Page 143 of The Jasad Crown
“I found this under Wes’s tongue.” Arin flipped the pin between two fingers. “It was a wasted effort, Vaun. He had already sent the letter. All you did was cost me the only loyal guardsman I had left.”
Vaun raised his chin, meeting Arin’s gaze without flinching. “I will not apologize for protecting you and this kingdom as I always have. As I always will. The Supreme gave me an order, and I obeyed.”
Protecting him. It would be laughable if it weren’t close to the truth. The two of them had grown up alongside each other. Vaun had been Arin’s shadow since they were children, a steady and reliable presence in a court of shifting faces. It struck Arin, in these last moments of Vaun’s life, that he barely remembered whether Vaunhad had a family before coming to the Citadel. Vaun’s existence had always been an appendage to Arin’s.
“You filthy traitor!” Jeru spat. “You killed the Heir’s guardsman! Your—he was your superior!”
An infected appendage put the entire body at risk. Arin should have recognized those first signs of rot back in the tunnels. He should have been strong enough to pick up the knife and sever it at the root.
“As you know, there is no formal court procedure for royal guardsmen. You are mine to punish as I see fit, up to and including forfeit of your life.” Arin gently laid the pin by Wes’s head. “Pick up your sword, Vaun.”
The guardsman straightened his shoulders, tucking his hands behind his back. “I will not fight you, my liege.”
“Sire, I am happy to stand in your stead.” Fury vibrated from Jeru’s every pore. He was wild with anger and devastation, which meant it would take Vaun little effort to catch him in a mistake and cut him down. Skill was only half the component of success. The other was focus, and Jeru currently had none.
Arin came around the table and brushed Jeru to the side. “Your sword, Vaun. I will not repeat myself a third time.”
Vaun didn’t move, and Jeru swore. “Fight him, you coward,” Jeru hissed. “Or do you only hurt those who cannot see you coming?”
Steel whispered against leather as Arin’s sword slid free of its sheath.
It took one lie for you to lose faith in me. Tell me, Your Highness: How many will it take until you lose faith in your father?
She had asked the wrong question.
Vaun swallowed. “Sire—”
Arin’s sword split through Vaun’s chest before it could expand with more air to waste on the next word. The next lie. The sword went through Vaun’s back and into the cabinet behind him. Arinpushed the hilt through the resistance of bone and oak. When the hilt scraped the front of Vaun’s uniform, Arin didn’t immediately release it. Vaun slumped over the sword in his chest, pinned to the side of the wardrobe like a bird caught by a powerful arrow. Tears welled in Vaun’s eyes as he raised his head.
She should have asked him how many lies it would take for Arin to lose faith in himself.
For twenty years, Vaun had stood by Arin’s side. Up until the end, he had thought he was serving on behalf of Nizahl. On behalf of his rulers. The crown had consumed Vaun, so Arin paid him the mercy of holding his eyes as the last of Vaun’s life drained out of them.
Arin released the sword and gave the dead guardsman his back.
“Tell my father to meet me in his study,” Arin told Jeru.
Two tasks left.
CHAPTER FIFTY
ARIN
There was a spot of blood on Arin’s sleeve when Rawain found him in the study.
That bothered him. Everything else was in place. Everything else had been precisely arranged.
Everything except the spot.
“Arin!” Rawain crossed toward him in five rapid steps. His father’s grip on his shoulders startled Arin, so much so that he forgot to resist when Rawain yanked him into his arms. The Supreme squeezed Arin tight, the hand holding the scepter digging into Arin’s back. “Thank the Awaleen. You cannot imagine how worried I have been. When did you return from Lukub?”
Stiff in the Supreme’s embrace, Arin bit back a bitter laugh. Rawain knew something was amiss, so he chose the angle of concerned, loving parent. The approach had successfully disarmed Arin too many times before.
How long had Arin’s father been learning how to fight him?
A not-insignificant part of Arin wanted to relax into his father’s hold. That same instinct had Arin’s arm lifting and stopping just short of hugging his father back.
The future split into two clean paths before him.
