Chapter Twenty-six

L ightning flashed outside the window. How odd for a storm to gather this late in the season, with snow drifting from gray skies. Eron glared at Bain, panting a few feet away. Eron could end this now, should end this now. But he had to make Bain aware of who he dealt with.

Kene stepped close to Eron. "Ibrus himself witnesses your triumph. Would you like me to kill this lowly worm for you?"

"He's mine." Eyes fixed on Bain, Eron shouted, "You killed my father and my brother, and you've used this kingdom for your own gain."

"Your father? Your brother? I have no idea what you're babbling about."

Eron removed the stone from his pocket and dropped it to the floor, no longer caring who might see him for himself. The time for hiding was over.

A tingle of magic raced down Eron's spine. Bain's eyes flew wide open. "But… but… but.…"

"But you thought you had me killed. Even then, you had doubts, didn't you? Sent soldiers looking. Whoever you put to the task made a serious mistake." Eron called out to the room at large. "I am Eron Eritrescue, son of King Lothan Eritrescue and Queen Salcha Tressori, brother of Dafron Eritrescue and Lessa Eritrescue. As my father's heir, I claim the right of vengeance. Bain, prepare to die."

"Guards!" Bain shrieked, frantically searching right and left.

Eron gave a throaty laugh. "Most of the soldiers in this room are loyal to my father or sister. There will be no escape from your fate. You can surrender to me and stand trial. Or you can receive your punishment at the end of my blade. Know this. Tonight, you meet your fate and pay for your treachery." Eron held his blade at the ready, muscles bunched for the fight. His heart hammered.

He'd killed in self-defense before. This time, he meted out long-overdue punishment.

Panic erupted. Well-dressed nobles screamed, running without knowing where. Eron tuned them out, focusing only on his enemy.

He gripped his brother's sword tightly. Lessa threw back her cloak, letting it fall to the floor. She held her sword at the ready. The warrior queens of old lived once again in their descendant.

Screaming nobles trampled each other in their hurry to flee the great hall while broad-shouldered men muscled their way through the room, all dressed in king's guard uniforms from Eron's youth and all with hair varying shades of silver.

Eron let out a sigh of relief while Kerric's men drew closer. Some bore striking resemblances to their gargoyle counterparts. They formed a living wall, barring Bain's escape.

The fear on Bain's face should've made Eron glad, but it didn't. This man killed for power, ruined Lessa's life, and pushed Eron to kill family, albeit a despicable example. Eron thrust his sword, catching Bain's sleeve.

Bain howled.

"That's for my father, though it's hardly enough repayment for what you did to him."

"It… it wasn't me!" Bain screeched, sword hand trembling. "It was Crau. And Selin."

"You sit upon my father's throne. Boasted about killing him." Eron slashed again, opening a gash in Bain's right arm. Blood poured from the wound onto the marble floor, followed a moment later by Bain's blade.

"Pick it up!" Eron ordered, voice eerily calm. "I won't slay an unarmed man."

"I can't!" Bain cradled his injured sword arm.

"You have another arm. Use it. While you can." Bain must think Eron an unobservant fool not to have noticed he used his left hand to wield a fork or write a missive.

Bain lifted the sword and feigned a halfhearted thrust, then grinned. He charged at Eron, bringing his sword down in an overhead attack.

Eron parried and danced out of the way. He was lighter on his feet, younger, and better trained. But to keep from earning the title of murderer, he'd allow Bain every opportunity in a fair fight. All around, clangs of swords rang out, mixed with screams of fear, anger, and pain.

Eron trusted Kerric's men to keep him safe enough to focus on his own opponent.

Bain attacked again. Eron whirled, grabbing a boot dagger and coming up behind Bain's blade. He struck, burying the blade in Bain's shoulder. Bain screamed.

"That is for my brother." Eron danced away from Bain's wildly flailing blade.

He glimpsed Lessa and Kene fighting Bain's men back-to-back, hoods thrown back. Light and dark, they moved as one—or as two who'd spent hours practicing together and never forgot their lessons.

Bain yanked the dagger from his shoulder. Teeth gritted, he charged.

Eron brought his blade up, bracing for the impact. Bain impaled himself on the length of steel. His eyes widened. He looked down, a puzzled look on his face. Then he collapsed into a heap on the floor.

"That's for me, Lessa, and Kerric." Eron pushed Bain's body off his blade with his boot and turned. "Also for Hentri, Anthone, and anyone else you've caused to suffer."

Terrified courtiers stood screaming against the walls while soldiers fought soldiers, though Bain's loyal guards were far fewer now. Malcolm and his men stood out; their silver hair and eyes set them apart. With no further need to guard Eron, they waded into the fray.

King Selin raised his sword high, preparing to bring it crashing down on Miisov. Kene launched herself with a warrior's cry, neatly sliding between the blade and her father. She parried the blow with her sword, baring her teeth at Selin. "No. You'll take nothing more from me."

Selin attacked again, but as he focused on her sword, she drove the dagger in her other hand between his ribs. Blood dribbled from Selin's lips. Kene stepped back, releasing her dagger and letting him crash to the floor.

His chest rose and fell. Miisov ran to attend him. Attend the monster who'd just tried to kill him? Eron gained a whole new respect for the mage.

Slowly, the fighting simmered as the enemies realized they had no more kings to fight for.

Kerric appeared in the doorway, bloody and bedraggled, but alive. He shouted over the din, "Duke Crau is dead. Lay down your swords or die with these treacherous bastards!" He stalked over to Bain's body. "The false king is dead."

Swords clanged to the floor.

"I don't want to be king." Eron tuned out all around him, focusing solely on Kerric, the only one who mattered at the moment. His heart pounded a frantic beat.

Kerric panted, blood marring his face, gauntlets, and chest plate. Even bruised and bloody, he was magnificent. "Then don't be."

"But if I don't become king, you and your men will forever be cursed." Never could Eron let that happen.

The bittersweet smile on Kerric's face nearly broke Eron's heart. Kerric cupped Eron's cheek with one gauntleted hand. "That's a chance I'm willing to take."

"I can't be selfish."

"We aren't simply talking about your choice, love. We're talking about a kingdom, thousands who've suffered under Bain's heartless rule. They need a strong leader who'll think of them and do what is best for all, not for one or two."

Eron wiped tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. Kerric had been his champion every step of the way, his guide, his mentor… his lover. Had Eron's father once stood in this very room, making this same choice, or had he willingly allowed the crown to be placed upon his head?

Lessa's words came back to him when Eron told her he didn't want to be king: "I'm told Father didn't either, and look what a great king he turned out to be."

Eron shouldn't be king, not when he knew someone more deserving who'd rule so much better.

He needed another answer.

Lessa stepped forward, bloody sword in hand. She'd fought like a warrior today when many would have run away, considering this not their battle. "Brother, whatever your decision, I'll stand by you."

The only logical solution clicked into place.

Eron filled his lungs and spoke as loudly as possible so that everyone in attendance would hear without misunderstanding. "I, Prince Eron Eritrescue of Hisar, second son of King Lothan Eritrescue, accept the rights and responsibilities afforded me as king. Like my father, I vow to lead with the people in mind, placing their needs before my own and not bowing to the whims of the few."

A few hearty cheers came from the surrounding attendees.

Kerric might as well have been the statue he became every day, holding totally still. He'd be here for Eron, even though his position as a guard and Eron's as king might keep them apart.

A stuffy little man Eron had only seen as a lapdog for Bain approached, holding a golden crown set with rubies. Another memory slotted into place of his father showing Eron this crown while sharing stories of each king who'd worn the circle of gold.

Not the pretentious crown Bain wore—Father's crown.

Back then, Eron had been jealous that Dafron would one day take their father's place. How he wished to bring his brother back now. Eron bent at the waist, allowing the man to set the crown upon his head, and straightened to the sound of applause.

Kerric's men fell to one knee. "Your Majesties," the first one said. Could that be Malcolm? Eron vaguely remembered him, though he hadn't had silver hair and eyes then, and neither had Kerric. "It's so good to see you both alive, back where you belong."

Lessa smiled, though tears streaked her face. She'd be a much better ruler than Eron ever could hope to be. He motioned her closer.

Lessa came forward, step by slow step. Eron took her hand. "Princess Lessa," he said, deliberately ignoring her title of Queen of Anilitk, "was forced into a marriage with King Selin. From this day forward, he has no ties to my sister. Should he choose to make their elder son his heir, so be it, but the children will remain with their mother. She is granted rooms in Hisar castle until such a time when she wants to leave of her own free will." That was if Selin survived his injuries.

No one made a sound until Kerric began to clap. Others joined in. Not everyone, but they'd learn to accept the new order.

Lessa's eyes went wide, shimmering with tears. "You really mean that?"

"You wanted to be free, didn't you?"

"Yes!" Lessa grinned through her tears. "And I don't have to kill anyone for it. Thank you!"

Murmurs went up from the assembled. "Quiet!" Eron roared, finally sheathing his sword. "My second decree is this. Female heirs will no longer be excluded from the line of succession. If they are the most suited for rule, then we only harm ourselves by not crowning a woman. And thus, while I am my father's son, I am not his oldest heir nor the most suited to succeed him."

Eron removed his crown, sinking to his knee, somewhat awkwardly, due to his armor. "Princess Lessa of Hisar, do you accept the duties and responsibilities of the queen, ruling on your own and not merely as a queen consort? Do you vow to lead with the people in mind, placing their needs before your own and not bowing to the whims of the few?"

Lessa's eyes went wide, then immediately filled with tears again. Her vigorous nod freed the remaining hairpins that had thus far kept her braid coiled to her head. Her braid fell down her back. "I, Princess Lessa Eritrescue of Hisar, daughter of King Lothan and Queen Salcha, accept the rights and responsibilities afforded me as queen. Like my warrior queen ancestors, I vow to lead with the people in mind, placing their needs before my own and not bowing to the whims of the few."

Eron rose as gracefully as possible, placed the crown upon Lessa's head, and kissed both her cheeks. Clasping her fingers and holding their joined hands aloft, he declared, "Citizens of Hisar, I give you your queen. Long live Queen Lessa of Hisar."

No one still standing hesitated to clap and call out their congratulations this time.

Once the crowd settled down, Eron said, "May Gertia guide you, dear sister." Would that be enough to break the curse? Eron scanned the crowd. No Kerric.

Eron longed to find him, but many nobles stopped him and wanted to consult with him. He owed it to the people to calm their fears.

He dashed from the room at the first opportunity, down the hallway, and up the stairs to the top. He frantically rushed out to the ramparts, yanking off his helm and leaving it on the ground. The first light of dawn crept through the trees, turning the sky pink and blue. Kerric stood where he always had during daylight hours—where he'd stood the first time Eron saw him as a gargoyle.

This time, Kerric stood as flesh and blood, not stone, and no longer in armor. "I cannot believe it." He stared off at the woods. "I'm seeing sunlight with my human eyes, feeling the warmth on my face." Kerric whirled, taking Eron's face in his callused hands. "Thank you, King Eron. Now I will serve you faithfully, should you decide to keep me in your employ."

"Why wouldn't I?"

Kerric stared at the space where his gargoyle once stood. "Because I let your father, your family, down—"

Eron shut him up the best way he knew how grabbing Kerric by the shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss.

"Hmmph!" Kerric said as Eron dragged him toward the wall, then pushed him back against the stone. When Eron came up for air, Kerric said, "But—"

Eron shut him up again. They stood for many moments, Eron's body pressed to Kerric's, which couldn't be comfortable for either, given Eron's armor. He readied his argument before releasing Kerric's mouth. "You followed the chain of command like any good soldier would. I cannot fault you for your loyalty. But you have something wrong."

Kerric's brows furrowed. "What's that?"

Eron watched carefully to judge the impact of his words. "I'm not king."

Kerric jerked his head up, meeting Eron's eyes. "What? But the curse—"

"Lifted when I became king. But someone far wiser and better suited than I now wears the crown." Eron practically vibrated with the need to share the news.

"Who?"

Eron couldn't fight a smirk. "My sister."

"But that means her oaf of a husband—"

"Her oaf of a former husband has no say. I dissolved her marriage before naming her queen. And Kene probably ended Selin's miserable life." Eron pulled Kerric in for another kiss.

Kerric stepped back. "But what of you? Where will you go? What will you do?"

Eron kept a hand on Kerric's shoulder. "I'm Kene's heir. I'll return to Dillane and take my place there."

Miisov cleared his throat loudly before Eron could resume his planned seduction. He must convince Kerric to stay with him.

Miisov, with exceptionally bad timing, approached, appearing far older and more worn than ever, leaning heavily on his staff. "I am glad I found the two of you. There's not much time." His breath came in labored wheezes.

"What now?" Wasn't everything set to rights? What had happened to the mage to make him look so exhausted?

"I've used too much magic, borne too many burdens, but I have now paid my debt for the death of my king and prince. King Lothan's family line will continue, and the country has a fitting ruler. Prince Eron, you surprised me, but portents show that Queen Lessa will be a firm but fair ruler. All is as it should be. But now I must go."

"Go where?" As long as it took to warm up to the old goat, now to see him leave?

"My debt is paid. My soul is released to follow Hyteus to the realm of magic."

"What?" Eron shouted. "You're going to end your life?"

Miisov chuckled. "My dear boy, my life ended when the castle fell. Hyteus merely kept me in this realm to complete my task. Now, please excuse me. I have one more obligation before I leave." He placed his hands on Eron and Kerric's heads once they complied. "Receive the blessings of Hyteus in all that you do."

He turned and ambled away. Before Eron could call out to him, Kene stepped from the shadows, offering her arm, which Miisov took. Maybe Kene's forgiveness had also been a requirement of Miisov's penance.

Kerric swept Eron into his arms. "You need me in that new life as a bodyguard? To help you hunt?"

Eron shook his head. "I have an extensive list of what you can do to my body and high expectations of your success. But I just need you to be mine."