“Do you think he’s going to give us a reward?” one of the soldiers asked.
“I’ll reward you with a boot up your arse if you’re thinking of asking for one,” Sergeant Caulder growled, though he spoke with a good-natured smile.
There was a creak, and the doors swung open, held by two, heavily armored guardsmen.
“Finally,” Arcturus said, getting to his feet. “Come on, Ulfr. You too.”
Arcturus put his arm around the dwarf’s shoulders, and to his surprise, the dwarf didn’t push him away. There was a smile on his face—one of triumph, and pride.
They walked together through the double doors, leading the way into the high-ceilinged throne room. A red carpet led up toward a raised dais, upon which two thrones sat. On either side, great pillars held up the ceilings, and a skylight allowed the morning sun in.
It was a sight to behold, but Arcturus took little time to enjoy their surroundings. Because it was not Harold sitting on the throne … but Alfric.
“Come on,” the old man called, beckoning them forward. “We haven’t got all day.”
Arcturus felt a rush of relief to see Harold on the smaller throne beside Alfric’s. What had he expected, that the old king would just disappear? Perhaps this was the official ceremony, where the crown was passed from one king to another.
As he drew closer, Arcturus saw nobles, lined up beside the throne, confirming his theory. Though to his dismay, he could see Ophelia Faversham there, as well as Provost Forsyth, prominently seated closest to Alfric.
The group stopped in front of the throne, and King Alfric leaned forward and examined them over steepled fingers.
“I was wrong about you,” Alfric finally said, his cold eyes flicking between Arcturus and Ulfr. “You common summoners are perhaps useful after all.”
He clicked his fingers.
“Obadiah, how goes your search?”
“Well enough, my lord,” Obadiah said, bowing low. “There are more like him, scattered across the land. Vocans will have new students soon.”
“Good,” Alfric said, then pointed at Arcturus. “You can stay there too, boy. And you can live. That is your reward for the loyalty you showed me today.”
Arcturus felt the blood draining from his face. This was not how he had imagined this meeting would go.
“Harold…,” Arcturus said.
Harold shook his head silently, as if to tell Arcturus to hold his tongue. But Arcturus would not.
“Who is king here? You or your son?” Arcturus demanded.
“Did I ask you to speak?” Alfric shouted. “Hold your tongue, before I have it cut out.”
Arcturus could not believe what he was hearing. Ophelia grinned as the two guards stepped in front of Arcturus, forcing him back.
“Since you must know,” Alfric continued icily, once he had settled back in his chair. “We have been planning this ‘transfer of power’ for some time now, is that not so, Obadiah?”
“Just so, my lord,” Obadiah said, bowing his head.
“Only we had to do it a little earlier than I had planned. No matter, there is gold enough left to finish the palace.”
With every word Alfric spoke, Arcturus felt his happiness shrivel and die.
And he remembered. Obadiah, in the hospital wing at Vocans. Telling him exactly that. How the people were angry at Alfric … and that Harold might have to take power. But at the time, Arcturus didn’t understand that it would be a ruse. That it was all a trick.
“Father, you promis—” Harold began, but Alfric lifted a hand, silencing him.
“We agreed you would be king.” Alfric sighed, speaking as if to a child. “Not that you would hold the king’s power. You are far too young for that.”
“I must learn to rule by ruling,” Harold argued. “Father, I am not a puppet.”
“And so you shall learn,” Alfric said, smiling broadly. “I have appointed a council for you. To advise you, and vote on all matters of state.”
King Alfric gestured at the nobles around him. “They will serve you well, and I shall be there to guide them of course. It has all been ratified in the law. The people will accept that, since you are so young, and they will trust you are in good hands.”
Harold’s face whitened, and Arcturus knew that there was no hope. What could he do?
“And what of the dwarves?” Ulfr demanded. “What concessions shall you make for their hand in saving your son?”
Alfric’s face darkened as Ulfr spoke.
“Who invited this ingrate?” he spat. “Get him out of here.”
“I did, Father,” Harold said, standing. “He is a friend, and we will treat him as such. I owe him my life, as do many in this room.”
“I risked my life for your son,” Ulfr said. “The rebels offered us equality if we joined them, and we turned it down to save you.”
“You did your duty as a loyal citizen of Hominum,” Alfric scoffed in reply, gesturing for the dwarf to be taken away. “You’ve admitted that your people were tempted. You should be thankful we let you live at all.”
The guards grabbed Ulfr by the shoulders, but the powerful dwarf resisted, holding steady as they tugged at him.
“You promised,” he hissed, pointing at Harold with a trembling finger. “You swore to me.”
“I will keep my promise,” Harold replied, his eyes wide. “As well as I can, I swear it.”
“Liar!” Ulfr yelled as the guards finally dragged him down the carpet. “You lying son of a—”
A punch from a guard knocked the dwarf unconscious, the gauntleted hand thudding with a sick sound.
“Give him a beating,” Alfric ordered lazily, leaning back in his chair. “So he learns his lesson.”
He looked on for a moment, then shouted, “And wait until you’re outside—I don’t want blood on our new carpets.”
Arcturus glared at Alfric, and the old king laughed at his expression.
“You should never trust a dwarf,” he said. “Forget him. He picked the right side and nothing more. But he must be punished for speaking so impertinently.”
He sighed distractedly and turned to Lady Faversham.
“Ophelia, how goes the interrogation of the steward?” he asked.
“We have the names,” Lady Faversham replied. “He gave that one’s name as well.”
She pointed at Arcturus.
“I vouch for him,” Harold said swiftly. “Crawley would say anything under torture.”
Lady Faversham narrowed her eyes, then shrugged and continued.
“Before nightfall, every rebel leader will be captured. By tomorrow night, we will have more names from them. It is a good thing Harold promised to imprison criminals—our prisons shall soon be overflowing with them and their families.”
She laughed, and it echoed hollowly in the open space around them.
“Of course, the soldiers have already surrendered, and General Barcroft committed suicide as soon as news of his failure reached him. But the others … we’ll find them, imprison them and throw away the key.”
“And the battle scene, has it been cleaned up?” Alfric asked.
“Not a speck of blood,” Ophelia said. “If all goes well, the people will not even know there was anything close to a rebellion. Only a simple protest that took a turn for the worse, followed by a peaceful transfer of power.”
“Good,” Alfric said, clapping his hands and standing. “Then that concludes today’s council meeting. Come on, I have prepared a feast to celebrate.”
“Father,” Harold interrupted, raising his voice. “Are you not forgetting something?”
Alfric paused, then clapped a hand to his head and looked at the soldiers, who had been watching the proceedings in horror.
“Of course. Thank you for your service, men. You’re good lads. Very good lads.”
He turned to Harold and cocked his head.
“Happy?” he asked. Harold nodded curtly, and Alfric strode away, heading for a door behind the thrones. The nobl
es trailed after him, and a moment later the door slammed, leaving the room in silence.
Only a servant remained, his back straight, eyes staring straight ahead.
“Kercher, find those guards and stop them from beating that dwarf, on my orders. Hurry,” Harold commanded, pointing at the double doors. The servant scurried off, and a few moments later the doors slammed shut.
Harold sighed and walked over to the throne Alfric had been sitting in. He sat down heavily, and pressed his fingers against his eyelids.
“I didn’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”
Arcturus walked over to him and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. For that was what he was … a boy. It was easy to forget sometimes.
“Things can be better now,” Arcturus said, though he himself struggled to believe his own words. “You have some power. You can make a difference.”
“With those lackeys on the council?” Harold said, gesturing over his shoulder. “They’re the worst of the worst. I’ll never make things better for anyone.”
“You made some promises in your speech that they will be forced to keep, if they want to avoid another uprising,” Arcturus said firmly, “and if you bide your time, you will be able to change things. Don’t despair.”
Harold looked up and smiled at Arcturus, and Arcturus saw the new king’s eyes were filled with tears.
“You’re a braver man than I, Arcturus. I am glad to have you on my side.”
“Always, my king,” Arcturus said.
Harold wiped the tears from his face and stood.
“Sergeant Caulder, Sergeant Percival, Sergeant Daniels. Kneel,” Harold commanded.
The three men knelt before their king, while their soldiers looked on, bemused.
Harold drew his sword, and for a brief moment of madness, they looked at him with fear in their eyes. Was he killing them, to keep this silent?
“My king, we would never tell anyone about…,” Sergeant Caulder began.
“Quiet, you idiot,” Harold said affectionately. “I may be powerless, but I can still do this.”
He laid his sword on the sergeant’s shoulder and spoke three words.
“Rise … Sir Caulder.”
CHAPTER
61
“ARCTURUS, PROVOST FORSYTH WANTS to see you,” Elizabeth said, knocking on Arcturus’s door and poking her head in.
It had been two weeks since the battle, and Arcturus was finally getting used to being back at Vocans. He had hoped it might be Ulfr knocking on his door, but he had not seen the dwarf since their return.
Harold assured him that the dwarf was unharmed, even if he now hated humans more than ever.
“Do you know why?” Arcturus asked, looking up from his desk.
“He didn’t say,” Elizabeth replied, biting her lip. “But he seemed in a good mood.”
“That could mean anything.” Arcturus sighed, putting aside his quill and blowing on the scroll he had been writing on. It was a treatise on the anatomy of the Nandi, and it was due to be handed in to Scipio within the hour. Now it would be late.
It was strange to be back in class. He had thought that the memories of their escape from Vocans would tarnish the place, make it seem darker.
Yet somehow, the old castle seemed even happier than it had been before. No more Crawley, no more doubts about his place in the world. Sure, Zacharias was still there and hated Arcturus with the same passion as before. But he had friends now, and not just Elaine and Elizabeth.
“Mind if I walk with you?” Elizabeth asked.
“Sure,” Arcturus said.
Arcturus had finally been moved from his cold little space in the tower. Not because of special treatment, but because it was being renovated to accommodate the common students, who would be arriving any day now.
Of course, there was plenty of room for them elsewhere in the castle, but Provost Forsyth had decided they should not be treated the same as nobles. He didn’t want them getting any ideas above their station.
What that meant was, Arcturus was now temporarily in the east wing, so the walk to the provost’s office was not a long one, just a single flight of stairs and a walk down the central corridor of the top floor.
“So … we haven’t had a chance to talk,” Elizabeth said as he joined her out in the passageway. “Are you okay?”
Arcturus shrugged and looked at his feet.
“Edmund is fully recovered, and none of my friends died,” he said, thinking of Rotter. The soldier had come by to pay his respects a few days before, but since then, nobody seemed to know where he had gone. He would miss the rascal.
“Is Sacharissa recovering well?” Elizabeth asked.
Arcturus smiled, and felt Sacharissa twitch with recognition at her name within his consciousness.
“As well as can be expected,” he replied. “She hates being infused, but I need to keep her that way so she heals faster. I’m told she’ll make a full recovery.”
They turned onto the balcony, and far below, Arcturus saw Elaine and Scipio. She was clapping her hands with delight, and above her, a ball of opaque energy floated. Her first shield.
“She’s coming along well,” Elizabeth said approvingly, mounting the stairs.
They walked on, and Arcturus sensed Elizabeth wasn’t just there to keep him company.
“Arcturus, you should know,” Elizabeth began, hesitating. “Rook and Charles … well … they’re being privately tutored by their parents, away from the academy. But you’ll likely see them again. There’s a tournament before students graduate, in a few years’ time. You’ll have to duel them—it’s a competition for commissions in the army. The whole thing will be under supervision but students get injured every time. I just wanted to tell you.”
Arcturus turned to her and grinned.
“This is great news,” he said as they turned onto the corridor. “I’ll be ready for them then.”
“You’re happy?” Elizabeth said, smiling back. “Oh thank heavens, I thought you’d be upset—they’ll try to hurt you, you know. And they won’t fight fair.”
“I’m more than happy,” Arcturus said. “Let them try—I’d relish the chance to face them in battle. Now you’ve given me something to work toward. They’ll regret ever coming back here.”
Elizabeth stopped him and gave him a quick hug.
“You’re a brave lad, Arcturus,” she said. “But … if you need private lessons, just ask.”
“Count on it,” Arcturus said.
He watched her as she walked away. The woman had saved him several times over. He would never be able to repay her. But perhaps he could look out for her unborn child some day.
Still, there was always a wall between them, for the teacher-student divide was too great. And he felt the same way with the others, even Elaine. They were nobles, and he was a commoner. They would never be truly on equal footing—they led such different lives. Even in these past few weeks, as they laughed and ate together in the warmth of the dining hall, Arcturus felt out of place.
He was not like them, and never would be. And there were others like him, out in the far reaches of Hominum. Yet there he sat, eating and laughing with the rich, while they starved and shivered in their orphanages.
“Well, let’s get this over with,” Arcturus muttered, continuing down the corridor.
As he walked, he tried not to think of what had happened here, not two weeks before. How he had killed a man, snapped his neck with the flick of a finger.
Sometimes he would return to that spot, alone in the night, and consider the consequences of what he had done. He would remember the power he held was not to be taken lightly, and that if he had known more, he might have not been forced to kill.
In the early hours, when he lay awake in bed, he would wonder if the world would be a different place had he not taken that man’s life. Could you regret something if you’d been given no other choice? Arcturus thought so.
The provost’s office door l
oomed, and Arcturus steeled himself and knocked on the door.
“Come!” called a voice.
Arcturus pushed the door open and entered.
It was strange, but the room looked exactly the same. The same desk strewn with papers, and the provost was even leaning over them in the same way Barcroft had been, staring at a long list of names.
But there was something different. There were three boys seated opposite the desk, all of them dirty-faced. They looked terrified, and Arcturus assumed they were new servants, there to replace the servants who had defected to the rebels. But they looked a little young, the smallest looking little older than Elaine.
“Ah, Arcturus, there you are,” Forsyth said, beckoning him closer. “Come here.”
Arcturus walked over, and the provost threw an arm around his shoulders.
“Would you believe it, but that new king of ours has been pestering me about you all damned week,” he said cheerfully, pulling Arcturus aside.
He lowered his voice, and gestured to the three servants behind him.
“Not much to look at, are they?” he said. “But I see some resemblance. Don’t you?”
“Resemblance, Provost, sir?” Arcturus asked, glancing back at the boys.
Obadiah gave Arcturus a strange smile.
“If I’m to tell you, I must rely on your upmost discretion, do you understand? If it were my choice, you would not know at all, but King Harold insisted, so here we are.”
Arcturus stared at the provost, his confusion deepening.
“They’re some of our new common students, of course,” Obadiah said.
“Oh,” Arcturus said, still confused.
“And they are your brothers. Well, half brothers.”
Arcturus’s heart stilled in his chest. Could it be?
“I’ve told them you all probably share the same father,” Obadiah hissed. “That’s it, understand? Nothing about being noble bastards.”
But Arcturus was barely listening. He lurched toward the three boys, and suddenly his vision was blurred, eyes tearing up at the sight of them.
The black hair, that pale skin. He rushed over, and felt their arms around him.