“The story of his marking, after all, is well known—it happened on the eve of the day he was supposed to be named the sworn sword of the Falorn princess.”
“What of it, Daughter?” Serrick’s voice was cold, but to her credit, Malahi didn’t flinch. And Killian said nothing. If Malahi had a plan to get him out of this, the last thing he intended to do was interfere.
“That event never transpired,” she continued, “but that does not negate Tremon’s intent. Perhaps Killian wasn’t marked to defend the kingdom, but rather to defend its heir?”
There were nods of agreement among the High Lords. Dareena said, “She makes a valid point, Your Majesty.”
The King’s eyes narrowed before smoothing into an expression of serene benevolence. “Derin invaded Mudamora because of this young man’s failings, Daughter. Is that the sort of sword you wish guarding your back?”
“I know all about Killian’s failings.” Malahi rested her delicate hands on the table, the expression in her amber eyes at odds with her smile. “Yet as you say, Father, it is ill luck to deny a dying man’s request. Worse luck still to execute one marked by the god of war while we are in the midst of one.”
Hacken cleared his throat, and Killian silently girded himself, certain his brother would take the opportunity to condemn him. Which perhaps, given what had happened to their father, he deserved. “The fact that he’s my brother aside, I’m inclined to agree with Malahi. As you yourself have said, Your Majesty, the Corrupter gains strength when we lose our faith. What is executing one of the Marked Ones out of a belief he is incapable but a demonstration of a lack of faith? As you wisely remind us, the Twelve must lead by example.”
“Indeed, indeed,” Lord Damashere agreed, eyeing the Princess. “Malahi is heir to the throne, and in these troubled times she needs the greatest protection we can provide her. Who better than a god-marked sworn sword?”
Nothing about this felt right. If the High Lords didn’t agree with Serrick, they were within their right to say so. Yet they were dancing around the issue as though they were … afraid.
Serrick said nothing, and tension sang through the room as everyone waited for his verdict.
“What say you to this proposition, Lord Calorian?” the King finally asked. “The plunge from commander to nursemaid is a punishment itself.”
Malahi’s gaze darkened with a brief flash of hate; then she blinked and it was gone. But it was enough to make Killian wonder whether she was doing this for his sake or her own. Or if her agenda went beyond that. Not that it really mattered.
“Do I have a choice?” he asked.
Serrick bared his teeth in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, Lord Calorian. If you don’t believe Malahi worth your time, I’m sure the headsman would be glad to offer you an alternative.”
10
LYDIA
Lydia chewed an orange segment without tasting the fruit, her mind all for the book hidden in a section of linguistic texts. Since her engagement to Lucius had been announced, she’d spent her time closeted in the library with Teriana’s book, it providing some small escape from the reality of her looming nuptials.
She lost herself in stories where the six gods stepped onto the mortal plane; where they marked individuals with gifts and powers beyond Lydia’s imagination; where evil was not a greedy-minded senator, but a dark god who desired chaos and destruction. Each of the gods had dominion over certain things. Hegeria had power over the human body and spirit; Lern over animals and creatures; Yara over the earth and all that grew on it; Gespurn over the elements; Madoria over the sea; Tremon over conflict and war. The Corrupter endlessly sought control over them all.
The gods’ power, she learned, came from the belief of their followers, without which they’d dwindle and cease to exist. And yet they rarely interfered directly, relying on those individuals they marked to do their works and foster the belief of the people. Most of Treatise detailed the deeds of famous marked individuals, their faces rendered in detail by the artists who’d illuminated this edition. As she read, the gods became real to her, but what faith she gained was cold comfort. Even if the gods of the Dark Shores were real, they’d long since abandoned Celendor. She’d find no help from them.