Kin of Kings (The Kin of Kings Book 1) (24 page)

She could’ve at least said goodbye.

“You haven’t told me about your mother,” Steffen said. “Now that I know she’s alive, I’m curious to find out where she is now.”

Steffen was certainly an inquisitive young man, but he didn’t seem to realize his incisive questions were grinding down Basen’s patience.

I don’t know.
Yet this answer might provoke more questions, so Basen held his tongue and thought about what to say.

Fortunately, Gabby had more awareness than the chemist. “Steffen…” She took his hand. “I think Basen has shared as much as he wants to for now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Steffen said. “I’m often told I’m insensitive, yet it’s always unintended.”

“It’s all right.” Basen clasped Steffen’s shoulder to show he took no offense, then excused himself.

As he stepped outside, he quickly heard what he knew to be a belligerent drunk giving a rant. Whoever the man was seemed to be trying to get someone to fight him, but the other man wouldn’t reply. Basen had experienced this enough times at the workhouse to recognize it, men spending their hard-earned coin to fill their stomachs with cheap ale, then taking their deep anger out on those who’d bought water and bread. He quickly made his way toward the altercation around the other side of the house.

“I’m not going to fight you, Peter!” At the sound of Sanya’s voice, Basen hurried.

He came around to find a man about Cleve’s size trying to shove a wooden sword into Sanya’s hands. She kept them at her sides, letting him push the training sword against her stomach.

“Take it and fight me!”

Sanya turned and noticed Basen, but Peter was too focused on Sanya to see anyone else. He pushed the sword into her hard enough to force her back a step. The weapon dropped to the dirt.

“Pick it up.”

“You’re drunk, it’s dark, and neither of us is wearing a protective tunic.”

He jabbed a second training sword at her. “You think just because you got lucky today that you deserve to be in Group One?” He jabbed her shoulder with the tip of his weapon. “Pick it up, bitch!”

Basen put himself between them. “She isn’t going to fight you no matter how much you beg.”

Peter bumped his chest against Basen’s and looked down at him, their faces nearly touching. The giant’s nose was at the top of Basen’s head. “You’re no better than a woman, male mage. Leave before I hurt you.”

“Gladly, and Sanya’s coming with me.” Basen walked to her and didn’t stop as he put his hand on her back and brought her with him.

He heard Peter pick up the extra sword and stomp after them. “I’ll fight both you bitches! No rules. You can’t beat me in a normal fight.”

They kept walking, ignoring him, but Peter rushed to put himself in front of them. He threw the extra sword at Sanya. She curled in her arm to keep it from striking her in the chest, although it still must’ve hurt as it bounced off her shoulder. Not that she showed it.

“Pick it up and fight!”

Basen gave reasoning one last chance.

“No one is going to fight you,” he said as he held both palms up. “It’s pointless. Go home and sleep.”

“He’s right, Peter,” Sanya said. “Give it up for everyone’s sake.”

Peter tossed his weapon onto the ground between them. It landed next to the other one. “If you won’t pick it up, then we’ll fistfight. I’m going to show you that you don’t deserve to be a warrior.”

He took one threatening step toward Sanya before Basen jumped forward. “Stop,” he tried. “Go sleep it off!”

But judging by Peter’s expression, all that did was fuel his rage. Peter swung at him, but Basen jumped back. There was no moment of pause as Peter lunged at him. Basen retreated in a circle, trying to talk Peter out of his aggression, to no avail. For a drunk man, Peter was well-balanced and quick. Basen ducked under a punch that surely would’ve knocked him unconscious.

Sanya jumped on Peter’s back, but he grabbed her and threw her off as if she were a child.

“If you’re both going to fight me…” Peter looked around and went for the two wooden swords. Basen ran forward and got his hand on one just as Peter grabbed the other.

Peter grunted as he swung the sword up from the ground, but Basen jumped back in time. Peter ran after him, yelling as he brought the sword up over his head. Basen guided the powerful slash into the dirt but he didn’t expect Peter to follow with the fist of his other hand. It crunched against Basen’s cheek, sending him stumbling backward as the world around him wobbled.

Basen realized then that Peter would kill him if given the opportunity. He was at a terrible disadvantage, for he had no intention of hurting Peter in return.

Luckily there was Sanya, who came from the side, barreling toward Peter. But he lowered his shoulder and returned the force twofold. She let out a sharp inhale as she flew back the way she’d come. Unfazed, Peter sprinted at Basen, picking up speed while Basen held his ground firmly. He deflected Peter’s swing and hopped to the side to avoid his charging shoulder.

Basen swiped the back of Peter’s leg as he rushed by, but the drunken fool didn’t even seem to feel it, turning and swinging his sword from side to side, desperately trying to get past Basen’s defenses.

His training came back to mind as he moved to avoid every attack, using his own weapon as a shield. Never had he fought someone this skilled or strong, however, and he couldn’t find an opportunity to counter.

Sanya came at Peter again, this time from behind. He turned and slashed at her to force her away, then turned his focus back before Basen could respond. Peter grunted as often as he took a breath, sounding like a wild animal.

Basen finally failed to deflect a blow and took the wooden sword against the meat of his arm. Pain and numbness mixed together, then quickly spread along his muscles.

Peter, no doubt thinking this was his opportunity, went for a leaping strike down onto Basen’s head. Basen barely managed to get his sword up in time. He drove Peter’s weapon down to the dirt, then swung his back up to strike Peter squarely in the chin.

The massive man reeled backward and grabbed at his face. As he took his hand away, blood glistened in the moonlight. Sanya jumped on Peter’s back once more, reaching around him to grab his sword with both her hands. But he easily threw her off him, then tried to strike her on the ground. Fortunately, she was quick enough to roll out of the way. Basen was right there to prevent Peter from swinging at her again.

“God’s mercy, just stop!” Basen yelled.

Suddenly, Peter screamed and collapsed. He coiled into a ball on the ground as deep cries of agony tore out of his throat. Then Annah appeared. She walked closer until she stood over him, her arm stretched out as her psychic spell continued.

“Cease your fighting,” she demanded, then let her arm drop. “Or I’ll do it again.”

Peter rolled onto his back, looking as exhausted as if he’d forgone sleep for a night. But somehow he still gripped his sword.

“Are you going to go home?” Annah asked, reaching down and prying the weapon out of his hand. “Or would you like to feel that again?”

His shallow breaths made it difficult for him to speak. “You’re all…traitors to the Academy. We would be better off…without the three of you.”

Annah came to take the sword from Basen’s hand next. She tossed both of them some distance away. “Go get your weapons and go home,” she told Peter.

He staggered to his feet, walked over to collect his weapons, and showed a look of utter hatred over his shoulder before he continued onward and disappeared into the night.

“Annah…” Sanya squinted and elongated her mouth in a pained look. “Thank you. Your help is undeserved.”

“I was helping Basen, not you.” Annah didn’t wait for a reply but simply turned on her heels and left.

Sanya gave a long sigh.

“I assume Annah wasn’t happy with you when she was forced to move?” he asked.

“Whatever you’re imagining as her reaction, make it last twice as long and add screaming and crying.”

They walked toward their campus houses. Basen prodded his cheek where he’d been punched and was surprised to find how sore it was.

“The bastard fights well even while drunk,” he said.

Sanya took his chin. “Let me see.” She chuckled for some reason. “That’s going to bruise. Add a punch like that one to the eye, and you’ll look like I did after the first day of duels.”

“God’s mercy, I’m going to get some looks as I walk through the capital tomorrow.”

“I heard you say ‘bastial hell’ earlier. Now it’s ‘god’s mercy’ again?”

“I’m trying to do everything I can to blend in more, but it’s hard to keep up. Have you found it easy to give up Tenred sayings?”

“Yes, after enough practice. Bastial hell, bastial hell, my bastial stars, my bastial stars. Just repeat them enough times.”

“There’s no point. Everyone already knows me by now, even that warrior who I’d never met.”

She nodded sadly, then surprised him by linking arms with him. He decided not to mention that she’d gouged him with her nails just a couple hours earlier when he’d offered to walk with her in the same way.

“But you should stop using those phrases anyway,” she said. “It irks me when I hear about the gods.”

“I didn’t know you felt so strongly about them.”

“Don’t tell me you believe they exist?”

“I wouldn’t say I believe, but it does seem plausible that there is a stronger force than us out there.” Another thought came. “And ‘bastial hell’ isn’t any better—as if there’s some sort of hell made out of bastial energy.”

She smirked but didn’t speak.

“What?”

“Promise you won’t make fun of me.”

“That’s a hard thing for someone like me to promise.”

“Then you don’t get to hear.”

He sighed. “I promise.”

“Some people think there
is
an afterlife—a part of our world made of bastial energy where the dead rest close to those they love.”

“And you agree?”

“I do.”

They walked in silence as Basen concentrated on the touch of her hand rather than on the questions running around his mind about this belief of hers. As hard as he tried, there was one question he couldn’t ignore.

“If this afterlife existed, what would the dead do?”

“I think they do nothing. Their spirits just fade away over time, ceasing to exist.”

“That’s a sad thought.”

“It is, but it also gives more meaning to our life. We need to take advantage of every opportunity we’re given because we only have one life to live.”

They came to the door of her house. Sanya gazed out from the top of her eyes. If she were anyone else, Basen could be certain he was staring at a woman who wanted to be kissed. But there was no guessing what was going through Sanya’s mind.

He told her, “I’ve never met anyone who’s changed as much as you.”

She grinned with half her mouth. “You hated me back then, didn’t you?”

“Of course. Everyone did!” He chuckled as he remembered something. “We would say that the only difference between you and a rabid dog is—” He stopped himself as he caught her scowling.
I went too far.

“Is…?” she prodded.

“Is brilliance and beauty,” he lied. “Good night.” He tried to flee to his house, but she grabbed his arm.

“I’m a different person now. It won’t upset me.”

“Fine. Fur.”

She let go of his arm as she blinked in thought. Then a chuckle rumbled out.

“Annah asked to live with me,” he blurted, knowing he shouldn’t leave without telling Sanya. “I said it’s all right if Terren allows it.”

“Then you’re braver than I am.” She didn’t seem upset, just worried. “Be careful with her. It won’t take long before you see something sinister behind those blue eyes, like I have. Then, when your suspicions eventually come, you won’t be able to hide them from her.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

After completing endurance day, walking the four miles to Kyrro City was easy. As Basen had expected, the deep bruise of his cheek drew many gazes within the capital. But at least he and his clothes were clean. If he’d come from the workhouse, the gazes would’ve been even more disapproving.

There was but one castle in Kyrro, as in Tenred, and it was massive enough to be seen from outside the city. As soon as he arrived, he gave his name to the indifferent guards, then was told to wait as one fetched his father.

When Henry finally appeared, it took a moment for Basen to recognize him. He’d shaved and trimmed his hair, but it was the blue army uniform that made him most unfamiliar. Kyrro’s sigil was sewn into the center: a gold crown lined in silver. Basen saw the same design on his father’s cloak as Henry turned and gestured for him to follow without even a greeting. Basen held back a few choice sarcastic remarks, but he figured at least one would come out soon if his father continued to act as if this were a meeting of business.

Henry brought him into the heart of the great hall. A wide stairway zigzagged up to all four enormous floors. People bustled up and down, half of them wearing drab robes to mark their role as a castle servant. There was so much height between each floor, giving Basen the thought that there were other sets of stairs or possibly ramps that led to rooms halfway between levels.