An Aimless War (Greatest Thief 2)

Bonus - Long Live the King

During Chapter Ten

Someone was shouting, somewhere, and it took Tandrin a moment to realize that it wasn't just in his dream. He sat up, suddenly wide awake. He got to his feet and in his haste almost walked in the wrong direction. The bedroom wasn't laid out the way he was used to. He wasn't in his own room, back in his own city. He was in Zianna. In the darkness of the room, Tandrin pulled on his boots and grabbed his sword belt. As he buckled it around his waist, he pushed open the chamber door with his shoulder.

As always, there was a guard hovering near his door. Sir Cailen was holding his sword and staring down the hallway warily, towards the sound. He was wearing what he usually wore on guard duty, chainmail over a blue tunic and bracers on both forearms. Along with the sword in his hand, he had a few knives strapped in various places. Tandrin felt unprepared by comparison, wearing nothing but the light clothing he'd been sleeping in.

"What's going on?"

Cail shrugged. "I have no idea, my lord." He stepped aside as some of the palace guards ran past, towards the commotion. "Something's happened, but I don't think anyone's fighting."

Tandrin started down the hallway, but Cail grabbed his arm. "My lord, please. Stay here where I can watch you."

Tandrin hesitated. He gripped the hilt of his sword harder, wondering what to do. What could he do? If there was an attack, he would be no help. He could fight, but he wasn't nearly as good as the knights and guards were. His talents lay elsewhere, in public speaking and politics. He allowed Cail to pull him back a few steps. Tandrin thought briefly of his younger brother. Tannix was brash and rarely thought of his own safety, but he was a soldier and he would have charged down the hallway to find out what was happening.

His thoughts were broken by a scream.

Tandrin recognized it instantly. It was Esmeranda, the crown princess. And as of a few weeks before, his betrothed.

Cail's grip on his arm tightened. "My lord."

Tandrin spun around. "I'm going to her," he said firmly. He hated putting his knights in these positions, where they had to choose between protecting him or following orders. He could almost see Cail thinking about it.

It seemed like ages had passed before Cail let go of his arm. "Please say near me." He carefully pushed past Tandrin to lead the way down the hallway. Tandrin tried to relax his grip on his sword as he followed his knight. If Esmeranda was hurt, he didn't know what he would do. He tried to push the thought away. She wouldn't be hurt. She had guards, and handmaidens. She was almost never alone. So she couldn't possibly be hurt.

Cail forced his way through the crowd of soldiers. With a sickening feeling, Tandrin realized where they were going. The king's chamber was almost empty compared to the chaos in the hallway. Tandrin stepped in cautiously. Scattered around the room were guards and servants, but Tandrin ignored them. Esmeranda, sobbing, was lying across the bed, and her younger sister was nearby. Tandrin moved closer, slowly, half hoping that it was all the dream. Then his gaze landed on the king.

At first glance he looked asleep, but the blood soaking his tunic ruined the illusion. Tandrin tore his gaze away from the multiple stab wounds that covered the king's chest. His eyes were open, but blank, and his right arm was stretched towards the table beside his bed as if he had been trying to grab a knife.

Tandrin slipped his arms around Esmeranda's waist. She struggled against him for a moment before realizing who he was, then turned around and buried her face in his tunic. Tandrin could feel blood from her night dress seeping into his shirt, but he ignored it and held her tightly. His mind was racing. The king was dead, meaning that Esmeranda was queen, meaning that—