The Runaway King (The Ascendance Series, Book 2)

None of us spoke for what seemed like an hour. Slowly Mott lowered his knife and finally Harlowe whispered, “You’re Jaron. But why —”

My heart pounding, I glanced at Mott for help, still unable to speak.

At almost the same time, I heard a sound behind me and Erick climbed through the window. “I saw the light,” he said. “I thought you needed help.”

“I don’t.” Now I withdrew my knife.

Mott put a hand on Harlowe’s arm. “This isn’t who you think it is,” he said. “This boy is one of the finest thieves of Avenia. I’ve seen him before and I know he’s capable of everything he says he is. You should give him whatever he wants. He’ll always get it anyway.”

Erick looked at me. “What are you capable of?”

I ignored Erick and looked at Harlowe. “Whatever coins you have here, I want them. Now.”

Harlowe remained frozen, unable to put together the various explanations of who he had thought I was when we first met, whatever Mott must have told him, and what he was now seeing unfold. Finally, Mott pushed him forward, and Harlowe said, “I don’t have much here.” He reached for a frame on his desk. “But this is made of gold. It’s worth a lot.”

A sketch of a young child was inside the frame. I wondered if it was Nila’s father, or the other child Harlowe’s servant had told me about. “I don’t want that picture,” I said. “But I’ll take the frame.”

Harlowe removed the sketch and set it carefully on the desk before Erick took the frame and dropped it in a bag he’d brought with him.

Next, Harlowe reached for something inside his vest and handed it to me. “You can take this too. It’s also gold.” It was the watch that had belonged to Nila’s father.

I tossed it back at him. “That’s imitator’s gold. It’s worthless.” Unable to avoid Mott’s eye, I added, “Surely you know that I can tell the difference between that and real gold.”

“Obviously you can’t.” Erick frowned at me while holding out his hand. “It’s real enough for my needs.”

“If anyone’s taking it, I will.” I reached for the watch, but Erick swatted my hand out of the way and flashed the blade of his knife. There was nothing to do but give in.

“This boy doesn’t mean anything more to us than imitator’s gold,” Mott said, staring at me. “Give him some coins and he’ll go.”

Harlowe padded to his bookshelf. He pulled out a box from an upper shelf, then walked over to me and said, “Hold out your hands.” I took the bag from Erick, and Harlowe widened the box, letting dozens of garlins fall inside it.

Behind me, Erick actually gasped with delight. Then his eyes fixed on Mott. “What about him?”

Mott looked at me. “You won’t get me, thief.” And he ran from the room.

I pointed to Harlowe and told Erick, “You watch him.” I stopped as I passed Harlowe. “Don’t move. Don’t give him a reason to do anything.” Then I left the room, chasing after Mott.

Mott was waiting for me as I rounded the corner into the main hall. He grabbed my arm and yanked me against the wall.

“What are you doing here?” Mott hissed.

“You should’ve heard the alternative.” Suddenly, there was so much to tell him. About the Avenian thieves who stole across our borders to attack our women and children. About the nobles in Carthya who covered it up. And about my father, who, worst of all, had ignored the pleas of his own people for help. But there was no time. “Why are you here?”

“Can’t you guess?”

“You should be helping Tobias at the castle.” A beat passed. “How’s he doing?”

“Amarinda and Kerwyn will protect him. But there’s talk everywhere of the regents’ vote against you. If you don’t come back now, there might not be anything to return to.”

I stepped back. “And if I don’t finish here, there’s no point in returning.”

“Killing Devlin won’t solve this problem.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I dreaded the words I’d be saying next, and even as I spoke I understood the impossibility of it all. “I have to destroy the pirates. All of them.”

Mott’s eyes flared. “What? This is madness! Not the plan of a king!”

Angrily, I hissed, “Then join those who vote for a steward and let me be!”

I started to march away, but Mott grabbed my arm. “I don’t want a steward in Carthya any more than you do. But your actions only give ammunition to those who think you lack the judgment to be king. You are helping them destroy you.”

Turning back to him, I said, “Why can’t you see this, Mott? Forget the steward and see the dangers for Carthya. This is our only hope not to be destroyed. Our troubles are far bigger than Gregor’s political ambitions.”

Mott wasn’t convinced. “You should’ve let Gregor in on your plans. Other than Kerwyn, there was nobody your father trusted more. Please, come back while you still can.”

“If I do that, how long until the pirates invade Carthya? Is it days, or will they give us a whole week to prepare? I don’t want to be here, Mott, so give me another option. Give me any way in which Carthya has a chance to survive and I’ll do it.”

But he couldn’t. In a voice thick with sadness he said, “Nobody comes back from the pirates, Jaron.”

“I’ve got to. Who else makes your life this interesting?” And I even offered a smile.

Mott breathed out a curse, then said, “If you need me, I’ll be at the church in Dichell. For your own safety, that’s as far as I dare follow you.” I started again to leave, but this time he added, “Give me your knife.”

“What?”

Mott held out his hand, palm upward. “You’ve been gone too long. So give me the knife.”

It was the second time Mott had injured himself to save my secrets. Watching him slice the blade across his arm hurt almost as much as if it had been my flesh. When I took the knife back from him I hesitated, hearing a small sound behind us.

Nila held a small candle out to see us better. “Oh!” she said, startled. Then as she recognized me and saw the blood on my knife, she took a step back. “Oh no.” She turned and ran up the stairs. I didn’t dare call after her. I couldn’t risk Erick hearing us.

“Go now,” Mott said. “I’ll try to stop her before she wakes anyone. And, Jaron, you must come back.”

“I will.” I spoke with more confidence than I felt, but it seemed to comfort him. “And it probably doesn’t matter at this point, but I am sorry.”

Before Mott could respond, I returned to the office, then rushed at Erick who had Harlowe backed against the wall with his knife. I pushed between them and cried, “What are you doing?”

“He asked your name,” Erick said.

I turned to Harlowe. “No, sir, I don’t want you to remember my name. Nor to remember this night.” Then I pulled Erick away. “We’ve got to go.”

Erick’s eyes locked on my bloodstained knife, and Harlowe let out a horrified gasp when he realized what I must have done. “So that’s what you’re capable of,” Erick mumbled. “I underestimated you.”

“He asked for it,” I said, then nodded to Erick. “You go first.”

When he ducked out the window I turned back to Harlowe, who said, “Tell me you didn’t just —”

“Someday I hope you’ll understand.” I spoke so softly I was nearly mouthing the words. “Forgive me.”

Harlowe only shook his head, feeling horrified and betrayed if he felt anything at all. And I climbed down the tree, knowing that this was a crime for which I might never be forgiven.