The Twelve Stars

Chapter 19

I woke up to a jangling of keys as they were jammed into the lock and the grinding of steel as the gate was pulled open. Half of me hoped it was Thad. If he had come to escort us, there was a chance I could persuade him to see reason. Instead it was Admiral Xavia with none other than Boro and Grazier by his side. His startling silver eyes proved ever more threatening in the dim light of the dungeon.

"Good to see the scumbag is back where he belongs," he gloated.

"What does that make me?" Finn asked. Admiral Xavia glared at him.

"To think you were one of them this whole time," he said.

"Can you blame me for being afraid?"

"Where's Robyn?" I asked. His eyes moved to mine.

"I wouldn't worry about your little friend," he answered. I attempted to stand, forgetting that I was shackled, and was yanked back to my knees. "I will handle this punk," he said. Snapping his fingers at Boro and Grazier, he added, "You two contain the traitor and the blacksmith-"

"Traitor?" Finn scoffed. "That's low coming from you, Xavia."

"It's not me you need to answer to," he said. There was the unshackling of chains and then a weight lifted as they fell off and hit the ground. I rubbed my bruised wrists. "I don't need to threaten you not to run away, do I?" Admiral Xavia's voice spoke harshly into my ear.

"Maybe you should have asked me that before releasing me," I smirked. He released a growl in response followed by a shove of his hand on my back. I stumbled from the blow.

"Hey, watch it!" Finn warned. "That's my brother you're hurting."

There was a moment of stunned silence which was interrupted by an ugly laugh. Even Boro and Grazier let out a snigger of mockery.

"Brother?" Admiral Xavia chortled. "Is that right-"

"You don't believe me?" Finn challenged.

Admiral Xavia turned his back on me in one swift move, having managed to get under his skin. I looked over my shoulder to see his nose and ears fuming with intolerance, his eyes locked with Finn's. "You mean brother as in the same Ragnar Starbringer who was declared dead six years ago?" His voice rose on each word. "Believe, my arse," he answered.

On that pleasant note, the conversation ended. From the dungeons to the Throne Room, I considered many opportunities of escape with the assistance of my power. It was Quentin's warning look that stopped me. We would be face to face with the king soon enough. The journey through the castle's monotonous's stone corridors held an air of despondency that played into our current mood of despair, evident in our sluggish pace. It created an absence of mind filled with irrepressible thoughts.

The grinding of stone doors snapped me back to attention. In comparison with Hel's Throne Room, this one stood in stark contrast with its long-narrowed, pillared hallway. The sun cast its rays through lancet windows and bounced off its sandstone walls, impaired with acute arches and tapestry framework of intricate designs. A warmth spread throughout its resplendent fortress. Revelation of King Starbringer's appearance drastically slowed my pace. A fair distance apart, an unknown fear stilled me. With my eyes on the king, I distinguished Quentin to my left and Finn to my right. The massive banner of New Midgard with its crest of three castles draped along the wall behind the two thrones.

I regarded Dragos Starbringer with the utmost scrutiny. He wore a long navy blue tunic of woven silk reminiscent of a long-armed shirt that reached down to his ankles with a simple leather black girdle buckled around his waist. Leather boots concealed his leg warmers which were apparent through the parting of his tunic. Long sleeves ran past his elbows and folded over his black, leather arm braces. His dark grey shoulder length hair was flattened by the gold headband of his crown and a matching cloak fastened with an iron brooch draped over his shoulders. His upright posture radiated dignity while the hungry gleam in his blue eyes was overcome with authority. A power-hungry man driven to madness.