The Shadow Throne

“And give them more targets for our secrets?” I slowed, but did not stop. “Within three days, Gelyn’s army will arrive here. They cannot cross into Carthya. For that, you will need every man we have. Even then, it won’t be enough unless Bymar gets here in time.”

“Then what will you —” Roden’s jaw went slack and he started shaking his head. “Jaron, you can’t. You’re our king.”

“I may wear a crown, but in my heart I am still a thief. Nobody would know better how to get into that camp.” Before he could protest further, I added, “Have my horse made ready by morning. I leave at dawn.”

Roden was waiting beside my horse when I emerged from a tent early the following morning.

“Did you sleep?” he asked me.

I ignored that and instead gestured around the area. “Who attended to my horse? Where are your men?”

With a sigh, he said, “They were tired.”

“Roden, you’ll never —”

But he anticipated my reprimand and cut me off. “The order to rest came from me, not them. I promise that I will learn how to lead them, how to be your captain. But you must let me do it in my own way.”

All I could do was nod back at him. If anything, I was far more flawed as a leader than he seemed to be, and it was hard enough to find my own way forward. So I embraced him for a farewell and a wish for his success, and then swung into Mystic’s saddle.

“Let me come with you,” Roden said. “My horse is ready to ride.”

“Thank you.” I meant that with far more sincerity than my tone could offer. “But it’s not wise for us both to go. Just in case . . .”

“As long as you keep fighting, I will too,” he said. “Whatever comes next, for either of us.”

“Help is coming soon.” My words came from hope rather than certainty, but I wanted him to believe it. “Tobias and Amarinda will get through to Bymar. She will convince them to send her armies here to join you.”

Roden squinted against the morning sun as he stared up at me. “The princess has to cross through Avenia first. We both know how dangerous that is, and Tobias won’t be any help if they’re caught. If they don’t make it —”

“Whether Bymar comes or not, you must hold this border,” I said to him. “The combined strength of Avenia and Mendenwal might still destroy us, but at least we have some chance. If Gelyn gets through, there is no hope. None.”

Roden brushed a hand down Mystic’s neck, and then gathered the reins into his fist. “It’s bad enough that the king I’ve sworn to protect is going to Avenia on his own. Can you at least promise me that you know what you’re doing, that you’re undistracted?”

I steeled my voice and answered, “This is what I want. My head is in this.”

He frowned. “And what of your heart?” I turned away, but he added, “Jaron, are you in love with Imogen?”

That brought a sigh from me. “It’s complicated.”

But Roden only shook his head. “I have no one in my life. No family, no girl. For me, love isn’t complicated at all.”

I stared through empty air until I lost focus of the world. “I cannot love her.”

“Of course you can. I know she already —”

“No, Roden, I cannot love her. That choice was never given to me.” There was a silence before I added, “And if I cannot love her, then I will not ask her to feel anything for me.”

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Whatever she says, whatever she has made you believe, she cannot choose to feel nothing for you.”

But that’s exactly what she had done. The last time we were together, she had denied loving me, and in fact had suggested almost the opposite. I shook those thoughts from my head and said, “Nor did she choose to die in a plot to uncover my secrets. I will free her, and return her to her life. There can be nothing more.”

After a delay, he said, “I knew you could lie, Jaron. I just didn’t think you’d lie to yourself.” He frowned as he placed the reins into my hand. “After Gelyn surrenders, I will head back toward Drylliad. Now, go do what you must.”

I wanted to brush off his accusation with the ease of dismissing a servant, but I couldn’t. His words affected me more than he might have guessed. I dipped my head at Roden, and then urged Mystic to carry me away. At first I headed south, directly toward Libeth, but the words of the Gelynian commander echoed in my mind. Mendenwal had a cannon, which could rip my cities apart before we even had the chance to defend ourselves. It was probably at this time passing through the plains of Carthya, north of my castle. The land was vast through here, but for something of that size, they would have to take a main road.

I felt torn in my decision like never before. If I did not turn west, I risked additional harm to Mott and Imogen. But if I did not turn east, the cannon would reach Drylliad. Everyone we had sent there with the promise of safety would be killed.

In the end, I closed my eyes and whispered a request for Mott and Imogen to hold out for one day more, then rode east. I wasn’t exactly sure how I could possibly steal a cannon, but I loved the idea of trying. Wherever there were hills, I kept to them and spent the ride scanning the horizon for signs of an army on the march. But for as far as I could see, there was nothing.

By early afternoon, Mystic began to slow. Despite my hurry, I knew he needed a rest. So I found a thick copse of trees in a basin of rolling hills with a small stream flowing through it. Mystic and I both lapped up all we could drink, and I refilled my waterskin for the upcoming ride, then shared with him some of the food rations from Roden’s camp. I would’ve saved more for myself, but the truth was, they were stale and tasteless, and Mystic seemed to like them more than I did.

I was about to get back into the saddle to continue forward when the sounds of a large team of horses and the heavy creaking of metal caught my attention. I had been searching so hard for the cannon, the possibility of it finding me prompted a mischievous smile. I left Mystic in the trees and crept as close as I dared so that I might sneak a glimpse.

Several men on horses lined the road and continued forward until an order was shouted for them to halt. They wore the yellow and white colors of Mendenwal, unusual colors for an army. I hated the thought that we might be defeated by soldiers who looked as if they were wearing daisies. Once they stopped, a gap showed in their ranks and between them I saw a large black cannon being pulled on wheels by a long team of horses. I couldn’t imagine the weight of it, other than to count the animals and guess at the strain they were bearing for this weapon. But at least I’d found it.

“The horses are exhausted,” a man in the lines shouted. “They won’t pull any farther today.”

“This is good enough,” another man shouted back. “I’d rather not bring the cannon into camp anyway. You’ll find the rest of our men in another mile. Ride on and tell the captain we’ll test the cannon here, firing into the hillside.”

As the men carried out his orders to unhitch the team of horses and ride onward, I used the opportunity to sneak even closer. However, before I could get much nearer, two men walked up the hillside, evaluating the slope as a target for the test-firing of the cannon. I ducked behind a rock and realized quickly they were only on the other side of it. If either of them took more than a couple of steps to the left or right, they could look down and see me hiding there. As the men continued talking, I stifled my breaths, certain the only reason they couldn’t detect me was because of the noise their men were making down on the road.