Page 31 of War Hour

Not if I could help it.

I nod, waiting for him to continue.

“Even if the Untrialed dislike my rule, they choose to follow me as their lord.”

I mentally snort at his statement. We follow him out of fear because there are no other options. There’s no choice about it.

“But now... there is uncertainty in the streets following yesterday’s events. They question my leadership, and thus they question my authority. And the reason traces back... to you.”

My heart leaps to my throat.

“Your display in the market made them think they needed protecting—not from the outside forces at work trying to invade our court but from me.”

The breath in my lungs freezes, my mouth dropping in surprise. A thrill runs through my veins at what he is insinuating, at what this could mean for Falland. Is this the planArdis had put into motion? To make the Untrialed turn against Drytas?

“I’ve snuffed out every whisper of rebellion since inheriting the throne from my father some thirty years ago. My rule has protected our court, strengthened our court.”

My heart stutters at “rebellion.”

There’s never been even a whisper of uprising during my years. Is it possible that Untrialed have been fighting against the system the whole time and no one knew? The people of Falland stand isolated among one another, but maybe that served Drytas more than we considered.

Anger burns like fire through my veins. My shield flickers around me, only for a blink, but Drytas sees it, as does everyone else in the throne room.

“Problem, Lysta?” Lord Drytas questions with sharpness to his tone.

I shake my head, clenching my hands to regain my control.

Belthan steps forward, head cocked to the side as he levels a suspicious glare in my direction. “Did you disagree with something Lord Drytas said?”

Lord Drytas leans forward in interest, eyeing me dangerously.

I shake my head, mouth open, ready to say something, but my mind draws a blank.

“Answer him,” Drytas growls.

“Maybe I should have looked into your little training incident in the lower city. I had Belthan look into the center of the fight yesterday. He’d led me to believe it was a young man and an old woman at the center of the insurgence, but perhaps more fault lies elsewhere.”

Thoman and Doireann.

Drytas’s eyes flicker with triumph as a flash of panic crosses my face before I can squash it.

“It will be dealt with, but in the meantime, you are an inconvenience. Normally I’d make a show of your execution to cut the rebellion at its roots, but unfortunately, I. Still. Need. You.”

Drytas pauses, narrowing his eyes at me. “The moment my generals arrive with the map, we leave. You would do well to impress me, or I may find more reason to look into the other rebels from yesterday.”

There’s a sudden bang as both doors to the throne room are thrown open. Ardis enterswith determination plain on his face.

The members of the Guard who stand on either side of the door startle at his sudden entrance. Across the room, their fists ball at their sides, eyebrows furrowing as they glare at the man moving toward us. One steps forward, mouth opening, but is silenced with a glance back from Ardis. Paling, the guard returns to his post, deflated.

“Ardis. I need you to look into her mind. Now!” Lord Drytas orders from his seat on the throne. “I feel she is hiding something about the events in the market yesterday. She may be working with another to ignite dissent in the streets.”

Ardis ignores him, walking straight toward me.

Wide eyed, I try to communicate with him, wishing I knew what was happening inhishead for once.

A shudder echoes through the floor. At first, it’s a rumble until it builds and builds. Glass sconces from the grand hall’s walls crash into pieces on the checker floor.

Drytas stands shakily, looking around his throne room in startled fear. Belthan moves to Drytas, the head of guard shouting across the space to the others.

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