horrified, he saw Kade, kneeling beyond the fighting, waving an arm to get their attention. Kade’s hands were slick with blood and his expression panicked.
Despite aching to go to Kade, Killian didn’t move when Hokda jumped from his horse and threw his reins into Killian’s lap. He watched as Hokda picked his way through the forest, careful not to draw the attention of the boar.
Spears were thrown and arrows shot, but it was no use, they stuck into the thick armored hide of the boar but did little damage, only succeeding in angering it more. A spear had broken off in the soft underbelly of the pig, and one of its legs dragged uselessly behind it. It was wounded and slowing, yet it raged.
A cornered animal was a dangerous animal.
Thrashing wildly, the boar let out an ear shattering squeal. Its stubby neck swinging every which way, the muscles in its legs bunching as it prepared to charge again. The hunters in procession scattered, narrowly avoiding being hit by a singular long tusk protruding from the boar’s foaming mouth. The other nothing more than a jagged, bloody stump.
The hunters were tiring, Killian could see it in the way that they panted, sweat dripping from their brows as they nursed injuries. Who knows how long they had been fighting.
It was clear that Fyar had no intention of joining this battle. He watched from his saddle, eyes tracking every move. His calm demeanor a direct contradiction to the chaos that was ensuing.
The hunters moved together, led by shouted orders fromLyra. His golden hair still shined even as his clothes were torn and dirty. When he spoke, the others listened and obeyed. Killian could see how he believed himself to have the makings of a king.
Under Lyra’s orders, the hunters baited the boar. One creeping close to draw its attentions while the others fronted an attack. Keeping steady behind their shields, they poured their magic into their limbs and their weapons, reinforcing them to strengthen their attacks as they charged in as one.
