“This man was a traitor to the crown and a pretender to the throne. He paid the price for his treachery, and now he is to be forgotten by all. His name will never be spoken again.” The king beckoned to his guards. “Take the remains and dispose of them.”
Then he walked over and stood very close to Ajin, his voice dropping to a barely audible whisper. “He lied, Ajin, which I am pleased to be able to acknowledge you did not. It does not pay to lie to me, because I know the truth far better than my enemies or my friends or my family think.”
He paused and bent closer still, his words meant only for her. “I found out about the messages awhile back. I knew the truth, but concluded that the truth was best not revealed. Do you understand what I am saying? You are not to speak further about this business to anyone. I will do what needs doing myself.”
He waited for her response, so she nodded her understanding. “What action will you take?” she ventured. “You know that my mother, were she still queen, would never…”
His hand seized her shoulder in a crushing grip. “My private affairs do not concern you!” he snapped. “You have problems enough of your own, don’t you think? Now stand back and attend me.”
She moved to put a few additional feet between them. It occurred to her briefly that he was within easy striking distance. It would have taken her no time at all to draw any of the blades she carried and kill him on the spot. She could not be certain of the reaction of the soldiers surrounding her, but it might be worth finding out. His soldiers might kill her, but they might also accede to her claim to the throne and choose to support her. She was popular, after all. In many respects, she was one of them—raised and trained among them, a comrade-in-arms who had fought beside them and never once asked not to be first into battle.
But killing her father, even as much as she despised him for his treatment of her mother, was not something she thought she could live with.
“Let it be known,” Cor d’Amphere declared in an exaggerated voice intended to reach everyone, “that my daughter has exceeded her authority in bringing the advance force of the Skaar army into a confrontation with a potential enemy. She did this without permission and in a reckless manner. But I have forgiven her, and she has regained my favor and retains her rank as a full commander.”
He paused meaningfully. “But let it also be known that when I am disobeyed, there must be punishment—even if you are the daughter of a king. So I am relieving Ajin d’Amphere, princess of the Skaar people, of her command of the advance force and ordering her back to Skaarsland where she will be confined to quarters to await my return.”
The echo of his voice died out abruptly in the ensuing silence. Ajin stared at him in disbelief. “You cannot do this to me,” she hissed.
He cocked an eyebrow, and the lines on his face tightened. “I just did. Be grateful I did not do worse. An airship with crew and guards will be provided for your return. Go gather your things and prepare yourself for departure.” He held up his hand in warning, cutting off whatever argument she was about to make with a sharp word of warning. “No, Ajin! Do not even think to argue further with me, now or later. The matter is settled. Now go!”
She stood there amid her soldiers, disgraced and dismissed by her father, an object lesson in what it meant to displease the king. Whether you were a commoner or a king’s child, your fate was decided. She had done so much for him in her short life, given so much to show him how valuable and worthy she was of his—well, not his love perhaps, because that would be asking too much, but at least his respect.
And now it was all being cast aside in a way that would leave her diminished in the eyes of her people.
Now she wished she had killed him. She hated him in that moment with such passion, she would have given anything for the chance to strike him down. Nothing that might have happened to her for such an act could possibly be worse than this. His disrespect for her had burned a hole through her heart.
Kol’Dre stepped forward, coming over to stand next to her. “I will see that the princess is safely escorted home, my lord,” he said.
But Cor d’Amphere shook his head. “You will remain here with me, Penetrator. You are too valuable a resource to be sent home. You know much about this country and its peoples that I do not. I will need that information, and you are the one to give it to me. Say your goodbyes.”
He turned away, walking back into the ranks of his soldiers, giving orders to them to deploy and prepare to engage in battle. His back was to her. He was not even bothering to look her way. She thought again that she could draw her blade, reach him in three quick steps, and hurt him the way he had hurt her. She had not thought him worth all that much anyway, since he had banished her mother in favor of the pretender. She almost gave in to the urge. But Kol’Dre must have read her mind, so quickly did he step in front of her, blocking her way.
“No, Ajin,” he said softly. “That is not the way.”
And so her chance was lost, and she was cast out.
* * *
—
In the aftermath of her humiliation, Kol’Dre accompanied her to where she could gather her things in preparation for the journey home. Neither said anything until they were inside her tent and alone. She turned to face him then, fighting against the tears that threatened to break through.
“That was unforgivable!” she shouted, suddenly not caring if she was heard or not.
“It was expected,” Kol corrected. “Your father likes to make examples of those who cross him. In his mind, your failure to seek his permission before you invaded Paranor and destroyed the Druids was a disobedience of the worst sort. Made worse, I might add, by the fact that you are his daughter. He could forgive the rest, but not that. You understand, don’t you, Ajin, that he could not let that pass? Even if you had consulted him on everything else. Even if he did know the truth about Sten’Or. To ignore your transgression—real or perceived—would be to show weakness to his soldiers, and he could never stand to let that happen. Especially when you are already so popular.”
“I don’t want to hear excuses, Kol,” she replied, sitting on her bedding and shaking her head in dismay, the weight of her punishment threatening to break her. “He could have settled on something besides sending me home! I fought for him when I could have stayed put in the north and simply waited for him to do his own fighting. I found a way to breach the walls of Paranor and I seized it for him. I destroyed the Druids for him. Everything I did was for him—to help him keep his promise to our people that he would find them a new home. And he throws me over because I exposed his scheming bitch-wife—that conniving pretender to the throne that rightfully belongs to my mother. He chooses to protect her even after she betrays him by trying to get to me. He knows this, and still he hides the truth!”