A King of Shadow Page 5

  Are you kidding me?

  I wanted to scream. It seemed that every time Tejus was about to tell me something, every time we were about to attempt a meaningful conversation, someone would interrupt.

  “Enter,” he called out. I was slightly mollified by the fact that he sounded as pissed off as I did by the interruption.

  “The ministers are ready for you, your Highness.” A man bowed at the doorway and left. Tejus walked swiftly to his room, leaving the door open as he walked over to the bed that evidently hadn’t been slept in and threw off his shirt. I could see the faint glow of the torchlight bouncing off the muscles of his bare back, and I quickly averted my eyes.

  “Unless the matter is closed, we can discuss this when I return,” he called out from his room.

  “Are you going to talk about the borders?” I asked.

  “Yes. That’s why I called the meeting.”

  “Will you ask about Julian?” I added.

  “Yes.”

  He emerged from his room in a fresh shirt, tying back his hair as he strode toward the door.

  “Am I going to have to lock you in?” he asked, his face impassive, but I thought I could detect a faint trace of humor in his tone.

  “You’re joking.”

  “Don’t tempt me, Hazel, because I will.”

  With that, he left the room. Shutting, but not locking, the door behind him. I collapsed on the sofa.

  I didn’t understand why he felt I was under such threat. The castle seemed well secured for the most part, and no harm had come to the rest of the humans—besides Julian, who I suspected had left voluntarily. Was it that he worried I would be a prime target, that the rest of Nevertide was as confused as I was about our relationship? I recalled what the servant girl had been saying before the coronation, wondering whether I was considering staying with Tejus after the trials. How strange was it, in the terms of Nevertide customs, that I was staying with their king? The thought made me flush with embarrassment…and gave me another reason to relocate downstairs.

  I also hated not knowing what was going on with the ministers, and why they seemed so reluctant to open one border but not the other. I wondered if Tejus would tell me the truth behind their reasons—evidently he was an expert at keeping secrets, and Queen Trina popped into my mind…and the way I’d found out about their relationship by overhearing an argument; how he hadn’t told me about anything about my attempted kidnapper when he had known full well that it was her all along.

  I shot up from the sofa, determined to get to the bottom of at least one of the mysteries at Hellswan castle. If I hurried, I wouldn’t miss much of the meeting. I only hoped that it would be taking place in the same room as last time, otherwise I’d waste hours trying to find them.

  I’d located the meeting room, but stood back behind a corner of the hallway, avoiding being seen by the two guards placed at the door. They hadn’t been there last time, and it confirmed my suspicions that the ministers had something to hide—they seemed to be going to a lot of trouble to sort out what I’d initially assumed would be a quick sentry mind-trick.

  The presence of the guards was a problem. Hopefully there would be another way in, but I couldn’t remember the layout of the room that well. Beyond the gray stone walls there was little to set it apart from the other rooms in the castle, with the exception of the oil paintings…which, on the furthest wall, had hung above wooden paneling – and I was sure I’d seen the outline of a door. That was it.

  Now I just needed to find the right wall, which I assumed would be at the other end of the hallway. Squaring my shoulders, I stepped out from behind my hiding spot and strode purposefully along the wide corridor. The guards barely looked up at me, and I passed by them without a word being uttered between us. When I reached the end of the hallway, I swerved left and pushed open the first door I came to.

  It opened into an empty office, which smelt musty with age. There was a dark oak desk, and some moldy-looking books on shelves, but other than that it was bare. I was relieved at the sight of a wooden door that would open onto the meeting chamber. I moved closer, and pressed my cheek against the cold surface. I could hear soft mutterings coming from within—but I needed to open it if I was going to make out what they were actually saying.

  Very gently, I pushed against the door and held my breath, praying that it wouldn’t creak with age. To my relief, it softly gave way by less than an inch into the chamber with only a small click of the latch.

  I could hear voices immediately, but could only see a few ministers with their backs toward me. I looked around for Tejus, but he must have been on the other side of the table, facing the main entrance.

  Soon I heard his voice, low and menacing, cutting through the muttering of the ministers.

  “You have still failed to give me a sufficient explanation, Lithan. As I told you before, the situation is dire. I want the humans out of my sight, the sooner the better.”

  The ministers went silent.

  I felt the same painful jolt I’d felt at the last meeting, hearing once again how easily he dismissed us all—how easily he dismissed me. And yet, a moment ago, he had been telling me that I couldn’t leave his living quarters… Something didn’t add up. Either he was saying hurtful things in order to get his way with the ministers—but he was king, why wouldn’t they do what he commanded anyway? Why did he feel he needed to prove his dislike of us?—or he truly wanted us gone as quickly as possible, but wanted to keep a careful watch over me in the meantime. It made no sense to me.

  “Your Highness, the situation is… sensitive. We are not entirely sure what we are dealing with here,” another minister replied, their voice taut with anxiety.

  “Try to explain it, then,” Tejus replied curtly. I could tell that he was close to losing his temper, but trying to rein it in, probably for the sake of propriety… though he’d never struck me as someone who was willing to bow to rules.

  “The fact is, your Highness, that we simply can’t open up the borders—they are held too strong!” a squeaky voice replied, and I recognized it as Qentos, the most insipid minister of the lot.

  “Really, Qentos? That surprises me—as you told me that it was you who put them up,” Tejus replied.

  “Your father, the late emperor—rest his soul—commanded us to tell you that falsehood on his death bed. He, and we, believed he would soon regain his strength. He swore he would regain control of the borders…but it was not to be.”

  Huh? What?

  If the ministers weren’t keeping the borders up, then who was?

  “On pain of death, Lithan, you will tell me right now who exactly has control of the borders.” Tejus’s voice was deadly. I almost pitied Lithan, and could hear the collective intake of breath at Tejus’s threat. I didn’t believe it was an empty one—and neither did they.

  “We believe it is what we know as ‘the entity’…an aged force. Long before our time, it was this creature who created the sentries, your highness—it ruled us once, and rules us still.”

  The room was silent.

  “I ask you for an answer, Lithan, and you tell me a ghost story?” Tejus mocked.

  “It is no story, your highness. We wish that it was. Your late father had control over this creature, as all emperors before him did…but with no emperor, the creature grows stronger.”

  Creature?

  Was this some huge lie they were concocting to defy him in some way? But for what purpose? And of all the lies to tell…this seemed about as far-fetched as it got.

  “I see,” Tejus replied, his voice heavy with disdain. “And how, pray tell, did my father control this creature?”

  “There are stones, their power beyond our comprehension, buried deep within the walls of this castle. Hellswan has been the seat of the emperor for generations. We hoped, as we always have, that the Emperor would remain a Hellswan, and continue to reside here. That way, the stones were always under the guard of the emperor, never left unattended, until now.”

/>   Lithan’s story sent shivers running through my body.

  Stones.

  I thought of the one I had taken from the Hellswan sword, its power incredible, so much so that it gave me the sentry True Sight. Was there a connection there? Was the stone one of those that was meant to be buried within the castle, controlling some entity?

  “Do you know the location of these stones?” Tejus asked, his disbelief still evident in his tone.

  “We do not.” Lithan sighed. “The location of the stones has been lost to us over the years. Many of our documents have been damaged or lost—Nevertide hasn’t faced a threat in over a century. I assume those before us became rather slack in their duties.”

  “As, it seems, did you.”

  “And we apologize most humbly, your highness,” Lithan countered.

  “So what use would an emperor be if you don’t know where the stones are?” Tejus questioned.

  The ministers started to whisper amongst themselves. A crash thundered across the room, silencing them all. I jumped from my crouched position, thankfully falling away from the door. Scrambling back up, I couldn’t see what had happened, but I imagined that Tejus had just slammed his fist down on the table.

  There goes the propriety, I thought sarcastically. But in fairness, I was close to losing my temper too—the ministers seemed to know next to nothing that would be of help, and yet what little they did know, they were reluctant to share.

  “There…there is a book,” Qentos’s reedy voice stuttered, “that only the emperor is privy to by a decree of ancient law. It cannot be read by another—only by he who is chosen from among his people to rule all the kingdoms…but we believe that this book tells of the location of the stones.”

  “This is utterly ridiculous—an invisible entity, magic stones of unprecedented power, and a book that only an emperor can read,” Tejus announced in barely concealed fury. “Have you any proof whatsoever that this being exists?”

  “Only the outer Nevertide boundaries, your highness. We have been trying to lower them, with all the ministers of the six kingdoms, and we can’t.”

  I slumped back against the wall. I had heard enough. Enough to believe that the ministers weren’t making this up—the fear in their voices was real enough, even if what they were saying sounded utterly implausible.

  I wished, not for the first time, that GASP were here. My mom and dad would have known what to do, and Corrine would no doubt have had the stupid borders lifted without much difficulty. The only thing I knew for sure was that I needed to find my brother and retrieve the stone. I wasn’t sure whether or not it was the same thing as the entity stones, but I couldn’t be too careful.

  Ruby

  The skies had been rumbling overhead all morning. It was a depressing sight, and though it was just storm clouds, something about their looming presence made me feel uneasy. As we made our way toward Hellswan village, I kept reminding myself that being out of the castle for the morning made a nice change, and I wanted to make the most of it, despite frequent gusts of wind blowing debris in our path and the cobbled streets being almost completely deserted.

  Ash took my hand, offering reassurance. Mine closed over his tightly. For once I wasn’t worried what my friends might think of our open display of affection. Benedict, who was walking with us, saw, but only rolled his eyes and tutted—something he would have done whether Ash was a human, a sentry, or an alien from outer space. Regardless of our displeased audience, I felt lighter all of a sudden, pleased to have more evidence that Ash’s feelings might match my own.

  “It’s the next house along,” Ash called out over the wind. Our first stop was an old friend of his father’s, who Ash claimed was about as nosy and interfering as they came…the perfect place to start our search.

  Ash banged on the door of the small wooden lean-to. It seemed to shake the entire foundation, and I tugged at him to stop, worried we’d annoy the man before we set foot in his home.

  “Don’t worry.” Ash grinned. “He’s pretty deaf.”

  A moment later, the door swung open, and a tall, grim-looking man who must have been over ninety years old stood with a lantern swinging from his hand.

  “Ashbik!” he grumbled. “Haven’t seen you in an age. Too good for us now, are you?”

  Ash laughed. “Stand aside—let us in, old man.”

  Still grumbling, the man eyed Benedict and me closely, and just when I thought he was going to slam the door in our faces, he stood aside to let us in.

  “Sit down,” he said, gesturing at battered old chairs that surrounded a small fire. We did as we were told.

  Ash waited till the man sat down before beginning to talk.

  “Otso, we’ve lost a friend of ours—a human boy. We think he may have left the castle on his own after the trials finished. I was wondering if you’d seen him, or heard anything?” Ash asked.

  The old man shook his head.

  “No human has passed this way. And no human ought!” He turned to glare at Benedict and me. “There are omens starting, lad,” he continued. “Dark skies, dark deeds. Your human is better off in the woods with the beasties than he is near that castle, mark my words.”

  Ash shook his head slightly at Benedict and me, a warning not to take the man too seriously. But I couldn’t help but be affected by Otso’s words. Whether he was nutty or not, I couldn’t deny that I felt the same misgivings about Hellswan.

  “You, boy,” the man barked at Benedict. “You’ve seen the signs—I can see it written on your face…the whispers have marked you, boy, but I can see!”

  Benedict stood up, his face white.

  “I’m going to wait outside,” he muttered to me.

  “I’ll join you,” I replied hastily, rising from my chair. Anything to get away from the old man—he might have been an old friend of Ash’s father, but he was also certifiably insane.

  We stood outside in the cold, huddled together at the side of the old man’s house, waiting for Ash to finish up.

  “Ignore Otso,” I said, noticing that Benedict still looked uncomfortable. “He’s obviously just a batty old man.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Benedict replied weakly. I put my arm around him, glancing toward the front door with impatience. Clearly the man knew nothing about Julian’s whereabouts, and I doubted Ash would get anything useful out of him.

  Ash emerged a few moments later, looking irritated.

  “Hey.” Benedict and I hurried toward him. “Anything remotely helpful?” I asked.

  “Nope. He’s going batty. I’m actually quite worried about him…” Ash ran his hand through his hair in agitation. “He used to be a great guy. Sorry about that, Benedict.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Benedict shook off the apology. “Not your fault.”

  We continued to walk over the cobblestones, following the main street that ran the length of the village. Stall frames were set up on either side of us, positioned in front of misshapen houses and barns. I imagined that usually this was a lively street and the main trade location of Hellswan, but today it was completely empty. The only noises were the occasional window shutter banging in the wind, and the odd whicker of an unhappy bull-horse.

  “Hey, Ash!” a voice called out in the empty street. All three of us looked around, but couldn’t see a soul.

  “Up here!” An attractive red-headed girl was peering out of a top floor window, waving down at us. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry you didn’t make king. I was rooting for you, we all were.”

  Ash waved back. “Thanks, Gladys, I appreciate it.”

  “You’re ten times the man that Hellswan swine is,” she called back merrily.

  Ash nodded, smiling grimly. “Have you seen a human pass this way?” he added before she could shut the window.

  “No. No humans this way. You better get back to the castle as well, Ash.” She looked toward the dark black cloud and shook her head. “Nothing good can come of this.”

  Geez. It’s just a storm.

>   The sentries were certainly a superstitious lot. In so many ways being in Nevertide was like stepping back in time to a little medieval village, and while sometimes I could find that strangely charming, most of the time I found it unbearably frustrating—and this ‘bad omen’ stuff was starting to wear a bit thin.

  The woman closed the windows, and we carried on.

  “Where to now?” I asked Ash, hoping he had some better ideas up his sleeve.

  “The local witch,” he replied with a smile.

  What?

  “Really, Nevertide has witches?” I asked.

  “She’s not an actual witch. I just mean that she’s good with herbal remedies and stuff—it’s the nickname we give her in the village,” Ash explained.

  “Oh.” That was disappointing. It would have been comforting to meet a member of a species I was actually familiar with here in this dark land.

  We walked to the end of the village, where the houses started to peter out and give way to miles of hills and meadows in the distance. I looked around for a trinket-covered hovel, but all I could see was a smart stone house, with a freshly painted sign reading ‘Abelle’s Apothecary’ flapping in the wind.

  We trudged up the stone steps and Ash knocked on the door. We waited a while, but eventually it opened, revealing a smiling woman who I guessed was in her mid-forties. For a sentry she was quite short, only a head taller than me, with a voluptuous figure.

  “Ashbik!” she cried, embracing him warmly. “And you’ve brought friends—I recognize you from the trials.” She smiled at me.

  “Hello, I’m Ruby. This is Benedict.”

  “I’m Abelle. Come on in.” She ushered us all inside, and I was instantly hit by a fragrant warmth that smelt of cedar wood. The front room looked like a greenhouse, with potted plants covering every available surface and dried herbs hanging from the ceiling by twine.

  “I haven’t seen you in so long, Ash.” She ruffled his hair. “I was so proud of you in the trials—you’ve given us all hope. Things have been stagnant here for too long – not enough crops, not enough to trade,” she gesticulated extravagantly, “everyone living hand to mouth these days. It’s not a good time. Let us hope a change is upon us…but you haven’t come for my opinion on the state of Nevertide. To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked, snapping some dead leaves off a nearby plant and tucking them into her apron.