The Shadow Throne (The Ascendance Trilogy, #3)(11)

“Because they were ridiculous and stupid.”

“Well . . . yes. But they weren’t evil. All they knew about me was the boy my father had sent away from the castle. If I were still that boy, then they shouldn’t have allowed me to rule. If they didn’t trust me to lead, that was my fault.”

Now Roden stood. “But they follow you now — they bow because they respect you, not just your title. It’s different for me. I am not worthy of my position, and you know it.”

“How dare you doubt me?” My anger was sudden, but justified. “Why do you think I went to the pirates? For the pleasure of their company? For entertainment? It certainly did no favors to my health. I came for you, Roden. I risked my life for you. So don’t you ever again disrespect the risks I took by claiming you weren’t worth it!”

“I’m only a displaced orphan,” he mumbled.

“So am I!” Then my voice softened. “But I’m also a king, and you are my captain. Doubt yourself, if you must, but you will not question me!”

He stepped back, then lowered his head. “I can read a battle and I can swing a sword, and my strategies are good if anyone will listen. But they don’t. I can’t do this job if they won’t give me respect.”

“Nobody gives you respect in this life. You must take it, you must earn it, and then you must hold it sacred, because no matter how hard respect is to attain, it can be lost in an instant.” I nodded my head toward the garrison. “Go get it, Roden. People won’t follow a leader who doesn’t know where he’s going. Show them that you do.”

Roden nodded, and then started walking beside me back down the hill toward the garrison. “I do know where we’re going, and I will get us there. Jaron, with this army, I’m going to hold this border until all of Gelyn surrenders to you.”





By the time we returned to camp, the dead were being separated from the wounded, and the healthy prisoners had been disarmed and placed in an enclosed area of the garrison that seemed to serve as a temporary prison whenever the need arose. They looked crowded and uncomfortable in there, but I figured they had survived the battle, and we would treat them better than they’d do for us. They had nothing to complain about.

“Call your men to attention,” I said to Roden. “Talk to them as their captain.”

“And say what?”

“Well, they did just win a major battle,” I scowled. “You might mention that.”

He called the men into lines, but someone replied that first they were building a fire for the bodies. Roden glanced over at me and I arched an eyebrow, waiting to see what he’d do. He called again for his men, but this time he was roundly ignored. I had no intention of helping him here. In fact, stepping in would be the worst thing I could do. It’d suggest to the men that he needed my help, that they only had to obey him when I was nearby. So I stood back and waited.

The fire was being built just outside the garrison. The bodies of the dead had not yet been placed — a strong, hot fire was needed first. On this rocky soil, it would be the most respectful end we could give them.

Beside me, Roden watched it too. Many of the men working at the fire were the ones who had been with him from the first attack. They were good warriors, some whom I had admired since my earliest years. A few of them had even taught me at times. But at the moment, they were in the wrong.

Finally, Roden nodded his head as if he had come to a decision. He grabbed a bucket and walked out of camp. Only a minute or two later, he returned, this time with the bucket so full that water sloshed from all sides as he carried it. He walked directly up to the fire, and just as the first sparks were beginning to take hold, he splashed it all over the wood, making sure plenty splashed onto the men too.

I choked back a laugh, slightly shocked and greatly amused. Really, that was better than I’d expected from him.

The men immediately responded by withdrawing their swords. Roden raised his as well and a sort of standoff began. I started forward — it felt natural that I should. But again, I reined myself in so that Roden could speak. Still, I kept a hand near my own sword and hoped he knew what he was doing.

Now that he had their attention, Roden shouted, “I am your captain, and I have given you an order!”

The men kicked at the dirt, clearly not convinced, but they lowered their weapons.

“You will all form a line,” Roden said. “The king is with us and he will see you now.”

I wasn’t sure if they lined up because Roden was demanding it, or out of deference to me. But either way, the men immediately created two rows on either side of the garrison’s narrow courtyard.

Roden began by addressing the men. “You fought well,” he said. “Another battle is coming soon and so I hope you will get some rest tonight.”

He looked over at me and I muttered, “That was the worst speech anyone has ever given. Ever. Work on that too.”

He only rolled his eyes and then followed at my side as we walked down one row, assessing the health of each man and trying to get a picture of what strength still remained.

As I passed, one older man touched my arm. I stopped to give him my full attention and he immediately went to one knee. “King Jaron, do you remember me?” he asked. I shook my head, and he said, “When you were ten years old, your father commissioned me to make you a gift, a sword.”