Keira's Fire

Chapter 23

Creeping into the spacious room was surreal. I couldn't believe I was just feet from the snoring High King, a man abundantly hated by so many.

Owen and I advanced into the moonlit room, and before I knew it, I was standing over the sleeping king, dagger in hand. I never felt more powerful in my life, but the thrill was immensely dampened, remembering what Owen said about the king's brother and seeing for myself that it was true. If this man was truly innocent, I doubted that I'd be able to kill him. I wasn't sure Owen could, with his memories, either.

Standing near the man's feet with his sword drawn, Owen nodded at me to get moving. This was going to be as tricky as getting passed the guards had been. I had to cover the king's mouth before he roused enough to shout for help. He wasn't a small man either. I guessed that lying in bed for the last ten years and eating heartily hadn't done his physique any favors. The fact that he was lying in the middle of the enormous bed made the task even more difficult.

Gently easing onto the bed, I prayed that he wasn't a light sleeper. I couldn't be sure I'd be able to completely control my dagger in the hurried frenzy to keep him quiet, and killing him right off the bat would help exactly nothing.

I breathed much easier when I was able to crawl across the mattress and stop next to his head while he continued snoring loudly. There wasn't so much as a snort of interruption. Before I had time to worry about everything that could go wrong from this point on, I slipped my arm around the king's head, clamped my hand down onto his mouth, and pressed the dagger to his throat, effectively waking him in terror.

His muffled cries were still much too loud for my liking and I struggled to keep my hold as he fought to free himself.

"Be quiet," I hissed, locking my arms. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already!"

He stilled and his frightened eyes darted around the room before landing on Owen's sword, hovering directly over his chest.

"We just need to speak with you," he said. "Don't make us kill you."

Seeing the suspicion in the king's eyes, I knew we needed more insurance than that.

"We aren't afraid to die," I whispered. "Chances are we'll be killed shortly anyway, so screaming will only serve to end your life before ours."

The king nodded, his eyes now fixed on mine and I figured that was the best I could hope for. I loosened my grip on his mouth but held the dagger firmly in place.

"What do you want?" he whispered anxiously.

"Only to talk to you," I said.

"I know you..." He narrowed his eyes. "You're that rebel who's been terrorizing my men!"

I snorted a laugh. Me terrorizing them?

"No, Sir," I disagreed. "It's your men who are terrorizing countless people. I've only taken a little revenge and protected some of your innocent subjects."

Disbelief was plain on his face and I began feeling like this was a lost cause.

"When I was a child, my father and brother were killed in the rebellion," I said, having no idea where else to start.

"Trying to usurp my throne," he accused.

"No." I pressed the dagger a little harder, to remind him to keep his voice down. "Trying to defend my family and myself."

He stayed quiet, watching me with clear distrust.

"My father had no desire for power or wealth. And he certainly didn't wish to die and leave us defenseless. One thing I remember well about my father was that he never condoned violence unless absolutely necessary."