The Shadow Throne (The Ascendance Trilogy, #3)(65)

I was taken to Conner’s office, or perhaps it was considered Vargan’s office now. Conner’s wide desk was gone, as were his books and other decorations. Over the past several months, nearly everything of value had been stripped from this place. Vargan rose from a simple wooden chair that must have been intended as a temporary throne. Conner was already standing behind him, arms folded and dressed in all his former finery. He appeared to have aged considerably in the prison, but now, with his hair washed and combed neatly back, he looked rather distinguished, a weak facade for his rotting soul inside.

Vargan immediately spoke. “You gave yourself up, Jaron. Why?”

“I needed medical supplies for my men.”

“Are you surrendering?”

My jaw tightened. “Call it that if you’d like.”

“Then you will kneel.”

I had known this was coming, but my muscles instinctively locked against his command. It was not in me to kneel to another ruler.

Behind me, Commander Kippenger took exception to my hesitation. He kicked behind the knee of my right leg, which immediately buckled. I collapsed to the floor, and when I tried to rise, he pressed his foot down on my calf, ensuring I maintained a kneeling position.

“Very good,” Vargan said. “The terms of your surrender are this. I will be the emperor of these lands. Carthya will become a tributary to Avenia. One half of everything Carthya produces will be sent to me. Carthya will be subject to my commands and my laws, but the people will be allowed to maintain their own customs under the leadership of King Bevin Conner.”

“Then we have a problem,” I muttered. “Carthya has no customs regarding enslavement, especially to a country of swine. That puppet who stands beside you will be overthrown before the year’s end, and Carthya will rise against Avenia until we are free again.”

“Perhaps they’ll try,” Vargan said. “But you won’t be here to see it. The final term of surrender is that you must go to the gallows.”

“Not here.” I shook my head. “I am a king. If you will do this, it must be at my castle in Drylliad.”

“Yes, Commander Kippenger told me of your objections. But I’ve already gone to the trouble of having the gallows built here. And besides, I know you intended Drylliad as a trap for me.”

“Not for you specifically,” I said. “Let me live until Conner is made king and tries to make his home there. I wish to see what my soldiers do to him upon his arrival.”

“Your soldiers have been notified of the surrender and were summoned here to Farthenwood, unarmed, to witness your execution,” Conner said. “A special command was sent to Lord Harlowe and his regents to attend. From the gallows you will order their loyalty to me, and they will agree, or follow you to their graves.”

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Harlowe’s reaction when he heard of this. Harlowe would never agree to follow Conner. By the end of tomorrow, he would be dead too.

“The papers of surrender are being drawn up even as we speak,” Vargan said. “You will sign them at first light and die immediately after.”

“That doesn’t give me much time, then,” I said.

“For what?”

My glare began at Conner, then moved back to Vargan. “Not much time to win this war. You two had better spend tonight preparing your souls for the devils’ lair. Because after tomorrow, that’ll be your home.”

Kippenger jerked on my chains, forcing me to my feet. Vargan raised a hand to strike my face, but slowly lowered it.

Conner said, “I’ve reserved a spot for him in the dungeons. Jaron will know the place well.”

And as had happened months before, I was dragged from the room. But this time I did not go kicking and screaming. I was taken away without breaking my glare from Vargan’s face. I might have been the one in chains, but he was the one who looked afraid.





I’d had the key to my chains folded in my palms since Terrowic first pulled me off his horse. I had expected him to protect it better since I’d already stolen his keys once before, but he was so angry when he grabbed me that he didn’t even think to check his pockets. I had hoped they’d leave me alone in an upstairs room long enough to make an escape there, but they didn’t. Besides, as far as I could tell, I was without friends anywhere at Farthenwood, so my escape would be brief and my recapture painful.

As they led me down the stairs toward the dungeon, I heard the sounds of another person already imprisoned there and tilted my head to see who it was. Roden was chained in the center of the room, the very spot where Mott had whipped me once. He still wore his captain’s uniform, though it was torn and filthy. With his arms raised, I noted he was thinner than he had been before, but stronger too. He was also bruised along one side of his face, a mark of how poorly his last battle had gone. As bad as he looked, it was a blessing that he was still alive. Well, alive for now. I suspected his was the neck intended for the second noose.

When he saw me coming down the stairs he glanced to his right and mumbled something. He wasn’t alone, then. I wondered who had been captured with him. Maybe the commander of Bymar, or one of the men I’d sent with him.

I didn’t see who it was until we reached the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner. Once I did, time itself paused. Everything but that single moment vanished, and I feared it was some horrible joke of the devils. For on the far wall, a girl with long brown hair and tea-colored eyes was slowly rising to her feet.