“And who will decide who replaces him?”
“The cardinal, of course. The cardinal speaks to the wolf god.”
“Wolf god,” I snort. “It’s all such bullshit.”
Nobody disagrees with me.
We leave the city without being stopped, and without any news about the king or the palace breaking. Life is going on as if nothing happened. It’s an almost eerie feeling to go through social feeds and realize that people assume everything they need to know is here, when in reality everything they think they know is a lie.
Halfway up the mountain, consequences erupt.
Red suddenly flashes from the undergrowth, as a fully tactical assault is unleashed on us from several different angles. The tires are spiked, and the doors are hit with spear-cups that sink into the metal and then crank back to yank them open.
The rear of the van is flooded with men in red tactical suits.
There is no time to fight back. A red bag is dropped over my head, and I am carried, screaming and flailing out of the van. I feel something wrap around my neck almost as soon as the bag goes on. I don’t know what it is, but I know I can’t shift. I’m all out of juice.
“Run!” I scream to my mates. “Run!”
CHAPTER 22
Some time, and a whole lot of silent transport later, the bag comes off my head, and I find myself face to face with a man whose visage is as widely known in Eclipse as the king’s was. The cardinal is in his fifties, has graying hair and usually the sort of face that suggests a charismatic, yet kindly nature. We appear to be in one of his chambers. A glance out the window tells me we’re in Eclipse City, but not in the palace.
The cardinal is popular. Far more popular than the king, really, because he leads the city in religious ceremonies, and also makes himself available for various public appearances on television and such. A couple of weeks ago he was helping rehome puppies.
He does not have the rehoming puppies energy now. He’s taller than I realized, well over six feet. The robes he wears are mostly red, edged with white. They’re impressive. They do the job they were meant to do, which is to intimidate a common person.
“Darcy No Last Name,” he says, his voice deep and warm, but I know that’s an illusion. “Darcy, Darcy, Darcy. You have beena source of quite a great deal of trouble for quite some time, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” I squeak the word. He doesn’t seem angry at me, but I’d bet with a man like this it doesn’t matter. You can’t read someone like him. He could be amused. He could be happy. He could be seething with rage.
“You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you,” he says.
I nod. There’s something in this man that emanates power. The king I met certainly didn’t have this level of personality. He was nothing more than a horny asshole, just a common dude who got to live in a castle and produce scores of kids who looked just like him.
The cardinal is celibate. I’ve heard that’s a way for him to generate power. I think it’s working.
“You’ve committed quite a number of crimes,” he says. “I believe you actually killed one of my guards not long ago. It was reported that a young woman got into a duel, then resisted arrest, attacked the guards, killed one, and shifted into a wolf form and fled toward the academy. We have been watching you since that time, and you have been up to quite a great deal, haven’t you?”
I want to lie, but I know he already knows. There’s no point denying my crimes. I even feel a little… I don’t know. It’s not quite relief, but it might be.
“Yes,” I say.
“Yes, you have,” he repeats.
I guess he’s used to this, taking confessions, luring people into admitting their worst mistakes and greatest evils.
“And now, it seems, you’ve killed the king.”
Hearing it out of his mouth makes me cringe with fear. I am in so much trouble. I am in probably-going-to-be-executed trouble. They will make an example of me. I will end up in a textbook and future generations studying at the academy will skim over my tale, their eyes glazing over until some teacher tells them exactly how I died in graphic detail.
“I did?”
“There are parts of the body it is possible to remove without killing someone, but it is rare that man can survive without his throat,” the cardinal says smoothly.
I feel a tremor deep inside me. “What happened to my mates?”
“You mean the three terrorists you’ve decided to shack up with?” He shakes his head and makes a tutting sound. “You really never did have a chance, did you, Darcy.”
