Draylon pulled his own sword, putting himself between Father and Avestan.
A guard forced Father back, glancing nervously at Avestan and back at Father. “Your Majesty,” he said, addressing Father. “Your instructions to me were to protect your heir at all costs.”
Father charged again, shoving the guard out of the way. Draylon lost his balance as the guard slammed into him.
Father screamed; arms raised to bring his blade crashing down on Avestan’s head.
Avestan froze, eyes wide with shock.
Father stumbled backward, clutching his chest, then dropped to his knees—a gold hairpin dagger protruded from between his fingers.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Avestancriedout,“Father!”dropping to his knees on the stone floor, breaths coming out in choked sobs.
“Yarif.” Draylon rushed to Yarif, taking his husband into his arms. “Are you all right?”
Yarif nodded, face pale. “I… I killed… your father.”
Draylon pulled Yarif close, whispering into his hair. “No. My father made his choice. Remember what I told you about when you start a fight, the outcome isn’t always what you planned?” He glanced down at Father, lying on the floor, eyes closed in death.
“Areyouall right?” Yarif asked.
“Yes. You did what you had to.” Draylon gave Yarif another squeeze, then knelt, taking Avestan into his arms. Avestan clung tightly. He’d just lost a father; a father Draylon had lost long ago. After Avestan grieved, he’d realize that perhaps Father hadn’t been of the soundest mind.
A father who’d just a moment before ordered both sons to be imprisoned in the dungeon. Draylon held Avestan, feeling a touch of grief, but for a man long gone.
Avestan let out a final sniffle and rose, addressing Yarif. “I do not fault you for your actions, and thank you for saving my life. However, we must not tell anyone who struck the final blow. There are those who’d seek to punish you.”
Avestan affixed the guards with his stony glare. “No word is to be said about what happened here today. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” the guards chorused.
Draylon knew each of these men, trusted them. “In the face of the army at our gates and having his treachery exposed, my father suffered from an ailment of the heart, dying before we could send for a healer.”
The guards nodded, though one glanced from Avestan to the body.
Yarif asserted himself. “Would one of you please fetch May from the kitchens? She’ll know what to do.”
Draylon had no idea what May might be capable of, but he’d not quibble now. Instead, he knelt at Avestan’s feet. “I pledge my sword and my might to you, Emperor Avestan Aravaid, Your Imperial Majesty.”
“I’ll allow this formality just once, brother. I am your emperor now, true, but I’m your brother first. We’ll need to dispatch messengers to all the kingdoms, Mother, and my consort, telling the news.”
“I need to get out to the men.” Draylon stood, sheathing his sword. “The time of my return is nearing, and if I don’t make an appearance, they’ve been instructed to tear the walls down stone by stone.”
“Then, by all means, you are dismissed, though I hope to meet with you, your consort, and your senior officers soon.” Avestan stepped over to the desk. “Father let too many matters go lately, focused solely on conquest. I’ve my work cut out for me. He was my father and emperor but hasn’t been a good leader for many years. I will endeavor to do better. And Draylon? Yarif?”
Draylon and Yarif answered together, “Yes.”
“I expect you to tell me if I’m doing wrong.”
Draylon replied, “I’d offer no less.” The next few weeks would be chaos with the old emperor's funeral and a coronation. Avestan seemed stoic now, but he had to still be reeling inside.
Avestan turned toward Yarif. “I think it would be best if you returned how you came. Better that none know you were even here.”
“I agree.” Yarif smiled at Draylon, redonned his cloak, and slipped through the door. “Draylon, I’ll rejoin your men and wait for your return.”
Draylon clasped Avestan in one more embrace before fleeing the room, carefully keeping his eyes averted from the corpse on the floor.
