The Ruin of Kings (A Chorus of Dragons, #1)

Nothing happened.

I didn’t have time to debate if I was doing it wrong or if Emperor Sandus had somehow given me a ring that was defective. “Galen, you need to run. Run out of here, leave the palace, and go to the Citadel.” I shook my head. “I’m an idiot. I never thought he’d make his move this quickly.”

“Who? What?” Galen’s eyes narrowed. “This is your fault?”

“Galen.” I reached over and grabbed his arm. “Those guards are dead. Dead, do you understand? But they’re still moving. That’s Dead Man’s work. You do remember Dead Man?” I’d have used the name Gadrith, but it would have just confused matters.

Galen blinked and nodded. “Thaena…”

“If he’s moving in the open like this,” I told him, “then we don’t have time to argue.”

Someone clapped, slowly, from the other end of the hallway. My blood chilled. As I turned, I reached up to clasp the Stone of Shackles around my neck: it was lukewarm, because the man I faced had no intention of killing me.

Gadrith D’Lorus stood at the end of the hallway, black robes pooling on the marble floor around him. “Truly spoken, young man. You don’t have time to argue. Or time for anything.” His smile was terrible. “I don’t believe I’ve yet had the pleasure, Your Highness, but it’s long past due you and I met in the flesh.”

“Run,” I told Galen as I pulled out my sword.

Gadrith cocked his head and stared at me. The sword in my hand turned red hot. The coating of steel covering the drussian core melted and dripped off, making me glad I had my protections from fire. The sword itself was largely intact, because … well … I’d been expecting him to do this. That’s the whole reason I’d taken the time to acquire a sword that only looked like it was made from Quuros steel.

“I—” Galen turned to flee.

Galen’s legs froze together as if they were wrapped with rope and he was pulled hard off his feet. He hit the floor with a loud thud.

I remember thinking, I suppose this settles whether he’s Talon, but the consolation was scant.

“Stay,” Gadrith said. “I insist.”

Fighting Gadrith alone hadn’t been part of my plans at any point. Seen close up, in person, Gadrith’s resemblance to his so-called “son” Thurvishar was the wispiest and most unconvincing of phantasms. His skin was pale and the hollows under his eyes made his face look skeletal. His black hair fell in stringy curls around his face, like dead, withered moss. He looked of the gallows, an impression that had not changed by the smallest degree since I had first laid eyes on him—over four years earlier.

I stared at him and wondered if I could take him. But I was wearing enough talismans to be more witchhunter than mage at that moment, reducing my repertoire of spells to simple cantrips like returning my sword.

Likely not.* It was kind of the whole reason we’d all insisted on giving Emperor Sandus the honor of being the one to take Gadrith down.

Still, I didn’t have much choice. At least I was still wearing the Stone of Shackles: Gadrith didn’t dare kill me outright.

But as I ran toward him, the ground under my feet melted and flowed, marble turning to liquid and then hardening only after I had sunk to my calves. The entire length of floor rose up, trapping my arms and sword, keeping me pinned. And since the magic hadn’t affected me directly, the talismans had been no help at all.

Thurvishar stepped out into the hallway behind his adopted father.

“Bring them both,” Gadrith told Thurvishar. “We have many things to discuss.”



* * *



We were a somber party. Galen was unconscious or faking it, and Gadrith didn’t seem inclined to make conversation. Thurvishar pulled small pins out from his robes and began murmuring over them as we walked, then sticking the pins into my misha.

Talismans, I realized. He was making talismans for me, far in excess of what my magical aptitude required, thus ensuring I could cast no spells of my own.

“How did you get here so fast?” I asked him. I had to find a way to delay them. Teraeth was out there somewhere. Sandus was out there somewhere. “You can’t have had more than five minutes once Darzin found you.”

He gave me a sympathetic glance, but didn’t answer.

Thurvishar brought both of us to the main ballroom where the rest of the family was being gathered. Many of them had no idea I’d returned before I was dumped on the ground next to them. A piece of shaped rock bound my arms and legs. I couldn’t move, run, or fight. I could only struggle against shackles made of solid marble, molded to fit me perfectly.

Undead soldiers, still wearing the livery of the house, stood watch along the walls and all their unliving attention focused on their prisoners. I saw my uncles Bavrin and Devyeh—I mean, my brothers Bavrin and Devyeh—plus my great-aunt Tishar. There were also all the cousins who were, I suppose, nieces and nephews. No one who looked like Teraeth though, which meant he was still at large. An unpleasant lump forced its way down my throat as I saw an unmoving Lady Miya, lying on the floor next to a comatose Therin D’Mon.

“You bastards. If you—”

“They’re asleep,” Gadrith said. “I’m not of a mind to deal with sorcerers.”

Darzin walked into the ballroom, leading several young women. One of whom, I noted in a distracted way, was Sheloran D’Talus, now dressed in blue.* She ran over to Galen and bent down next to him, her eyes widening as she saw me.

“Is that everyone?” Gadrith asked.

Darzin shrugged. “Pretty much. One groom in the stables is causing some trouble, but nothing that should interfere with what we’re doing.”

“Darzin, you slime. This is your family!” I screamed at him.

He looked over at me and smiled. “I’ll be the head of my own family when we’re done here.” He tilted his head at Gadrith. “Do you have everything you need?”

“Not quite.” Gadrith snapped his fingers at two of the zombies. “Bring that table over here.”

I watched as the undead did as ordered. I thought about my options. Teraeth was still out there somewhere. I had to think that if they’d already encountered him and killed him, gloating Darzin would have bragged about it. As soon as either Teraeth or Tyentso realized something was wrong, they’d bring in Emperor Sandus.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know how much time that would take, and whatever was about to happen here, it was a sure guarantee I wouldn’t like it. The trick remained to discover what I could do about it. My skill with sorcery was currently hampered, and even if I wasn’t wearing all these talismans, I was unlikely to best two wizards of D’Lorus caliber. Then there was the fact my entire family was gathered into this room, with huge potential for collateral damage.

I found myself grateful that at least Tyentso and Teraeth hadn’t been caught in this. Indeed, it seemed likely my enemies had no idea they existed.

The idea was almost a comfort.

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