“My father is dead,” Merit whispered as the last imperial soldier departed, as her father, the king, left Harwen. His eldest daughter remained alone at the city’s Ruined Wall, staring at the slips of parchment naming the dead, the tiny yellow rolls tucked into the wall’s cracks. Behind her, soldiers darted through the courtyard, running with their shields, pulling swords from the racks and spears from the walls. There were so many of them they covered the wall walk with their black leather, blotting out the sun.
Fear had seized her people. The king was gone, a legion of imperial soldiers had collected the king of Harkana. Only Merit stood, ever calm in the confusion, ever aware of who was watching. She ran her hand across the blackened stone of the Ruined Wall, feeling a loose piece between her fingers. She picked it up and crushed it, opening her hand to reveal ash. The emperor has taken my father and given me his servant in return. He’s put a king on the throne I’ve kept warm all these years
A moment earlier, Arko, tired, weary-eyed and half-drunk, had stood shouting in front of the Ruined Wall, issuing his last commands. He had told Merit that Ren had returned from the Priory. Tolemy had sent him home. When Merit asked where was the heir, Arko explained that he had sent the boy on the Elden Hunt to prove his rightful claim to the Harkan throne. “When he returns with the eld horns, he will take Ulfer’s chair in the King’s Hall and sit beneath our family’s banner,” her father had said to her. “Until then, you are Queen Regent in his stead.”
Merit had nearly choked at these words. She would rule, but only until Ren returned, triumphant, and carrying the eld’s horns on his shoulders. Once he came back with his prize, Tolemy’s lap dog would sit on the Horned Throne. Couldn’t her father at least have given the family a moment together to meet the boy? After ten years, were they not due a short reunion, a moment to assure one another that this was indeed the small boy who once crashed through the courtyards knocking over planters? The one who spent his days wrestling dogs and drawing horses in the sand? No. He had sent the boy on the honored hunt without even the slightest hesitation.
A soldier approached, then a second, urging her to leave the courtyard. “Let us take you to safety,” they said. The men wanted her back in the Hornring, but Merit would not cower or hide.
“No,” she said. “It is important for the people, the waiting women and the cooks, to see me, to see their sovereign standing tall and unafraid.” With a wave of her hand, she dismissed them. She brushed the ash from her palm. It had a salty sting that made her fist clench. The Ruined Wall was a place she and her father cherished equally. She had many times seen him standing at the crumbling fortifications, thinking of Ren, of his lost wife, of the sacrifices her grandfather had asked of the kingdom.
When they stood together at the Ruined Wall, Arko would allow her to comfort him. It was the one place where they could speak without arguing—the one place where she felt like his daughter. If only they could agree on the wall’s meaning. They shared a reverence for the ruin, but not an understanding of its importance. When Arko stood at the wall, he saw a call to arms, a wound that would fester until the Harkans had burned down every wall in Solus.
Merit saw something different.
She saw failure. The wall’s broken remnants stood there because her ancestors failed, and Koren had failed, and Arko too. Each Harkan king had failed to stand against the line of Tolemy. Each one thought the sword was their only weapon. Merit knew the Harkan Army alone would never triumph against the empire. The Harkans needed help, allies from every kingdom, if they hoped to erase this scar from their history.
At least Koren had attempted to wield the sword; Arko never even unsheathed his.
Merit breathed a slow breath as she smeared the last remnants of the ashes across her blue dress, kneading its charcoal dust into the finely woven gown.
In spite of the old resentments, the arguments they’d had over her mother, over the kingdom and its tending, she would miss her father. She missed him already and would miss him each time she came to the wall or glanced at its broken stones.
A hand touched her shoulder. It was Shenn, soldiers at his side.
“What did Arko say? Where’s he gone?”
“To Solus. Summoned by Tolemy. My father is to meet the emperor. He will walk through the Shroud Wall and gaze upon Tolemy’s face.”
“He is gone then,” Shenn gasped. “What of Harkana?” he asked as he directed the soldiers, pointing them to unlatched gates and gaping doorways.
“As we feared, my brother has returned from the Priory. He rode with my father, but did not enter the city.” They had heard whispers of the boy’s release and had prepared as best they could. “My father left me in charge of his kingdom for now,” she said.
“Why?” Shenn motioned to the remaining soldiers, telling them to stay back.
“Arko sent Ren on the hallowed hunt. Once he has his horns, he will take the throne.”
“A boy-king fresh from Solus to lead Harkana?”
“In his panic, my father gave Ren the throne without allowing time for us to meet our new liege,” she said, her voice hardening with bitterness.
“So, a ransom will rule Harkan. It’s been decades since one has sat on the Horned Throne. It won’t go well. He’s too young, and too inexperienced. He’s not Harkan, not truly. The Harkan lords will not kneel to Tolemy’s lackey.”
Merit knew as much. “We will have open revolt—it happened in Feren and it will happen here,” she said, her eyes filling with tears of worry. If the boy could not hold the kingdom together, what would become of them? Will some lowly Harkan lord try to pry the kingdom from our family?
“I won’t let it happen,” said Merit.
“Agreed. Arko was always too rash. He should have named you as regent for a longer term—at least until the boy had lived in Harkana for a number of years. The child needs time to curry favor among the lords, and to learn the ways of the kingdom.” Shenn was right, of course, but her father did not think in such terms. A king was an absolute ruler, that’s what her father would say. A king was subject to the emperor and no one else. But Arko lived in a world that no longer existed. He respected rules that were no longer applicable. The power of the Harkan throne was tenuous; every bit of power in the empire was tenuous. The Priory had weakened the old lines, humiliating the royal sons of the lower kingdoms, fomenting insurgencies and agitation among the common folk.
“Where is your sister?” Shenn asked.
“Where do you think?”
Shenn nodded. They both knew Kepi was in Blackrock or Badr, hiding with the boy she believed she had kept secret. But Kepi’s waiting women answered to Merit, and they knew her habits, what the black cloak meant.