“Brute strength and good aim aren’t going to get you anywhere on this quest of yours, Haden. You lack the proper training. You’re a simple foot soldier, not a Champion. That takes brains, not brawn. Do you have any idea how to convince this Boon to return to the Underrealm with you? Do you know how to manipulate someone into doing and saying exactly what it is you want from them? Because all this little fight proved is that I do. You played your part so well, little nursling.”
I open my mouth, ready with a comeback, but all I can think is that no matter what I say, it’ll be exactly what Rowan expects.
“And when you do fail in this quest, I’ll be the one the Court turns to, to clean up your mess.” His smile widens. “No matter what you do, I’m still going to be the one who wins.” He sweeps through the doorway.
I can’t help it. A great, raging burst of lightning escapes my hand. I fling it at Rowan. The electricity explodes against the heavy golden doors just as they bang shut between us. The force of the lightning ricochets off the gold and takes out the two alabaster statues that stand guard at the exit. I throw my hands over my head to shield myself from the flying stone bits.
Only Dax and Garrick remain in the corridor with me—the only witnesses to my losing control. But I can feel Rowan’s smugness seeping under the doorway as he walks away with his adorers.
I think I even hear laughter.
The blood from my head wound drips off my chin and pools in the hollow of my collarbone. My hand is black and singed. Sweat prickles up from my pores as my body tries to cool the hot electrical currents that swirl inside my chest.
Garrick steps close to me. Too close. I smell the stench of Keres on him. I think he is about to bow down in front of me and thank me like I’m some sort of Hercules for saving him. Instead, he uses his uninjured arm to push against my chest as hard as he can. His weak shove has no effect on me, but the rage on his face does. “You stupid brute,” he practically spits.
I blink at him in surprise. “That’s no way to show gratitude, Lesser,” I say, pushing him away from me.
“Gratitude? Do you know what you’ve done?” He tries to take a swing at me with his good arm, but I block it, forgetting about my burned hand until pain reminds me. “You tried to make Rowan invoke elios on my behalf.” Garrick gingerly clasps his dislocated shoulder. “This is nothing compared to what he’ll do to me now. And then he’ll take his accusations of theft to the Court. I’ll be dead by the end of the week.”
I take a step back. Garrick had been sentenced to work in the Pits—a life of hard labor: caring for the monstrous Keres, which were banished to the depths of Tartarus centuries ago—after he was accused of stealing from the palace. A second strike against him—if the Court believed Rowan’s accusations of trying to steal the armor of an Underlord—and the punishment could possibly be even worse than death.
Garrick charges at me, swinging his good arm. I grab him by his fist. His fingers are stained green from working in the Pits, and he’s so underfed, from years of fighting for scraps with the other Lessers, I could crush his hand if only I squeezed.
A buried memory flits through my brain, and I remember how Garrick had tried to help me when my mother collapsed.…
No, I tell myself. What Garrick did wasn’t help. Lessers serve. It’s what they’re born to do.
“Get away from me, Lesser!” I thrust his hand away. “Don’t you dare touch me with your dung-stained fingers. Your kind has already left. Follow them.”
I raise my fist as though I’m going to attack him if he doesn’t listen. Garrick rushes toward the golden doors.
“You might want to consider leaving that armor here,” Dax says.
Garrick skids to a stop. He hurriedly and clumsily pulls at the straps of his breastplate, but he can’t free them with only one hand. His face reddens as he glances back at us. I look away. Dax sighs heavily and then goes to help him. Once the boy is free, Dax tells him to visit the healing chambers.
“Lessers are not allowed …,” Garrick starts to protest.
“Tell them that Champion Haden sent you,” Dax says.
Garrick nods and exits without another word. I hear his feet slapping against the marble floor as he runs away. The sound of it sends another flash of unpleasant memories through my mind. Garrick’s sandals had made that same noise when I sent him running to fetch my father when my mother needed help. I remember how long I waited for my father to return with him. I remember how I …
The shame of those memories overwhelms me. Suddenly, all I can think about is the blood that stains my face. I try wiping it away with my leather wrist cuff but I can tell it only smears the blood more. The wound won’t stop bleeding.
“I have to go.” I step quickly away from Dax and head toward the exit, bits of alabaster statue crunching under my feet. “The Court can’t see me like this. He can’t see me. If they call me back in there”—I gesture toward the throne room where my father remains—“I have to go.…”
“Lord Haden, wait,” Dax says. “You should remain here, in case—”
“I can’t.” I pull away from him and flee from the antechamber as fast as possible. If the Court is going to punish me for what happened with Rowan, they’ll have to come and find me on their own.
chapter four
DAPHNE