The King Trials 2: Beyond.

A sense of unease rouses me awake. A presence. The more that consciousness pours in, the more the pain upsurges, ricocheting through every part of me, blazing between my temples, throbbing. Queasiness rises to the swell at the top of my head, stirring whatever is left of my mind in a cauldron of disarray.

I heave my eyelids open, fluttering, my vision askew. I compress my eyes close and reopen them in an erratic repeat. My sight clears, enhancing. I roll onto my side—a gasp flees from me—lurching back. Primus Kelan sits beside my bed, seated on one of the armchairs. He regards me attentively, like a physician observing his patient with cold calculation.

I try to speak but only dust leaves my lips, my lips parched, my throat arid like the Night Desert. I clear my throat several times, shifting to sit upright.

“Do you remember what happened?”

My mind is so muddled, lost in a sea of confusion.

I gather my throats, accumulating memory partials, bits, and pieces here and there.

“It is not something I wish to recall,” I say raucously. My voice grated, almost unrecognisable. I lift my gloved hands to knead my fingers into my temples in a desperate attempt to ease the deluge of biliousness that rushes at me in waves.

“Well, I cannot seem to forget it.” His gaze sharp, slicing into me as if to spill my indignities, despite that he already knows them all.

I rest my head back. “Where is my dagger?”

He straightens in his seat. His face is like granite. “Why, so you can try to impale yourself again?”

I wince, diverting my gaze to my blanketed lap. “My father gave me that dagger.”

“And you were going to use it to end your life?” His voice riddled with contempt.

“Oh, spare me your judgment,” I spit out. I inhale a serrated breath, recoiling at the twinge in my head like a blood vessel had exploded. “If you intended to berate me so then do what you do best. Leave me. I will not tell you again.”

Kelan leans forward. He settles his elbows on his thighs, staring at me pensively. “And what will you do?” Anger poisons his tenor. “Will you break my wrist as well? Threaten me as you did with the castle guards? I do not fear you—”

“You should!” I bark out. I wrestle for my calm. “Do you not see that my very existence courts death? Those who loath me, fall. Those who care for me, fall. Death does not discriminate, and neither does whatever power dwells in me. Solaris is fallen, and who is next? You?”

Kelan leans back into his seat. He obscures a grimace, hiding it with a neutral look.

“You already risked your life for me once, and I will not endanger your life again. You were right to wedge that distance between us.”

Kelan shuns my gaze. He appears torn, his face twitching, caught between remorse and resistance. “That was nothing. I would do it again and again if it meant safeguarding your life.”

“Kelan.” A wince thwarts his resilience. “These were no ordinary assailants, bandits, or members of a terror faction. This was the Ulris. That blast could have easily killed you; it is a miracle that not any more of us perished.”

“That is because you saved us all before that could happen.”

I avert my gaze.

“Look at me,” he demands.

Night beholds twilight. “You saved us,” he repeats as if it is etched in stone.

“As well as, it was not them,” he says cryptically. His brows knit together in complexity. “They were proxies. Puppets. Vilnus does not yet possess the full strength to breach, that limitation is unbreakable, let alone shadow soldiers infiltrating our tier.”

“Then… how?”

“Vilnus must have been controlling them from Orese.”

“The hellscape of his dominion,” I breathe. Recollections link in my brain. It makes sense. The way they were so connected and how they all boomed with one voice. It was Vilnus speaking through them.

My eyes enlarge. “He is that powerful?” My breathing hitches. “He—could conjure a small battalion of war-ready soldiers at his command. All the way from an alternate dimension?”

A world’s weight of trepidation presses down on my chest, seeking to seal my airways completely.

I clutch my chest, tussling for my composure. “How did—how did he know how to find us? That the tribunal’s supposed task would be the thing to send us to our deaths.” My voice raises. “How would they have known that we would come?”

He shakes his head slowly, every facial feature sculpted by a fine chisel. “Because they did not. That would mean that they were working with them, then they would not have sent their elite guard, top-ranking combatants with you if it were to slay you. No, something greater is at work here. Their qualm correlates with what that ruffian said at the tavern.”

He settles his elbows on the arms of the chair to steeple his fingers. “He called the Avangard, village-pillaging scums. But we would never send troops on foreign soil that would be a declaration of war, and if it were true, both the tribunal and the Adons would have confronted me about it the moment we entered Aelvebore.”

A reminder sprouts in my head. “The last time I spoke with….” I dawdle off my trail of thought. Locating a new route, I say, “The last time I spoke with the late Herem, he told me that the Crown had acquired a few foreign colonies. Is it possible that it had pinched a few that belonged to Nivalis?”

“Without them knowing? They would have retaliated immediately. Nivalis and Urium are well-known for having a strained relationship, the only tenuous peace that exists is through flaccid trade relations. If our military did advance on their territory, they would be quick to strike back.”

I nod stiffly. “So you knew that the Crown was colonising other lands whilst its own is in turmoil?”

Kelan drags out a sigh. “I may be a Primus, but there are things I too do not know. I heard rumours, but I was occupied with my current missions to question them. The Vanguard itself is a mighty force segregated into armies and then battalions. It is a body with many limbs all sprawled throughout Urium. They deal with domestic issues like terror factions and revolts that have caused them to be far flung across the realm, trying to extinguish the flames of insurgence before the fires engulf Urium.”

A forbidding realisation dawns on him. “The Avangard, the superior force deals with… foreign disturbances and other matters that a beyond an average soldier’s capabilities, which is why only metas’ can enlist. They are five legions, and I only possess control over the one. In my absence, General Denport commands them. It is possible that… the Crown could have commissioned one of the four to….” Bafflement screws his face into a complex frown. “That would be impossible.”

I scoff dryly. “That word is meaningless to me now.”

A resounding knock interrupts us both.

The door carefully opens, Greer peeks her head through the small gap. “My apologies, Hera.” Her eyes jump to Kelan. “Primus Kelan, Duce Merian is asking for you.”

“I could use a bath,” I note.

“No.”

Greer and I both look at him with crumpled faces.

He shakes his head quickly. “What I meant is that Greer, you may go draw the Hera a bath and send for a servant to call upon Reinsbure, whatever the Duce needs, my second-in-command, can and will provide.”

Greer nods and recedes.

He looks back at me, and I arch a brow. “Pardon me, Primus, but it seems you have duties to attend to.”

“I will not leave you.” A dark tone leathers his voice. “If I did I would spend my time tortured by the worry if now is the last time I will ever see you alive again.”

My insides twist into a knot.

“In lieu of the recent ordeals. For the sake of your mental health, it is best not to leave you alone. Besides, I made a promise.”

What promise?

I snort bitterly. “Mental health?” Sombreness irons my tone flat. “You needn’t be concerned, I am well. At least better than before.”

His hands drop to grip the arms of the chair, white-knuckling. “I found you at some tavern so inebriated you could barely see, shoving yourself into the maw of danger, anything could have happened to you. Incoherent, vulnerable—you could have easily been taken advantage of.”

His brows collide in a wrathful scowl. “Let us not forget the dagger you held to your own heart. That look in your eye will not cease to haunt me. I was so close to losing it all. So, forgive me if I do not take you at your word that you are well.”

Unable to bear it, I sunder eye contact.

“Do not undermine my concern and do not dare tell me where my responsibilities lie. My place is at your side. And now, you will bathe, rehydrate, eat and rest. Gather your strength. Because it will all begin again.”

He pushes himself out of the seat, rising, towering.

“We leave at first light.”

Primus Kelan P.O.V

She is finally asleep.

Nestled in the embrace of her bed, her head rested on her bandaged hands, newly swathed in fresh linen wraps. Even in her slumber, she fights, battling herself, warring with the demons that torment her, exploiting her guilt. And that malignancy that can only augment her trauma. The evidence of her hair is like the sands of time dwindling in an hourglass.

I want nothing more than to hold her, cradle her in my arms, and console her that whatever she faces, and will still face. She will overcome.

I turn and leave her bedchamber before my will can fail me.

I close the door behind me and exchange nods with Reinsbure on the other side.

“He is ready to see you. They both are.”

“Alone?”

“Affirmative, I will show you the way.”

He leads ahead, and I follow at his side.

He offers me numerous glances, his hand clenching the hilt of his sword.

“Out with it,” I demand.

“If you truly believe that Avangard forces have made ploys on foreign soils, that somehow we are unaware of. Is it wise to alert him of this wrongdoing? What if the Crown sanctioned a deployment with one of the other legions that we were not appraised of? It is not our right to question it nor expose it to a volatile dominion like Nivalis. This might give him cause for a military confrontation that they have been yearning for.”

Fire torches line the stone walls, flickering and crackling, causing its shadows to frolic.

“If the Avangard had taken militaristic action in some form. The tribunal would have been informed, their dominion is diligently monitored by spies and soldiers alike. No, this has to be more than us, I feel as if we have been made a tool for someone’s ambition, an oblivious pawn in a much larger game.”

Reinsbure’s hand falls from the hilt. He nods determinedly. “You are yet to be wrong.”

“What of the others, are they fit to travel?”

“We depart at dawn; they do not have a choice but to be.” Reinsbure throws a superstitious look behind us. “Blackwell, Jura, and Gideon left the infirmary, just scrapes and bruises. The herbs here have potent curative properties.”

His stare agitates my periphery. “What?”

“You could use some of it,” he says lowly. Louder, he says, “When those proxies attacked and when we saw you fall. I—None of us have seen you… out like that. Not even me.” He then makes a disagreeing sound. His worried expression fades. “Though it was not a defeat since you took the fall for another. For the Hera.”

“I do not need herbs,” I say, keeping the topic off her.

“No, just a slap at the back of the head, a good throttling to knock some sense back into you.”

“You would—” I snap left and block his playful attack with my forearm. I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you certain it is me that lost all sense?”

Reinsbure yields and walks on. “That played out differently in my head.”

I break into a smile; discomfort limits its length. “My point exactly.”

Reinsbure and I ascend to the upper level in the eastern quarter. After a series of turns, curious looks from night guards. We arrive at the end of the hallway, approaching guarded, double doors. Expecting our advent, they open the doors for us, and we march inside.

A private bureau. The room is a crescent shape with soaring bookcases that dominate the walls. A flagstone fireplace at the one side blazes with a warm fire. In the centre, Rolin sits behind a furnished desk strewn with parchments, a table-sized atlas spread beneath them.

“Primus.”

“Adon.”

“Reinsbure.”

I glance at him sideways.

He shrugs flippantly. “What? I felt the need to contribute and have my name said in matched coldness. We may not be allies but we can still be courteous, no?”

Rolin flicks him a disinterested glance and sets his gaze on me. “Are you here to blame me for the loss of your Herem? There is enough animosity within our walls as it is, Sergey blames the tribunal for the loss of his soldiers.” His assumption rages into a rant. “How could have anyone predicted that the Ulris would have been present?”

He stands to his feet, fingers splayed on the edge of the desk. “If you are seeking compensation, reparations of some sort for your fallen. It is not our debt to pay, nor is it grounds for any—”

“Are you finished?”

He gawks back at me as if he had been struck. “Pardon me?”

“He asked if you were—”

“I know very well what he had asked of me,” he barks at Reinsbure and I share his scrutiny. “I am merely stunned at the interference. I—”

“I am not here to place the blame at anyone’s feet,” I interject again, silencing him completely. “I want to figure out what is happening. I thought the conflict we are experiencing in Urium was a result of internal strife, but I think it is something more. Something that eludes me. And I know the peril of blindly following orders.”

“You doubt the Crown?” he asks, and a baleful smile banishes his anger. “You believe they have led you astray?”

“No,” I say resolutely.

“Yes,” he corrects with a serpent-like grin. “The Avangard lives to serve the purpose of the Crown, it—you are its weapon. Since that is what the Avangard is, a weapon of devastation that the High King has used to enforce his will.”

“Watch your words,” I advise. “I came here in a show of goodwill. Speak ill of my brethren or my High King again, and you will not like the outcome.”

He folds his arms, sangria-coloured eyes bore through me. “Is that a threat, Primus? I do not respond to them kindly.”

“No,” Reinsbure says casually. “It was a warning. I thought we agreed to keep things courteous?”

“Tell that to him.” He shoots a look at me before reverting his attention to Reinsbure.

Reinsbure’s eyes dart between us both. “Are you having a laugh? This is him being courteous.”

The doors swing open behind us and Okoshere strides inside, a cape of wolf skin dragging behind him. He grunts and greets us with a round of terse nods before he moves to stand at the flank of the desk.

“I need you to tell me more about the power surge, and why you thought it was mere medeises,” I say to him.

Okoshere grumbles something inaudible underneath his breath. “It was as I said. Terror factions recruit them as a means to wreak havoc if our people refused to join. Terror factions that come from Urium.” Resentment corrodes his tone. “We now had to enlist military aid to squash their foothold, rooting them out like the weed that they are.”

He pauses, ruminating over something. “It had been quiet for long while. Before, when attacks were flaring, the energy emanating from medeises with combined power would expel a surge, that is when we knew to strike. Therefore we assumed it was them when another power surge was reported.”

“Show me where in Nivalis the attacks had taken place in the last few cycles.”

Rolin moves swiftly to collect the loose parchments on his desk, piling them in a heap on the side. Okoshere steps closer and examines the detailed map with directional references, grid, legend, and topographic elements.

He starts to call out the names of the places whilst he signals to them with his index finger and after a few names, I can already spot a troubling pattern. I glimpse Reinsbure, and I can see by his grave expression that he too spots it.

“Why these places?” I ask more to myself. I tip forward to motion a circle above the unnamed locales. “These regions are densely populated with cities amassing in numbers. Why not target them?”

“Instead,” Reinsbure chimes in. His hand follows the jagged line like a fissure that connects and runs through the topography of the places named. “As you say, the attacks have been localised in these settlements that are sparsely populated, mere villages and hamlets, sequestered from civilisation.”

Okoshere eyes us both distrustfully. “You have an impressive knowledge of Nivalis geography. One might say too impressive.”

Reinsbure waves him off. “Spare me your theatrics. I could gamble that you have gathered intelligence on every inch of Urium.”

“Isheke,” he agrees. “Every weakness and choke point. It is as I said. I like to be best prepared.”

Reinsbure clears his throat pointedly. I look at him and he nods me over. I pursue him as we gain distance from the two, moving to a corner of the room as we turn our backs to them.

“It is clear that Nivalis was a target for a reason.”

“They are Urium’s neighbouring dominion,’ I add on.

“But what does this have to do with them?” Reinsbure’s whispers grow feverish with frustration. “What does this have to do with terror factions in Urium that claim to be displeased with the current reign of the High King, harassing Nivalis folk?”

I sneak a sly glance at them from over my shoulder. “The Adons and the tribunal may share absolute control. But what are the pillars of every domain?”

Reinsbure mulls it over for a moment. “The military, they enforce the laws… keep the peace. The economy, commercial health. Social stability.”

“And who provides that? People, especially the lowborns, they are the three-legged stool of every society, even though they are overlooked. It was as you and I, both of us orphans scraped from filth and nothing. Then polished and equipped with skills that have made us to be who we are today.” I flick them a glance. “They might hold absolute control, but their power comes from their people. Urium is a prime example that it is vital to have the allegiance of your own. No other foe has the power to destroy quite like an uprising, a revolution incited by your own people. A fracture from within.”

Reinsbure grips the hilt, freeing a litany of curse words. “Your absurd theory is starting to appear a lot less absurd. We cannot even investigate this matter further if it holds to be true. When dawn comes, we are due to depart.”

I nod curtly. “I know—”

“Then it is clear. After we escort the purebloods back to the Pantheon, we assign a new squadron for their protection and they become another’s problem. We have real issues we need to deal with, not babysitting a gaggle of nobles.”

“Yes, I am aware but—I—” I splutter, faltering.

Reinsbure nears my face challengingly, his gaze probing me. “What? This is a matter of our realm’s security. Nothing is more important than that, than the lives of every soul that dwells in Urium that we are entrusted to safeguard.”

“I know,” I mutter back.

“Do you?” His volume peaks. He swaps icy looks with Rolin before he straightens his shoulders again. With his voice lowered, he says, “Or to you does one life value more than them all?”

I hold his gaze for one fraught moment.

I swivel around to address both of them. “I have what I need. We are done here.”

“And thank you for your time,” Reinsbure slips in.

I move to exit. “You know something. Why not share it with us?” Okoshere questions.

“You have not seen the last of me. I guarantee our paths will cross again.”

I open the one door and let Reinsbure pass first.

“Let it not be across battlefield, Primus,” Okoshere says to my back.

I leave and slam the door behind me. Okoshere’s analogy floats back into mind. How the terror faction is a weed. You cut one down, and several more take its stead. That is why it needs to yanked from its roots, and its roots are yet to be located.

We walk down the hallway and only when we round a corner does Reinsbure speaks up again.

“That still does explain why we were called village-pillaging scums.”

“It could have been imposters. Unlikely. The more probable cause is.” The words refuse to leave my mouth. I toss them out. “Soldiers that have gone rouge.”

Reinsbure halts abruptly.

I turn to face him.

You speak of… traitors.” He gives me a full-body scan with a scathing look on his face. “Impossible. Our soldiers are inbred with loyalty with no other priority than the orders we are given. Unless they were commanded to plunder a village—very unlikely—the Avangard is not to blame.”

He thrusts his shoulder into me, jerking my own backwards.

My gaze sinks, exhaling heavily. I follow him.

“And why would you take the word of some scoundrel at a tavern?” He raves, not looking back at me. “All the Vanguard and Avangard has even done is what they were trained to do. Protect. We made vows to the Crown and to Urium. All we have ever done is what is best for Urium.”

I stare at the back of his head. “I never meant to trigger you.”

He wheels on me. “I am not triggered.”

“You are. I merely issued a plausible possibility, and you bit my head off.” Sarcasm leaks into my tone. “There are still a few chunks remaining if you still want to have another go?”

He releases an explosive sigh, releasing his aggravation.

He inhales a soothing breath, and I can see a visible calm settle within him. “Forgive my outburst. I never meant to… react. But the idea of soldiers going rouge is one I cannot comprehend. Even though I was a wreck, you salvaged me and the Avangard gave me a purpose, one beyond myself. A gift bestowed to many. I do not believe that a soldier would do anything other than his duty to protect.”

I clasp my hand on his shoulder and squeeze it. “That is true, old friend. But no being is perfect, not even a soldier. Our past proves that. I know of beings that have done terrible things, for reasons that were once right. I cannot say anything until we confirm whatever the truth is. And as we always do, we will unearth it.”

He nods, varying in the scale of confidence. I pat his cheek and walk on.