The Ruin of Kings Read online

  “Teraeth, there’s a ship out there.”

  He spun toward the sound of my voice. “You’re not going to distract me that—”

  I turned visible and hopped down off the rock, pointing. “Look!”

  Teraeth followed the line of my arm, although his gaze was still wary. He probably thought it was a trick.

  There really was a ship though, a ship with black sails making its way around the island toward the main harbor, coming from the opposite direction to the Maw.

  “So?” Teraeth bent over and picked up the red flag. “It’s a supply ship. Nothing interesting there. Leave it. We still have a challenge to finish.”

  I gave him a look that suggested he might very well have lost his mind. There were plenty of people on the island who had been waiting for that supply ship for months now. Had she not joined the Brotherhood, Tyentso could have left on that ship, headed back to Zherias to find more work. Most of the survivors of The Misery would probably leave on that ship.

  If not for the Old Man, I would have left on that ship.

  I ran back down the mountain, although to be fair, it was more like calculated sliding.

  Others had noticed the ship already, or had been warned to expect its arrival. As I started down the path toward the harbor, I recognized one figure ahead of me in the distance as Kalindra.

  She too was heading toward the harbor. Unlike me though, she had a bag slung over her shoulder. She wasn’t dressed in the black robes of the Brotherhood, but in simple traveler’s garb, including the patterned veil of a Zheriaso native, worn like a shawl. It hadn’t occurred to me that she was of mixed blood that included some Zherias stock. Kalindra was lighter skinned than Ola, but not by much. The knots in her hair should have been a clue.

  But she was leaving.

  “Kalindra!” I shouted.

  She glanced back at me, put a hand to her forehead in the manner of someone trying to keep the glare out of their eyes, and turned away again. She kept walking toward the bay.

  “Let her go,” Teraeth said. “You knew this day would come.”

  I startled. Teraeth had followed me after all.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. “She’s leaving?”

  “A lot of people are leaving,” Teraeth said. “Others are arriving. It’s the way of things.”

  “Okay, but why wouldn’t she say goodbye? When’s she coming back?”

  “She’s not.”

  I stood there and stared at him, my mouth dry, my hands working at my sides making silent fists—releasing them, starting over. I couldn’t process what he was saying. I didn’t like being on this island. I didn’t like being imprisoned here, and frankly, I hadn’t quite given up on the idea that Khaemezra controlled the Old Man; that the dragon was her way of making sure I stayed and did what I was told. I know a thing or two about cons, after all.

  Kalindra made all that tolerable. Kalindra was the reason I could stay sane. With Kalindra I didn’t have to be controlled by what Xaltorath had done to me. With Kalindra I could feel normal.

  She couldn’t leave. She just couldn’t.

  “What?” I finally said.

  He didn’t look at me. “She won’t be back. Her new assignment is longterm.”

  I knew what the Black Brotherhood did for a living. “Who’s she being sent to kill?”

  “It’s not that kind of assignment. Anyway, it’s none of your concern.”

  I took a step toward him. “Excuse me? Not my concern?”

  Teraeth’s upper lip pulled into a sneer. “What part of that was too simple for you, Your Highness? This is Brotherhood business. You had your chance to join, and you refused. It’s a courtesy I’m even telling you this much.”

  “I don’t recall your mother saying I had to join. Anyway, aren’t you forgetting that Kalindra was one of my teachers?”

  Teraeth’s stare turned hateful. “It seems she was taking too many liberties with the curriculum.”

  My stomach tightened. “What?”

  Teraeth paused. “It’s . . . never mind. I spoke rashly.”

  “No. Explain yourself. Too many liberties? What did you mean by that?”

  He looked abashed. “Never mind my words. I’m not happy that she’s leaving. Your new teacher is arriving by the same ship. He’ll take over your training, just as Mother promised.” He turned away to leave.

  I ran ahead of him until I blocked his path. “No. You’re not walking away from me, Teraeth. She was taking too many liberties? Are you saying she was sent away because we’re lovers? Everyone on this island is bedding everyone else, usually in groups. I pick one woman and stay faithful to her and she’s punished for it?” I pointed a finger at him. “Is this your doing?”

  That stopped him. “My doing?”

  “I’m just curious if you’re sending her away because you’re jealous of me or because you’re jealous of her?”

  His nostrils flared out as he stared at me, disbelief and fury naked in his eyes. “You arrogant little bastard.”

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Teraeth scowled as he stepped toward me. “You already know you’re wrong. Kalindra is my friend and I care about her, but I’m not in love with her, nor she with me. Neither of us expected monogamy from the other. And as for you—” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t insult me by suggesting that the only way I would be welcome in your bed is by removing all rivals. You may be too shamed by your precious Quuros masculinity to admit you want me, but that’s your problem, not mine.”

  Teraeth finished by lashing his hand through the empty air in front of him. “Anyway, Kalindra’s assignment has nothing to do with me. Mother thought Kalindra was in danger of falling in love with you, so it would be best she left—before the relationship progressed beyond all recovery.”

  “Kalindra . . .” I ran down the hillside, toward the harbor.

  Footsteps behind me, then something heavy crashed into my back. I rolled to find that Teraeth had tackled me. He followed that up by punching me in the face, which was like being hit with a maul. I twisted aside to grab one of his arms, hoping to throw him off-balance enough so I could gain my own. He pulled his arm out of reach, twisted around, and grabbed my wrist in such a way that if he wrenched hard, my arm would break or dislocate. His legs pinned mine and all he had to do was bring a knee up to leave me too incapacitated to do more than vomit.

  “She’s not for you,” Teraeth told me, his face inches from my own. “You like her, she’s safe, but you don’t love her. You will never love her. Letting her become emotionally attached to you is nothing more than cruelty.”

  “You don’t know that.” I tried to break free, but Teraeth knew tricks that my teachers had only just suggested might exist.

  “I know she’s not a blood-haired Jorat girl with eyes like fire.”

  I stopped struggling. “What did you say?”

  “A Jorat girl,” Teraeth repeated in a thick voice. “With hair the color of midnight or sunset, worn in the old center-cut style of Jorat’s god-touched. Perfect chestnut-red skin and coal-black socks on her hands and feet. Her eyes are like rubies reflecting flame, glittering with all the colors of a bonfire. Lips like berries, ripe and so sweet—”

  I couldn’t hide my shock or horror. How did he know? How could he know about her? The only two individuals who had known about her were the demon who had placed the image in my mind and Morea. It was conceivable that the mimic who had murdered and eaten Morea also knew, but that meant . . .

  “Get off me!” I pushed again, and this time he didn’t resist.

  He rolled off and tumbled onto the grass, landing with a leg crossed over the other and his head supported on one arm.

  I stood, drawing shaky, gasping breaths. “I didn’t tell Kalindra about her. I didn’t tell anyone on this island about her. You tell me how you know about her, and you tell me right now.”

  Teraeth ignored me and continued the description. “She smells like apples and dark, smoky musk and when she smiles at y
ou it’s like looking at a small piece of the sun . . .”

  I growled, “Tell me, damn it . . .”

  “And you’d think she’d have a fiery humor, but instead all that flame has tempered her . . .”

  I grabbed Teraeth by the shirt, pulled him into a half-sitting position, and pushed him back against the nearest tree. “You’ve seen her. You know who she is. Tell me. Tell me right now!”

  Teraeth smiled. “But I thought you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Kalindra?”

  I stared at him.

  Simultaneously, I became aware of him. Aware of his sweat, aware of how I was pressed up against him, aware of how very little space existed between our bodies. I’d meant to threaten him, meant to intimidate him, but his hands rested lightly on my hips.

  The look in those green eyes was not fear.

  I let go of his shirt and stepped away. Embarrassment brought all the blood to my face. I felt torn to pieces by my emotions, shame and lust and my anger at Teraeth for being, once again, right. As soon as he’d described the Jorat girl, I’d stopped even thinking about Kalindra, and damn it, I knew Kalindra. She was real; she made me happy. I didn’t want her to leave. I definitely didn’t want Kalindra to leave—but I didn’t want to let go of Xaltorath’s fantasy girl either.

  Teraeth straightened his tunic. “I didn’t think so.”

  “How did you know? How did you find out about the Jorat girl, Teraeth?”

  The briefest sympathy flashed over his features. I don’t know, maybe I imagined it. “The ship’s leaving soon. Head down to the harbor to meet your new teacher.”

  I wasn’t about to be distracted so easily. “I swear by all the gods I will never trust you again if you don’t answer me.”

  The snake statues lining the temple entryway showed more emotion than he did in that moment. Almost imperceptibly, he shook himself. “That’s also your choice, but I wouldn’t be so free with that sort of vow if I were you.”

  “To hell with you! There are only two creatures in the whole world who knew about that girl: one’s a demon and the other’s a mimic. How am I supposed to trust you?”

  Teraeth looked angrier than I can ever remember seeing him. Not just angry, but hurt. He tilted his head, stared at me like he was contemplating exactly which of several hundred different options would be best used for my immediate execution.

  Teraeth said, “I’m an assassin. Only a fool would trust me.”

  He stood up and walked back to the training ground, red flag in his hand.

  36: TESTING THE LOCK

  (Talon’s story)

  All Kihrin’s hopes of escape drowned the first time he tried.

  He planned his escape for a full day after the revelation of his new status. If he stayed with the D’Mons, he would be a danger to everyone around him. If he fled, Darzin would have no reason to hurt anyone else. The best way out of the situation was to vanish.

  Kihrin’s plan was simple: walk out the front door. The servants of the D’Mon family suffered from the ancient habit of obeying anyone giving orders. Combined with his own ability to pass unnoticed, he was confident he could stroll right out of the palace grounds.

  That morning he asked the servants to dress him in the nicest clothing in his wardrobe, pocketed a few valuable items, and walked down to the stables of the Private Court.

  He cleared his throat at a groom to catch his attention. Kihrin nodded to the man, his expression light. “I’ll need a coach.” He explained nothing more.

  “Right away, my lord.” The groom nodded at a runner, who took off toward the stables.

  Kihrin breathed a sigh of relief. The man hadn’t known his name. No instructions to keep “the yellow-haired boy” inside. From here, all Kihrin had to do was go down to the waterfront, ditch the coach, and contact the Shadowdancers. Once he was safe, he would find Ola and they would both vanish.

  Darzin would never have a chance to summon another demon.

  Kihrin waited while the stable hands readied the horse and carriage for him. During those agonizing seconds, the huge iron gates of the Private Court opened, and another coach entered the courtyard.

  Taja! Just act like I belong. I’m not doing anything I shouldn’t be doing. He hid his shaking hands behind his back. And please let that be anyone but Darzin.

  The coach stopped in front of the steps. The doorman rushed forward to relieve the carriage of its passenger—a woman of middle age. She wore an elaborate teal bodice and an agolé satin wrap covered with diamonds. The diamonds did a fine job of making her the sparkling center of attention wherever she traveled. They didn’t do such a good job of concealing the fact she no longer possessed a maiden’s figure. The color of her gown drew attention to her bright vermilion hair. The hair drew attention to her face, covered with enough makeup to plaster the walls of the Upper Circle. Her countenance creased with distaste for everything her eyes fell upon.

  Finally, those eyes fell upon Kihrin.

  “What is he doing here?” She lashed out at the groom, ignoring the young man.

  “His lordship was waiting for a coach to be made ready, my lady. Welcome back home, Your Ladyship.” The man bowed.

  “His Lordship?” An ivory fan whipped against the doorman’s face and just as quickly vanished back into the cavernous recesses of the woman’s purse. “Idiot!”

  She stared at Kihrin with unconcealed hostility. “Waiting for a coach? Where were you going, boy?”

  Kihrin bowed, swallowing his anxiety. “My lady, I was going to retrieve a present given to me. Lord Darzin thought it might be a good idea.”

  “Lord Darzin thought so? Fetch a present?” The lady snorted in disgust. “Did someone give you a new ribbon for that pretty yellow hair?” She grabbed his hair and yanked him down until they were eye to eye.

  “Ouch! Damn it. Stop that.” He tried to extricate himself, but found he couldn’t without resorting to outright violence.

  “I’ll put you in ribbons, you stupid fool! Come on.” Still pulling on his hair, she walked inside, saying to the groom, “Fetch my packages out of the carriage and deliver them in my room. Not a scratch on them, or you’ll pay for them with your teeth.”

  A few yards inside the door, Kihrin dug in his heels, grabbed his hair, and pulled. “Gods damn it. Let go of me, you hag.”

  She dropped his hair and glared at him. “I shouldn’t, but you’re lucky enough to be doing something stupid when I’m in a good mood.” She tugged off her gloves and dropped them on the floor in the middle of the hallway. “Come with me quietly and there’ll be no need to have the guards drag you with me in chains.”

  Kihrin glowered. “I was just going to go fetch—”

  “You were running away,” she corrected. “I have lived in this house for fifteen years. Believe me, I know the signs.” Just then remembering something, she held out the back of her hand to him. “How rude of me not to introduce myself. I am Alshena D’Mon. That is, I am your stepmother.”

  “My condolences,” he whispered under his breath as he kissed her hand. To his complete surprise, she giggled.

  Her face turned serious again. She removed the ivory fan from her purse and spread it wide, waving it to cool herself. She presented her right arm to Kihrin and said, “Come now, child. Walk with me. We will talk about why what you did was so stupid and how it might easily have resulted in your death. Then we’ll discuss how you can avoid being stupid in the future. If such a thing is even possible.”

  She smiled. “You should try to pay attention, young man. It might well save your life.”

  37: THE NEW TUTOR

  (Kihrin’s story)

  I sat on a grouping of volcanic rocks and watched the schooner anchored in the small narrow bay. We were on the opposite side of the island from where the Old Man was building his new mountain bed, which was probably a vast comfort for everyone present.

  A small gathering of Brotherhood members assembled on the black beaches to welcome the ship and ready those who woul
d sail away on her. Kalindra stood in that crowd. I’m sure she knew I was watching, but she never turned her head.

  The crew of the ship lowered a small boat over the side, whose passengers rowed it to the beach. A tall human man climbed out of the boat, holding several packages and a displeased scowl I saw from a hundred feet away. More boats followed the first one. Kalindra and her associates assigned to foreign destinations rowed out to the ship. Within half an hour, the beach was empty except for the few Brotherhood still unloading supplies and the single new arrival.

  The man dressed simply, though his boots looked expensive—the thigh-high Quuros style popular among duelists and horsemen. He was bald and taller than most Quuros, the height of a vané. He looked familiar.

  The newcomer stood there and scanned the beach, the island, his expression a study in reluctance and distaste. His gaze rolled over me and stopped dead.

  I didn’t feel like moving, so I sat there and waited as the new arrival marched up the beach toward me. I returned the man’s stare with cool hostility. My mouth was full of the bitter taste of Kalindra’s departure and the skin on my cheek throbbed from Teraeth’s punch.

  Seriously, that man has a right hook like a morgage gladiator.

  “So, you’re the one who’s caused all this fuss,” the newcomer said as he crested the rocks.

  I scowled as I remembered where I’d seen him before. “I know you. You’re that bartender from the Culling Fields with the cute daughter.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know you. Aren’t you that velvet boy from the Shattered Veil Club?”

  I flushed with anger. Not just because of the slam, but because this man was supposed to be my teacher; I felt a double dose of betrayal. He was no swordmaster. How could he be? He looked like he spent more time cleaning the bar, chatting up customers, and sampling his own wares than he ever spent practicing fencing forms.