Kingslayer Read Free

wagged it chidingly. “That will not do, General. I want the truth . I want your story of events. Will you not tell it to me?” When he didn’t respond, she looked at him more carefully. “Or is it something that you feel you cannot tell?”
    That…hit closer to the truth than she probably expected. He could not meet her eyes as he responded, “It’s very personal, Your Most High Majesty.”
    “I see.” For a long moment, she regarded him in silence. “Guards, take him to a holding room and make sure that he is properly bathed and fed. Oh, and get him some proper clothing as well.”
    …What? Darius jerked his head back up. “Your Most High Majesty, are you not going to execute me? Or turn me over to Brindisi?” She could use him as quite the bargaining chip if she wanted to.
    She blinked at him in surprise, as if neither thought had ever crossed her mind. “And lose one of the most skilled, talented generals that this world has seen? Heaven forbid! No, I am sure that we can put your talents to better use.”
    Which meant…what? Did she plan to use him? How? He could see no way to be useful to her.
    “Besides,” she said offhandedly as she stood, turning away. “Amusing things are not allowed to escape me. Off with you.”
    Darius was half-jerked back to his feet and forcefully turned around before he could even try to question that last statement. He followed along as they took him back into the hallway, mind in a daze. Not killed? Not bargained away like a piece of dead meat?
    What by the gods did she intend to do with him then?!
    ~~~
    For two days that question weighed on his mind.
    Far from the prison cell he expected, his guards instead shoved him into a holding room in the very back of the palace. The stone walls were thick, the windows so narrow that he could barely stick an arm outside, and the door had an impressive stoutness to it. Even with an axe in hand it would have taken him some time to break through it. But even though the room could obviously serve as a prison cell, it didn’t have the right look for one. In fact, it looked more like a hastily converted storeroom. A simple bed had been shoved into one corner—not a pallet, but an actual bed with a wooden frame—and a wash basin in the other, though some cautious person had tied a simple chain around the basin’s handle to prevent it from being used as a weapon.
    They only took him out of the room once, in the afternoon of the first day, and even then he didn’t go far. They showed him to a public bath and gave him just enough time to scrub the dirt and sweat away. Then they shoved fresh clothes into his hands, allowed him to dress, and dragged him straight back to the room. The clothes were even nice ones—the loose fitting black pants, crisp white shirt and belted sash had never seen use.
    A pretty, very young maid came in three times a day to deliver meals and take away the old dishes. She acted skittish around him, although he did not do anything to intimidate her. But it could be that she knew whom she waited on. Or it could just be his looks. After so many years of being a soldier, his skin had the same darkness as a Niotan’s, but he had the blond hair and ice blue eyes of Arape, his home country. Arape had been a part of the Brindisi Sovran for so many generations that most people had forgotten it once existed as an independent nation. Anyone with fair coloring was “Brindisi” and that was that. No one from Brindisi would be welcomed here.
    The room didn’t have the size he needed to truly train, but he found a way to work around the cramped area and do a full set of stretches and exercises. He partially did it out of a sense of routine—he’d been training his entire life. It just didn’t feel right if he didn’t train. But he partially did it to ease the boredom as well. Aside from sleeping and eating, he didn’t have anything else to do.
    Except worry.
    His treatment here was unexpected. It could almost be on the