“Is this true, Lady Gimitri?”
“It is true.” Nyanda ignored titles or honorifics. This “king” wasn't fit to tie her boots.
Umbri leveled his gaze. “Where is his body?”
Nyanda spoke coldly. “Scattered on the cobblestones under the eastern tower.” What a lovely flinch from the man who'd put many to the sword today. “I threw him from the tower window, saving you the trouble of executing a child.”
Several gasps escaped the surrounding nobles. Even King Umbri failed to hide a blanch. “I do not kill children!”
She spat, “Tell that to the elves.” Dry forest leaves kept fires burning for days in the mountains, though which side started the inferno remained a mystery. Survivors fled from their ruined homes. Elf bodies, young and old, littered the smoldering forest floor.
King Umbri narrowed his eyes. “I would not have killed your son. But, if you did so, then you doubly deserve your fate.” He spoke quietly to his advisor.
The advisor approached the children, accompanied by two more guards. Did he honestly fear three helpless whelps? Combined, their magical abilities couldn't light a candle.
The royal brats rose, following the guards from the room, Prince Radre, head held high, and Princess Saris, clutching her little brother's hand. The princess openly wept now, casting a backward glance at her father, who'd certainly never shed a tear for her.
The youngest child screamed, fighting to get to his father. Why, Nyanda couldn't say. The odious old toad had never been much of a parent.
Princess Saris wrapped her arms around the youngster, who screamed, “Father! I want Father!”
The boy’s father never once looked his way.
After a few moments of hissed conversation, the princess wrestled the little pest from the room. Prince Radre offered no help. What a weak king he'd make.
Perfect.
Now, to act quickly. Nyanda closed her eyes, lips barely moving as she chanted. The thread connected. She smiled, funneling essence over the strand.
King Umbri spoke again after the children were no more than muffled complaints from behind a closed door. “Lady Nyanda Gimitri, come forth.”
Nyanda rose on shaky legs, which her skirts hid. Anyone watching might mistake the trembling for fear. But, no, she'd merely knelt on the hard stone too long.
Her guard shoved her forward. She stumbled, nearly falling. The same guard pushed her to her knees before the king.
Bastard. He'd pay. They all would.
“Lady Gimitri. While I owe some measure of loyalty to the Bertillian family, you have made a name for yourself with your dishonorable acts, some too heinous to mention. I'm surprised you haven't betrayed the king you claim to serve.”
Only because King Umbri overthrew him before Nyanda got the chance. Saying so wouldn't help her case. She remained silent. Head bowed, she slowly moved her fingertips, using a bit of her remaining magic to create a little gift for the high king. Likely, the king’s sorcerer was the one blocking much of her magic, leaving her barely enough to accomplish her goal.
As an afterthought, she spared some for the guard who'd shoved her.
She knew what came next, the pain in her near future, for she’d often inflicted the same agony on others. Hers would be the first formal execution this day, followed by King Gustaf's and other nobles implicated in the plot to depose King Umbri.
The fool of a king, Gustaf, threw away his life and legacy to win a throne he'd never sit upon.
No, they'd all have served King Pieravor. The battle only bought them time. Despite the efforts of both kings, Pieravor would one day rule Tirra Neu, and so, therefore, would Nyanda, once she took back her gift and ruled in her own right. What a satisfying thought.
The sorcerer who'd managed to thwart Nyanda’s powers stepped forward, hiding King Umbri from her view. Too late to protect the king from her wrath. “Aberfrer,” she snarled.
The scarlet robes of his station flowed around Sorcerer Aberfrer. Nyanda disdained scarlet. The shade clashed horribly with her coloring.
Magic crackled around Aberfrer. Yes, powerful. Not as powerful as she'd been, but clever enough to overcome a superior enemy, apparently. He circled her, stroking his short, white beard.
“I don't sense the power I'm told this lady possesses.”
“I've exhausted myself on castle defenses,” Nyanda snapped. “Or haven't you noticed a battle outside?”
