The Shadow Throne (The Ascendance Trilogy, #3)(32)

“Then why didn’t that happen?” Tobias spoke gently, knowing his words would add to the crushing ache within me. “If she survived, of course they would’ve used her and not me. So why didn’t they?”

I already knew the answer, though I couldn’t find it in me to speak the words. She had said it herself when we were together. Even if she had survived, she would try to die. She would choose that, rather than allow herself to become a weapon against me.

But this understanding only stirred my frustrations. “Why did she stop that archer? All she had to do was run.”

Mott pressed his lips together, then with the same calmness as Tobias had used, said, “She stopped him because that’s who she was. Don’t be angry for what was best about her.”

Maybe he was right, but I still wasn’t sure that Imogen had been. I dropped my head and said, “Give me hope, Mott. Is there any chance of her being alive?”

He rode for a minute, probably replaying that moment just as I was. His eyes were closed and his face was tense. At last, he said, “I saw her fall from the hill, and I ran toward her, but she was quickly surrounded. They removed the arrow and then called for the wagon to get her.”

“A medical wagon?”

He shook his head slowly, as if that simple movement took effort. “For the burial of the dead. That’s where they put her. I’m sorry, Jaron.”

We went silent. Until that moment, I had almost convinced myself that he would have seen something that could give me hope, one small possibility for her survival. But that wagon would’ve been called for only one purpose.

Finally, I said, “Her mother lives in Tithio, I think.”

“Once we’re back in Carthya, I’ll arrange for a message to be sent to her,” Mott offered.

“No, I’ll do that. I owe her mother that much.” The garlin from my pocket was in my hand again. I started to run it over my knuckles, then changed my mind and replaced it. “Every part of me hurts, Mott.”

“You’ve been through a lot. But with enough time, all wounds will heal.”

“I’m not talking about cuts and bruises.”

“Neither am I.”

“Oh.”

“Jaron, she saved you because you have to save us. She did the right thing for Carthya. But only if you turn her death into purpose, and win this war.”

I knew that was what I had to do, and yet it didn’t make the task ahead of me any less impossible. I only understood now that despite the odds, I still had to succeed.

Little more was said until I pointed to a wide field on our right and directed Mott to have his sword ready. Tobias removed his too, for what good it might do us. Almost under my breath, I said, “Be alert. This is Tarblade.”





Tarblade Bay was the well-disguised home of the Avenian pirates. It was easy enough to spot from the sea, though any unfortunate sailor who came close enough to discover it was sure to be captured and killed. By land, most travelers could move right past the camp and not realize it was there. I had been here just a couple of months ago, and even then had to concentrate to be sure we were in the right place.

Anyone who found it necessary to ride into the pirates’ camp would do so with their sword held out, blade down, to show the pirates he intended no harm. I certainly intended no harm, but I wasn’t holding my sword out either. I would ride in as their king.

The pirates on the edge of camp recognized me immediately and things quickly flew into action. I heard shouts for Erick to come forward, and people calling my name, though it wasn’t in the friendly way I would’ve preferred.

Erick had been the leader of the thieves and was the one who had brought me to the pirates. Eventually, I became the pirates’ king, but left Erick in charge of them here. It was very good news to see he was still their leader. Based upon the expressions staring up at me, I suspected the only reason I remained king of the pirates was that I hadn’t been here for them to challenge me to the death.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Mott asked as we rode deeper into Tarblade.

“I’m sure I don’t,” I replied. “Keep your sword ready.”

My reception wasn’t any warmer once Erick emerged from his hut. He looked much as he did when I first saw him a few months ago, tall and lean with short, fading red hair, and penetrating blue eyes. Some things were new. He had a few recent cuts on his face, and a ragged scar replaced a line of the closely shaved beard along his jawline. He heaved a deep breath when he saw me, then muttered something to a couple of the pirates near him, who left in the direction of the kitchen.

“Who’s this?” Erick asked me, gesturing at Mott and Tobias. “We don’t like visitors at Tarblade. You know that.”

“They’re not visiting. These are my friends and will be welcomed as such.” I was well aware of the danger in my words. It wasn’t yet clear whether I would be welcomed here as a friend.

Mott and Erick acknowledged each other with curt nods. Tobias attempted it, but he was so nervous his spine had forgotten how to bend. I slid off my horse and said to Erick, “You look like you chose the wrong side in a fight.”

“You look worse.” Erick and I headed toward the kitchen as well, with Mott and Tobias leading our horses behind us. “Why are you here?”