18. Siderus

Ifollow behind my uncle. Not too closely, I cannot allow him to feel my growing anticipation.

Certainly, this must be my chance! Why else would he need to gather his entourage in secrecy? I almost can't believe my fortune. My uncle, in all his arrogance, truly believes himself untouchable. Invincible against barons, kings, and even me.

He will soon rue that pride.

"Hurry now," my uncle says through gritted teeth. "Get inside!"

I step into the chamber last, the enchanted recording stone I've brought burning a hole in my pocket. The other half of the set sits in the palm of the Grand Duke Carmichael, who is waiting in a room nearby. He only needs to hear one shred of evidence, a single sentence, as proof of my uncle's treachery.

No alarms or warnings signaling magical items go off. It takes all of my strength not to smirk at how complacent my uncle has become in his own power. Had I known taking him down would be this simple, I may have done so sooner.

My thoughts drift to Amaya, to all of the pain I have caused her. To the humiliation and suffering I put her through at the behest of this old elf. Could it have been avoided, I wonder? Were it not for his demands, I never would have met her. Perhaps she'd still be locked away in the manor, lingering in boredom and secrecy. Or worse, dinner for a hungry worg.

Would all of this be worth it to her in the end? I hope to find out soon.

My uncle's cronies eye me up and down. They don't trust me yet, nor should they, but he waves away their concerns.

"This is what he was made for," Uncle says.

One of his simpering nobles lays out a large piece of paper, detailing the layout of the royal ballroom. "The midsummer gala will take place in one week from today. It is here we will make our move."

My eyes scan across the faces of the elves who hang on my uncle's every word. They are pathetic, mere parasites who have clung to his side and feast on what little crumbs he will offer.

"Before the King's speech opening the festivities, he will be here." Uncle points to a room nestled a good distance away from the main event. "Changing from his receiving clothes to his formal ballroom attire. It will only be him and one khuzuth."

Anxiety begins to build in my stomach, threatening to break into my throat and collapse outwards into a shout of frustration. The old elf is choosing his words carefully, it seems. No direct statements of assassination or treason. Thus far, it sounds as if we are planning a surprise party for the King, rather than his untimely death.

I need to goad him on.

"And what will we use to finish the job?" I ask.

Uncle looks at me with suspicion, which quickly dissolves into contempt. "Are you an idiot? Did I raise a fool or a future King?" He shakes his head before lifting it and meeting the gazes of a dozen nobles who also seem to be wondering the same thing. His annoyance grows. "A simple steak knife will do the trick. You should not require much more."

I simply nod silently in agreement. It's true, were I inclined to follow his rule any longer, I could easily kill the King.

But my mind continues to dwell on his past statement. Future King. A puppet, more like. A wooden marionette fit to dance as Uncle pulls my strings.

"Then you will use your sword to kill the khuzuth. Tell the guards you heard a cry and found the King dead at the servant's hands. A simple frame job, one not even you could screw up."

I smile then. I have everything I need. As does the Grand Duke, apparently. I hear his command in my ear. "End this."

As the bookcase opens and the conspirators inside prepare to file out, I step through the doorway first and turn to face my uncle and his minions.

"You are all under arrest for rebellion against the crown and attempted assassination of His Majesty, the King."

Uncle looks at me as though I have just told a good joke. The humor looks wrong on his old, weathered face. I stand my ground, and he quickly realizes this isn't some strange prank. As do the other nobles, as they begin to panic and attempt to flee past me.

I pull out my sword, imbuing it with magical fire as it leaves its sheath. The threat in the display is obvious, but I reiterate it regardless to drive the point home. "Anyone who takes a single step will face my blade."

My uncle growls, a low and terrifying sound that takes me back to childhood days spent nursing bruises and broken limbs. I easily shake off the memory. He no longer holds such power over me. Not since I tasted the love and affection Amaya so freely gave me. No, I have something to fight for now. Something I truly believe in.

I will fight for her happiness. For us.

He laughs then. "You truly believe yourself above me? Me?" Uncle scowls and reaches his arms out. "I made you, and you are nothing compared to me!"

My grip on the sword grows tighter as I ready for him to attack. He reaches into his cloak and, sure enough, a dagger hits the side of the wall, grazing my ear. Had I not dodged so quickly, it would have settled between my eyes.

He is predictable and unable to adapt in his old age. This will be to my advantage.

"Foolish boy," Uncle yells as he retrieves his sword. "You would see your family fall in disgrace? I have given you everything!"

He charges towards me, but his mobility is limited in such a small room, and I can parry his attack easily. "For what reason? What could you possibly gain from destroying our name?"

For her,I think. For Amaya.

I want to see her happy again. I want to see those red lips smile, the sparkle return to her eyes. I want to see her dance in beautiful gowns, her chin held high, her hair shining and adorned in flowers. I want to spend my nights with her body pressed against my own, hot and wet. I want to hear her moan my name and cry out in ecstasy.

I would die for it.

Uncle is trapped in a corner now. I know he has few options left and allow him one last chance to surrender peacefully.

But instead, he reaches behind himself toward a wall. A shape begins to glow, and quickly I recognize the symbol. I have barely a moment to cover my face before debris begins to explode around us. The heat of the explosion licks my skin. It is nothing compared to the fire I've sent my life submerged in.

Once the rubble settles and only dust remains, I take quick stock of the situation. A few nobles lay dead on the ground, bludgeoned by large chunks of stone. A large hole in the wall now leads to the world outside. Uncle is making a run for it, the coward.

He will not leave this place alive.

He is fast and strong, but I am young and agile. He stumbles across the field. and it is no time at all until I am upon him.

Our swords meet, clashing in sparks that light up the dark night surrounding us. Our battle begins. His experience shows in the way he carries himself and swings his sword towards my neck. I dodge swiftly and easily.

We are equally matched in this fight, and it may have ended in a violent draw, had it not been for one simple truth. He has everything to lose, while I have everything to gain.

And that, in my heart, makes all the difference.

My foot collides with the old man's chest, forcing him down to the ground. His sword rolls away, scorching the grass in its path until sputtering out into the darkness.

He tries, pitifully, to regain his composure but I am quick to stamp out his will. One foot rests on his chest, keeping him lying on the ground.

He is tired. Decades of battle, scheming, and anger have all culminated in this moment. I can see the vision of his future crashing down within his eyes. He knows he is beaten.

I lift my sword, glowing strong and fierce, and point the tip towards his neck.

"Since we are family, I will give you the honor of a clean death." It is so much more than he deserves. "Any last words?"

I smirk down at my prey, playing with him. I grant him the illusion of dignity, but we both know there is none in this death. His anger boils over, but he has nothing left in his arsenal. His magic is drained, his sword out of reach, and his strength depleted.

There is a clattering in the distance. A familiar cacophony of metal and marching boots. Looking up at the horizon, the sun is beginning to rise. And with it, the daybreak has brought an army.

The Grand Duke Carmichael's soldiers have arrived.