Nic soon realized he was one of the few guards who remained in the hall.
“What’s going on?” he asked Idas, one of a mere handful of guards who didn’t treat him like a pile of dung. Idas didn’t treat Nic well, either, but compared to Burrus and Milo, who were both currently held in the dungeon on suspicion of assisting the rebels escape, Idas was as a close to a friend as he had here.
“Trouble,” Idas replied.
“What kind of trouble?”
“Cronus is dead.”
Nic inhaled sharply. “How?”
“His body was found in the dungeon along with another guard’s. Both stabbed.”
“Who did it?”
“Apparently it was a prisoner who managed to escape. But our job tonight is to keep watch over the wedding. We’ll leave the hunt for fugitives to the others.”
Cronus? Killed by a common prisoner? Cronus had given Nic the impression he was practically immortal—a skilled warrior forged from steel, virtually indestructible.
It seemed that was only an illusion.
“Do me a favor?” Idas asked. “If you happen to spot Prince Magnus among the guests, tell me. The king will want to alert the prince about Cronus the moment he shows his face.”
“I’ll do that.”
Idas then went off to speak in whispers with another guard.
A prisoner had escaped and managed to kill two guards in the process? That just didn’t happen. Sure, there were escape attempts every now and then—such as what had happened with Jonas’s friends. But, to Nic’s knowledge, a prisoner had never successfully escaped the dungeon itself.
Until today.
But who had the prisoner been?
As Nic watched three more guards leave the hall, he found his curiosity was piqued enough to provoke him to leave his station. Not that it would matter. After all, who was monitoring the guards’ duties tonight? Certainly not Cronus.
No one paid him any attention as he made his way back toward the throne room. King Gaius stood at the archway, surrounded by more than a dozen guards.
“. . . in addition to the main search, which takes precedence,” the king said, “you will locate both Prince Ashur and Princess Amara, and, as quietly as possible so as not to disrupt the banquet, arrest them while they’re still under this roof. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, your highness.” The men echoed one another.
“The emperor will have second thoughts about coming anywhere near my kingdom when he learns his beloved son and daughter are being held at my mercy.”
Nic doubted his ears. He’d expected to overhear only the king’s reaction to Cronus’s death, not a command to arrest the Kraeshians.
It didn’t make sense.
And yet . . . if King Gaius believed the Emperor of Kraeshia meant to destroy him, making Mytica the latest in a long list of conquered kingdoms, then this was a smart move. Possibly the king’s only move.
However, the king didn’t seem to know that the Kraeshians had already left the palace, well over an hour ago.
Nic slipped away without being noticed by the king. Just another guard in the group. Same uniform, same duties.
Different allegiances.
After all, Nic was a rebel now.
• • •
He wanted to find Cleo and tell her of his plans, but there was no time.
It wouldn’t be long before news reached the king that Ashur and Amara were no longer in the palace. The king would then send guards directly to the villa to make their arrests.
He left the palace without permission, knowing every decision he made now would change his future. For better or worse, he didn’t know for sure. All he knew was that he had information, and he potentially had powerful allies who needed it in order to survive.
Then there was the simple yet horrible thought of Ashur, imprisoned in the dark dungeon, at the mercy of the king, never to be free again. . . .
That wouldn’t happen. Not if Nic had anything to say about it.
It was an hour’s ride to the villa. To his knowledge, he wasn’t followed. It was fully dark when he arrived, the moon bright in the evening sky.
He jumped off his horse and approached the entrance of the villa. A green-uniformed guard stepped into his path, his ugly mug showing disdain for this boy in red.
“Has the prince arrived back yet? I must see him immediately,” Nic said. “I have a message from the king.”
Not a lie—it was a message. Although it certainly wasn’t one the king would have wanted to arrive ahead of time.
“I can deliver the message,” the guard growled, thrusting out his hand. “Give it to me.”
“It’s too important—too private—to be written down.” Nic crossed his arms. He refused to be intimidated by anyone tonight. “I’m the only one who can relate it.”
The guard’s stern expression quickly turned to boredom, and he relented, allowing Nic inside. A servant showed him out to the same patio in the courtyard where the prince and princess had offered him an alliance, only now the beautiful gardens were in shadows.
Nic began to pace as a thousand thoughts and worries swirled through his mind—thoughts and worries that he hadn’t let himself consider on the rebellion-fueled ride.
It wasn’t long before Prince Ashur appeared at the edge of the garden with a smile on his lips. “Nic. I was just told you’d arrived. What a pleasant surprise. I would have thought you’d be much too busy tonight at the wedding to visit.”