Rise of Legends (The Kin of Kings Book 2) (21 page)

“Then let’s marry today.”

Sanya had become sick of this same conversation. She could sense his desire for her overwhelming him. She used psyche to suppress it, careful to leave some of his fire still burning. If he grew bored with her, all of her work could be for nothing. It wouldn’t matter that they were engaged. It wouldn’t even matter if they were married. Contracts meant nothing to Tauwin if they kept him from what he wanted.

“We and our parents agreed it’s best to wait until Kyrro is under your control.”

“But it is.”

She touched his cheek. “Not yet.”

Someone knocked on the door. “Is Tauwin in there?” It was Kithala’s voice.

“Go away, Mother. I’m with Sanya.”

“But did she invite you into her room?” Kithala tried the door. It was locked.

“She is to be my wife! She doesn’t need to invite me. And I’m the king of Kyrro. I can enter any room I please.”

Sanya heard a key entering the lock. Tauwin jumped from the bed as his mother stepped in and put her hands on her hips.

“Yes, you are the king. And you are at war! It’s late morning, so you should be where you can receive messages and issue orders. You have the rest of your life to spend with Sanya. Right now you’re needed by others.” Although Kithala’s face was firm, Sanya could detect a hint of fear. Tauwin would never know, though.

She was more grateful for Kithala than she’d ever been for her father. This rather small woman seemed to be the only one who could get Tauwin to do something he didn’t want to do. And Kithala was kind to Sanya, more so than she deserved. It had become common for Kithala to save her from Tauwin’s overbearing personality, but partly because Kithala believed Sanya to be a true woman of faith as she claimed to be. Kithala had studied religion and had a great respect for spiritual people, though Sanya had yet to determine if Kithala was one herself. The woman never revealed anything about herself.

“Your mother’s right,” Sanya agreed and smiled at her. “She always is. We’ll have plenty of time together, and I fear you might grow bored of me if we spend too much time in each other’s company.”

“I could never grow bored of you.”

It was a lie. At least the young king knew himself well enough to realize anything could bore him eventually.

In the two days since that morning, Sanya hadn’t seen her father. She also hadn’t managed to come up with an excuse to escape the castle. Everything an ordinary woman could want, and more, already had been provided to her. But she was no ordinary woman.

“I haven’t seen my father,” she commented to Tauwin later during breakfast. “Do you know where he is?”

Tauwin didn’t look up from his plate. “He’s a little odd, isn’t he?” The question was rhetorical. “I don’t like him, so he hasn’t been invited to live in the castle.”

Sanya held in a laugh. Spiro was an odd man, yes, but what a weak reason to deny him residence here. She could imagine her father furious at this news. He’d been expecting to move into the castle, desiring it more than anything else that was still obtainable to him. He’d hated the months they’d spent in the Takary Palace since the end of the war, being treated like a common guest rather than a beloved chemist. Instead of a laboratory, he was given a simple bedroom. Instead of herbs, flowers, and books, he was given blankets, pillows, and pretty flowers that were useless to him.

Sanya suppressed a grin as she imagined him there, bored to the state of anger. “I see,” she answered. This, thankfully, gave her the excuse she’d been waiting for. “I haven’t seen him since I left for the Academy and I would like to visit him today. Would you mind?”

“You can, but I want you to see something first. I know how you like watching the discovery of traitors, as I do. I have an event planned after we eat.”

She tapped into her wicked side as she smiled. “Wonderful.”

When the time came for this event, she was summoned to the throne room on the first floor. Tauwin had decorated it with tokens of Takary history: a painting of every Takary king to rule Kyrro in order of his lineage on one wall and depictions of battles on the other. Most of the detailed paintings must’ve been of Greenedge, for Sanya couldn’t locate Kyrro’s mountains, forests, or lakes in the background of any of them.

Tauwin had ordered a table to be constructed from ironbark so that it was indestructible, probably what he thought himself to be. The sigil of the Takary family was engraved into it and colored: a pair of blue wings like a bird about to take flight. The table was rectangular and far too long for just him and his three councilmen. But they were seated there anyway when Sanya entered, though they quickly stood for her.

No one yet bowed for her, but they would eventually.

She’d seen all of these men before, many at Tauwin’s side, trying to get him to listen to their advice. From what Sanya had overheard, most of them believed Tauwin should take all of his forces around the Academy and bring them to Trentyre for one quick battle. Slowly, Tauwin had begun to see that these troops were necessary to take the city, but he still didn’t like the idea of letting the Academy’s army march on any of his other cities. He wanted, instead, for his army to attack the Academy and Trentyre at the same time and be done with this war.

That’s the problem with greed—it feeds on risk. A less greedy king would choose the safer and more certain option, sparing the lives of his men.

Sanya had used some of her monotonous time in the castle to learn what she could about the councilmen. If she was going to be the kind of queen she wanted to be, she needed their support. There were three of them, but she had a feeling there would be less when this meeting was over.

Tauwin’s ornate chair at the head of the table awaited his royal rear end as he entered. The ostentatious seat had been encrusted with gems and now rivaled the gold-painted throne at the back of the room. He wore a devilish grin as he sat and let out a soft “ahh.”

The three councilmen waited patiently, each man with his own servant standing at the wall behind his seat. There was Amos the Old, his wild gray hair becoming wilder each day. Beside him was Wischard the Bald, his round belly growing rounder each day. And across the table, on a side to himself, was Cheot. His face was neither pleasant nor ugly. His body was neither tall nor short, thin nor stout. If it weren’t for his cloak, with its edges lined by silver thread to mark his importance, he could’ve blended into any room as a guard would. There was nothing remarkable about him, as should be with all good traitors.

Cheot was Tauwin’s favorite and most trusted adviser. While all three of the men had served Kerr before Tauwin, it was Cheot who’d coordinated Tauwin’s murderous plot to overthrow Kerr from within. The other councilmen had no idea it was going to happen, though now everyone knew exactly who was responsible. Tauwin had questioned the other councilmen with psychics soon after Kerr was slain and determined they were just loyal enough to keep around. Perhaps now one had turned.

“Before we discuss Trentyre and the Academy,” Tauwin began, “there’s something that first must be done.” He looked to Cheot, who gave a quick nod and then promptly walked out of the room.

Amos the Old stood with his palms on the table, looking as if he expected death to come walking through the door. Wischard leaned forward in his chair in alarm.

Tauwin laughed snidely at his pets. “He’s just going to fetch someone. Sit, Amos. Relax, Wischard.”

Behind Tauwin stood his most trusted guard, a man with a barrel of a chest who preferred an ax over a sword. Rumor had spread around the castle that he’d executed every man, woman, boy, or girl Tauwin had deemed disloyal. His chiseled face could’ve appeared handsome if he didn’t look at everyone as if they might be next.

Kithala appeared in the doorway. “You wished to see me?” she asked Tauwin.

“Just in time, Mother. Take a seat beside my beautiful wife-to-be.”

She gathered her skirt beneath her knees as she sat beside Sanya. “Is this a meeting of war strategy?”

“Not yet,” Tauwin answered as Cheot returned with a beautiful young woman Sanya had yet to meet. She appeared close to Sanya’s age. A headband kept her flowing brown hair away from her blue eyes, which looked remarkably similar to Cheot’s.
His daughter,
Sanya guessed. She’d felt this woman read the room quickly when she’d entered, while holding a perfect smile as if excited to be there. So she was a psychic.

“Mother, councilmen, this is Bliss.” Tauwin gestured toward her, and she bowed. “She will be my psychic.”

Tauwin had been using Kerr’s psychics to determine when someone lied, though he’d made it quite clear to everyone that they wouldn’t all remain. It seemed suspicious to Sanya that he’d chosen one she’d never seen before.
It must have to do with her relation to Cheot, but probably not as much as her beauty has to do with it.

Bliss walked around the table to stand beside Tauwin. She looked comfortable at the proximity. Too comfortable. Sanya gritted her teeth.

Kithala showed Tauwin a concerned look but said nothing.

“Yes, Mother, what is it?”

“I have some questions—”

“Everything will be answered momentarily,” he interrupted. “Hector, escort out the servants and close the door.”

Tauwin’s henchman did as he was told. When the door was shut and barred, he leaned against it and folded his arms.

“Amos, you’ve served as a councilman for longer than I’ve been alive, correct?”

“Yes, sire.”

“You’ve even served a Takary.”

Amos squinted his beady eyes, giving a confused glance to the psychic. “I have, sire. Rinn Takary.” Amos sounded as if he’d been questioned about this already.

“And who was your favorite king to serve?”

The old man laughed nervously. “That’s a difficult question to answer. The truth is I liked Kerr the best. He was old like me, and our plight is often misunderstood by the young.” He laughed.

Tauwin smiled as if he might laugh with Amos, but then his mouth straightened. “Except you didn’t like him just because he was old, did you?”

Amos stopped laughing. “I suppose I respected him and agreed with him.”

“You suppose?”

“I do, sire. I did, I mean.” He swallowed nervously. “But I support you completely now.”

It was the truth. Sanya had a breath of relief at not having to watch the old man beheaded.

Tauwin glanced up at Bliss. She had a twinkle of amusement in her eyes as she smiled down at him. “It’s a lie, sire,” she said, sounding like a young girl who was trying to be seductive.

“Now just wait a moment!” Amos jumped up from his seat. “That is no lie! I’ve given you my full counsel. I’ve been helping you take over Kyrro to the best of my abilities, and I plan to continue.”

“Another lie,” Bliss said. But it wasn’t. There was fear, yes, but no doubt to his meaning. Sanya couldn’t figure out what was going on.

“Preposterous!” Amos shouted. “Who is this damn woman? She’s the one lying.” He pointed his bony finger. “You can’t trust her, your highness.”

“But I do. It’s you who I don’t trust.” Tauwin nodded at Hector.

“Wait! This is wrong!” Amos backed away as Hector trudged toward him. “She’s lying!”

Kithala stood. “Tauwin, are you sure you can trust this woman?”

“I’m sure. I’ve tested her loyalty.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but it wasn’t a lie, either. Sanya didn’t know what to make of the statement except that they’d most likely shared a bed. She wasn’t jealous at the thought but worried and angry. If this woman wanted to be queen and her father was already a councilman…
oh god’s mercy.
Now Sanya saw where this was headed.

She was in trouble. Not necessarily today or the next, but sometime soon Bliss would need to be dealt with.

Sanya forced herself to watch as Amos threw up his arms, hopelessly trying to defend himself against Hector’s ax. She was supposed to enjoy watching traitors being killed and couldn’t let on that she knew Amos was innocent. The old man shrieked as the blade cleaved off one of his hands at the wrist and got through to his chest. The force of it knocked him down. Hector ended him with a nasty strike down onto his dome.

Sanya changed her BE to hide her pity. She needed to be glad he was dead. She felt Bliss read her. The psychic was in and out of Sanya’s mind quickly, a sign of talent. Bliss had made no mistake with Amos. She knew the man was telling the truth, yet she’d still gotten him killed.

It only deepened what Sanya already believed. Cheot would be the only councilman left soon.

Kithala and Wischard had stumbled out of their seats and now stood as far as possible from the gruesome scene. Wischard looked toward the door as if considering escape. Tauwin laughed, then looked at Sanya. His eyes went wide with glee and excitement.

“She’s the only one still seated! Marvelous, Sanya! How special you are!” He rose up from his chair, walked over, and took her mouth in a series of wet kisses that showed plainly how he wished to bed her right there. She made herself enjoy it, kissing him back feverishly. She ignored how inappropriate it was to kiss so passionately after watching a man murdered, as if she and Tauwin had been aroused by the sight. But she needed to be the woman he wanted her to be.