He took the black square of cloth from the slave who had carried it, and placed it over the head of the sceptre.
‘This is absurd,’ said the Regent.
‘You have committed the crime of treason. You will be put to the sword. You will not be interred with your father or brother. Your body will be displayed instead on the city gates as a warning against treachery.’
‘You can’t sentence me,’ the Regent said. ‘I am the King.’
He was taken in the firm grip of two soldiers. His arms were forced behind his back, and the chains that had bound Laurent closed over his wrists.
‘You were only ever his Regent,’ said Herode. ‘You were never the King.’
‘You think you can defy me?’ the Regent said to Laurent. ‘You think you can rule Vere? You?’
Laurent said, ‘I’m not a boy anymore.’
As the soldiers took him, the Regent laughed a little breathlessly. ‘You’ve forgotten,’ said the Regent, ‘that if you touch me, I’ll kill Damianos’s child.’
‘No,’ said Damen. ‘You won’t.’
And he saw that Laurent understood, that Laurent knew, somehow, about the scrap of paper that Damen had found that morning in the empty wagon in their camp, its door standing open. That he had carried it in careful fingers on the long walk to the city.
The child was never yours, but he is safe. In another life, he would have been a king.
I remember the way you looked at me, the day we met. Perhaps that, too, in another life.
Jokaste
‘Take him,’ said Laurent.
Metallic sounds as the whole hall burst into action, Veretian soldiers forming up to take the Regent, the Akielon honour guard moving to protect their hall and their King. The Regent was forced hard to his knees. His expression of disbelief was turning to fury, then to horror, and he was struggling. A soldier approached with a sword.
‘What’s happening?’ said a young voice.
Damen turned. The eleven-year-old boy who had been sitting beside the Regent’s throne had pushed up out of his chair and was staring, confusion in his wide brown eyes.
‘What’s happening? You said we’d go riding after. I don’t understand.’ He was trying now to go to the soldiers who were holding the Regent down. ‘Stop it, you’re hurting him. You’re hurting him. Let him go.’ A soldier was holding him back, and the boy was fighting him.
Laurent looked at the boy, and in his eyes was the knowledge that some things couldn’t be fixed. He said, ‘Get that boy out of here.’
It was a single clean stroke. Laurent’s face didn’t change. Laurent turned to the soldiers when it was done.
‘Put his body on the gates. Fly my flag on the walls. Let all my people know of my ascension.’ He lifted his eyes, and met Damen’s gaze across the length of the hall. ‘And unchain the King of Akielos.’
The Akielon soldiers holding Damen didn’t know what to do. One of them let go of Damen’s arm as the Veretians advanced, two of the others broke, shoving away in an attempt to escape.
There was no sign of Kastor. In the confusion, he had taken his chance and fled, his small honour guard with him. There would be bloodshed in the corridors as Laurent’s men moved out. All those who had supported Kastor would now be fighting for their lives.
Damen was suddenly surrounded by Veretian soldiers, and Laurent was with them. A Veretian soldier took hold of his chains. The iron cuffs fell from him, leaving only the gold.
‘You came,’ said Laurent.
‘You knew I would,’ said Damen.
‘If you need an army to take your capital,’ said Laurent, ‘I seem to have one.’
Damen let out a strange breath. They were gazing at each other. Laurent said, ‘After all, I owe you a fort.’
‘Find me, after,’ said Damen.