The Shadow Throne (20 page)

“Then we have a problem,” I muttered. “Carthya has no customs regarding enslavement, especially to a country of swine. That puppet who stands beside you will be overthrown before the year’s end, and Carthya will rise against Avenia until we are free again.”

“Perhaps they’ll try,” Vargan said. “But you won’t be here to see it. The final term of surrender is that you must go to the gallows.”

“Not here.” I shook my head. “I am a king. If you will do this, it must be at my castle in Drylliad.”

“Yes, Commander Kippenger told me of your objections. But I’ve already gone to the trouble of having the gallows built here. And besides, I know you intended Drylliad as a trap for me.”

“Not for you specifically,” I said. “Let me live until Conner is made king and tries to make his home there. I wish to see what my soldiers do to him upon his arrival.”

“Your soldiers have been notified of the surrender and were summoned here to Farthenwood, unarmed, to witness your execution,” Conner said. “A special command was sent to Lord Harlowe and his regents to attend. From the gallows you will order their loyalty to me, and they will agree, or follow you to their graves.”

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Harlowe’s reaction when he heard of this. Harlowe would never agree to follow Conner. By the end of tomorrow, he would be dead too.

“The papers of surrender are being drawn up even as we speak,” Vargan said. “You will sign them at first light and die immediately after.”

“That doesn’t give me much time, then,” I said.

“For what?”

My glare began at Conner, then moved back to Vargan. “Not much time to win this war. You two had better spend tonight preparing your souls for the devils’ lair. Because after tomorrow, that’ll be your home.”

Kippenger jerked on my chains, forcing me to my feet. Vargan raised a hand to strike my face, but slowly lowered it.

Conner said, “I’ve reserved a spot for him in the dungeons. Jaron will know the place well.”

And as had happened months before, I was dragged from the room. But this time I did not go kicking and screaming. I was taken away without breaking my glare from Vargan’s face. I might have been the one in chains, but he was the one who looked afraid.

I
’d had the key to my chains folded in my palms since Terrowic first pulled me off his horse. I had expected him to protect it better since I’d already stolen his keys once before, but he was so angry when he grabbed me that he didn’t even think to check his pockets. I had hoped they’d leave me alone in an upstairs room long enough to make an escape there, but they didn’t. Besides, as far as I could tell, I was without friends anywhere at Farthenwood, so my escape would be brief and my recapture painful.

As they led me down the stairs toward the dungeon, I heard the sounds of another person already imprisoned there and tilted my head to see who it was. Roden was chained in the center of the room, the very spot where Mott had whipped me once. He still wore his captain’s uniform, though it was torn and filthy. With his arms raised, I noted he was thinner than he had been before, but stronger too. He was also bruised along one side of his face, a mark of how poorly his last battle had gone. As bad as he looked, it was a blessing that he was still alive. Well, alive for now. I suspected his was the neck intended for the second noose.

When he saw me coming down the stairs he glanced to his right and mumbled something. He wasn’t alone, then. I wondered who had been captured with him. Maybe the commander of Bymar, or one of the men I’d sent with him.

I didn’t see who it was until we reached the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner. Once I did, time itself paused. Everything but that single moment vanished, and I feared it was some horrible joke of the devils. For on the far wall, a girl with long brown hair and tea-colored eyes was slowly rising to her feet.

Imogen.

She was in a simple bleached-muslin dress, with no hint of decoration. It was wide at the neck, and I could see bandages wrapped over her left shoulder. Her hair was matted on one side, and her thin face looked dangerously pale.

But she was alive.

How was that possible? I had seen the arrow pierce her shoulder, seen her fall, and every conversation since that moment had confirmed the worst of my fears. Yet here she was, standing before me.

The vigils holding my arms had relaxed their grip while Terrowic unlocked the cell door. The second he opened the door, I twisted around and snatched the keys from his hand. Before any of them could react, I darted into the cell, slammed the door shut behind me, and dropped the keys somewhere on the floor. I was vaguely aware of their curses and threats, but barely took notice of them. My only care at the moment stood directly in front of me.

I had seen her every time I closed my eyes, heard her voice in my dreams, and had replayed that moment with the arrow in nightmares that consumed my thoughts like deadly parasites. Could it be that she wasn’t truly here? That what I saw in front of me was the ultimate joke of the devils — their final gouge for all the crimes of my life? If they wanted one last laugh at my expense, this would be their cruelest trick.

I crossed the room and studied Imogen’s face. I knew every curve, every line. It was her, and yet I could not fathom how she could actually be standing there.

In only a whisper, I said, “If this is a trick, please tell me now. Are you real?” It was a fool’s question, perhaps, but I had to be sure. When she nodded, with my hands still bound in chains, I cupped her face, holding her as delicately as a teacup. Just to touch her sent a flood of emotions through me. My eyes filled with tears, but I didn’t care if anyone saw.

Imogen’s hands were chained separately, connecting her to the wall. But her left hand pressed against my chest, where my heart pounded just to get closer to her touch. Her eyes revealed some mixture of joy and sadness to see me, but within me there was only one emotion. I kissed her lightly at first, then again and again, as if nothing in the world existed but us. Her hand slid over my shoulder until the chain pulled tight, drawing me against her. She wanted me as close as I needed to be to her, and I became lost in the moment, with no intention of breaking away ever again.

The vigils outside of the cell were yelling now, and Terrowic ordered the others to go back upstairs and locate more keys. They’d be angry once they finally got in here. But they weren’t inside yet.

My fingers caressed the curve of her jaw, then her hand folded into mine. She glanced down at our intertwined hands only momentarily, then, when she looked back up, the corners of her eyes creased.

“Tell me that you love me,” I whispered.

“But what if —”

“There are no what ifs, only us. Just say the words, Imogen. And mean them.”

Imogen’s eyes filled with tears, and I worried that perhaps, once again, I had asked for more than she could give me. She bit into her lip and finally said, “Jaron, I can’t —”

She stopped there, and my heart sank. That she was alive gave me an immeasurable happiness, but it wasn’t enough. I loved her, and needed her like I needed the beat of my heart. But none of it was complete unless I knew she could feel even the smallest part of that for me.

I began to say something, but she wasn’t finished. “I can’t remember a minute since we met when I haven’t been in love with you.”

A smile spread across my face, and I moved in to kiss her again, but by then, the vigils had gotten into the cell. One grabbed my shoulders and threw me to the far side of the dungeons. I hit the floor not far from the bandages Mott had used months ago to wrap the injury from my whipping here. Another vigil yanked me back to my feet while Terrowic raised an arm to take a swing at me.

“You leave so much as the smell of dirt on me and Vargan will hear about it,” I snarled. “No marks, remember?”

His expression turned murderous, but I was equally angry. His timing couldn’t possibly have been worse, and I wouldn’t forgive him for that.

They chained me to the wall, much as they had kept me in Vargan’s camp. Terrowic surveyed me as though he wanted a way to get in a hit without Vargan noticing. Before he chose a spot, I sat on the ground. I didn’t want a fight and certainly didn’t need another injury. I only wanted him to leave so that I could speak with Roden and Imogen alone.

Against all odds, Roden had survived the latest battle with Mendenwal. And against even greater odds, Imogen was also alive. I had never been one to believe the saints still granted miracles to the living, but maybe they did. There was no other explanation for either of them being here.

“You enjoy this moment all you want,” Terrowic said. “Tomorrow morning they’ll hang you like a common thief.”

“I’m counting on that,” I retorted. Terrowic started to leave, but I called after him and added, “She was about to kiss me when you dragged me away. That alone is good enough reason for the revenge I’m bringing you.”

He only laughed and followed the other vigils up the stairs. But he shouldn’t have ignored my threat. I had been perfectly sincere.

Once we were alone, Imogen unfolded her hand. In it, she held the key to the chains. I had passed it to her while we were in the embrace.

Roden noticed it and scowled. “You gave her the key and not me? I could be free already.”

I smiled at him. “Yes, but I wasn’t going to kiss you.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a laugh.

Then my attention returned to Imogen. “Tell me how you can possibly be alive. I saw you fall.”

“They thought I was dead at first, even loaded me onto the wagon meant to collect the bodies.” I closed my eyes to picture her words. That’s the part Mott would have seen. She continued, “We didn’t drive very far before someone heard my cries. This man, a commander —”

“Kippenger.”

“Yes. He told me that once I was strong enough, they’d bring me back and force you to do everything they wanted. I knew what that would involve, how I’d forever be the cause of Carthya’s downfall. I couldn’t do that, couldn’t let them use me against you. So I decided not to get well.”

“You tried to die,” I whispered. “Imogen, no.”

“I knew you were in the camp with me. I heard the soldiers pass by, discussing the things they’d done to you that day, or bragging of how they’d finally broken you. If I survived, I knew it would only get more horrible for both of us. So every day, no matter how hard they tried to heal me, I only got worse.”

I thought about how I’d have felt if our situations were reversed. If I’d had to hear them boasting about her mistreatment, and knowing full well it would only get worse if I survived. I couldn’t imagine how Imogen bore all that.

Tears welled in her eyes. “Then I heard all the commotion on the night you escaped from that camp — I think you probably rode right past my tent and never knew. After that, I knew you would survive, and that if I did too, I’d see you again. So from that moment, I fought to get better.”

“This is all very sweet,” Roden said bitterly. “But you see where we are. With worse odds for survival than any of us have faced before. Jaron, I want to hear your plan for escape.”

“I gave Imogen the key to her chains. That’s a start.”

“When Conner told me you were coming here, I hoped he’d let me stay in the bed,” Imogen said. “I could’ve escaped from there to help you. Maybe he knew that too, because he sent me here. Either way, I’m not strong enough yet to help you fight.”

“Your only duty is to get well,” I said, and then gave her a mischievous smile. “There is unfinished business between us.”

“I’m going to be ill if they leave me in here with you two,” Roden groaned. “Jaron, even with Imogen’s key, we can’t get through the bars. And even if we did, the estate is full of Avenian soldiers. You and I are going to be executed at first light. Please tell me you can stop this.”

“Of course I can,” I said. “We’re going to win.”

A
s the night wore on, I told Imogen and Roden about Mott’s uncertain condition, about Tobias and Amarinda, and about our progress in the war. In turn, Roden told me everything from the time I left him near Drylliad.

“We were on the march when Mendenwal attacked. They came so quickly, we had no time to do anything but react.” Roden tilted his head so that I might better see his injury. “Unfortunately, I got this rather early in the battle, when a horse reared up and then landed on me.”

“You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“It
was
worse, for most of my men. I awoke on a battlefield blanketed with the dead. I’ve never seen anything more awful. Soldiers from Mendenwal were searching for survivors, and when they found me, they recognized me as a captain. They said Avenia had demanded I be brought here.”

“Were you able to learn anything from their leaders about Mendenwal’s involvement in this war?” It was a question that still bothered me.

He thought it over for a minute, and then said, “Now that you mention it, two of the men who escorted me were in an angry conversation about Avenia sending them to die while Vargan held his own armies back. They weren’t leaders, but I’m sure there are others who feel the same way.”

“Ah, good.”

“It’s not good, Jaron. I’m sorry. You made me captain, and I failed you.”

“No one could’ve done more,” I said optimistically. “Besides, I’ll need your help tomorrow. Maybe our odds could be better — I admit that — but I believe we’re positioned very well for success.”

“Chained up in the dungeons of our enemy, on the verge of total defeat, and set for execution?”

I shrugged. “I already said that things could be better. But they could be worse too. Cheer up, Roden!”

“Do you remember our first morning here at Farthenwood? Tobias was still asleep, or we thought he was. You said it didn’t matter if you died, because there was no one left who loved you and so your death wouldn’t cause anyone pain.”

I remembered that well, though it seemed so long ago now.

Roden’s eyes shifted to Imogen. “That’s not true for you now, obviously. But it still is for me. If you have to sacrifice me to win this war, and to save your own life, I will be honored to go that way.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” I said. “Either my head will be in the noose next to yours, or I’ll figure out some way to save us both. Personally, I prefer the latter.”

Roden mumbled in agreement, then turned his attention to Imogen. “If they do take us, then without Jaron, they’ll have no reason to keep you here. So once you’re free, will you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“I have only the one name for my gravestone, like a servant or an orphan would. But I’m more than that now, and I don’t want to be remembered only as Roden.”

“You may have any name you wish,” I offered. “Including that of my own house.”

Roden gave his thanks, but he already seemed to have another name in mind. He said, “When I was a baby, an old Avenian woman was my caretaker. But it was a brutal winter and she became sick. Before she died, she left me with a midwife and told her my mother had been named Havanila. She mentioned no other family, and the midwife eventually gave me to an orphanage. I’d like to use my mother’s name on my gravestone, Roden of the house of Havanila.”

Havanila. The name echoed in my ears.

“Why have you never told me this story?” I breathed out the words, barely able to use my voice.

He shrugged as if none of that mattered. “There was nothing to tell. Obviously my parents were dead, which is how I came into that old woman’s care. Why?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. Roden’s mother had a name I’d never heard anywhere before, except from one other man. Roden was Harlowe’s younger son, the infant who had been taken in an attempt to extract a ransom from Harlowe. But before the exchange could be made, the Avenian woman who had taken him died. Unaware of his noble birth, the midwife sent Roden to an orphanage, where he remained until Conner brought him to Farthenwood. Roden was chosen because he looked a little like me, and I’d often been told that I looked somewhat like Harlowe’s other son and Roden’s brother, Mathis.

Except they were family, and I was not.

Roden had a father. Who would be in attendance tomorrow as Roden and I were hanged at the gallows. Roden deserved to know that, to look Harlowe directly in the eyes for a final farewell.

And yet I couldn’t force the words out. From the moment of our meeting, Harlowe had been as a father to me. Once Harlowe knew his son not only lived, but had been so close for all these weeks, his heart would naturally leave me and go to Roden. It may have been greedy on my part — I knew that it was — and yet I felt desperate for any sort of family. I did not want to give Roden this gift. Not yet anyway. I wanted a father.

With that, I scowled inwardly, berating myself for my unforgivable selfishness. I already had a father. Not alive, but I had his name and history, and memories I could hold on to. Some of them were better than others, but the failures were my fault as much as his. Once again, I recalled the image of having stood before him in the great hall as he accused me of being a thief. I should have explained then why I had taken the coins, and made him understand me. Or better yet, I should have tried to understand him. If I had, I knew now that my father would have helped that widow.

Whether we understood or agreed with each other, I had now come through enough war to accept that even if he and I would make different choices, he did have reasons for the choices he made. And wherever in the afterlife he wandered, I believed that my father was watching me, and knew I had my own reasons too.

I had to tell Roden.

And I started to say the words, because I knew he needed to be told. But I wondered if it would be cruel to give Roden the knowledge of his father before I knew whether we would survive. Perhaps it would only add to his pain as the noose was tightened around his neck, knowing he had come so close to the one thing he most desired.

“You do have a plan, right?”

Roden had continued in conversation with Imogen, though I had drifted into my own thoughts. I turned to him. “What?”

Roden rolled his eyes. “A plan for us to escape.”

“Oh.” I shrugged. “Not really.”

His jaw fell open as I spoke, which I thought was rather bold. He might not have spent much time in chains and dungeons recently, but I certainly had. And Farthenwood was now filled with soldiers who’d consider it a personal honor to kill any of us in an escape attempt. Working through those challenges wasn’t exactly as easy as, say, planning an evening menu. For now, my entire plan came down to four small words: try not to die.

“Not really?” Roden asked. “Jaron, night is passing quickly. In only a few short hours, they’ll come for us. You must have something.”

I closed my eyes, and then opened them to look at Imogen. “When Roden and I are taken away, we’ll make a big fuss with the guards. Enough that any vigils nearby will have to come and get control of us. That will be your chance to escape. You know where to go until this is over, correct?”

“The hidden passages.” She had been a servant here and probably knew the secret entrances as well as anyone could.

“Conner obviously knows about them too, but I doubt anyone will consider it worth the effort to look for you, even if they remember you’re missing. Just stay in there, hidden as well as you can until you know it’s safe to come out.”

Roden wasn’t convinced. “How big of a fuss will this require?”

I grinned. “Catastrophic levels of bad behavior. Trust me, it’ll be fun.”

“You have a sick idea of fun.” Roden’s cool expression seemed less than enthusiastic. “When we do this, will they hurt us?”

That made me sigh. “You’re the captain of my guard, aren’t you? Surely you can take a few hits by now. Besides, the pain will be forgotten once the ropes go around our necks.”

“I don’t want a rope going around my neck, Jaron! That’s the part you need to figure out.”

“Well, it probably will! You have to settle with that reality before we can figure anything out.”

He calmed down and my attention went back to Imogen. With the wound in her shoulder, this night had been hard on her. But she was trying to stay strong and smiled back at me when our eyes met. I was overwhelmed with love for her. The warmth of it filled every vein of my body, consumed my fears and anger, and left in their place only a desire to be happy. It was what Mott had wished for me, to find happiness, to accept love as a far stronger force than any weapon. I ached to think of Mott, with no idea of whether he had survived.

“I promise to devise a plan,” I said, “but until then, I think we should play a good joke, for when the vigils return for us.”

Roden cocked an eyebrow, intrigued by the suggestion. Imogen muttered something about the foolishness of boys. She was probably right about that, so I couldn’t argue her point. Also, I loved her, so I had no intention of arguing.

It took some straining against my chains and some creative footwork, but eventually I nudged the old bandages in the corner toward me. Once I had them in my hands, I unwound them to their full length.

“What are you going to do with those?” Roden asked. “You’re not injured.”

“The vigils are forbidden from harming me tonight. Vargan was very clear that I wasn’t to come out tomorrow looking like a martyr.” My grin widened. “But don’t worry, Avenia already fell for this trick once before. They love it.” I was remembering when I was with the thieves and had used bandages to make Vargan think I had the plague. Neither Imogen nor Roden were with me then, so they didn’t understand the joke. But they would soon. I maneuvered my hands enough to wind the bandage around my ankle and calf, and then tucked the end back inside the wrapping. It was haphazardly done, but considering the limitations of my chains, I was actually impressed with the finished product.

“That’s your trick?” Roden asked. “Can’t you take this seriously?”

“If you understood what Vargan’s men did to me, you’d know exactly how serious I am.”

“Jaron, tomorrow we are —”

“Hush now,” I said. “Imogen needs to sleep, I need to think, and you need to . . . let me think.”

Roden made a face, but he did give me some silence. Imogen stared at me for several minutes before finally closing her eyes. And I turned away and set to the task of figuring out a way to survive the next day.