Page 117 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

Gods help me.

I’m completely, utterly, catastrophically fucked.

Chapter Fifteen

Ihear the bustling from the streets below even before I’m fully awake.

Damn it.

I ended up waking late again because Garrett insisted on staying in my arms until the small hours.

What kind of guard wakes later than his charge?

Noon bells should be ringing soon. The whole city’s celebrating Merafall this week. But the sounds outside are too loud even for a celebration. I dress quickly, strap on my weapons and head into the corridors.

I pass a cluster of maids huddled near a window alcove. Their whispers cut off the moment they see me.

The city bells are ringing outside but it’s not the pattern for the hour or the pattern for holy days. This rhythm means royal decree.

I take the stairs two at a time down to the main level. A footman nearly collides with me on the landing. He stammers an apology without meeting my eyes and hurries past. What the hell is going on? The entrance hall is chaos.

I grab a passing guard. “What’s happening?”

“Lord Clayborne,” he gasps, face white as a sheet. “He went before the council at dawn and named his son for the Archon.”

My blood turns to ice.

The Archon. It’s an old ritual in Aelfheim where rulership can be challenged. I’ve heard of it but never seen it invoked. It’s been decades since anyone dared.

The guard’s eyes won’t meet mine. “Our lord threw Commander Garrett’s name into the sacred fire himself. He’s challenging Queen Rhianelle for the throne.”

Shit. I never imagined the peaceful lord was planning something this insane.

“She has to choose by noon tomorrow.” The guard’s voice drops. “Duel or Damnation.”

“Duel... how does that work?” I release his arm.

“Tomorrow at noon in the arena. It will be her or her champion against Commander Garrett.” He swallows hard. “But our young lord is seventeen years undefeated in the Tavas tournaments. Who could possibly stand against him?”

No one.

Garrett is the greatest swordsman of his generation, possibly the greatest in a century.

The guard’s face goes even paler. “The queen will choose Damnation.”

If Rhianelle chooses Duel, Garrett will almost certainly win. He’s far too skilled and more experienced than her. The Queen will die and House Clayborne will take the throne.

She’ll have no choice but Damnation, the complete destruction of the other house. Every member wiped from existence, down to the servants and children. Even the family name will be struck from records. Aelfheim’s old ways set down by the Aeonians are brutal.

This whole city could burn tomorrow. The Wiolants have too much support, too much power, and too many allies. House Clayborne would stand alone against the kingdom’s assembled might. It would be a massacre. No wonder the servants look like they’ve seen death walking the halls.

I need to find Garrett. My mind races through contingencies as I push toward the main doors. If the Queen chooses Damnation, we’ll need escape routes. I know three ways out of the keep that bypass the main gates. Four if we’re willing to risk the old sewers beneath the eastern wing.

But Garrett won’t run. I already know that about him. He’d die before abandoning his family. The thought makes my chest tight.

I leave the cowering guard and push through the crowds gathering in the main square. People press together shoulder to shoulder for the Merafall festival.

The streets are madness. What should be a celebration has turned into panic. I shoulder through the press of bodies, using my height and the fear my mask inspires to clear a path. The festival vendors have given up any pretense of business. I catch fragments of conversation as I move.