The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [14]
Thorn had her own thoughts on the matter, but it was not the time for them. “We need to get you to the castle. The Citadel will get to the bottom of this.”
“Perhaps they will do so sooner rather than later, Lady Thorn. For the Citadel is our destination.”
“What?”
Where Oargev had retreated into silence, talking was clearly a comfort for Essyn Cadrel. “Perhaps you thought this was a simple diplomatic visit. But we are not going to Brokenblade Castle tonight. We aren’t here to discuss the census of New Cyre or the tax burden we’ve placed on Breland. No, we’ve been called to the tower of the King’s Citadel to speak with Boranel and Lord Vron. The message revealed all too little, though with recent events, I understand their concerns about our security. Nonetheless, one thing was clear: it concerns the Mourning.”
CHAPTER THREE
Wroat, Breland
Barrakas 20, 999 YK
The king of Breland was in a foul mood.
“I assure you, boy, I will find whoever is responsible for this outrage and make them pay if I have to do it with my own two hands!” King Boranel ir’Wynarn roared. “To unleash such forces against my blood in my own city! There shall be a reckoning, I assure you of that.”
The conference room was deep in the Tower of the Citadel. The walls were stone quarried from the Black Pit, infused with mystical energies that served as a natural shield against all forms of scrying. Magical symbols were inscribed around the border of the walls, creating a field that prevented any sound from escaping the room. There would be no eavesdropping there.
“We know that you had nothing to do with this attack, Your Highness.” Essyn Cadrel spoke for the Cyrans. Prince Oargev sat silently at his side; Thorn wasn’t sure if the prince was still recovering from the attempted assassination or if he simply didn’t know how to deal with his boisterous cousin. “And we are grateful for the service of your Shields; if not for your Thorn, we might both have perished.”
The king turned to Thorn. “Is that so?”
Thorn felt cold sweat on her skin and struggled to find words. Protecting the Prince of Cyre was one thing, but he was Boranel. For a moment she was little Nyrielle Tam again, listening to her father’s tales of the great deeds of their king. Her father had been her hero, but Boranel had been his hero. “I was part of a team, Your Majesty. Without Lanner and Delru, there’s no telling what would have happened.”
Boranel nodded. “Well said. But this isn’t the first time your deeds have been brought to my attention. Sit with us, Thorn. Take some wine.”
“I’m just here escorting the prince, Your Majesty. I doubt that I’m cleared for this briefing.”
Boranel chuckled. “You are if I say you are. Sit. Drink. Perhaps you could tell us a tale of one of your adventures while we wait for Vron.”
“There’s no need to wait.”
Thorn breathed a sigh of relief as the Lord Commander of the Dark Lanterns entered the room. Vron was cast in shades of black and white. If his skin was as white as snow, then his eyes were shards of ice, clear and colorless. His hair was soft and pale, snow falling onto the frozen ground. He wore the black dress uniform of the Dark Lanterns, and a silver medallion gleamed at his throat.
“Be seated,” Vron said. “We have much to discuss tonight. The first order of business: the attack on the Cyran entourage. Allow me to add my apologies to those of the king, Prince Oargev. If I had the slightest warning that such a plan was afoot, I would have ensured that you had additional protection. I have teams investigating the scene of the attack, and I assure you that you will know the results as soon as we do. However, there is one thing we can do immediately.”
Vron walked over the Thorn. “Lantern, I understand you directly engaged one of the assailants?”