Frozen Tides (Falling Kingdoms #4)(19)

He reached the city late that afternoon, when the sun had begun to slip behind the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of red and orange.

Felix took a deep breath as he approached the first palace entrance. Two guards crossed their sharp spears in front of him, stopping him from taking another step. He sized them up. Both massive men made Felix’s own tall and muscular frame look puny in comparison.

“Greetings, friends,” he began with a grin. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Go away,” the mountainous guard on the left said.

“Don’t you want to know who I am and what business I have here?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. The name’s Felix Graebas, and I’m here to see his majesty, the king. No appointment necessary. He’s not expecting me, but I assure you he’ll know who I am and want to speak with me personally.”

Two spears now pointed directly at his throat. “And why’s that?” the smaller guard snapped.

He cleared his throat, determined to hold fast to his courage. “Because of this.”

Without making any sudden moves to provoke them to put their spears to use, Felix pulled up his sleeve to show the snake tattoo on his forearm that marked him as a full member of the Clan of the Cobra.

“And?” The guard didn’t seem to know the importance of what he was looking at.

“You might not personally know what this mark means, but believe me when I say that the king will be very angry if he were to find out you turned me away. I’m one of his favorite and most accomplished assassins. I know you wouldn’t want to make the king angry, would you? You both seem like men who value having all of their limbs intact.”

The large guard’s eyes narrowed as he peered at the tattoo again, his lips thin. After a rather torturous silence with the pointy end of both spears still pointed at Felix, the guard nodded once.

“Follow me,” he said.

Felix was ushered into a dark salon off the main foyer. The little room was decked out with a mosaic floor of silver and bronze and massive tapestries on every wall. Hanging front and center was the Auranian crest, which featured a hawk and the credo OUR TRUE GOLD IS OUR PEOPLE.

Felix guessed this room must not be used often since it still displayed a relic of the former royal family.

After what felt like a small eternity, a man came to the archway and peered in at him. He had a sharp nose and black hair that was graying at the temples.

“You are the one who has asked for an audience with his majesty?”

Felix straightened his shoulders and tried to look all official. “I am.”

“And you say you are . . .” He looked down at a piece of parchment in his hands. “Felix Graebas.”

“That’s right.”

The man pursed his lips. “What business do you have with the king?”

“That’s something I need to address privately, with only him.” He crossed his arms. “Who are you? His valet?”

At this, he received a rather unpleasant smile. “I am Lord Gareth Cirillo, grand kingsliege and high advisor to the king.”

Felix whistled. “That sounds fancy.”

He’d never personally met Lord Gareth before, but he was well aware of his name, and that he was the wealthiest man in Limeros, apart from the king himself.

Lord Gareth blinked slowly. “Guards, take this boy into custody immediately.”

“Wait . . . what?” Felix was barely able to move a muscle before several guards approached from behind the archway and grabbed hold of him.

“There is a warrant out for your arrest.”

“What? On what charges?”

“Murder. And treason. It was so kind of you to turn yourself in today.” Lord Gareth gestured toward the archway. “Take him to the dungeon.”

Felix refused to walk at the guards’ violent prompting, so they dragged him. His stolen shoes squeaked and scraped against the decadent floor.

“Treason? No, wait! I have to see the king. He—he’ll want to see me. I have something he wants. Something of great value.” Felix hesitated, not wanting to show his hand so soon but finding he had no other choice. “I have a piece of the Kindred.”

Lord Gareth halted the guards and regarded Felix for a moment of contemplative silence. Then he began to laugh. “The Kindred is only a legend.”

“Are you sure about that? If I’m lying, I’ll end up in the dungeon anyway. But if I’m telling the truth, and you don’t inform the king about it, you’ll end up holding your own severed head in your hands.”

“If you are lying,” Lord Gareth said, narrowing his gaze, “you won’t even make it to the dungeon.”

With a nod from the grand kingsliege, a guard brought the heavy hilt of his sword down against Felix’s head, and everything went black.

? ? ?

When Felix came to, he had only one thought: The dungeon didn’t smell nearly as bad as he would have expected it to. As he pried open his eyes, he realized that was for a very good reason. He wasn’t in the dungeon.

He was in the throne room, lying flat on his back at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the royal dais. And there was the king seated upon the golden throne he’d stolen.

Or won, depending on what side one was on.