I could’ve murdered them all and found the king on my own, but I didn’t really feel like wasting the time and magic. Plus, the king probably wouldn’t be in a listening mood if I slaughtered all his guards.
“The king may kill us if we do,” one from a few steps up said, his sword wavering.
“He might,” I agreed with a smile. “But if you don’t bring me, I will definitely kill you. So I’d say your odds are far better if you do as I ask.”
After a lengthy session of whispering between Mitchell and those closest to him, one with a gray beard pushed the others aside and descended the staircase until we were eye to eye.
“I’ll bring you,” he said.
He probably didn’t expect me to see him winking at his companion. And he definitely didn’t anticipate me being able to taste his lie. With a flick of my wrist, I robbed his body of air. He clutched his throat, his eyes and the veins in his forehead bulging.
“Does anyone else care to lie to me?”
Mitchell stepped forward in his fine boots. “I’ll—I’ll do it. Just let Wilton go.”
Finally, someone telling the truth. I retracted my magic and let the bearded man collapse onto the floor. The other soldiers knelt at his side, checking for signs of life. He wasn’t dead…yet.
I swapped the scythe to my other hand and called magic to my palm, readying the bargain. “Do you swear to bring me to the king right now, with no detours?”
One of the kneeling soldiers shook his head as he stared at my outstretched hand. “Don’t do it.”
“What choice do I have?” Mitchell’s worried gaze bounced from me to his fellow soldiers and back again. “I want your word that you won’t harm the king—or anyone in his family.”
I wanted to avoid a war, not start one. Not that any of these pricks had asked. “You have it.”
With a nod, the man placed his hand in mine. Magic zinged between us as the bargain bound him to his word. He sucked in a harsh breath and swore.
“Right, so. Let’s be off. No sense wasting daylight.” I’d been away from Aveen long enough. The sooner we got this over with, the better.
43
RÍAN
The guard namedMitchell who had escorted me upstairs into the main castle glanced warily down the hall. Four red-clad soldiers held spears next to what appeared to be the throne room’s entrance.
A man in black robes swept out. When he saw us, he jerked back as if the stink rolling off me had offended him.
Me too, lad. Me too.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded of the guard.
Poor Mitchell looked ready to piss his pants. Sweat rolled down his forehead, and it wasn’t nearly as warm up here as it had been down in that dungeon. “This prisoner has requested an audience with the king.”
The robed man’s lined lips pulled into a sneer. “Your sovereign does not meet with vile commoners who reek of feces.”
I’d have loved to see how pleasant he smelled if he went through the same ordeal. “My apologies. If I’d known I was being abducted, I would’ve bathed and changed my shirt.”
The man’s nose wrinkled in disgust. Instead of lowering himself and speaking directly to a “vile commoner” like me, he turned back to the guard. “Get him out of my sight at once or you’ll find yourself in the dungeon alongside him.”
The guard’s gaze bounced between us, looking so feckin’ terrified, I almost felt sorry for him. Who did he fear more? Me or the man who looked like he’d stuffed pillows under those robes?
“I am sorry, your Lordship,” Mitchell said, “but I must bring him to the king. He was quite insistent.”
Looked like I was scarier. Maybe Mitchell with the nice boots would live to see tomorrow after all.
The robed buffoon nearly choked on his own tongue. Maybe that was how I’d kill him. “You dare to speak to me so disrespectfully?” he ground out once he stopped waffling. “I should have you whipped. What is your name?”
I stepped forward, drawing the old coot’s attention back to me. “Never mind his name. Why don’t I tell you mine instead? Prince Rían O’Clereigh.”