The Binding Power

By Cassidy Faline

Power Corrupts,

Power Divides,

Only Power Wins.

I can no longer keep my seat at the nightly dinner, nor peacefully take my rest at night. My thoughts are with the men gathering just outside the manor's gates, waiting for my command to march on the cap

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassidy Faline Productions
• Release date: Oct 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781958852033

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Waking Nightmare

A BLANKET OF darkness covered Lamont’s entire world. Icy rain beat down his back. He was chilled to the bone.

Lamont, how could you betray me?

The man’s voice was formless, echoing in Lamont’s mind. Lamont fell to his knees and curled into a ball. The voice filled him with such sadness, he couldn’t even breathe.

Avenge me!

Lightning flashed above him, so bright Lamont had to close his eyes. He lay there shivering for a few moments until he felt a breeze ruffling his hair.

Lamont opened his eyes. The dream had changed. He now stood in a bowl-shaped valley. A woman stood in the center of the valley, her arms outstretched to him. Lamont couldn’t see her face; it was shadowed even though the sunlight was bright enough to make him squint. Her hair was long and dark, drifting up with the wind as if it had a mind of its own.

Lamont felt drawn to her. His body was immediately transported to the center of the valley, only a few feet from her. Even though he couldn’t make out her eyes, he felt her gaze piercing into him. Her mouth moved, and her voice filled the entire world.

Remember me! She breathed out the wind as she said, Lamont, remember me!

Her voice pierced him all the way to his soul. He crumpled to his knees, his hands clutching at the flesh over his heart.

Lamont’s head spun. He looked up, and the world waved in his vision.

The wind the woman had created swirled around her ankles, growing around her until it enveloped her in a massive pillar of wind that stretched into the sky. The sun was suddenly gone, blocked out by deepening gray clouds.

Within the whirlwind, the landscape shifted rapidly from summer to winter and then back again. The woman sank to her knees as flower petals and biting snow whirled around her body and let out a single piercing cry.

Lamont! Don’t leave me!

Lightning split the sky again, and Lamont was transported to another place. A puddle of blood lay between his hands. He shuddered at his monstrous reflection, sliced open from forehead to cheekbone. Blood poured from his face, and he could see the white of his own skull peeking through.

His eyes looked back at him, terrified, blinking in pain, and a man appeared in the reflection behind him. Lamont knew that face.

Fritzgerald Damian towered over him, the tip of his sword poking Lamont in the back, just between the shoulder blades.

His stomach heaved. His hand jumped protectively over his mouth. The pain and the fear were too much for him to handle. His vision turned black along the edges.

Don’t do it, Fritz. I beg you. I’m not the man you think I am!

Fritz sneered. I know what you are, Lamont. You’re a monster. Goodbye.

No! Lamont jerked away from the sword raised over his head and jolted awake in his bed. His hands flew to his face, gingerly feeling for blood. His face felt wet to the touch, and Lamont bounded out of bed, running for the mirror.

His heart slowed the moment he caught a glimpse of himself. His face was wet with tears. His skin was whole. It had only been a dream.

Lamont rested his forehead against the glass with a weary sigh. It didn’t matter what he ate in the day or what position he chose to sleep in—he could not stop the nightmares that crowded his head night after night.

Carefully, Lamont glanced back over his shoulder. Fritz’s eyes were still closed. His chest still rose and fell at an even pace. Lamont breathed a sigh of relief. He’d woken his roommate in times past when the dreams had been too powerful for him. He was glad this was not one of those times.

He turned to the clock in the corner of the room, illuminated by the room’s only lamp, and ran his fingers through his hair. The hands pointed to the nineteenth hour. Lamont was up hours before his next guard shift, but it didn’t matter. There was no way he was going to crawl back into bed—not after a nightmare like that. He knew from past experience that the dreams would only get worse as the night approached.

Lamont curled his toes against the stone floor, relishing the warmth in his feet. No one would ever guess this was wintertime. Ever since the king had installed piped steam heating in the palace, the supply of firewood in Reta had risen, the price had fallen, and everyone in the city was happier for it. Big things were changing in Retall, and Lamont felt proud to be part of it.

Slowly, Lamont twisted the spigot beneath the mirror. It was attached to a pipe that ran across the wall. Steam plumed out, and a small stream of hot water trickled into the washbasin. The wonderful thing about using steam for heating was that when it collected in a cooler place, such as the spigot, it would become water.

Lamont twisted the spigot shut when the trickling stopped. It was just enough warm water to fill his rag, and by the time Fritz woke up, more water would be collected. Fritz had the early-morning shift, after Lamont watched the night.

Lamont rubbed his face furiously with his rag, then used the rag on his neck and shoulders. There was a drain in the floor by the pipe, and Lamont wrung out his rag over it when he was done. His palace guard uniform hung across the pipe beside Fritz’s. It was silver with a red collar and trim. Lamont ran his hand across the upside-down sword on the jacket’s front. It was the sign of the Ancients.

A heaviness tugged at his chest, behind his heart. Lamont sighed. These dreams were stealing away his peace.

Lamont ran his fingers through his hair. He needed to forget his dreams. There was no reason for him to feel so heavy. Life was good. He had a prosperous job in the palace. He was able to save a little money every week. Someday he would be able to find an apartment outside of the palace and get married. The world was slowly becoming a better place around him. He knew he should be happy.

Lamont pulled his uniform over his drawers and fastened the buttons as he walked across the room to the door. His boots stood by the door, and he slid them on.

But it wasn’t just the dreams that wore on him. He would often feel whiffs of nostalgia and sadness with no distinguishable source. Lamont wished he could understand himself.

He shut the door behind him and looked down the deserted hallway. The hall was lit by oil lamps, which were placed at intervals throughout the entire palace. The palace could be a little creepy at night. Things creaked, and sometimes it sounded like voices were coming from the walls. He’d been told it was a product of the pipes, but right now the noise of the pipes was covered up by conversation, as servants still moved around, lighting the lamps and cleaning the day’s dust from the floor.

Lamont walked softly down the hall. Victor, the guard he was set to relieve in a few hours, would be glad to go to bed a little earlier, and Lamont would get some time alone to think. The heavy sound of his boots on the carpet was comforting. He liked knowing there was something beneath him he could rely on. Everything he didn’t understand right now only made him grasp harder at the things he knew were true.

Six months ago, on the sixteenth day of the month of Prosit, the people of Reta had rallied around a man named Hieronymus Purvis and marched on the palace to dethrone the current king. The guards had joined the people, and the gates had opened wide for them. Lamont had been one of those guards, along with Fritz.

In his mind was the clear image of Hieronymus thrusting his sword defiantly into the air before entering the king’s bedchamber, then emerging a few minutes later, his sword covered in the king’s blood. Lamont could still hear the cheers of the crowd around him, and his own voice lifted up beside them, shouting, Long live King Hiero!

Lamont sighed. It was a beautiful memory: the day Reta had been freed from the tyrant. Since then he had been serving in the palace as a guard, just as he had done before. Hieronymus was truly a blessing of the Ancients upon the people of Retall. He had done so much good for them. The Retall of the old king had been ruled by capricious lords, squabbling over trifles and taking advantage of their people.

Hieronymus had given each town a seat in the new People’s Council, and the people of each town would elect the one who would go to the council and represent them. It was what the Ancients would have wanted. No citizens of any other country had as much power as the people of Retall.

Lamont kept meandering, always moving closer to his guard post, but at the slowest possible pace. Servants moved past him, chattering. They didn’t pay him any mind at all. What time did these people go to bed? He’d never seen any of them before.

He soon reached the intersection where he was posted. Victor stood at the corner, chatting cheerfully with a servant girl. Lamont caught his eye, and for a moment, fear rushed across Victor’s face. Lamont hurried to his side, eager to dispel whatever thoughts Victor might’ve been thinking.

Victor shooed the girl away before Lamont reached them. Lamont! His voice dropped to a whisper. What are—you aren’t supposed to be awake right now! Fritz said you haven’t been doing well . . .

Lamont frowned. Fritz isn’t my mother, Victor. I was very lucky that my dreams did not wake him this time. Frustration edged into his voice. He couldn’t tell Victor that he wanted to be away from Fritz. Spending time with Fritz seemed to insert him into Lamont’s dreams more. Lamont shuddered as he remembered the bloody scene from his last dream. Look, I’m here to relieve you. I thought you would be happy!

Victor’s gaze slid off Lamont and traveled down the hallway to the servant girl, who was still smiling at him. He sighed. I-I don’t think I can accept. I know you haven’t been getting enough sleep. You should be sleeping.

Lamont glared through the heaviness in his eyes. That was the last thing he wanted to do right now. He turned Victor around and gave him a shove.

Look! She’s waiting for you! This is your only chance, because from now on, I’m going to start oversleeping my shifts.

Victor gave him a sharp look. You wouldn’t!

If I’m in such dire need of sleep, I think it only right that I take care of my health.

Fine! You’re on shift. But if Fritz finds out—

The chattering in the hall suddenly dropped off into silence. Victor’s gaze went past Lamont’s head, and his eyes went wide. Blessed Isle!

What? Lamont moved to turn around, but Victor grabbed him, locked eyes with him, and held him in place.

No! he hissed. Don’t look! It’s the queen.

Lamont swallowed. This was a rare day. He’d never been in the same room as his queen before. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen her face.

Lamont’s brow furrowed. Surely he must have seen her before. What about the coronation? And the royal wedding? Lamont’s hand went instinctively to his hair. Why couldn’t he remember those?

Hey! Victor hissed at his ear. Kneel!

He’d completely forgotten. Quickly, he turned and dropped to one knee. A moment later, he watched her gown go by him, almost brushing his boot. Two serving ladies followed right behind her. Lamont could not contain his curiosity. If he could see her face, maybe he would remember the coronation.

Lamont lifted his head just enough to stare from under his unruly hair. Red flowers and gold brocade cascaded down the back of her skirt. Her waist was pinched slim by a red velvet sash, and her golden curls hung just long enough to tease at its bow. Lamont was struck with awe. She had to be the most beautiful woman in the world. If he could only see her face! Even just a glimpse, and he would be content.

At the intersection of hallways, she turned to the left. Lamont stared as her face turned. Green eyes glanced briefly down the hall she had just walked and then forward. Lamont’s heart sounded once, like a gong in his chest. He knew her, not just as his queen, but as someone else, someone closer. An image seared through his mind like a waking dream. He stood in a strange room, eyes locked with this woman.

You are a monster! she hissed, her eyes burning with fire.

A thought flashed through Lamont’s mind. I should kill her now, before—

Lamont hadn’t realized he was standing up. His hand drifted toward his sword. Where was this memory coming from? When had this taken place? He didn’t know.

With all the strength that was in him, Lamont managed to hold his hand still until the queen had completely disappeared. Then he collapsed against the wall, clutching his head. What was going on with him? This wasn’t a dream. Someone had told him to kill the queen, and he had almost obeyed.

The rest of Lamont’s senses came back to him, and he felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Lamont slowed his breath, trying to bring it under control. Victor was standing up beside him. He couldn’t give the man any reason to worry further. Lamont ran both hands through his hair furiously. This was far more serious than he had thought. He couldn’t ignore his condition any longer. He had to figure out what was going on.

Chapter 2

Meeting Secrets

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SHELIA STOPPED BEFORE the library doors and turned back to her ladies. I’d like to read alone this evening. You two should retire to your rooms.

The two women looked immediately uncomfortable. But, Your Majesty, the king—

Shelia sighed, trying to look as weary as possible. The king is welcome to the details of my evening reading some other night, but tonight I simply want to be left alone. It’s been a long day.

The women curtsied together and swished off, their skirts knocking into each other at every step. Shelia slipped through the doors of the library, thanking the Ancients under her breath, and immediately collapsed into the nearest armchair. She slouched as egregiously as possible. With Hiero’s watchdogs off her back, she could finally breathe. What a relief.

Shelia loved her husband, and she agreed with him that the Resistance would likely target her. She was Hiero’s love and his only path to legitimacy. But tonight she needed to be alone.

The room around her had a tall vaulted ceiling, a second-story balcony, and bookcases that stretched the height of both floors. Shelia could tell by a quick glance around that the librarian had been organizing today, but thankfully, he had left her reading nook alone. She was glad she didn’t have to go searching for her favorite books every time she came back.

Shelia’s personal reading nook had curtains she could draw to indicate she was present and did not want to be disturbed. A warm shawl covered the back of her chair, a comfort when the library was cold. She pulled her curtains now and wrapped the shawl around her shoulders with another deep sigh.

Shelia’s evenings were for reading and had been for several months now. She found that it relaxed her, gave her a better sleep at night, and made the palace feel a little bit more like home.

Shelia straightened and pushed away from her chair, moving swiftly to the wall across from her. Carefully, she pressed against the panels on her left until one shifted. There it was. Her fingers fit into the small space between the panels, and Shelia pulled the wall open, hurrying inside.

The room was cooler, thick with dust, and Shelia could feel empty space above her. She was in a secret part of the library.

Father had taught her about it when she was just a child. It held certain secret knowledge of the Teris kings collected over many hundreds of years.

Shelia pulled her shawl tighter around herself. She came in here a few nights a month to read up on things she felt it was her duty as a Teris heir to know. Someday she would show her sons the secret door and instruct them on the importance of keeping it secret. For now, she would be the only palace resident allowed to know about it. She was certain she was the only person who had been in here since her father and uncle had escaped the palace thirty-three years ago. At least until tonight.

Shelia’s hands searched the wall for a lamp she knew was there. She found it and struck her flint over the wick. The lamp flared to life on its stand. The oil was something she had managed to smuggle in, even under her ladies’ watchful eyes.

Shelia picked it up and turned to the room. Shelves of books faced her, arranged in several rows. A circular staircase in the back led up to a landing of second-floor bookshelves. It was a dark mirror of the main library on the other side.

Shelia hurried down the middle aisle to the back of the room. With one hand, she moved aside the books on a shelf to reveal a latch hidden in the back of the bookshelf. She pulled it, and the bookshelf seemed to settle a bit. She grabbed the wood, and with a gentle pull, the bookshelf creaked outward, revealing a new tunnel.

The tunnel was built of cut stone bricks and led to a set of stairs that went down into utter blackness. Cold air billowed up from below. Shelia shivered in her shawl, her mind buzzing with thought. There was always a chance that someone would open her reading nook and realize she wasn’t there. She had to get back fairly quickly. Where was her father?

Finally, she heard footsteps issuing up from below.

Father? she asked, but no one responded. A moment later, a figure stepped into the light. Shelia felt a sudden cold shiver, like the touch of ice, as she took in the man in front of her. She jumped back from the open doorway.

Dairon! Her voice was a hiss.

The sleek older man had his dark cloak pulled tightly around himself, and it blended effortlessly into the shadows. Lady Teris, I understand that you were not expecting me, but you must control yourself. I have grave news.

Shelia yanked the shawl tighter across her shoulders. Dairon Pernas was a new addition to her father’s household, a personal bodyguard, and in the space of only four months, he’d become her father’s closest advisor. Shelia had only met him once, a few months ago, during her father’s last social call to the palace. And she found him utterly terrifying.

Dairon Pernas always dressed completely in black. His wrinkled skin was so pale it almost looked blue. His sleek gray hair was pulled back into a ponytail that fell past his shoulders, and his cold gray eyes studied her closely.

Shelia threw up her chin. She couldn’t let him know she was afraid. Father had given her assurance that she wouldn’t be taken from the palace tonight, but she did not have the same trust in Dairon. She suddenly wished her ladies were in the main library waiting for her.

You have bad news for me. What is it? Where is my father?

He has been arrested.

Shelia’s eyes narrowed. What? When? Why?

Dairon’s voice was as cold as the world outside. This very night, as we attempted to enter the city. He was charged with creating a resistance in Retall, to destroy the People’s Council and dethrone the reigning king.

There was a sharpness in his gaze, and Shelia pulled her shawl tighter around herself. Your eyes accuse me, Dairon.

It is your husband who has arrested Lord Teris.

A sly smile twisted at the corners of her mouth. The king arrested a lord who was dealing in treason. This is my father’s natural consequence for constantly badgering and working against Hiero. Maybe he should have listened to me!

A crack appeared in Dairon’s immaculate facade. He was boiling with anger underneath. Will you still be so smug once your father is dead? Dairon paced toward her slowly. You betrayed him.

Shelia was not nearly as skilled at keeping her emotions hidden. Her eyes flashed. I did no such thing! She paused to breathe, to calm herself. I told my father I would keep his precious little Resistance a secret, and I did. I don’t know how my husband found out, but it had nothing to do with me!

His eyes called her a fool. Your husband is Retall’s greatest enemy. He is destroying the culture and traditions of Retall one by one.

Shelia tapped her foot on the ground. She was getting frustrated. My husband is making Retall a better place every single day! The people are speaking. Their oppression has ended. Now you, along with all other Retallian men, can have a say in the government!

There is no freedom for the men of Retall. They have exchanged the stability of rule by lords for the whims and caprices of a tyrant. Dairon shook his head. Hieronymus has only begun to understand his power. The people will follow his every command. This is why a commoner should never be given power. Dairon seemed to taste his own bitter words, and his mouth twisted. He will destroy himself and everything around him.

Shelia shivered. Dairon’s rage seemed to have abated for a moment. Was now was a good moment to escape?

I’m going now, she stated. I promise to speak to the king about my father and do my best to secure his release. Thank you for letting me know.

Dairon’s eyes cut into her. Oh, I am sure you will speak to him, but will it do any good? He took another step toward Shelia. It might be more useful to Lord Teris if I take you for ransom. Hieronymus will have to bargain with us.

A shudder ran down Shelia’s spine. She had been right not to trust him. Shelia stepped back again. The bookshelf into the main library was just behind her somewhere. Maybe she could get through and swing it shut before he reached her.

Dairon’s eyes seemed to turn even colder.

Father promised I wouldn’t be taken! Her voice sounded thin and scared in her own ears.

Yes, and he told me as much. But if Lord Teris dies, I will be held responsible for not taking this opportunity.

Shelia abandoned her shawl, and her hand searched deep inside her pocket. She always had a dagger attached to her hip. Hiero had insisted on it. A half-choked laugh burbled from her throat. My father isn’t going to die. Hiero counts him as his own father. He loves him as much as I do!

Dairon came closer, and Shelia kept backing up. She was up against the wall now, her escape far to the right.

What is to keep Hieronymus from killing others he loves now that he has gotten a taste for it? What happened to the love he held for one he counted as a brother? Why did Hieronymus murder Gannon Teris?

Shelia would have groaned if she hadn’t been so scared. Her hand closed around the dagger’s hilt under her skirt. Dairon was just repeating the same lie she’d heard a thousand times.

Six months ago, on the night of destruction, Gannon had fallen from the old king’s balcony down the height of Reta and survived. Not only did Father believe that Gannon had died falling from the balcony, but he also believed that Hiero had pushed Gannon off.

I’ve told you. Gannon didn’t die on the night of destruction! He was alive in Kiad’s castle. He didn’t die until the Battle for Reta! I saw it myself!

Dairon shifted his shoulders. I think I’ve decided. You will secure Lord Teris’s release with your own body.

Shelia glared into his eyes. I refuse to be a pawn for my father ever again. Quietly, she pulled the dagger from its sheath and maneuvered it out of her pocket. Dairon’s eyes were focused on hers, and his body was too close to give him a view of her hand. He didn’t notice anything.

His hand closed on her upper arm. Don’t struggle, my lady. I don’t intend to hurt you.

That was the arm that held the dagger. He yanked, and Shelia moved with him, letting the dagger in her hand pierce him in the lower back. Dairon yelled loudly enough that Shelia was sure it could be heard in the main library. Dairon danced away from the blade, now covered in his blood. Shelia chased after him and shoved into him with her hip, pushing him toward the tunnel’s entrance.

Out! Get out now, or I’ll stab you again! She held the dagger high and back, afraid that he would try to grab it from her hand. Dairon was on the floor now, groaning, his chest heaving. He didn’t seem to hear her at all.

Shelia loomed over Dairon, feeling the burn of anger in her chest and relishing it. Get out of my palace, or the next wound I cause will be somewhere very important. She kicked him in the leg to make her point, and he finally moved, shuffling his way toward the tunnel entrance on hands and knees. The moment he crossed the threshold, Shelia grabbed the bookshelf and swung it back into place, locking the latch tight.

And don’t ever come back, she whispered.

Chapter 3

Palace Nights

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FRITZ OPENED HIS eyes lazily a few moments after Lamont left their room. Blessed Ancients, he hated that man. He had no desire to be a babysitter for anyone, him least of all.

Groaning, Fritz rolled out of bed, feeling every muscle in his back complain. He hadn’t had a proper amount of sleep since dragging Lamont’s sorry carcass into Reta. How long had it been? Three days? Four? The days all blended together now. For the thousandth time, Fritz regretted bringing Lamont back alive. That regret was just as strong if not stronger than the regret he felt for stopping Hiero’s hand all those months ago.

Fritz shoved his arms and legs into his uniform with dexterous speed. He’d gotten used to moving quickly. When it came to keeping an eye on Lamont, speed was a requirement.

Without missing a beat, Fritz walked toward an empty wall of their room, just to the side of the washbasin. His finger slipped easily into a crack between two boards, and with a small amount of pressure, a secret door slid right open, a narrow dark tunnel behind it. Fritz walked into the tunnel and closed the door behind him with all the skill of a man who had done it numerous times.

The secret passage was so familiar to him that he needed no light. The space was barely wide enough for his shoulders, but Fritz skillfully avoided every hot pipe and steam jet that threatened to burn him. He walked quickly for about a minute, then stopped, pulling a plug of cork out of the wall beside him. Light filtered in, and Fritz had a peephole out into the hallway. He frowned.

Lamont was trying to take over Victor’s shift. This was so frustrating. There were still servants around at this hour! What if someone who knew him before were to see him? How would they explain his presence in the palace? Maybe it was time to start strapping him to the bed at night.

Fritz rubbed his eyes wearily and glanced out just in time to see Victor’s face go white. He followed his gaze to Shelia, who tripped down the hall with practiced ease.

Fritz felt his face drain too. He couldn’t get to them in time. Shelia would see Lamont’s face!

Fritz watched as Victor pulled Lamont to kneel beside him just before Shelia reached them. Lamont kept his head down. Fritz held his breath. Thank the Ancients that Victor was part of their conspiracy. Shelia was past them. Lamont hadn’t reacted yet.

Fritz watched Lamont’s eyes slowly travel up the floor. The man’s head turned, and he stared at Shelia’s back. Fritz swallowed. He couldn’t recognize her from the back, right?

But he must have. Lamont’s eyes widened, his head jerked, and he stood, his hand going for his sword.

Fritz jumped back from the peephole. This was bad. He needed to get to the nearest exit. Where was it?

But as he leaped out of the steam access into a nearby hallway, the queen and her ladies sauntered peacefully toward the library, Lamont nowhere in sight. Fritz softly made his way back, and Lamont was standing at Victor’s post, at attention, as if nothing had happened. Fritz narrowed his gaze.

Hiero needed to know about this. And Fritz knew just where to find him.

Since the lords of Retall had lost on the field of battle months ago, in part to Ancient explosive powder, Hiero had made the research and development of Ancient tech his highest priority. The palace’s once big open courtyard was not so big or open anymore, as a large open-door workshop took up most of the space not filled by the stables. In the past few months, new machines had come out of those doors that Fritz had never even thought possible.

As he made his way out of the palace into the courtyard, the last red rays of sunset squeezed over the horizon, filling the courtyard with vibrant purple shadows. The doors to the workshop were open, and dark smoke billowed out of one chimney. Fritz forged ahead toward the open door, straight through the traffic clogging the way.

On the day Fritz had brought Lamont back, Hiero had been inspired. The workshop was a bustling thing of beauty with Hiero at its head, delegating tasks, walking the forges, and barking orders on both sides. But tonight was a far more peaceful night. Only one forge was open, and Hiero wasn’t even at it. He sat at his desk at the end of the workshop, a quill in hand and a notebook under his elbow. Even from here, Hiero looked bored.

Hollis stood at the forge, bellows in hand, lazily working them. He gave Fritz a deep nod as he passed, going for the back. Fritz was only a few steps away when Hiero finally noticed him.

Fritz? Hiero looked up from his work, and for just a moment, his eyes sparkled. Hiero was glad to see him. Then the corners of his mouth turned down. What’s happened? Is he—

Hiero stood as Fritz strode right up to him, and he put his hand on Hiero’s chest. Everything’s fine. Keep your voice down. Face calm. Lamont had an interaction with the queen. I saw him reach for his sword, but he didn’t draw it. She made it safely to the library. She didn’t even see him. I believe his action to be involuntary. I came to report, but I should get back to him, just in case.

Hiero sat back down, nodding as if Fritz had just told him the daily news. You don’t believe he’s remembered?

No. But if you want to make sure—

Hiero’s sigh was intense. Yes! Oh, blessed Ancients, yes! Get me out of here! He slammed his notebook shut and tied it up in the blink of an eye. Hollis, you’ve been relieved. Fritz has me for the rest of the evening. He slipped around the edge of the desk and fairly ran down the length of the workshop, Fritz on his heels. Have a good night! Get some rest!

The crowded courtyard parted effortlessly for them, but Fritz didn’t feel safe asking any questions until they were in the palace and far out of earshot of the busyness. Hiero? What’s going on? I’ve never seen you look so dead in your own workshop.

Hiero sighed. Everything is about the experiment right now, Fritz. If we truly have the means to rewrite a man’s memories and change his loyalties for good, we have a very dangerous, powerful weapon. I can’t focus on anything else. And . . . well . . .

Well?

Hiero paused for a moment, leaning against a hallway wall for breath. He sighed again and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Fritz could swear his eyes were red. Lord Teris was arrested tonight. I had him arrested. I-I had to. This Resistance is getting so big, and . . . and . . .

Fritz moved around him and leaned against the same wall, where he could see Hiero’s face. Hiero, I’ve been gone for months. What Resistance? When did this start? He studied the lines in Hiero’s face, the deep circles under his eyes. He hadn’t noticed them the last time he’d seen the king up close. No, never mind. We need a place to talk. Somewhere private. Is there a room nearby?

Hiero shook his head. There’s no time. If Lamont has remembered, we’re all in danger. We’ll talk later.

Wait! Fritz grabbed for his shoulder and caught only cloak. When, Hiero? I’ve been home for days, and I didn’t even know there was a Resistance! You look like you’re falling apart. What’s going on?

There’s a lot, Fritz. What hallway is Lamont on? I’d like to be hidden before you approach him.

Fritz sighed. He was back to being Lamont’s babysitter. Yes, Your Majesty. He’s one more hall down. What would you have me say?

Hiero smiled, and for a moment, he looked like himself. Something that would make the real Lamont really, really angry.

Fritz walked up the hallway, trying to look more tired than he actually felt. He dragged his feet. He slouched. He could see the edge of Lamont’s shoulder peeking around the corner. He stumbled into the wall and started laughing a bit hysterically.

Immediately, Lamont appeared around the corner, hand on his hilt, prepared for danger.

Ah! Lamont! My friend! Where did you go? I wake up, and you’ve disappeared! How could you do this to me?

Fritz? Are you drunk? How—

Oh, you have it rough, don’t you? Having to stand guard while the rest of us party! He slung his arm over Lamont’s shoulder and leaned in close. You know, that’s why the old king died.

Lamont sighed. Come on, Fritz. Let’s get you back to bed.

No, no! Let me talk! The old king was a fool! He didn’t know his servants were partying, cursing his name to the bottoms of their tankards! He was blind, and stupid, and—

Lamont kept tugging him down the hallway, barely reacting to a single thing he said. I guess I have your shift too, then. Thank goodness I wasn’t feeling tired yet. Blessed Ancients! How did you manage to get drunk in less than an hour? Where did you even get the wine?

Lamont dragged Fritz back to their bedroom, dumped him into his bed, shook his head at him, and returned to his post.

A moment later, the king appeared through the secret passage. Well, that’s pretty conclusive to me. He hasn’t remembered. He didn’t react at all. Not even a twitch.

Fritz groaned. Ah, too bad. I was hoping we could finally get rid of him.

Fritz. Hiero shook his head. Let it go. He’s not that man anymore. We’ve changed him.

Oh, I agree. He’s a changed man. The old Lamont wasn’t nearly this demented. General Reynard was intuitive, cunning, and manipulative. This Lamont is a dull brick.

Hiero came to sit down beside him. Isn’t that a good thing?

Fritz slowly sat up. Yes, from your perspective, that’s a very good thing. The threat is gone. Your weapon is successful. You can start mass-producing them like you did all the others. But I still have to watch over him like a hawk, when I just want to be rid of him for good.

Hiero reached out to him, awkwardly patting him on the knee. It’s been too long, old friend. I don’t even know how to talk to you anymore. I know the desire to kill my half brother, but this is a much more complete torture. I’ve not just captured him; I’ve made him my willing servant. And this won’t last forever. I just need a little more data, a few more weeks, and then I’ll know for certain that Lamont isn’t coming back, and there will be no need for anyone to watch him.

Fritz sighed. Ah, weeks more of awful sleep. How exciting.

Hiero smiled again. There may be a way to speed up the experiment.

Fritz waited for a moment, then sighed. And you want me to ask. Very well. How would we speed up the experiment?

Hiero’s grin didn’t go away. Let’s move to a more comfortable location. We can talk there.

HOURS AFTER SHELIA had spoken to Dairon, she was still in the library, pretending to read. Moments after she’d reentered her reading nook, a shaken librarian had politely peeked in through her curtains and told her that the yell was nothing to be afraid of and that the situation would be under control in a moment.

Shelia could barely hide how shaken she was, and she’d stayed in her chair, mindlessly thumbing through pages, waiting for the bookshelf across from her to be shoved open.

Finally, she pulled herself out of the chair. There was blood on the side of her dress where she had wiped the blade. She arranged her shawl around her waist and hoped the hallways to the king’s bedchamber were clear. By now, Hiero would be done with his tinkering. By now, he would be in the bedchamber, and she intended to find him there.

It was a short walk across the palace to the king’s bedchamber. The halls were dim and quiet. Shadowed guards would kneel as she passed them, and a shiver went down her spine. The Resistance could be anyone near her, and there was no way of knowing. How many others would see her as a useful pawn to save her father? The sooner she was with Hiero, the safer she would feel.

Shelia didn’t know the guard outside Hiero’s door. His long auburn hair was tied with string and tossed over his shoulder, where the length reached his chest. Shelia slowed her approach and bowed her head.

Excuse me, sir, I’m here to see the king.

Of course, my queen. The king is inside. Would you like to be announced?

Shelia breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness he knew her. Oh, no! I like to surprise him. She tripped a little closer as the guard opened the door. I must apologize, I don’t remember your name.

The man gave her a soft smile. It’s no fault of yours. I’ve been away for some time on the king’s business. My name is Fritzgerald Damian.

Shelia grinned. Now, she did know that name. Thank you, Sir Damian. She slid past him through the door. It’s so nice to have you home.

You’re welcome, my queen.

The door creaked shut behind her. Shelia crossed the anteroom to the bedroom doors, and very carefully, she opened one. The door did not creak, and with a silent thanks to the Ancients, she shut it behind her. The lights in Hiero’s room were even dimmer, and she could just make out the shape of Hiero under the covers.

The room was cold, and Shelia pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders. She could see her breath in the air. Even with a shawl, her skin still prickled.

The sound of Hiero’s breath filled the room, wheezing softly. He still had that wheeze from childhood, when he’d come down with a severe cold. Shelia remembered being chased away from his room by maids caring for him, and she’d been forced to find another way in.

That had been the day she’d torn her gown climbing a tree to get to his window. But Hiero had been so happy to see her that he had smiled like she’d just brought the sun into his room.

Shelia walked up to the bed and sat in the space between Hiero and the edge. He slept on his back. His lips were parted, and in the dark, his hair looked bloodred against the pillow. His breath made little clouds in the air. Shelia laid her head against his chest. He was so warm, and his presence made her peaceful. There wasn’t anything to be worried about. Hiero would keep her safe.

She felt his body shift beneath her. His breath changed. A hand brushed against her hair.

Shelia?

She looked up into his face. His eyes were half-closed, and they looked confused. What are you doing here? Is everything well?

She should tell him the Resistance had tried to kidnap her. They wanted her father out of prison. But she looked into his bleary face, and she couldn’t. When the morning came, she would talk to him about it. Father was safe for now.

Shelia laid her head back on his chest. I missed you, she whispered.

Hiero took a deep breath and yawned, stretching under the covers. Oh, hey, come over here. He lifted the covers on the other side. As Shelia shuffled around the bed, he added, I don’t want you falling asleep over here and rolling onto the floor.

Shelia stepped