“Father.” The King’s eldest son, Crown Prince Kharel, strode up to the throne. The King faltered, the words dying on his lips.
Jerrol flinched as a loud crack ricocheted around the throne room and the floor trembled. Jerrol caught the King’s eye. “Sire, if it is your wish, I accept your oath. I will guard the Watches for you.”
The King dipped his head in what Jerrol hoped was acknowledgement rather than despair. Jerrol was sure the words of the Oath flashed as he spoke.
Prince Kharel grabbed Jerrol roughly by the shoulder and jerked him to his feet. His numb legs failed to take his weight as he tried to rise. Staring at the wall, the Prince growled, “Haven, you are under arrest for treason.”
Jerrol struggled to his feet and glared at the Prince. “For what?” A shiver of fear flashed down his spine.
“For plotting against the Crown and the Administration,” the Prince replied, his face stern. “Guards, arrest this man.”
Jerrol turned to the King, who leaned back on his throne and closed his eyes as if exhausted. “Your Majesty, I swear, I have done no such thing.”
“All lies,” the Prince said. “Take him away.” He waved the guards forward, and they gripped Jerrol’s arms firmly between them. Jerrol had no choice but to let them steer him out of the throne room; their grip was unyielding. The Prince was telling his father he had it all under control as Jerrol was escorted away.
Jerrol sat on the floor of the cell and stared at the bare rock wall opposite him. It was good for interrogations, he assumed, as he’d collected a few cuts and bruises as the guards bounced him off it when he first arrived. They weren’t taking any risks. He must have quite a reputation for being difficult.
Not only had they shackled his hands behind his back, but his cell was also on the lowest level. A solid oak door barred his escape. His lips twitched. He had to admit he had been a thorn in Chancellor Isseran’s side; this must be payback.
He frowned in thought. Was the Prince’s action connected to Isseran? It must be. Nikols must have gone to the Prince with the notebook. There had been more than enough time for the Prince to speak to Isseran. The Prince must have believed Isseran’s lies. There was no other reason to arrest him.
The situation was far worse than he had reported if the Crown Prince supported Isseran. After the King, they were the two most powerful men in the Kingdom of Vespiri. The Prince had moved fast. Nikols could only have shown him the notebook in the last few days.
He sighed as he tried to get more comfortable. His shoulders ached along with his head as his mind spun, trying to figure a way out. Why had the King not spoken up for him? Why would the King try to invoke an oath that as far as Jerrol knew had never, ever been invoked, and yet allow the person he was entrusting it with to be arrested? It didn’t make sense.
The cell door rattled as it was unlocked. It opened, revealing Commander Nikols. Jerrol struggled to his feet as his commanding officer raked him with a no-nonsense glare and folded his arms as the guard locked the door behind him. It was clear he wouldn’t be amused by Jerrol’s blood-stained jacket and bruised face.
“You are a disgrace to the uniform,” Nikols began, his voice deep and hard, just as Jerrol had expected. “That a King’s Ranger is arrested for treason, manacled as a common criminal – words fail me.”
Jerrol grimaced; he wished they would.
“Look at me when I am speaking to you.”
Jerrol raised his eyes to his commander’s furious brown ones.
“The Prince has ordered you executed at dawn. I wonder at his eagerness, but from his reports, you have been stringing us along for months. Your actions have finally caught up with you.” The Commander’s eyes flicked down to his hands, and Jerrol’s eyes followed. He was holding a set of metal lock picks in front of him.
“I don’t know whether to beat you myself or offer you to the dogs, but I suppose the Prince has made that decision for me.” He leaned forward and slapped the wall, before pushing Jerrol back against it. “You are no longer a King’s Ranger. Maybe that will remind you not to embarrass me before the King.” He slapped the wall again as he lent over Jerrol and stuffed the bundle of metal down the back of his trousers. He stood away as Jerrol slid down the wall. “You’re not worth the effort,” he spat, turning back to the door. “Open up; this reprobate won’t even make the first dawn.”
The door rattled, and the Commander left. Jerrol lay stunned for a moment, the picks digging into his back. The guard leered at him before locking the door again. Jerrol considered what his now ex-commander had said; he had to get out before dawn. Trying to ignore the creeping sense of failure, he worked the picks out of his waistband and felt the thin metal rods to find which would be best to unlock his manacles.
Shucking the manacles off on the floor, he rubbed his wrists and rolled his shoulders, easing the tension in his muscles. He froze as a sharp voice penetrated the wooden door. “A cat? You’ve had your nose in too many jars, mate.”
“I swear, a black and white one, with... um... with wings! It just flew down the steps.”
“Yer having a laugh. Try and pull the other one.”
“I swear, I saw it. It appeared out of thin air. A cat with wings.”
The other guard burst out laughing. “You think you can gull me? You’d have to come up with something better than that.”
There was a clatter of
