Captain Rufe referred to the commander as “Your Highness.” Or had the words been said in jest? Could the hulk of a commander actually be the emperor’s legitimate son or bastard?
Well, the man was a complete bastard, even if not the emperor’s.
Yarif sat cross-legged on the floor in the silence of his bedchamber, where the guard, thankfully, didn’t follow.
“Goddess of the Dead, see my brother delivered to the eternal peace. May he rejoin his mother and our lost brother.” Yarif lit a candle. Next, he lit one for his brother who’d died as an infant, and another for his mother.
Lastly, he lit a candle for his father, though he said no prayers. The Goddess would judge Father by his actions.
Yarif lit no candles for Captain Unger, as he’d once promised.The gods didn’t favor me in life, why should they bother in death?
Yarif’s eyes stung. He gave a good sniff and released the tears he’d held back.
Alone, quietly, he mourned many losses.
Sand grated at Yarif’s eyes when he lifted his lids to the not-quite-light of predawn. The door to the secret passageway beckoned, but there was no access through the children’s rooms.
He wouldn’t escape without them. Besides. Where would they go? They could hardly walk to Draige. Countess Exa?
Knuckling his eyes didn’t ease much grit. The few times he’d drifted to sleep, he’d dreamed of bloody swords and the commander’s evil grin as he made the killing blow. Pink tinged the horizon outside Yarif’s window. Might as well start the day.
His guard peeked into the room, then retreated to the antechamber. So, at least the illusion of privacy.
Yarif dressed simply, rebraided his hair, and, ignoring the guards following him, made his way to his office—now filled with strangers, rifling throughhisbelongings. Papers lay scattered on the desk, the chairs, and the floor.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he bellowed, even though they likely didn’t speak his language, and he wasn’t about to let them know he spoke theirs. Through volume alone, they should realize he’d like to shove them out a window.
One man approached. “The emperorcharged us with getting records of the kingdom in order and searching for any traces of treason.” He spoke Renvallian in condescending tones. Thought himself better than Renvallians, did he?
If the man sought to impress Yarif, he fell far short of the mark. Expecting to be killed at any moment made one reckless. “They were in order, you imbecile! It will take weeks to repair the damage. And I told your twice-cursed Commander Draylon I didn't know my father’s plans. Now, out! Out! The lot of you! You can have my office when the emperor himself drags me out by my heels!”
The guard spoke in Cormiran to the assembled group. “Stay where you are.”
“But… but…” one man argued.
Until they killed him, Yarif would play the sorry hand he’d been dealt. “Until someone with authority removes me from power, I am King Yarif of Renvalle by virtue of my father and brother’s deaths.” He narrowed his eyes, putting on every bit of the haughty royal temperament he’d observed in his father. “Who are you?”
“What is going on here?” came a new voice. Commander Draylon forced his bulk into the already too-full room.
The haughty little man began, “We were told—”
“Get. Out.” Commander Draylon pointed toward the door.
Commander Draylon, with his likeness to the accursed emperor. A man who stood a full head taller than anyone else in the room besides Yarif.
A man who’d likely score the killing blow should Yarif be sentenced to death, as he had in last night’s dreams.
One by one, the invaders laid down their papers and trudged out of the room. Yarif would’ve liked to join them but wouldn’t give ground to this commander or anyone else.
“Stop!” Yarif stalked over to a sneering woman, grabbed her wrist, and wrested the silver ink well from her hand. “This is mine. Taking what isn’t yours is thievery. I could have you thrown in the dungeon.” The superior smirk left the woman’s face. She paled when Commander Draylon repeated the words in Cormiran.
Yarif expected some disparaging remarks since they believed he couldn’t understand them. The woman opened her mouth, but Commander Draylon’s glower had her lowering her eyes.
The flock scattered like ducks before a wolf.
Or a bear.
“Wait outside,” Commander Draylon barked to the guards.
