The Source (Creasan #1)

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Fendrel had followed his brother through the palace, all the way to the king’s bedchamber, trying desperately to convince him not to go ahead with it. But it was as if his ears had been stuffed with cotton. “Brother,” Fendrel tried again, “I think it will only stir more unrest to see a young girl—“

Favian kicked his shoes aside and whirled on Fendrel. “Yes, but she’s not just any young girl, is she? Were you not the one to tell me so?”

“The public doesn’t know that. They will only see the king beating a young girl for a seemingly petty crime.”

“Petty? She tried to murder me!”

“And failed, because she is nothing more than a child.” Fendrel drew a breath to collect himself. He’d learned long ago that shouting did nothing to win his brother over. Favian had to be eased into any decision. “There have been grumblings outside of Vuterra.”

Favian paused in shedding his satin vest. “Where?”

He sighed. “The Gentis District.”

“The ogres?! Why are you just now telling me of this?”

“I wanted to come to you when I had more information but it seemed like something you need to hear now.”

Favian sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his eyes. “What sort of grumblings?”

“The kind that lead to alliances with The Source.”

The king shook his head as he stared off into the distance. “We are descended from greatness. Our ancestors fought the bloodiest war in our history, and they won. They brought stability to a people who had practically never known the word. Sometimes it feels as if you and I are the only ones who remember that.”

Fendrel looked at his brother sadly. These past few months had been harder on Favian than any other. Since Fendrel was a child, he had admired his brother, his strength and intellect. But sitting there, on his bed with only the flames of the fireplace to light his face, Favian looked very old. Withered away both inside and out. “I think they remember,” Fendrel said softly. “I just don’t think it’s enough anymore.”

“Aestus will return you know.” Favian turned his green eyes to his brother. “He will. And if it is not a Lance sitting on the throne when he does, there will be chaos.”

Fendrel nodded. “Which is precisely why we cannot allow this to go further.”

Fendrel could see his brother thinking, see the gears moving and shifting as he thought it over. “How certain are you that she’s the one?”

“I’d stake my life on it.”

“Good.” Favian stood, crossing the room to rest his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I will send word to the cities tonight to tell them who we have in our custody. Come morning, she shall receive punishment. And if you are wrong, brother,” he said, “I will have your head.”

Wind whistled sharply in the morning sky, blowing snowflakes listlessly from side to side. Thea stared out at the gathering of people with her head held high and gaze unflinching. She’d known pain before. It would be a momentary suffering.

They’d stripped her down to a thin nightgown, and the breeze brought gooseflesh out all over her body. She clenched every muscle to keep from shivering. Her teeth chattered only once before she locked her jaw.

The king stood on a balcony above the spectacle, Queen Ana to his left and a Guard to his right. He was speaking to the Guard in hushed tones. Lords and ladies circled the ground floor, whispering softly to each other behind their gloved hands. Prince Fendrel stood beside Thea, holding her in place by the bicep.

There had been a shift in Fendrel since last night, a new tension. Thea wasn’t entirely sure what had brought it on but she’d like to think it had to do with her talk with Favian. While they were waiting, Thea thought she’d try again. “Were these your orders?” she asked.

Fendrel didn’t respond, but his fingers squeezed her arm tighter so she knew he’d heard.

“I didn’t think so. Because you can see the folly in it where your brother cannot.”

Still nothing. Thea glanced up at the king again. He was still talking.

“You can stop this, you know,” she said.

“It is the king’s orders.”

“But you are the prince. Your brother’s reign is coming to an end, whether or not it is The Source that delivers the final blow.” Thea licked her dry lips as she plunged on. “The king listens to you. He knows the value of your counsel. If you were to speak with him—“

“I have already spoken with him. Your actions are unforgivable and must be punished.”

“Are those your words or his?”

When Fendrel next spoke, it was directly into her ear in an emotional rush. Thea had to bite her lip to keep from grinning; she was getting to him. “You have committed treason,” he said. “What did you think would happen when you were caught?”

“He is going to kill me. I assume you already know that. Without me, it will be so much worse.”

The king had turned away from the Guard to say something short to his wife. Their time for talking was running out.

“What do you mean?” Fendrel asked.

“What do you think The Source is? A group of mindless thugs? No, it is a gathering of hate-filled people who want nothing more than to see the king’s head on a spike. If not given direction, that hatred festers into irrepressible rage. Without me there to keep them in check, the attacks will come more frequently. They might not be as well planned, but throw enough darts at a board and one of them is bound to hit the bull’s eye.”

“Are you saying—“

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the king’s voice boomed, and Thea and Fendrel turned their eyes up, “the woman you see before you is not just any girl from Vuterra. Do not let her youth or sex fool you—she is one of the most dangerous people in all of Creasan.”

Surprised murmuring sounded from the crowd.

“For this girl,” the king continued, pointing at Thea, “is the leader of The Source.”

Gasps burst around her, and eyes locked onto her form like she might breathe fire at them at any moment. Thea had to restrain herself from snorting.

“She has been convicted of high treason, murder, and attempted murder. For this, she is to be stripped, scourged, and hanged.”

The murmuring had dissipated into silent fear. Thea wondered what it must be like being so easily scared. She hadn’t known true fear since Lief; Merek had often joked that her heart had died the same day he had. No one much found humor in that except a very inebriated Merek.

“As the man who discovered the crime, my brother, Prince Fendrel, will be the one to administer the punishment.”

Fendrel whipped his eyes up to his brother and Thea took in the exchange calculatingly. This had not been discussed or agreed upon.

Oh, they were making it too easy!

Thea turned wide pleading eyes to Fendrel. “Please,” she whispered, “please, you can’t do this to me. I have brothers and sisters back home who depend on me. They won’t eat without me. Please, Your Highness, you must help me.”

Fendrel stared at her with his mouth ajar, at a loss for what to say, but she could see the sympathy in his blue eyes. He was absolutely appalled.

“Just say no,” she breathed. “You’re his brother. Just say no.”

“As does any coward,” the king said, “she did not work alone. Guards!”

A wooden door was rolled aside and two Guards dragged Merek and Carac into the center of the small amphitheater. Merek could hardly stand up straight, and Carac had a wet stain over his groin from wetting himself. Thea felt another pang of guilt at the sight. He should have never been there.

“These were her conspirators. Their punishment,” Favian said, “is beheading.”

Thea’s stomach dropped. “No!” She threw Fendrel’s hand off of her easily enough and rushed across the snow-covered ground to stand protectively in front of the boys. The Guards simply stared at her, knowing there was nothing she could really do to stop them. She faced the king with her arms spread wide like a shield in front of them. “You will not harm them.”

The crowd stared at her open-mouthed, glancing up at the king to see what he would do.

He snarled, “Fendrel!”

That shook Fendrel out of his stupor and he rushed across the expanse to grab hold of Thea again. She jerked away from him, refusing to budge from her spot. She was sure he could have forced her into submission if he’d wanted to—he definitely appeared strong enough—but he didn’t. Fendrel stared at her curiously as she said, “If they are to lose their heads, then I must too.”

“No,” Carac whispered behind her, “you can’t—“

“I do not ask to be spared,” Thea spoke over Carac. “I just beg His Majesty to let me die alongside my friends.”

There was a pause where the king vibrated with fury, and Thea could tell he was taking a moment to gather himself before he spoke. Fendrel beat him to it. “It does seem fair, brother.”

Thea felt her own brows rise in surprise.

“No,” the king barked. “I have ordered that she be scourged and hanged, so she will be scourged and hanged! This is not a moment of bonding for—“

“I challenge the king!”

Thea blinked, as did most everyone else present, and turned to Carac’s trembling form. He cringed away from the Guard holding on to him as he shivered terribly in the cold, but his gaze was steady on Favian’s. Thea hissed at him, “What are you doing?”

“Pardon me?” the king asked.

“When prisoners are sentenced without a proper trial, they are entitled to request a trial by combat,” Carac recited the law from memory. “None of us were given a trial, so I challenge the king to a trial by combat. Will you accept?”

Thea opened her mouth to berate Carac, but he shot her a sharp look that snapped her mouth back shut. Trust me, he seemed to say. And so she did.

“This is ludicrous!” The king shook his head vehemently. “I will not—“

“I will be my brother’s champion,” Fendrel said, releasing Thea’s arm and stepping forward. He saw Favian about to argue again and reminded him, “To not accept the challenge results in a default win to the challenger. You’d have to let them go.”

The king thought it over. “Very well. Challenge accepted.”

“And I will be Carac’s champion,” Thea said, holding her head up high. Carac nodded in agreement. He locked eyes with Thea, trying to communicate something to her wordlessly, and it took but a moment to understand. She grinned. “Bring me a sword.”

Queen Ana paced her husband’s study nervously. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I didn’t have another choice, did I?” Favian was ransacking the room in search of something, though he was clearly struggling to remember where it was. He clutched his head as he rode out a particularly painful wave of ringing. Then it was back to his search.

“Why would that little boy issue a challenge unless he knew he would win?” She shook her head. “I’m telling you, your brother is in serious danger.”

“My brother can handle himself.” Favian had dropped to his hands and knees as he searched beneath his desk.

“Favian, it is a fight to the death. Are you not the least bit concerned—“

“It will hardly be a fair fight. That little slip of a girl against a war hero. Fendrel will have her throat slit before the trumpets even sound. Ah, there it is!” Favian reemerged from under his desk with a long sword in pristine condition. The word “challenge” was scrawled in calligraphic writing across the handle.

Ana was usually fairly skilled at keeping her emotions in check. It was something she’d had to learn to survive being Favian’s wife, but when faced with absolute ignorance, she felt she was near losing control. She grabbed Favian by the shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Will you listen to me just once? If she is who you believe her to be, if she is the leader of The Source, then she is cunning and devious. She will not allow herself to be part of something she thought she could not win. If you allow your brother to fight this battle, I fear he may not live.”

Favian looked down at his wife coldly. “He volunteered to fight on my behalf. It was his decision. If he should die, that must be the will of Aestus.”

Ana’s hands dropped away from Favian’s shoulders as she stared up at him in shock.

“As far as the girl is concerned, she is not a mythical creature with inhuman powers. She is human, same as us, and she can be beat. I hold her as my prisoner even now, do I not.”

“Perhaps that had been her plan all along.” Ana pulled her fur coat tighter around herself. “Perhaps she meant to be caught.”

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “You really ought to stick to subjects you know better. Is there not a scarf that needs mending or another man’s bed that needs warming?” Favian tried to brush past her but she stepped to the side, blocking his path.

“Please, Favian, I’m trying to help—“

He backhanded her across the face, sending her careening to the floor with a cry. She stayed there, too stunned to move, simply gazing up at him as tears welled in her eyes, bringing her palm to her cheek. The skin was already turning red, burning beneath her touch.

He loomed over her, speaking in a threateningly low voice. “I am king. You are my queen, and you will do as I bid. When I order you to stop speaking, you will stop speaking. I do not enjoy hurting you, but you leave me no other choice. If this is a lesson I must teach you again, I will. Am I understood?”

She nodded shakily.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes, my king,” she answered hurriedly, cringing away from him.

He grimaced in pain as the ringing sharpened in his head. He squinted his eyes, fighting through the pain. “Good,” he grunted and headed out the door.

Ana watched him go from where she sat on the floor, a single tear falling down her cheek. Her face had taken on an eerie expressionlessness and her brown eyes had dimmed to blank. “Best to watch yourself, husband,” she murmured to herself. “Your friends are becoming few and far between.”