Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(87)

Chloe felt her breathing come in gasps as she stopped what she was doing and climbed to her feet.

‘The sun king demands your presence,’ one of the soldiers said.

‘Come with us,’ the other growled.

The first man gripped Chloe tightly by the upper arm as they marched her out of the women’s quarters, through the corridors and waiting chamber, to the sun king’s throne room.

Guards lined both sides of the rectangular space facing the throne. Behind it, a cool breeze blew in through the open doors leading to the terrace. The two guards stood on either side of her as Chloe glanced up at the man on the throne.

This time, she didn’t prostrate herself, and no one asked her to.

Solon looked terrible.

He had lost more weight, even though only a couple of weeks had passed. His eyes were dark sunken pits and his cheeks were as tight as drums. He started to speak and then burst into a fit of coughing. When he finally finished, he touched a white cloth to his lips, and Chloe saw red.

‘King of kings,’ Chloe said. ‘How are you?’

He placed a hand on his chest and winced, before straightening with an effort as he looked down his sharp nose at her.

‘We took gold,’ he said, ‘but not enough.’ His voice was still clipped and precise, but it was weaker than when they had last spoken. ‘And now I can feel that the end is near. The Seer’s prophecies always come true. This is the year I will die.’

‘If there is anything I can—’

He held up a hand for silence. Chloe stopped. The sun king swallowed with pain and it was some time before he spoke.

‘I need to speak with you about this very subject.’ He nodded to a distant figure, and Chloe saw one of his magi come forward, the man’s yellow robe indicating dedication to the sun god. As she recognized the dark-eyed magus who had questioned her when she first administered to Solon in his bedchamber, he handed Solon a sack, before bowing and withdrawing.

Chloe’s eyes widened with horror as she recognized the sack, but she fought to remain calm. She had made it this far; she had to be strong.

‘One of my magi smelled my tea and told me something that I initially did not believe,’ Solon said. ‘But on my return we searched your chambers and found these.’

He reached into the sack and withdrew a single flower pod, greenish-purple, with a circular crest on top.

‘Tell me, Chloe of Phalesia, follower of Aeris, skilled healer,’ he said, speaking in a low voice that filled Chloe with dread. ‘Are these what the magi say they are? Are these things . . . flowers of bliss?’

Chloe tried to speak with a firm voice. ‘They are a powerful medication for easing pain—’

‘They are banned by law,’ Solon said softly. He drew himself up on the throne, leaning forward, looming over her. His expression shifted from pain, to anger, to vengeful rage. ‘You have had me drinking milk of the poppy!’

‘If it eases your pain—’

‘My pain—’ he cried, and then broke off, coughing. He started again. ‘My pain is merely my soul passing through the jagged gates of Ar-Rayan. We know what you have been doing. We know where you have been going to get these . . . things.’

He stood, stepping down from the dais and walked forward to loom over Chloe.

‘Come,’ Solon said.

With guards on both sides of her, Chloe had no choice but to follow. Solon walked to the terrace, passing through the archways and standing out in the open air. He turned and waited for her approach.

The terrace was a pleasant place, overlooking the city and the broad river, with colorful flowers in pots and a wide central basin filled with water.

It was devoid of people, and Chloe couldn’t see what Solon wanted to show her. When she reached him he walked to the edge of the terrace and clutched onto the rail with bony fingers. Leaning forward, he looked down.

Chloe came to stand beside him.

There was a lower level of paved stones and spiky plants in gardens that she hadn’t previously been aware of. It was far larger than the terrace, and she guessed it had something to do with the soldiers.

The wide space was revealed to her as she came closer to the rail, until she stood alongside the sun king.

She followed his gaze.

‘No!’ she moaned.

Tomarys was bare-chested and crimson blood covered his torso. His head lolled to the side, exposing his neck. Whip marks covered every part of his skin and his trousers hung in shreds.

His feet weren’t touching the ground.

Looking down, Chloe saw a vertical wooden stake holding him up. It entered his body somewhere between his legs and traveled up through his insides, emerging from his mouth.

‘I watched every moment of it,’ Solon hissed. ‘I made sure it went in slowly. Your betrayal was unexpected, but I understand it, you are my prisoner here. His, on the other hand, was not.’

Chloe couldn’t look on, but nor could she look away. The only man who had shown her any kindness had been given the worst death imaginable. And it was all because of her.

‘He told us everything,’ Solon said. ‘About your daily quests to find more flowers of bliss. He would not say that you planned to increase the dose to cause my death, but to me that is clear.’

Chloe realized that Tomarys had stayed loyal to her even in the face of unspeakable pain. He hadn’t told his torturers about training her in the arena, or about his gift of the amulet that even now hung around her neck.