“Who is there to oppose us?” Cevet asked. “We rule the entire world.”
“But we still have enemies,” Lord Thius warned. “Suppressed nations, lawless bands, pirates. And there was the Vertaga War ten years ago . . . the point is, Cevet, we will be unstoppable.”
Cevet said nothing for several seconds. Relam could practically hear the lordling thinking. “Unfortunately, father, you are not unstoppable yet,” he said at last.
“What was that?”
“Enter!” Cevet called.
Relam threw the office doors wide and marched in, Oreius at his side, Relam’s four guards behind him. The young prince quickly took in his surroundings, searching the office for threats. Four walls, no windows, three of the walls covered in floor to ceiling bookcases packed with written works. In the center of the room, a wide, sturdy desk with two comfortable chairs in front of it and a carved wooden chair behind.
And, standing with his hands gripping the back of the wooden chair was Lord Thius.
The Head of the Assembly recoiled visibly as Relam entered, then his grip tightened on the chair until his knuckles turned white. “Impossible,” he murmured.
Relam stopped just in front of the desk, out of Thius’ reach, but close enough to intimidate him. “Ryker Thius,” he said quietly. “Are you surprised to see me?”
“Shouldn’t I be, your majesty? After all you went missing last night. I feared you were killed or kidnapped.” Thius cleared his throat anxiously. “It is good to see you alive and well.”
Relam said nothing, just tilted his head slightly and stared at Thius. The lord shifted uncomfortably, starting to sweat despite the cool room.
“How much did you hear?” Cevet asked, breaking the silence at last.
“Everything,” Relam replied. “You did well, Cevet.”
“Truly brilliant,” Oreius added gruffly.
“Cevet?” Lord Thius whispered, a wounded look on his face. “You were part of this?”
“Yes,” the lordling said coldly. “I was. The moment I heard what you and D’Arnlo were up to this morning-”
“You were eavesdropping!”
“Hard not to, really,” Cevet said, rubbing the side of his nose. “You were acting strangely this morning and the two of you were talking pretty loud. Almost shouting, really. It’s a wonder the whole Citadel didn’t know.”
“After all I have done for you,” Lord Thius muttered. “My own son betrays me.”
“Because you were prepared to throw away what morals you had for a little more power,” Cevet snapped. “Assassinating the entire royal family? Is your conscience broken? Disabled, maybe? Or was it never there to begin with and I just never saw it?
“Cevet,” Relam said warningly.
“No,” the lordling said, shaking Relam off. “He needs to hear this. You need to know what you have done for me, father. You have brought shame on our family name, made me an object of suspicion and mistrust. Going forward, no one can trust me. ‘His father was a traitor,’ they’ll say. And, ‘he betrayed his own father, how can we expect him not to turn on us’?”
“Which is why you should have gone along with my plan,” Lord Thius growled. “Then we would not have that problem.”
“Right,” Cevet laughed bitterly. “You can legitimize anything with enough soldiers, right father?”
“That was D’Arnlo, not me-”
“Practically one in the same, aren’t you?” Cevet said, cutting him off. “You’re both traitors. And you will suffer the consequences. And there is no one who will lift a finger to help you. Not me, not your noble friends, not your Assembly. Not even my mother, who you used as an agent for murder.”
Lord Thius bent over the back of his chair as though he had taken a physical blow. “It . . . it doesn’t matter,” he murmured. “None of it does. D’Arnlo will be here any moment to deal with you.”
“He’s dead,” Relam countered. “Sorry to ruin your last hope of survival.”
“Dead?”
“Dead,” Relam agreed, nodding. “He took his own life once it was plain he was beaten.”
“No,” Thius muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “This cannot be happening.”
“It’s over, father,” Cevet said gently. “The only way you can even begin to redeem yourself is to surrender and help us capture the rest of the men involved in this plot.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” the traitorous lord replied mockingly. “And if I did the same thing as D’Arnlo did?”
“You won’t,” Relam replied confidently. “You don’t have his strength. Galen, bring the handcuffs.”
“Yes, your majesty,” Galen said immediately, stepping forward and producing a set of handcuffs and a small key.
“No!” Lord Thius wrenched open a desk drawer and pulled out a jeweled dagger. “Stay back, I’m warning you!”
Galen paused, glancing back at Cevet and the others.
“Don’t worry,” the lordling said grimly. “You can keep going. He won’t actually take his own life.”
Galen continued to advance on the Head of the Assembly. Thius turned the blade so that it rested just below his ribcage, ready to thrust up and in, and so end his life.
“Last chance!” he warned, licking his lips.
Galen made no reply, merely circled the desk and extended the cuffs.
Lord Thius closed his eyes and gripped the dagger tightly in both hands. Relam watched as muscles in the man’s arms twitched and tendons flexed his hands. A vein began to bulge at the renegade lord’s neck, and sweat broke out across his forehead.
Then, the dagger fell from his hands with a clatter.
Galen leapt forward and closed the cuffs around Thius’ wrists before the traitor could change his mind and stab the palace guard with the dagger instead.
“I submit,” Thius said belatedly, looking down at the chains that bound him. “I confess to everything: plotting with D’Arnlo, conspiring to send
