Page 3 of A War of Three Kings

The bright light hurts my eyes and I blink several times as I am deposited into a chair, half falling into it. Immediately, thick bands of air magic wrap around my arms, torso and legs, binding me to the chair.

“Aldrin. You look like shit.”

My eyes seek the source of that brassy rumble, finding Keira’s father seated opposite me.

Edmund’s red-gold hair is neatly combed around his face, reaching his chin. It looks so much like Keira’s, with every shade of red, orange and gold present within it. His sculpted beard is freshly trimmed and his cheeks are ruddy above it, but it is those large eyes that captivate me. Emerald green, crinkling with false humor.

I don’t know what game he is playing, but ice-cold claws rake down my back.

I glance frantically around the room for weapons of torture, straps and hot pokers, pliers and small knives, but find none. There is nothing except the desk between us spread out with a feast, a few armchairs, and maps all over the walls. This is a study of sorts.

“I have you to thank for the way I look,” I say.

“My hospitality could be worse.” He shrugs. “By the laws of these lands, you should be dead by now.”

“And my people? Has yourhospitalitybeen extended to them?” Cold sweat drips down my back. All this time, I have been terrified of the answer.

Edmund tsks. “I’ll be asking the questions.”

“Damn it, Edmund! Tell me what you have done with them!” I yell, struggling to break free of the bonds.

He taps a finger on the desk while he thinks. “Your people are here…in varying conditions.”

Intense relief floods me. It is the smallest mercy, knowing they live. It is chased by bitter dread that explodes into the fire of fury when his words fully register. “What do you mean byvarying conditions? What have you done to them?”

Edmund doesn’t look at me. He picks up a plate and piles it with buttery potatoes and peas, roast lamb that drips juices, carrots glistening with honey. Edmund passes the plate to his mother, who must have entered the room behind me, then prepares another for himself.

“ANSWER ME!” I scream. “What have you done to my people?”

“Patience, Aldrin. There is plenty of time to speak, but you will need your manners if you want any answers from me.” Edmund pops a potato in his mouth.

I grind my teeth. If he wants to play games, I can play too.

I can’t stop staring at all that food spread out before me. The rich scents waft to me, savory and sweet, with hints of herbs and garlic. Pain twists my stomach as it rumbles loudly. It’s been more than a day since I’ve had anything to eat, and I ate next to nothing in the days before that.

Edmund’s gaze remains locked on me as he pours wine from a jug, and my eyes dip down to the arc of beautiful crimson liquid that taunts my parched throat.

He takes a slow mouthful of meat, and a hint of a smile curls his lips. “You look like a starving man, Aldrin. Why don’t you have a bite?”

Edmund takes the last plate, puts a sliver of meat on it and places it before me, then releases the magic holding my arms. I contemplate throwing the dish at his head for a long moment, but I need answers more than violence right now.

My hand darts out with lightning speed and the morsel is in my mouth before I can stop myself. Flavors burst upon my tongue as the fat drips down my throat.

Edmund raises an eyebrow at me. He silently puts another tiny portion of food onto the plate and puts it down just outside of my reach. It calls to me.

“Answer my questions and you can eat more. Impress me, and perhaps I’ll give you wine as well.” He smiles, but there’s no warmth in it.

“I want to speak with Keira.” My hands ball into fists. “I want to see her.”

“There is no way you will see my daughter!” Edmund growls, his lips pulled back from his teeth. “Now answermyquestions. Why did you come to these lands with a band of warriors?”

My desperate actions look bad, but I had to come for Keira. I had no choice. Not when she was wailing for me across worlds with such need.

“Keira called me here.” The honest words slip from me. I am too tired to think straight.

“LIAR!” the High Priestess yells beside her son.

Edmund places a hand on her arm. “Let’s hear what he has to say first.”

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