Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,149

why—?”

Therrador’s blade rang against leather as he pulled his sword free and placed the tip to the old knight’s throat. No one made a move for their weapons as they stared in shock.

“Treason,” Therrador said, his voice loud and firm to hide his true feelings. Sienhin’s mouth fell agape, his eyes opened wide. “I should kill you myself for the treachery of questioning your king.”

Sweat broke out on Sir Alton’s brow, but he didn’t reach for his sword, doing so would mean his life. The other generals wouldn’t stand with him against the king, no matter the circumstances. If he so much as moved toward it, the entire kingdom would call for his head.

“Do you wish to die, Sir Alton?”

“No, your highness.” Sienhin’s voice was a whisper for once.

Therrador settled back into his saddle and removed his blade from the knight’s throat.

“I’ll deal with your treachery later. For now, ride ahead. Have them open the gates, tell them to make ready. The generals of Kanos will join us before nightfall.”

“Yes, my liege.”

Sir Alton launched his horse into a gallop toward the fortress. Therrador guessed he moved quickly more to get away than in haste to obey the order. A proud man, the old knight. His family had served kings for as long as anyone remembered. This would damage his pride, something Therrador didn’t want to do, but it would be for the best. With this, Therrador could remove him from the council and replace him with someone of his own choosing.

Of the Archon’s choosing.

He’d have to keep an eye on Sir Alton, though. He could prove a dangerous man or a great ally.

With a click of his tongue and prod of his heels, Therrador urged his steed toward the fortress. The generals fell in behind, silent but for the creak of saddles, the clank of armor and the beat of hooves. Therrador sighed, mouth pulled down in a frown. He’d hoped for happiness once crowned, as though a title would take away the wrongs done him. But there was always someone else to wrong you. His gut knotted.

It will soon be over. For better or for worse.

He sat straight in the saddle, intending to look the part of the conquering hero he wanted and deserved to be if not for the Archon. The ripe plum hanging from the tree of life waiting for him to pluck had shriveled to a prune, wrinkled and uninviting. He closed his eyes and thought of Graymon, but even that did nothing to make him feel better.

Chapter Fifty-Six

A thin haze obscured everything. It was a dream, Khirro knew, but it didn’t look like any of the dreams he’d had in the past months. No tyger, no lake; all that was behind him now, he supposed. What lay ahead?

The cool mist attached itself to his skin, dampening it as he surveyed the nothing around him. He took a step, then another. The mist swirled away from his feet only to rush back in as the air settled. His breath stirred the tiny droplets, sending them spinning in kaleidoscopic patterns of white and gray. There were no sounds. Khirro halted, worried he might plunge from a dream-cliff, or be attacked by Gods-only-knew what. He waited, expecting the dream to resolve itself into something more than damp, eddying fog.

Then the glow began.

It took Khirro a minute to realize it came from him. A dim light which strengthened and brightened, burning away the mist before him without causing him the slightest discomfort. Yellowed grass, dry and dead, appeared beneath his feet. The view before his eyes cleared to reveal a green wall undulating at the whim of the wind.

A tent. I’m in a tent.

The green canvas flapped more violently and sound came to Khirro’s dream: the snap of the wind against the tent, men shouting somewhere outside, and a whimper. He turned his head toward the last noise, not knowing whether he should expect man or beast, or which he’d prefer.

The boy lay curled on a bed of straw, shivering each time the wind shook the tent walls. He glanced at the door flap like he expected someone to come through at any moment and Khirro realized it wasn’t the wind that scared the lad. Khirro stepped toward him and the boy pulled himself into a tighter ball, gripping the wooden dragon he held closer to his chest.

“Can you see me?” Khirro asked.

The boy froze, eyes darting about the tent, but they held no recognition, as though he’d heard