Rayne recovered quickly and bowed deeply while sheathing the knife he’d been carrying. “Forgive me, Prince Shey. I was surprised by your appearance.”
Shey took a step back, dropping his hands to his sides. He sighed and turned a frown on Eno.
“We all were surprised,” Caelan interjected. It was better to smooth this over since General Morgan and Tomas were also present. They couldn’t quite be as relaxed as they had been in their private chambers in the Sirelis palace. “When Queen Noemi generously offered to send us some of her navy to help with the New Rosanthe problem, I did not expect her to send her treasured son as well.”
Shey rebounded quickly and turned a devilish smile in his direction. “I happily volunteered. After you helped us out in Sirelis, I thought it only right that I make the trip. We brought not only our warships, but some food, medicine, and various other supplies. Though, I’ll admit it’s not much as we are still rebuilding and resettling in Sirelis.”
Caelan crossed to Shey, hand extended. “Your help is most welcome and appreciated. How are things going in Sirelis?”
The smile fell away as he shook Caelan’s hand and released it. With it, the mask came off. “Slowly. But rebuilding is always slow. We’ve recovered only a quarter of our port and a fifth of our warehouses. It also doesn’t help that Sirelis is crawling with Empire spies like an infestation of cockroaches.”
“If there is anything—” Caelan started, but Shey was already waving him off.
“We both have our hands full. We’ll let the diplomats sort it all out, but I have Queen Noemi’s blessing to state that we would like a more open and warmer relationship with Erya from this day forward.”
Caelan nodded easily. “I would like that very much as well. I have a feeling we’re going to need each other in the days ahead.” Shey’s expression turned questioning, but Caelan gave a small shake of his head. There would be plenty of time to bring him up to date on what he’d learned from the Goddess of Life. As a fellow godstone guardian and the prince of Caspagir, it was in the best interest of both kingdoms if Shey knew what was happening.
Instead, Caelan turned toward Rayne and Eno. “Croft?”
“We’ve handed her off to guards, and she has been escorted to a cell within the Keep.”
Caelan nodded and turned on his heel to look at General Morgan and Tomas, who were standing off to the side. They were both bloody and tired, but there was also an exhilarated light in their eyes. Hope, maybe?
“Captain Soto, General Morgan, I charge you with keeping Octavia Croft prisoner until she can be properly tried on charges of treason and wrongful imprisonment. She is to have no visitors, and I want you to personally vet all guards who have contact with her. She must be held accountable for the chaos and pain she caused our people while I was away.”
Tomas and Morgan bowed deeply to him. “It will be done.”
Caelan turned to the throne and fought the urge to frown at it. The chair wasn’t the one he’d grown up seeing his mother seated on. It wasn’t the chair he’d expected to spend the latter part of his life sitting on. The one destroyed in the central tower had been an elegant work of art, made of cool marble and graceful swirls of silver.
The Keep throne was huge and carved entirely from wood with black iron bands holding it together. The wood itself was a deep reddish brown as if it had been soaked for centuries in the blood of Erya’s enemies. It was the throne of a king at war. The chair of ruthless, merciless kings who’d secured their kingdoms through violence.
The first step was the hardest. Caelan walked to the throne, climbed the three short steps, and sat. The weight returned to his chest and pressed down on his shoulders, but he couldn’t stop his smile when he saw Drayce take up position behind his left shoulder. He looked over to Rayne and lifted one mocking eyebrow. It was the nudge his old friend needed.
Rayne quickly but gracefully crossed the room, bowed before Caelan, and took up his position on Caelan’s right.
With the tiniest smirk, Eno shifted his position as well, moving to stand in front of the doors leading to the throne room. He pulled his sword and, with a loud clang, planted the tip into the stone floor directly in front of him, announcing to all he was the first line of defense for his king.
There would be no formal ascension ceremony; there simply wasn’t time. The important thing was that he had bonded with the Goddess of Life, rising to his full potential as Guardian of the Godstone. Plenty of soldiers had already witnessed that in the fight that morning.