The Shadowbearer (An Aegis of the Gods Book)

Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

The return to Benez weighed on Stefan. He didn’t deserve the outpouring of jubilation around him. The Setian were doomed, and he blamed himself.

Thania, at her usual position above the gates with Anton and Celina beside her, was the one thing remotely normal about the day. Seeing them made him smile for a moment, and he touched the pendant around his neck before melancholy crept in. Defeat occupied his mind, but the people still cheered. Along the roadside, out of their windows, perched on roofs, they waved handkerchiefs, tossed flowers, and screamed and yelled more than at any other victory celebration. Don’t they realize the Unvanquished have fallen? That thousands of men who defended their country died at Nerian’s hands?

The majority of his surviving men, especially the veterans, marched with their heads down, expressions grim. The newer recruits chattered excitedly among themselves. Others stared absently, forlorn expressions etched onto their faces.

A procession of wagons followed their group, carrying those who had lost limbs. Interspersed among his men were King Nerian’s Dagodin and Alzari. At their head, surrounded by his Royal Guard, rode the King, broad shoulders appearing even more so in his armor, his figure an imposing one upon his huge warhorse.

“Hail King Nerian,” someone shouted above the din of the crowds along the cobbled streets. “Savior of the Unvanquished!”

Stefan started. So that’s what they were calling the man?

To Stefan’s left Kasimir shook his head. “Been quite a few of those today.”

As he listened closely, Stefan picked the names out: Nerian the Lightbearer, Nerian the Savior. The second title grated his insides more than any other. Carried by countless mouths, the name travelled along the avenue in a ripple with a power of its own. Eyes gleamed with fervor as they regarded the King. More than one person bowed their head in reverence as he rode by.

I lost thirty thousand men, Garrick still lies within death’s grasp, and he makes them believe this was a victory. Stefan stared at Nerian’s back, fingers caressing his sword hilt.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Kasimir said.

“Listen to your friend.”

Stefan whirled at the soft–spoken voice at his other side. Next to him trotted Kahar. Stefan shivered as he gazed into the bodyguard’s blank, silver–flecked eyes. Without another word, Kahar spurred his horse and rode toward the King.

Once they reached the Upper City, Stefan said to Kasimir, “Let the King know I won’t be attending the feast. My family needs me.”

“You sure?” Kasimir asked.

“Yes. He should understand. If he doesn’t …” Stefan shrugged. He nudged his horse through the crowd, onto one of the side lanes, and headed for home.

As expected, Thania had dismissed the servants for the day. She and the children were upstairs playing when Stefan made his way down to the training room.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” he said to the form lingering in the shadows by the doorway across the room.

“Why is that?” Galiana stepped into a pool of lamplight.

“Because Nerian knows you gave me the sword, which means he knows about the parts of the Chronicles you kept from him.”

“Yes. That is why I risked coming. To warn you. Nerian sent the shadelings. The Matus we thought to be an Erastonian was actually one of his Alzari.”