Resistance (Ilyon Chronicles Book 1) (26 page)

Wrinkling his nose, Foss peered up at Richard and said, “I’ve explained her duties. She’s your problem now.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed, but Foss had already turned to march back out of the throne room. Now Richard’s gaze slid to Kyrin. She swallowed, hoping he didn’t notice the reaction, and worked mightily to hold his slicing gaze. Trying to find some of Kaden’s bravery inside her, she gathered up her scattered composure. This was her job now, and she would not be intimidated. But maybe she would just forgo getting to know him.

He jerked his head and spoke in a low growl. “This way.”

She followed him without delay, but concentrated on moving with as much grace as she could manage in an attempt to mimic Lady Videlle’s walk. With so many eyes watching her, one misstep could lead to unimaginable humiliation. And not just for herself. What would it say of Daican’s choice of her should she display such clumsiness in the public eye? How displeased would he be? Her heart became the butterfly now, fresh wings beating frantically to stay aloft.

They passed behind the tall, gold-overlaid throne. Kyrin briefly observed its magnificence, but didn’t let it distract her. Richard stopped at a chair a couple of feet behind and to the left. Next to the royal splendor of the throne, this wood seat was pitifully plain. A fitting picture of her circumstances. But at least it had a cushion, and she would not have to sit on hard wood all day like the learning benches at Tarvin Hall.

“You will observe from here.” Richard gestured to the chair and left her standing alone as he walked off to speak with others of Daican’s staff.

Kyrin took a seat and smoothed her skirt as she thanked Elôm that she hadn’t made any serious blunders yet. She rested back in her chair and glanced up at the high, arched ceiling before focusing on the crowd again. Hopefully, they would perceive her as little more than a background fixture and forget her presence.

A low buzz of murmured conversation and some back-and-forth sniping filled the chamber. Kyrin lowered her eyes from the many disgruntled faces to study the different clothing and accessories. Those closest to the front were noticeably well dressed—richly, in some cases—with brightly colored silks and velvets, and an array of jewel-encrusted gold and silver jewelry. Not just the poor sought to gain audience with the emperor on days like this, but also the rich who bore no titles. And, apparently, their money gave them preeminence.

Kyrin looked past these people to those beyond the doors. There, the more ragged commoners waited. How many would actually get a turn to speak before the day was done? She drooped in her chair, feeling sorry for them and herself. It was going to be a long day.

A sudden hush swept through the room, and Kyrin straightened. Just to her right, Sir Richard announced Emperor Daican’s arrival. Dressed in splendid royal robes of Arcacia’s national colors, a shining gold crown resting upon his head, Daican crossed the dais and took his seat on the throne. Davira glided in behind him. Her cool eyes slid over Kyrin once before she tipped her chin up and claimed the smaller throne to Daican’s right.

“Bow before your emperor,” Richard’s voice boomed out.

Movement swept across the room as all bowed.

This marked the beginning of the proceedings. One or two at a time, guards issued people forward to a partitioned area at the foot of the throne to make their cases. From her position, Kyrin had a clear view of each person. Men squabbled and raised their complaints—nothing of any significant importance to anyone but themselves. Still, she dutifully studied each one, their mannerisms, expressions, and movements. Plenty of hostility came through, but only for each other—nothing to cause concern for the emperor.

This drew out through the morning. Kyrin continually had to remind herself not to slouch or let her mind wander. She drew a head-clearing breath and pressed her shoulders back against the chair as she glanced at the emperor. Only his arm was visible from her position. He spoke little, listening to the outcries of injustice and then settling each argument with a few brief words. No one argued with him, and people left either smug or sullen.

Servants brought wine and trays of delicacies to the emperor and his daughter. After a couple of hours, Kyrin’s stomach grumbled. If only she’d been able to manage more of her breakfast. They did grant her a short lunch break, but it was straight back to work after that.

Midafternoon, three men came forward. One had all the trappings of a wealthy position, but the other two—an old man and one not much older than Kyrin—wore little more than rags. The rich man stepped forward first and bowed before the emperor.

“My lord, these men have borrowed a great sum of money from me and now refuse to repay it.” He glanced squint-eyed at the other two men.

“That’s not true.” The younger man took a step forward with flashing eyes, like Kaden’s when he was upset. “We—”

He fell silent when the older man touched his arm.

“Your Majesty,” the man addressed Daican with a deep bow. “It’s true we borrowed the money, but we have every intention of repaying. Like many here, we’ve fallen on hard times, and just recently, our home was robbed of everything of value. We ask for mercy and for time. We’ll find a way to repay the full amount.”

“Yes, you will,” the wealthy man said with his lip curled like a snarling dog. “My lord, I request that they be thrown into the workhouses until the debt is paid. I’ve given them enough time.”

“You can’t do this,” the young man jumped in again. “You’ve barely given us a chance.”

The wealthy man spun to face him. They exchanged heated words, and their voices rose until Daican raised his hand. Silence fell.

The emperor had leaned forward enough for Kyrin to see the side of his face now. She watched his shrewd expression and silently pleaded with him. Surely, he could grant them just a little more time. They couldn’t help their circumstances. A silent need beat inside her for him to prove himself merciful.

“Debts must be paid,” Daican spoke at last, his voice contemplative at first, then hardening to a decided tone when his eyes settled on the wealthy man. “They will work off the debt.”

Kyrin’s elevated heartbeat slowed and sank down toward her feet.

The wealthy man gave a triumphant grin, but the older one pushed forward. A guard struck him when he came too close to the dais, and he fell to his knees. Kyrin gasped and covered her mouth with the hope that no one noticed. The younger man rushed to his side, but the old man looked up at Daican with outstretched arms.

“Please, my lord, allow the boy to go free. I will work off the debt.”

“Father, no!” The young man shook his head. “You’ll die in the workhouses.”

But the man’s eyes remained on the emperor, who considered the request for a moment.

“Very well.” Daican motioned to his guards. “Have this man transported to the workhouses and escort the others out.”

The guards seized them, and the son tried to resist, but they dragged him away from his father and toward the entrance.

“No! You can’t do this!” He fought with all his might to break free, his eyes huge. They locked with
Kyrin’s.

Pain throbbed in her chest at witnessing the fullness of his desperation. Would she not feel the same watching her father hauled off to certain death? Her lungs constricted, and she clenched her fists, longing to help him, but the need to appear loyal to the emperor trapped her. Her eyes stung, and her vision watered against her attempts to blink it away. This surely wouldn’t be the last time she would witness such a thing and be powerless to offer aid or comfort. The last pained look between father and son would stay in the forefront of her mind for a long time.

Struggling to breathe normally, she glanced around for a distraction. Her gaze met solidly with Davira’s, and her breath fell short, frozen by the princess’s cold, piercing eyes.

Kaden never realized just how much he relied on Kyrin until she was gone. He had spent his whole life to this point protecting his sister, taking for granted how she had encouraged him, supported him, and defended him just as much.

His ribs and shoulder smarted with deep bruises from sparring as he trudged toward the Hall. Training had been a disaster. He’d had enough of Tarvin Hall’s activities and courses and the constant threat of disciplinary actions if he didn’t take them seriously. He’d quit right here and now if only he could just walk out. But he was trapped—if not by Tarvin Hall itself, by Kyrin’s position at the palace. He couldn’t just abandon her there.

A mournful little sob, followed by the unmistakable snickers of taunting, halted Kaden. He marched around the corner. Little Meredith stood backed up against the building with tears trickling down her cheeks. A group of six other children surrounded her, laughing and jeering. “Crybaby.”

Kaden’s mind flashed back to all the times Kyrin had been in the same position. His fingers curled into fists. “What’s going on?”

The children gasped and spun around, their eyes wide. When they realized he was not one of the instructors, the fear melted away. Defiance lit in the eyes of the ringleader.

The boy crossed his arms. “It’s none of your business.”

Kaden snorted. Someone needed to
be taught a good lesson. Without any concern for chastisement or consequences, he reached down and took hold of the boy’s jerkin at the nape of the neck, lifting him up off his feet so they were looking eye to eye. The boy wriggled and complained, but when his eyes met Kaden’s, he stilled.

“You won’t ever bully Meredith or anyone here again, do you understand?” Kaden caught the stubbornness creeping into the boy’s expression and gave him a shake. “Do you understand?”

Breathing heavily, the boy swallowed and nodded. Kaden narrowed his eyes and glared at him a moment longer. Finally, he set him back on his feet, none too gently, and resisted the urge to cuff him upside the head for good measure. Try it again, and the boy wouldn’t be so lucky.

The children made a hasty retreat. Once at a safe distance, however, the boy turned back, tugging his jerkin into place and puffing out angry breaths.

“I’m telling Master Zocar, and then you’ll be in trouble.”

“Go ahead, snitch on me,” Kaden shot back.

The boy’s expression changed. He glanced warily at his friends. No one wanted to be branded the new snitch.

They moved on, and Kaden turned back to Meredith. The little girl’s wide eyes still overflowed with tears, and her lip trembled.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “They won’t bother you now.”

He reached for her hand and led her over to a bench, where he sat down beside her. She tried valiantly to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but more spilled over. A little girl shouldn’t have to fight to be so brave.

“It’s okay to cry,” Kaden said as he put his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t listen to them.”

Meredith looked up into his face, hiccupping. “Have you ever cried?”

“Sure I have.”

“Did you cry when Kyrin left?”

“No, but I felt like it.”

Meredith sniffed, and her voice wavered. “I miss her.”

“So do I.” Kaden released a long sigh.

“Kyrin was the nicest girl at Tarvin Hall.” She clasped her hands tightly in her lap and bowed her head. “I don’t have any friends here. Only you.”

Kaden smiled a little and held her close, finding his own comfort in the familiar role of protector. Still, Meredith needed more than just him to make it through Tarvin Hall. His pulse quickened. This could be the worst mistake he ever made, but something compelled him to go on.

“You know, Meredith, there’s a special friend who will never, ever leave you.”

She looked up in question. “Who?”

Kaden glanced over his shoulder and looked around the yard, but no one lingered nearby. “Have you ever heard of King Elôm?”

Meredith’s mood changed in an instant, and her body went rigid. Her eyes darted here and there before she whispered, “Mommy and Daddy used to tell me about Him.”

This was not the answer Kaden expected.
Outside of Kyrin, Sam, and his father, faith in Elôm seemed almost non-existent. “Did they?”

Meredith nodded and looked up at him again with eyes full of yearning. “Do you think He’s real?”

“I know He is, and I believe in Him.”