Fiona McIntosh

King’s Wrath


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      With no warning the breath was sucked out of her as Genevieve, the first princess of the Valisars to survive in centuries, blacked out.

      And across the empire, various people felt the stirrings of a mighty magic they had never felt before.

       1

      Though the two men walked side by side they looked anything but companionable.

      ‘Did you feel it?’ the younger one asked.

      Greven didn’t want to admit it but there was no point in hiding much from Piven these days. While his mind was essentially his own, his actions were not. It didn’t matter how hard he fought the bonding magic, it had him completely at its mercy. ‘I felt it,’ he said, gruff and disinterested.

      ‘And what do you think it is?’

      ‘Why are you concerning yourself with what I think? I just do as I’m told.’

      ‘Is this how it’s going to be from now on, Greven?’

      ‘What did you expect?’

      Piven made a soft scolding sound, clicking his tongue. ‘And I can remember not so long ago your telling me just how much you loved me and wanted to protect me.’

      ‘I did. But my love was given freely then. And I had two hands then. And I didn’t know what you were then.’

      ‘And what am I? No, don’t, let me say it for you. A monster? Is that the right word?’ When Greven said nothing, Piven continued, ‘Because I really haven’t changed that much, you know. I still love you, Greven. I always have.’

      ‘You once loved your brother.’

      ‘Ah, but you haven’t deserted me as my brother has. He must pay for that.’

      ‘Your sister had no choice in her desertion.’

      ‘This is true,’ Piven admitted, slapping at some tall grasses at the side of the Tomlyn road. ‘She was helpless. But she is helpless no longer, and you know as well as I she will try to destroy me now. That disturbance we just felt was likely none other than her returning home.’

      Greven was genuinely startled. ‘I felt the disturbance but hadn’t given it much thought … of course you’re right. Are you frightened?’

      Piven threw him a wry glance. ‘No,’ he replied with a gentle scoff. ‘I have you.’ He pointed to where the main road forked. ‘We go left to the capital.’

      ‘Let’s go right, Piven. Let’s head south, keep you safe.’

      ‘I am safe. You are here.’

      ‘I think you are depending on me too much.’

      ‘But that’s the role of the aegis. To be entirely dependable. Come on,’ he said, increasing his speed. ‘And don’t claim fatigue; I know you don’t even feel it. That must be amazing. No need for food or water, rest or any form of sustenance.’

      ‘Does that not strike you as a living death?’

      Piven smiled openly. ‘Not at all. It’s surely immortality. I envy you.’

      ‘Don’t. Just tell me why we are going to the capital, please.’

      ‘Ah yes,’ Piven said, a skip in his step as though he were enjoying their awkward journey. ‘I was saying that I am a loyalist and indeed a royalist. My family’s throne has been usurped. I intend that a Valisar will rule from that throne again.’

      ‘Then you should throw your support behind Leonel. Imagine what the pair of you could achieve together. The people would flock to the idea of the rightful heir trying to reclaim his throne.’

      ‘That is a nice thought, Greven, and I applaud your charming notion of fraternal harmony, but sadly Leo squandered his right to my support when he abandoned me to the tyrant.

      I’m afraid I can’t forgive him. And besides, I’m not as sure as you of the people’s support. Life doesn’t seem to be so bad under Loethar. I can’t imagine Denovians will happily go to war again for a family they consider long dead.’

      Once again Greven was struck by Piven’s maturity. The boy was nearing sixteen but carried himself like a man a decade older. It was deeply unnerving, particularly as just a few anni ago Piven had been so juvenile — charming, even — in his childishness.

      ‘In fact I would leave the whole ruling thing to Loethar,’ Piven continued expansively, ‘if he had not brutally stolen my father’s crown and were I not truly Valisar. No Valisar could let theft and murder of his own go unpunished.’

      ‘Well, what about your sister? Let her rule.’

      Piven looked at Greven sideways. ‘Why would I? She is younger than me. We must do things properly, Greven,’ he admonished, as though explaining to a child. ‘If she wants to, she can fight me for the crown. Besides, we hail the Valisar kings down the ages. We have never bowed to a queen.’

      ‘There’s always a first time.’

      ‘She is a child, let’s not forget!’ Greven gave a grim gust of a laugh. Piven ignored it. ‘She will have no idea of how to rule at such a tender age. Frankly, I’m intrigued to see who has been protecting her and where she has been. Definitely not in the empire — if she has been, I would have sensed her long ago. No, Greven, this is why I think my sister is a threat: she is too young at ten to be making decisions for herself and so has been returned by someone who wishes to make use of her powers. We must ask ourselves who her the puppet master is.’

      ‘Her aegis perhaps?’ Greven offered, distaste flooding his mouth at the idea.

      Piven shook his head. ‘No. Impossible. I doubt any aegis would freely offer himself. And if my sister — funny, I don’t even know her name — has been living a long way from here it’s unlikely that her aegis is aware of her or she of the aegis. I am guessing they are still to find each other.’

      Greven silently acknowledged Piven’s grasp of situations. His cunning and agile mind had already thought through every scenario that could threaten him, it seemed. ‘Which makes her vulnerable.’

      ‘Exactly. I’m hoping to meet her long before she has that protection.’

      ‘So you plan to kill your siblings and the emperor?’

      ‘And all who support either. A Valisar will sit the Penraven throne again. I will make my father proud.’

      ‘Are you sure of that?’

      Piven laughed. ‘Well, we’ll never know but I like to think so. My father was ruthless, Greven. You need to understand this fact. He adored his sons but he could still make some very hard decisions — he was able to leave Leo as a nemesis for Loethar and was comfortable leaving me to whatever fate dished up. He didn’t get much of a chance to love his daughter but he loved her enough to get her away so that she could offer up a challenge in the future. You see, everything for my father was about the Valisar name and duty. He was a good man, there’s no denying it, but in truth he was more ruthless than even Loethar.’

      ‘Whatever makes you say that?’ Greven asked, astonished.

      ‘Because if my father had been in Loethar’s shoes, he would not have hesitated to have killed me. He would not have taken a chance on letting any child associated with the throne live, whether it were an invalid or adopted or both. Loethar showed mercy — and now he will pay the price for his tenderness.’

      ‘Tenderness? You are jesting, aren’t you? The man has killed more Denovians than I care to think about.’

      ‘He killed his enemies, Greven; that’s very normal for a conquering ruler. But if you scrutinise what he did, he didn’t kill randomly. He killed opposing soldiers, and his only real targets