The Shadow Throne (The Ascendance Trilogy, #3)(30)

I shook my head. “Turn the boat around. We need a safe place to land inside Avenia.”

Mott grimaced and his fists clenched. Something about me kept Mott at the edge of his temper, or beyond. At least this time I understood why, and tried to hedge the argument by saying, “I have reasons.”

He wanted to yell at me — I knew that, and he would’ve been justified in doing so — but he only took a deep breath and said, “Remember where we are, Jaron. We are nearly to Carthya, where we can dock safely. Your orders will take us deeper inside Avenia.”

“We’ll dock in Avenia, preferably on their western shore.” Mott groaned, and Harlowe started to object, but I said, “It’s a safer plan anyway. It won’t be hard for Vargan to get men on the Carthyan side of the swamp. They could be waiting for me there. Nobody expects me to stay in Avenia.”

“There’s a reason nobody expects it,” Mott said. “It’s too foolish, even for you.”

I turned back to Harlowe, to give him the details he would need for this next phase of the war. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he said once I had finished. “But at least tell me why you’re staying in Avenia.”

I shared a look with Tobias and Mott before I said, “We’re going to the pirates. It’s time they answered the call of their king.”





Our landing at an Avenian dock was so easy, I almost wanted to remind Mott that I had made the better choice. Of course, we had a dangerous road ahead and so it was too early for any celebration. Mott, Tobias, and I were still dressed as Avenian soldiers, which would help us move through the countryside without trouble. At least, I hoped there wouldn’t be trouble. Much as I tried to hide it, Mott clearly understood that I was in no condition for a fight.

The three of us left the boat; then I ordered the rowers and coxswain to return my prime regent safely to Drylliad. I reminded Harlowe of my strategies, but was firm that his first priority was to send out a search for Princess Amarinda. If Fink made it to Bymar, then I hoped he would either stay there where it was safe, or return to Carthya in the company of Bymar’s army and under their protection.

To avoid any argument, I explained only what was necessary of my plans. Mott’s mouth was pinched in a thin line of disapproval and Harlowe didn’t look much happier. Tobias clearly thought I had gone insane during my time in captivity, and as that wasn’t entirely impossible, I didn’t contradict him. In the end, they agreed to all that I asked, and Harlowe made Mott and Tobias promise to keep me safe. Mott replied that he could protect me from everyone but myself, which I thought was a fair compromise.

After Harlowe left, Mott, Tobias, and I obtained some food and three sturdy horses from a farmer on the outskirts of the swamp. Vargan’s camp was farther south than our position, and I hoped our path would keep us far from there. I couldn’t stomach the thought of returning, willingly or not.

Gradually the sun rose at our backs. We were heading west at a slower pace than I wanted, but Mott insisted I preserve my strength and recover from the past several days. Patience had never been a virtue that interested me, and certainly one I had never courted. But for now, it was a necessary one. When night fell, I arranged for an inn where we could spend the night with a good sleep. With our black and red uniforms, and my Avenian accent, nobody gave us a second look.

I felt much better the following morning, and even managed a meal of real food, or the closest thing to it in Avenia. Once we were on the road again, Tobias asked, “Shouldn’t we turn farther south to reach Tarblade?”

“We have another stop first,” I said.

Mott groaned. “You remember we’re deep in enemy territory, correct?”

“The people here aren’t my enemy,” I said. “Only their king. I need to send a message.”

“Carried in the hands of an Avenian? Jaron, you might not consider these people your enemy, but they won’t look so kindly upon you. If you had a message to send, it should’ve gone with Harlowe yesterday.”

“A fine idea, if I’d have thought of it yesterday,” I snapped.

We rode for another half hour before we came to the edge of the thieves’ camp, the place where I had first been taken on my way to the pirates. It had always been a bustle of activity, and I’d expected the same liveliness now.

But it was different this time.

I left my sword in place as we rode into camp, but had my hand ready, just in case. The few men still there came to their feet to greet us, but they looked more like scavengers than thieves. A few were armed, but nobody went for their weapons. I recognized a few men but most of them were new faces. I had no friends here.

“You’ve picked us over enough!” a drunken man shouted through blurred words. “None of us here can fight — the last group of soldiers knew that and left us alone.”

With some nervousness, Mott and Tobias looked at each other, and I remembered how we were dressed.

“What happened to the others who were here?” I asked. “Did they volunteer to fight?”

“Volunteered at the point of a blade,” a man said. “They took everyone who might be of use.”

Another man sauntered forward, staring at me. “How old are you, boy? You’re no soldier. Or no leader amongst them, if you are.”

“No leader amongst Avenian soldiers, no.” When I removed my helmet, there was enough of a reaction that it was clear some of them knew me. “My name is Jaron. I am the king of Carthya, king of the Avenian pirates, and a friend of Erick’s, who was in charge here. If you don’t wish to fight for Vargan, then join me now. Ride with me and let’s leave this place.”