Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,139

tried so hard to disguise.

The two figures knelt together at the real Athryn’s side, but he didn’t notice. Maes’ mouth moved forming words, teaching his brother an ancient language intended for only one use: magic. Khirro watched, agape, as he saw the little man speak.

A knife appeared in Athryn’s hand and the brothers looked the same direction, reacting to someone outside Khirro’s view. Athryn dropped the knife and held his hands up in protest before something knocked Maes violently to the floor, bloodying his nose. Begrudgingly, Athryn retrieved the knife, moving awkwardly as though forced by an unseen hand. Maes sat upright.

Khirro tried to look away when Athryn removed the tip of his brothers tongue, but he couldn’t. Tears flowed from Athryn’s unbandaged eye.

The scene shifted to Maes teaching Athryn again, a red froth of words and blood bubbling from his lips. The blade appeared in Athryn’s hand again. More blood. More tears. More tongue left Maes’ head. Khirro stumbled back a step, blinking, and the vision disappeared.

“What’s wrong, Khirro?” Elyea caught him under one arm as Ghaul grabbed the other.

“I... I saw Maes.” He looked up at Athryn staring at him, eyes wide beneath his mask. “I saw you take his tongue from his head.”

“You could not know. No one knows.” The mask on his face hid the sorrow evident in his voice. “But that is what happened.”

“But how could I—?”

“The light of truth shines from the Mourning Sword. Secrets are revealed in its glow.”

Khirro stared at the blade in his hand, then looked at Elyea standing beside him. At her feet, a girl of perhaps five years lay on a bed of straw; tears flowed down her cheeks but no sound gave away her lament. A man appeared beside her, huge and threatening, and Khirro knew the man as her father.

The man moved toward her, pulled his shirt over his head. There was a familiarity to the act, like this wasn’t his first visit like this. He knelt beside the young girl, grabbed her shoulder and flipped her onto her back. The dagger she had hidden beneath her slashed out, opened his throat. Warm blood rained down on the girl, absolving her of her sins, of his sins. The man grasped at the wound in his throat, curses gurgling at his lips as he toppled to the dirt floor. The young girl stood and ran from Khirro’s sight but, as she did, Khirro saw the dagger in her hand, its hilt adorned with jewels. The same dagger Elyea still carried.

Khirro gagged. The urge to throw the Mourning Sword from his hand nearly overwhelmed him, but one more truth still needed to be uncovered, one more secret revealed.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Graymon stared at the tent flap expecting someone or something to pull it aside but dreading who or what might come through. The lady had treated him nice so far—animals and sunshine graced the pictures on her fingernails again—but he didn’t like being in a strange place. He missed his Da, he even missed nanny. Men who smelled like dead things and had no faces haunted his dreams each night. Every time he woke, he woke scared and shivering, wanting to call out for comfort but knowing no one would give it to him.

He tip-toed to the door of the tent and stopped before it, hand outstretched. He hoped he’d move the flap aside and find his father waiting to tell him that this whole thing had been a dream, but he knew that wouldn’t happen. His throat squeaked as he drew a shuddering breath; his fingers brushed the green canvas. He grasped the edge of the flap and pulled it aside slowly. The woman stood as though she’d been waiting for him for a long time. Graymon dropped the flap and jumped back with a screech as she entered.

“You were not leaving, were you?” Her voice sounded sweet as it had when she collected him from the palace, but he no longer wanted to hear a lullaby from those lips.

“Where’s my Da?” he demanded, anger giving him courage. “You said you take me to my Da.”

The woman’s smile showed white teeth; Graymon thought they looked pointier than they should. He backed away a step.

“I will, love. You must be patient, though. There are things your Da must do for me first, then you can be with him.”

Someone stepped through the flap behind her and Graymon strained to see around her. He hoped it was his Dad coming to reassure him