Highest Lord Read online

  HIGHEST

  LORD

  A Seat of Magic Novel

  By R.J. Price

  By R.J. Price

  Seat of Magic

  Trouble

  Sit Pretty

  Dark Spirits

  Highest Lord

  Copyright 2016 R.J. Price

  Print edition 2015

  Front Cover Design by www.thebookcoverdesigner.com

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter One

  Aren awoke to darkness. Terrified, she sat up as she tried to recall where she had placed the light orb. Where was it? Where had she put it?

  She heard something in the darkness and flung her blankets to the side, searching more furiously through the bedding. Fear drove through her but she refused to allow it to keep her stuck in one place. She wanted to stay still in the darkness and listen to the sound, but she knew better.

  It had surely all been a dream. Av, the palace, the return to court—all of it a dream created by her desperate desire to escape. Nothing more. She had woken back in the cave.

  Where was the damned light?

  Light flared around her, momentarily blinding as every light orb and reflective surface in the room lit up. Aren ducked her head and covered her eyes with her hand. Giving herself a moment to recover, she cautiously removed the hand and looked around her.

  She was not in the underground cavern, she was in the queen’s rooms at the palace. The blankets she had tossed to the side were not the rough woolen things she had used for months, but the finer things that could only be found at the palace. If she had taken a moment to feel with her hands instead of allowing a dream to overcome her, she might have realized that as she awoke.

  The air was warmer, the bed held her warmth, and her head had been on a pillow, not a folded blanket. There was no dampness to the air.

  There were tens of things that should have alerted Aren as to where she was, and yet registering those things had been impossible in that moment because she had awoken to complete darkness.

  “Lady?” Wena asked cautiously from the bathing room door.

  The handmaid was still in her night clothing, but her hair had been combed and there was a shoe brush in her hand. Wena preparing for the day, brushing dust and dirt from her shoes, had been what had awakened Aren. The queen’s rooms were not meant to house servants with the queen, but until everything was sorted out and Aren was mated, Wena would sleep in the room meant for children and use the bathing room for her needs.

  “I’m fine,” Aren said, mustering every bit of courage she had. “Only a nightmare. Is it time to get up?”

  “For me it is, but it would be best if you rested and recovered after your months away,” Wena said.

  There was no hiding the annoyed edge to Wena’s words. The earlier Aren awoke, the less time Wena had to prepare for the day ahead. Or, alternatively, Wena truly believed Aren needed sleep.

  “I’m fine, really,” she responded.

  Slipping out of bed, Aren collected the blankets she had tossed on the floor and began putting everything to rights. Wena hadn’t been serving her long, didn’t know her desires yet, but the young woman at least had the good sense not to demand the bed be left for someone else to put together. The handmaid walked around the bed and grasped the end of the blanket Aren was trying to straighten.

  Together they settled the first blanket.

  That was as far as they got, because there was a terrible banging on the door.

  Wena glanced at the door, to Aren, then to the light stick on the nightstand by the bed. The young woman plucked up the stick, which was made to be as heavy as a candlestick to prevent the valuable glass orb on the end from toppling. Wena carefully removed the orb from its enclosure and set it gently back on the nightstand before she walked to the door.

  All the other lights went out besides the small chip of glass set into the stick itself, giving Wena a reasonable excuse for carrying the light stick.

  She opened the door and allowed three guards in. Each had their hands on their swords, looking around the room for enemies. The lights moved back up when one raised his hand. They weren’t asking if anything was wrong, they were looking for enemies.

  “It’s fine, I’m fine,” Aren said, drawing the eyes and anger of three men. They didn’t believe her, so she tried again. “Just a nightmare is all.”

  The guards didn’t move to leave. Their hands tightened on their weapons as if they expected enemies to fall from the ceiling itself.

  It did occur to Aren that, were there an intruder, a lady might claim a nightmare for the sounds or emotion coming from her room.

  “Honestly,” she said, trying to put a bite to her voice, “it was only a nightmare.”

  Url strode into the rooms and ducked out of the way when Wena attempted to club him with the light stick. The high lord turned, plucked the stick from Wena’s grip and grabbed the handmaid by the throat with the other hand. Frowning, Url stared at her for a long moment as the guard turned from Aren, to him.

  He released Wena slowly, looked at the light stick, then handed it back to the young woman.

  “My apologies,” Url said, raising both hands slightly in surrender. “You swung, I reacted on instinct. You should train, if you really want to hit a man with anything more than your pretty face and wit.”

  “You cannot just invade my lady’s rooms,” Wena said. Her back was straight, nose in the air as she tried to stand up to Url.

  The man laughed in response and patted Wena on the head as one might a dog that did something adorable. He turned to the guards, who were still watching him, and held his hands away from his sides. Url had no weapon on him, which meant that he had been in a room someplace in the palace. Which also meant that he had arrived either the night before, or sometime in the night and no one had bothered fetching Aren to tell her.

  He had left the North when winter had still held tightly to both their lands.

  “I came for the same reason you did,” he said to the guards. The man glanced around them, to Aren. “Though she seems fine now. Likely just a nightmare.”

  “Nightmares don’t cause that.”

  “Then search the rooms, stupid,” Url said, dropping his hands. “Settle your own minds. I know there’s no danger here. Not for her, anyhow.”

  The guards split up and each took a different room as Aren picked up another blanket and held it in front of her, self-conscious as she realized that she wore little more than a nightgown.

  “I was drinking with Av,” Url said, looking Aren up and down thoughtfully. “He would be here except he seems to think the one who sits the throne doesn’t want males around until she’s mated. Tell me, is anyone still alive after your months away?”

  “One is, and she’s in the healer’s hall,” Aren said quietly.

  Watching Url, she felt as if he were lying. He hadn't seen Av yet, or he wouldn't have been there. Url would have still been with Av, dealing with his cousin's feelings. Av had been off upon their return to the palace and the conversation the night before hadn't helped matters.

  It had to be done, however, to keep them both safe over the next few months. It wouldn't do to have Av hounding after her while the court returned, when she had to be the most alert.

&nbs
p; “Av mentioned a woman there. I’ll go see to her then.”

  If Av had mentioned Danya, then Url wouldn't have become aggravated at the mention of a survivor.

  “Url,” Aren warned as the high lord turned to leave.

  “Yes, Lady?” Url asked, turning part of the way back.

  Which, if what Aren understood was correct, meant that he was willing to listen, but not willing to allow her words to sway a decision he had already made.

  “She was brought back with us because Av judged her not to be at fault,” she said.

  She held eye contact with Url until the man looked away. Maintaining eye contact for more than a glimpse was difficult for Aren. She was proud of herself for pulling it off but was also aware that, given Url’s temper, the warrior should not have given in so easily.

  “As you say, Aren.”

  Url left the rooms as she pondered what the change from title to name meant. It might have meant that Url was submitting to her will because of their personal connection, but that couldn’t be right because there was no personal connection between the pair of them.

  It might also have meant that Url was bending in the hopes of creating a personal connection. Which was foolish because Av wouldn’t allow such a connection to be made.

  “All clear,” one of the guards said cautiously to Aren as the other two slunk from the room.

  They were obviously afraid of her reaction, now that she had been proven right. Aren sighed out loudly. There were a few hours still until she had to be up, several more before she would be expected by the court and a great deal more before anyone gathered their courage and came looking for her. She could sleep more and rest, perhaps even drive the weariness from her limbs.

  “Thank you, for checking on what might have been a problem,” she said.

  They left and Wena closed the door behind them. Sliding the lock into place, the handmaid turned to Aren and crossed her arms.

  “That was not just a nightmare,” Wena said sternly. “Not if the guard arrived and a warrior on top. They felt you all the way out at the barracks. What happened?”

  “I don't want to talk about it,” Aren said.

  She turned to the second blanket. She dropped it onto the bed and smoothed it out as best she could. Two would be enough. Climbing under the blankets, she was resolute to ignore the rest of the world and sleep the day away.

  Wena approached the bed and snapped up the final blanket. The woman dumped it on Aren's head, causing Aren to fumble to pull it off. Pushing it to the side, she glared up at her handmaid. Wena glared back, crossing her arms as she set her weight on one hip.

  “You didn't take me on because I'd give up that easily,” Wena said.

  “I'm going back to sleep now,” she said.

  “Maybe I'll just go join the guard instead,” Wena growled.

  “That's an idea,” she said with a smile. “Maybe I'll join the guard as well.”

  “The one who sits the throne can't be part of the guard.”

  “Can't be part of her own guard. I can serve the palace guard and so can you. We'd also be taught how to take down warriors.”

  “You mean...” Wena trailed off and then sat on the edge of the bed. “You mean to say that we would be taught to defend against any attacker? We could stand our own ground?”

  “The more we talk about this, the better it sounds,” Aren said with a chuckle, rolling onto her side to face Wena. “Once I wake, we'll go see the guard.”

  “They start training at dawn,” the handmaid said with a motion towards the door. “If we're serious, we should go now.”

  “If we go now the captain might say it's an impulse, a reaction to a nightmare in the night,” she said. “If we go in the afternoon, the excuse of a nightmare frightening me is out of the question. He would then judge us based on our capabilities as possible guard.”

  “I can stand on my own,” Wena said. “You, on the other hand, look like you've been through the wringer. No meat left on your bones.”

  “Meat on the bones can be fixed.”

  “I'll arrange for a nice breakfast once you're awake,” Wena said as she stood, patting Aren on the shoulder. “Then we'll go see the guard.”

  Chapter Two

  Av spent the night wandering the palace hallways. He didn't feel like sleeping, and even while travelling sleep had been hard to come by. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the man's face, the one he had destroyed in the village.

  It was early morning when the wave of fear rippled through the palace. He saw it pass through the serving staff, who suddenly bolted from him, and in the few lords and ladies who were up, who screeched at the sight of him. The terror didn't grip him. He did not feel any different than he had a moment before.

  This was what it meant to be a hole.

  Understanding that, he turned towards Aren's rooms, knowing where that feeling must have come from. For Aren to affect everyone said something about the depth of her feeling. The court was not usually moved by her moods. Even when her parents were sending her into momentary rages, Aren hadn't affected the court.

  Just inside the family area, he rounded the corner and came to a full stop.

  There was a head in the middle of the hallway. Av approached cautiously. He looked around for an attacker but there was nothing in the hallway for anyone to hide behind. No doors in this stretch. Whoever had left the head was long gone.

  Looking at the head again, he took a step closer and around to peer at the face.

  It was Rewel.

  Av stumbled back, away from the head as the eyes snapped open and looked at him. The mouth opened, a scream filling the air as Av bolted from the hallway. He stumbled to a stop some distance away, gasping for air as he considered his surroundings.

  There was blood all over the walls. Gritting his teeth, Av hardened his resolve and pressed his hand into the blood. It came away red. Sniffing his hand, all he smelled was hand. Not blood. His hand wasn't sticky or wet feeling.

  The walls whispered his name.

  With a shudder, Av swallowed his fear and turned towards the healer hall. He focused on getting there, resolute on ignoring all else.

  Except there was nothing else to ignore. Suddenly the walls had decided they were simple plaster. The whispering voices must have found someone else to pester because all he heard was the sound of his feet on the soft rugs and the thunderous beating of his own heart.

  Av walked into the healer hall and stopped at the desk as the healer stared up at him.

  “Problem?” she asked.

  “I, uh...” Av trailed off, uncertain how to describe his symptoms.

  “Where are you hurt?” the healer asked very slowly.

  “My, uh, my head?” he said.

  “Were you struck? Did you fall?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm not certain...”

  “If you aren't bleeding or physically damaged, there's nothing we can do for you,” the healer said with a loud sigh. “Please return to your rooms and sleep off whatever you've taken. Sleep can do wonders for a tired body.”

  “I need a healer.”

  “The type of healer you need, the spirits don't make,” the healer growled.

  “I demand a healer.”

  The healer gave Av a look that clearly stated he should go end himself before she did it for him. She sat back in her chair and looked up at him. Av refused to budge, bargaining on the fact that she would know who he was and would fetch someone, if only to shut him up.

  He also knew that making the demand would cost him if there was nothing wrong with him. The healers would report this incident to Telm, as they did all problem visits.

  “Fine, I'll get someone,” she said finally, motioning to the closest private room. “You wait in there. I have to wake her and she doesn't like being awoken this early in the morning.”

  Av did as he was told, taking a seat on the available bed. The wait seemed to be forever. When the door finally opened, he stood, only to watch
the healer escort an elderly woman into the room. She was hunched over with age, hair completely white. The elder shook as she took the seat by the door, leaning heavily on the healer.

  “You said you'd get somebody,” Av protested.

  “You wanted help,” the healer snapped back. “She's got the most experience out of anyone here. She trains us all.”

  “What's the problem then?” the elder demanded.

  Her voice was clear and authoritative despite her age. The woman's body might have been failing her, but her mind worked fine.

  “I saw something in the hallway that wasn't there,” he said, taking a seat once more.

  He didn’t have a choice. If he wanted answers the only way to get them was to tell the woman exactly what was going on. Even if it sounded crazy.

  “Who did you see?”

  “A man I killed, days ago. His head was just...” Av struggled to find the words he wanted but couldn’t. In the end he sighed. “In the middle of the hallway.”

  “The state of this head?”

  Av frowned at the elder. “What's it matter the state of the body?”

  “A body breaks down, returns to the earth, when it is not burned on the pyre. What was the state?”

  That reminder didn’t make him feel any better. Of course Av knew how much a body could change even a few days after the spirit had left. If the head had been decomposed at least he could still argue that someone was trying to trick him.

  “Same as last I saw,” he said. “There wasn't any blood around it. There was plenty on the walls around the corner though. At first I thought someone had brought it here from there, but there was only one villager and she's here, in the hall. She brought nothing with her but the clothing on her back and a few small books.”

  “Danya is the girl's name. She brought us books on the ranks and the rights, old things that we thought lost. She is a good girl. Did you kill the one named Rewel?”