31. Zarios

Chapter thirty-one

I shifted on my feet, waiting. Naram was taking too long. We needed to move. Unable to help it, I snuck up on the guard near the door, my sword at the ready.

I threw a rock across to his other side. On instinct, he turned to check on the noise, and that was when I struck. I stuck my blade right through the back of his neck where there was a slight seam in the armor.

He froze as I pulled the blade out. He fell to the ground, hands barely making it to his neck before he was dead. The sound of him falling drew no attention, and I slipped in.

It was just as I remembered, dark and falling apart, though now, all the lights were lit, and the floor was at least swept. This must have been where he was planning the entire time.

I walked quietly stalking through the halls. I took out another guard I saw, but the place didn't have the best security. They were probably comfortable in the idea that they wouldn't get caught.

I reached a door with a light streaming through it. I stood for a moment, listening. "I don't care what Damyr said." I recognized it as Prator immediately. "We're going through with the attack. Zarios would never give up his entire kingdom for some woman."

On that, Damyr was correct, but it didn't matter now. "Understood. I'll inform the others."

The guard left, walking down the other side of the hall, missing me completely. I got a bit farther away from Prator's office before I was on him, taking him down with ease.

I left him there in the hall before going to the office and opening the door. "I told you, Xanth, I don't care…" The words died on his tongue as his eyes widened.

"Z-Zarios," he stuttered, coming around the table. "What are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." My fist went flying, wailing into his face.

He screamed, grabbing his snout. "I was wondering why one of my loyal Claraks participated in this plan to overthrow me."

His eyes widened. "Sir, it's not… Damyr, he—"

"I know all about Damyr," he said. "And I know about you. I suspected you originally, but I knew an imbecile like you could do this alone."

Anger marred his features. "You're the imbecile. You're trying to change traditions this nation has always held dear, and for what?"

"For the good of everyone!" I snapped. "Not just those at the top."

He scoffed. "Your father would be ashamed of you."

I landed another blow to his face. "My father was a general who stood up for what he believed in. "

I drew my sword, and his eyes widened further as he tried to back up, hitting the wall behind him. "I—I meant no harm. Please!"

"Where's my intended?" I said, holding him by the chest, my sword at his throat.

He swallowed, long and deep. "The dungeon below. I swear, she's alive."

I smiled. "Glad to know one of you will be."

He went to say something else, but I didn't let him. My sword sliced through him like butter, and I dropped him to the ground. His hand went to his bubbling throat, but his eyes stayed open.

After a moment, he stopped flailing and went still, the puddle around him growing by the second.

I left the room and headed to the stairs. One man was shouting, probably finding one of the bodies I left behind.

I moved quickly, taking the stairs two at a time. When I rounded the corner, I bumped into a small figure in front of me.

I drew my sword but quickly stopped when I saw my little mate with a sword of her own. She ran to me, jumping into my arms. I caught her, bringing her lips to mine.

"How did you get out?" I asked.

She laughed, kissing me once more. "Haven't you learned by now not to underestimate me?"

I heard more shouting from above, along with the sounds of fighting. "Naram and his men are here."

She nodded. "He's in there if you wanted to see him."

I looked down the hall. With a big breath, I forced myself to move in that direction. I slowed when I got to the cell he was in. He was bleeding from his side, which was how I assumed my mate got herself out.

I readied my blade when I heard someone rushing around the corner, but I lowered it as Naram came into view. "We've cleared most of them out."

His eyes fell to Damyr.

When he looked up at me, he spit in our direction, unable to move.

I squatted in front of the bars, taking him in. "Why?" It came out as a whisper.

His eyes narrowed. "You ruined me. I was going to be Clarak of Mertis before you took it from me."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

With his last ounce of energy, he flung himself at the bars. " I was next in line. My father told you I needed help because he hated me. He wanted to see me fail, and he sent me away right before the trials. It wasn't a coincidence. He saw me as weak and refused to give me my rightful place. It was all because you let him take it from me!"

I stood there, stunned. "You were going to drink yourself to death before you even stepped in the arena. We spent three days tracking you down after one of your benders, and we found you about to attack a woman. You were out of control."

"I would have handled it!" he screamed.

I pushed him down, feeling satisfied as he smacked against the ground. "We were being good friends," I asserted. I still believed that, no matter what he said. I believed his father was trying to do what was best for him. We all watched as he threw his life away, and none of us wanted to see it continue.

He spit, and blood fell to the floor.

Naram stood silently through all of it, and his face dropped. "I didn't give a shit about that position," he said finally. "Your father approached me right after you left and told me it was for the best. You were right about one thing, he didn't think you were fit."

"Shut up," Damyr ground out.

"But once you got back," he continued, "I considered offering you a new trial." My brows rose, this was news to me. "But even once you were back, I knew you weren't better. You were just as weak as everyone thought."

"Shut up!" he screamed. "I am not weak."

"Only the weak use underhanded tactics to get what they want because they couldn't get there on their own."

Naram turned away from him, disgust filling his features. "What do we do with him?" he asked.

I glanced at Sorcha, who'd been quietly listening from the back. She added no input, leaving it to us.

"I want him thrown in the dungeon," I demanded. "Prator is already gone. It's over. I want it to be over."

"I'll have my men bring him in."

I nodded, and the three of us headed upstairs. I took Sorcha under my arm as we walked out and away from the building.

It was finally over.