The Runaway King

“Of course it changes things. Four years ago, my father let everyone believe I died in a pirate attack. Now that I’ve returned, these countries will consider my father’s lies to them a grave insult. There are consequences for my coming to the throne, and we have to deal with them.”



Gregor had pursed his lips while I spoke, but now he answered, “If you were older, you could order the soldiers to war right now, and I would lead them. But until you’re of age, you must accept that there are some actions you cannot take without the support of the regents. And if you will forgive me for speaking so boldly, the decision to give you the throne last month, rather than considering a steward, was granted too quickly and only in the enthusiasm of the moment. They should have welcomed you home as a prince and then given you time to adjust before putting the whole weight of the kingdom on you.”



“But they did,” I said. “And with your help, I can defend this country.”



His eyes narrowed. “You do not yet have the hearts of your people, or your regents. Nobody will follow you into a war based on your instinct. You need proof. Were these assassins captured?”



“They were messengers, not assassins.” At least, not yet.



“What was the message?”



“I already told you. That war is coming.” I held out my injured arm. “And this is your proof.”



But Gregor saw it differently. “The pirates must be open to negotiation. Otherwise, they’d have just killed you when they had the chance.”



“It seems their king wants to handle that part personally.” I didn’t dare to think of what that might involve, but it probably wouldn’t end up being my best day ever.



Walking again, I angled toward a rear entrance of the castle, used mostly for the transport of prisoners, their visiting families, and dungeon vigils.



“Where are we going?” Gregor asked.



“I want to speak with Bevin Conner.”



Gregor’s eyes widened. “Right now? In your condition?”



“He’s seen me in worse shape.”



“What could you possibly want with him?”



“Does the king need his servant’s permission now?” I asked.



“Of course not. It’s just —”



“What?”



“Jaron, you destroyed everything that man wanted.” Gregor’s tone had softened now. “You know what he’ll do if you see him.”



I set my jaw forward. “After what I’ve been through tonight, do you really think he can hurt me any worse?”



“Oh yes,” Gregor said solemnly. “He can and he will. Tell me what you want from him. I’ll get it while you rest.”



The idea that I might find any rest tonight was becoming increasingly absurd. I asked Gregor, “Do you know why the pirates tried to kill me four years ago?”



“Conner confessed it all, sire. He hired them, hoping to force your father into a war to protect our borders.”



“Clearly, the pirates haven’t forgotten their agreement.”



Gregor clicked his tongue. “Then tonight wasn’t about war. They intend to kill you.”



I picked up the pace and muttered, “Everything started with Conner. And if there’s any hope of ending this, I need his help now.”



Since I’d had him arrested on the night I was crowned, I hadn’t seen Conner face-to-face, and I wasn’t looking forward to this reunion. Neither was he, apparently. For no matter how much I dreaded having to look at him again, at least I disguised my anxiety. Conner wasn’t even trying. He looked absolutely terrified when he saw me enter.



As it was, I had felt no sympathy when he was convicted for his crimes. After the trial he had been granted his request to be held separately from the other castle prisoners. Now, he remained in isolation in a locked tower room where I was told he spent most of his time looking out over the land through a small and filthy window.



Conner had a chain around his ankle and was thinner than when I last saw him, although I’d made sure he was fed and allowed the basics of hygiene. Yet his beard was ragged, and in the dim light of flickering torches, I was sure I could see gray hairs. I’d never noticed them when we were at Farthenwood.



Conner gave me a slight bow. “King Jaron. I’d ask if you are well, but frankly, I’ve seen you look better. And drier, for that matter.”



“I’m perfectly well, thanks for asking.”



“To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”



“It smells like a sewer in here so I’ll be brief.” Looking directly at him, I said, “Was King Vargan ever part of the plot to kill me four years ago?”



The fear melted away, leaving a wide sneer on his face. “No. The pirates didn’t want Avenia involved. They don’t like working with Vargan unless they have to, and they figured Avenia wouldn’t want a part of my plan anyway.”



Avenia was certainly involved now. According to Vargan, it suited their mutual purposes.



“Tell me again about the night you killed my family.”



With a weary sigh he said, “There’s nothing more than what I’ve confessed to a thousand times.”



“I’ve been reading about the dervanis oil. Did you know it takes over a hundred flowers to produce just one drop of the poison? That’s why it’s so rare, and so hard to acquire. I don’t think you got it here on your own.”



Gregor put a hand on his sword. “Jaron —”



I brushed him aside. “Where did you get it?”



Conner laughed, his arrogance on full display. “If you don’t ask the right questions, then coming here is only wasting my time and yours.”



“Do not insult the king!” Gregor said.



This time he drew his sword, but I motioned for him to put it away. Conner hadn’t intended to be insulting. He wanted a different question from me. But I didn’t know what.



Distracted, I used my boot to tap an empty plate on the floor with a napkin folded over it. “Where did this come from?”



Conner smiled. “The betrothed princess said you missed a meal with her this evening. So she brought me your portion.”



Amarinda had been here? I tried to look as if that didn’t bother me, but he knew it did. She’d have no reason to come here, unless . . . Suddenly, I didn’t want to be here anymore.



Gregor stepped forward. “She didn’t think you’d mind.”



“Don’t defend her actions!” I ordered. Of all her friendships, this one was unacceptable.



Silently, Gregor dipped his head and retreated against the wall, though his hand never left his sword.



I turned back to Conner, who was now standing tall with his arms folded, a quiet challenge to my authority. It hadn’t even been a month ago when I’d faced him with a similar look of defiance.



He said, “It’s about time you came to thank me.”



“Thank you?” He was lucky my thanks didn’t come in the form of a noose.



“You are king now, just as I promised,” he said. “Maybe you hate the things I did that got you here, but the fact is you would not be king without me.”



Something exploded inside of me. It was all I could do to hold my temper. When I finally spoke, my words reeked of bitterness. “After what you’ve done, you really expect my gratitude?”