Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden (21 page)

Gib bit his bottom lip. He could see a flaw in this. Was he allowed to speak? They hadn’t reprimanded him a moment ago—but what if he’d merely been lucky that time? Roland’s shoulders slouched. With a defeated sigh, he nodded. It seemed he was going to accept the offer.

Gib swallowed, his heart hammering. “Wait—I’m sorry to speak without being asked, but do you not worry General Morathi might defame Roland? For the sake of saving votes for his own cause?” He flinched, waiting to be reprimanded.

Marc nodded. “Gib has a point. Neetra and Morathi typically favor the same vote, and they have a lot of pull over the councilors who are on the fence. Roland’s inexperience may hurt us more than help.”

King Rishi’s face contorted as he paced, and the tension in his shoulders made the rest of his body look equally rigid.

He went for so long without saying anything that Aodan eventually broke the spell. “Rishi?”

The King came to a full stop in the center of the room. His dark eyes, typically so shrewd and in control, looked glassy, panicked. “None of these choices are good! We stand on the sword’s edge yet again. Will this never get any easier?”

“Runnin’ a country isn’t easy,” Aodan replied. “It’s not fer the faint of heart. You know that.” The bodyguard folded his arms across his narrow chest. “Now choose, Highness.”

The King whipped around and set a fierce gaze on the other man. Aodan didn’t back down—he didn’t so much as flinch—and Gib had to wonder how he could be so unflappable under such a heavy look.

King Rishi finally sighed in defeat and gestured toward the “victor,” Marc.

Visible relief washed over Roland, but he turned to Marc in the next instant. “You’ll tell me if you need help with anything. I’ll do what I can for you. Deal?”

Marc had gone pale, but he kept command of his voice. “I can’t pull you away from your work. Our young troops may need you more than ever now.”

“I’ll announce it at council tomorrow,” King Rishi said, looking at Marc. “You’ll sit in Koal’s seat until he returns.”

If he returns
. Gib’s treacherous thoughts slipped away from him before he could squash them. He didn’t want to think in such a way, but it was true, wasn’t it? They had no guarantee any of their friends would come home. The King might lose his most trusted advisor and eldest son in one blow. Gib might lose his first love. He sniffed, refusing to let the tears overtake him. He
would
speak to Kezra or Tarquin later. It was a promise to himself.

Roland bowed to the King, only to be waved off with an irritated groan. “I should get back out to the field. My assistant is overseeing the class for me now, but I want to cover new formations with the students today.”

“Yes. Especially if there’s any chance we’ll be going to war.” King Rishi sounded exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in years.

“It’s been good to have enthusiastic students to work with,” Roland said as he made for the door. “They learn faster when they chose to become a soldier on their own. Tell
that
to your general.”

Marc and the King both offered half smiles at that, but Gib got the distinct impression Roland wasn’t making conversation. General Morathi had never hidden his distaste for female soldiers and raising the draft age. A cold lump settled in Gib’s stomach just thinking about the havoc Morathi and Neetra could wreak together without Koal present to be the voice of reason.

Roland took off his slippers and grabbed his boots before reaching for the door—only to have it swing open before he could touch it.

“Get in there, both of you, before I decide to tell your father how you’ve behaved!” A woman’s voice carried from the hallway, and Gib craned his neck to see who it was.

Crowned Prince Deegan and Princess Gudrin shuffled through the door, sour looks on their dirty faces. Queen Dahlia came through an instant later, holding the hem of her dress in one hand and her delicate shoes in the other. The instant she saw everyone was watching them, her powdered cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was here.”

King Rishi laughed. “Rough day?”

The Queen made to bow, but Marc raised his voice as she did. “It’s only us. No one important.” A smile split his face in two when she glanced around and seemed to come to the same conclusion for herself.

She relaxed with a sigh. “Oh, they’re being awful. Making messes in the garden, chasing each other with the tools—I only wanted to bring them inside.” She plucked up a pair of slippers and tried to get out of the way as quickly as possible. When King Rishi stroked her arm in passing, she fixed him with a hard glare. “You could have told me you were going to take your meeting here. I would have taken the children elsewhere.”

The King shook his head, still smiling. “We were done anyway. You couldn’t have known—” His voice clipped to a halt when Princess Gudrin wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her dirty face against his fine clothing. He put a hand atop her head and gently pushed her back. “Don’t try to win me over to your side. Go get cleaned up!”

Gib bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. How many times had Cal or Tay done the same thing to him when they were still little and their father had reprimanded them? Gudrin reacted about as well, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she whined and ran through a door which must have led to additional wings in the royal suite. The Queen followed her, exasperation etched into her features.

Roland shook a finger at the King. “It should be a crime to break the princess’s heart, Highness.”

Crowned Prince Deegan stomped toward the same door. “She
was
being a brat. If she behaves like that when
I’m
king, I’ll banish her!” The Weapons Master barked a laugh as King Rishi shooed his son into the other room.

Roland took his leave a moment later, closing the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, Marc sighed and turned to the King. The smile he’d displayed for the Queen and children had already vanished. “How do you think Neetra is going to handle this news?”

King Rishi sank down into his chair. He wiped at the dirt smudge his daughter had left on his clothing, but even Gib could tell it was only a distraction. “About as well as you think. He’s going to make my life a living hell.”

“We’ll hope for Koal’s swift return then.”

“We’ll hope for his return.”

The King’s forlorn voice made Gib wince. He still refused to think about it. Perhaps if he kept pushing the thoughts away, he could escape them entirely. Maybe he could wait so long Joel would return before ever having to embrace this grief.

Marc stood. “Right. Okay then, Gib. I think we can go.”

Gib was on his feet and following his mentor before he knew he was doing it. They removed their slippers wordlessly and each took boots in hand. Gib turned to bow to King Rishi and, for once, the King bowed his head in return instead of waving Gib off as a troublesome nuisance. The King looked like a ghost, sitting there with hollow eyes and worried thoughts. The room suddenly felt empty, and Gib almost didn’t want to leave. He opened his mouth but had no idea what to say.

“Papa!”

Princess Gudrin ran from the other room just then and jumped into the King’s lap. He smiled and seemed to come back to life. Gudrin looked over and realized Gib and Marc were still standing there. She cleared her throat and lifted her chin, looking every bit a princess. “I mean—King Rishi—can Deegan and I go horseback riding?”

“I don’t know,
can
you?”

King Rishi’s sly smirk reassured Gib. The King was going to be all right, despite Koal’s absence. He had his family to keep him grounded.

The princess groaned. “
May
we?”

Gib didn’t stay to listen to their negotiations. Marc put a hand on Gib’s shoulder, and he followed behind the dean. They left the royal suite, quietly closing the door and putting on their boots in the hall. Their departure was marked by silence, only broken by their footfalls. Gib’s head swam as they passed the portraits in the hall. He couldn’t help but steal one more glance at the royal family and long for his own. They were his strength, even with Joel so far away.

The council chamber of the Northern Empire was dark and uninviting, with cold stone walls and no windows. Mage orbs hovering in the rafters above glowed brightly, filling the space with eerie blue false light, but the illumination did little to settle Joel’s nerves as he took a seat at the enormous oval-shaped table in the center of the room. Liro sat to Joel’s right, and Hasain claimed the seat to the left. NezReth scooted into the chair next to the young Radek lord, while Koal and Cenric seated themselves on the far side of Liro.

A half-dozen men dressed in Imperial silk entered the room, and leading the pack was Adrian Titus. The Archmage of Teivel swept through the chamber, his chin raised arrogantly and golden robe caressing the floor behind his sandaled feet as he walked. He sat down across from Koal, and his followers took seats beside him. Even in the dim light, Joel took notice of Adrian’s fierce scowl. In fact, not even one of the Imperial councilmen smiled. They merely stared forward, faces as cold and unmoving as the stone walls and eyes devoid of emotion. All of this only served as a reminder of the grave situation the Ardenian envoys faced. Joel clasped his clammy hands together beneath the tabletop, waiting for someone to speak. No one did. Uneasy silence settled over the room, and he hated every second of it.

The door swung open, and Emperor Lichas Sarpedon marched into the chamber. The crown perched atop his blond curls glowed in the false light, and his crystal eyes were sharp and calculating. As he approached the table, those gathered around it stood and bowed to him. Joel followed along, copying the others, but his eyes were already trained on the five men who had come through the chamber door behind the Emperor. All of them were dressed in strange, exotic clothing Joel had never seen before.
Are these the—? Yes, these have to be the emissaries from Nales and Shiraz
. He stiffened as he took his seat and was thankful his trembling hands were hidden beneath the long sleeves of his mage robe.

Emperor Lichas cleared his throat, gesturing toward the strangers. “Chancellor Garron Saronul and Lord Stirling Braun, of Nales.”

Two of the men stepped forward. Both were tall and lean and wore loose-fitting coats lined with fur. Thick, braided belts ensured their outerwear stayed in place, and cotton trousers dyed a deep shade of blue covered their legs. Both men bowed to Emperor Lichas, and the broader of the two replied in a jarring, heavily accented voice, “It is an honor to be here, Supreme Ruler of the North.” They sat down without another word.

Emperor Lichas turned to the remaining men and introduced them as well. “Princes Kadar and Rami Dhaki, of Shiraz.”

A nervous lump formed in Joel’s throat as he dared look at the men from the country so many citizens in Arden feared and hated.

Two of the three men wore richly colored jackets with long, billowy sleeves made from satin. A wide waistband folded around the trunk of their bodies several times, and both men donned conical felt caps topped with stunning peacock feathers and golden embroidery. A third, more modestly dressed man stood beside them, and as the Emperor spoke, this man turned to his comrades and began speaking to them in a language Joel didn’t understand.

The extravagantly dressed princes of Shiraz listened to their companion, who seemed to be an interpreter. Once he’d finished speaking, one of the princes replied in the same foreign tongue. The translator relayed his words to the Imperial king. “On behalf of the Holy Seven of Tahir and the mighty Dhaki bloodline, we accept your invitation to Teivel. Let us reach a mutual agreement so we may end the bloodshed on our western border.”

They came forward to take their seats, and Joel felt his mouth go dry when he realized they meant to sit directly across from him. He met their frigid dark eyes for only a moment before having to drop his gaze to the table.
Chhaya’s bane, I can’t believe I am sitting across from two of the Dhaki princes!

The Dhaki bloodline had been ruling Shiraz for the past eight generations. Known for their iron-fisted rule, they’d slain thousands of their own people to maintain command over their domain. Rebellions were pacified with swift violence, and the laws of the land were absolute and unyielding. Worst of all, the Dhaki used
fear
as their greatest weapon. Executions were highly publicized events. They
wanted
to display their so-called “justice” being delivered. They
wanted
the people to see what happened when the law was disobeyed. Joel had a sneaking suspicion that the Northern Empire used similar tactics.
If the common folk live in constant fear, if their hopes and dreams are always being squashed, it’s unlikely they’ll rise against their oppressors
.

Joel knew, as an ambassador, he was supposed to keep an open mind—but he couldn’t help the raw anger creeping into his heart. How were they expected to negotiate peace with these oppressors? Why hadn’t the Emperor told them emissaries from Shiraz and Nales would be here? Why hadn’t they been given warning in advance? Was this blatant trickery or had Sarpedon been so preoccupied that he’d forgotten to inform them? How could anything be expected to be accomplished?

Joel blinked.
If we’d known they would be here, would anything have changed? Would we not have come?
He stole another glance at the foreign men sitting across the table and realized he wasn’t being fair.
I’m already making assumptions, and we haven’t even gotten a chance to hear what they have to say. Isn’t that what being an ambassador is all about? Listening and compromise?
I feel sorrow for their people, but we’re here to find a way to keep our own people from dying needlessly. This could be a chance to end the conflict on our borders. We can stop this war before it even begins and save the lives of countless Ardenian soldiers. I have to remain civil—and not allow my judgment to get in the way
.

The Emperor’s hardened stare passed across each of the gathered men as he took a seat beside Adrian. “Shall we begin?”

Fresh sheets of parchment paper were passed around the table. Joel took one, as did Hasain and Liro. They had previously decided that the three younger members of their party would take notes and listen, while Koal and Cenric did all of the speaking and negotiations.

Adrian addressed the table. “We call to order this meeting of our neighbors, the lands Shiraz, Nales, and Arden, pertaining to the prospect of peace across all our nations. Under the watch of His Grace, Emperor Lichas Sarpedon, may the Blessed Son of Light bless our efforts and bring His wisdom to light.”

Emperor Lichas gestured toward Koal with a simple dip of his head. “What say you, representatives of Arden?”

Joel had no idea how his father was able to respond with such grace under the scrutiny of so many sets of powerful eyes. “While we of Arden were surprised to learn our neighbors Shiraz and Nales would be present today, we would like to express our gratitude for this opportunity to search out a peaceful solution to our differences.”

Murmurs rose from the table as the interpreter spoke to the Dhaki princes. A moment later, one of them responded. He frowned as he spoke, as if the words tasted bitter in his mouth. The interpreter didn’t wait for permission to speak. He did as his prince commanded. “We will speak of peace when our holy lands have been returned to us. The faith of our good people has been shaken.”

Koal nodded in the way a parent might respond to a strong willed child. He’d clearly seen this coming. “The history of our shared border has been regrettable for some time, Prince Kadar. Arden’s position on the matter, however, has not changed. The war in which Arden claimed the land took place some eighty years ago, before anyone at this table was even born.”

Joel glanced at the Emperor. Was that true? Who knew how long this man had been kept unnaturally young?

“There have long since been settlements placed there. What would Arden do with our people who now inhabit the area? Where would we put them?”

Joel listened as the interpreter relayed the message and caught Hasain scribbling away out of the corner of his eye. The King’s son kept his face carefully neutral, but the tremble in his hand gave away his true feelings.

“The land is sacred to Shiraz,” came the Dhaki prince’s reply. “It is there that the Great Prophet Selahattin Ata was born. It is there that he united the nomadic clans together and went on to found our glorious country. The land is holy to our people, but it means nothing to Arden. To give it back would be the most reasonable course of action—yet your king refuses.”

Koal’s voice was a trained calm. “Our king is in no position to renegotiate our border. This war is old news to Arden, and our council won’t vote to turn over the land. King Rishi cannot act without the council’s approval. His hands are tied in the matter.”

“What king is unable to rule his country? Perhaps your council needs to be reminded of their place.”

“Our customs have been in place since the formation of our country and aren’t likely to change any time soon. For the length of Arden’s proud history, our system of government has served us well.”

“While your customs serve you well, they do not help our people who wish to worship as they once did!”

With a friendly, open face, Cenric leaned a little closer and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of everyone gathered. “Princes Kadar and Rami, perhaps another solution can be found. Surely the same wisdom which has helped the Dhaki bloodline rule for eight generations can find a peaceful compromise. Are there temples Arden could help to build for your people? Or would it help to open the border so that your people may visit the old land to worship?”

Hasain stiffened in his seat but kept his thoughts to himself. Joel was glad because he was certain he and Hasain shared the same sentiment. Opening the border sounded like a recipe for disaster.

Prince Kadar openly balked, his dark eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “Our lands are precious to us. You would dangle them before us as a constant reminder of what is no longer ours?
This
is your idea of a peaceful solution?”

Cenric stayed calm despite the prince’s outburst of rage. “Then perhaps your majesties may have another suggestion?”

Back and forth the negotiations went until the Dhaki princes were as agitated as Koal and even Cenric’s patience seemed to be wearing thin. When even NezReth had lifted shrewd eyes to watch the encounter, Emperor Sarpedon finally waved to Adrian.

The Archmage cleared his throat. “Perhaps this conversation should be set aside for now so both parties may recollect themselves.”

Joel breathed a sigh of relief.
Thank The Two
.

Liro shifted in his seat for the first time, drawing attention to himself. And then, to Joel’s utter shock, he
spoke
. “The wisdom of the Northern Empire is most appreciated. Arden could learn well from this experience, seeing as our own council meetings often descend into boorish dissention long before such a time as this.”

Joel’s insides felt as though they’d frozen over. The underlings weren’t supposed to talk, but Liro had either forgotten, or more likely, he’d disregarded the rules all together.

Liro’s words sat like a heavy rock in the middle of the room. Joel couldn’t look up from his lap, but he could feel Koal’s white hot glare directed at his eldest son. Liro made no indication of being uncomfortable; his posture remained relaxed as he clasped his hands loosely together on the tabletop.

When Joel was finally able to lift his eyes, he caught a heavy look being shared between his brother and the Archmage. Despair blossomed within Joel.
Liro shouldn’t have said that. He’s supposed to be fighting for Arden, not showing support for the Empire!

Adrian broke eye contact with Liro and gestured toward the representatives from Nales, as though he’d already forgotten about the exchange. “Chancellor Garron, what say you to Arden?”

The chancellor frowned and looked across the table toward Koal. “We come to speak of the tension on our southern border. The build up of your military troops in Ostlea is troublesome to our people in Dalibor, the township closest to our shared border. What is the need for so many soldiers, Seneschal Koal Adelwijn?”

Koal sighed, and his voice sounded tired when he replied. “There have been rumors of Nales creating an alliance with Shiraz of late, so our council passed a vote to reinforce our northernmost border just in case. Unfortunately, with their nerves on edge already, Arden’s High Council is quick to act on any possible threat of war.”

Garron’s reddened face twisted into an angry scowl. “If Arden is so worried, they would do well to speak
to
Nales rather than
about
Nales. Our country has no intent to join in a war that is not ours.”

Koal rubbed his face and snapped his fingers in the direction of the underlings. He pointed toward their parchment, silently telling them to take note of the conversation. “Then Nales
hasn’t
been meeting with Shiraz, Chancellor?”

Garron took his time responding. “I did not say that. Our meetings are our own, but if you must know, Seneschal, Nales has recently spoken to Shiraz in an attempt to open trade between our country and theirs. It does not serve your country to worry needlessly.”