The Amulet Of Nicmir (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 1)

Chapter 61

It was not with a sound mind that Agnir had sent his forces against the heir. He realized that, now. He had been angry--furious, really, and now he was faced with an excruciatingly small force against those tribal fools in the desert.

Roddin, however, that slippery eel, would still pay dearly for his mistake of letting so much slip through his fingers all those weeks ago in Ctash. The boy with soul magic. The last living heir to the Serpentine throne. The amulet. It boiled blood to think of such carelessness. His pride and his enjoyment of drama had gotten in the way one time too many. It was time to knock him off his high pedestal and place someone more...capable in charge of the Canivera. Someone loyal enough to obey orders directly.

The man looked so small and scared when he stepped into the throne room, his hair slicked back like pale butter along his slender skull. When he bowed, his knees shook. Agnir's lips lifted in a sneer. Coward.

"My king," Roddin acknowledged, his voice, squeaky with fear, echoing off the dark stone walls. His eyes were eerily similar to Naru's in the milky light from the chandelier, nearly colorless, set like pale marbles in his head.

"Rat," Agnir snarled in reply, pushing himself to his feet. Roddin flinched. "You have shown nothing in return for the power I gave you. What have you to say for yourself?"

"I apologize!" Roddin exclaimed, falling to his knees as Agnir took first one menacing step down the single stair, then another, putting a hand on the hilt of his blade. It wasn't a legitimate threat--the man was much easier to shame when he was alive--but Roddin didn't need to know that.

"Your groveling means nothing," Agnir hissed, burying his fingers in the front of Roddin's shirt and yanking him roughly to his feet, "and it will not regain your honor or my favor. You have slipped out of line in unforgivable ways, dog, and you will pay the tax for your actions."

Roddin's face, normally so pasty and smooth, was red as fire with fear and mortification, shiny with sweat. "I--" Licking his lips, he fought to tame his quivering tongue. "I admit it was not my wisest decision, my king, but you must know I was unaware of the stakes at the time. I hardly see how I am at fault for this."

"We agreed, in the beginning," Agnir said, his voice quiet and husky with anger as he leaned in close to Roddin's narrow features, "that you would keep any and all prisoners alive until my men could evaluate them. You broke our contract, you wretch, and for that you are dismissed." Throwing the man to the floor like a rag doll, Agnir stepped back and lifted his chin. "Naru?"

The mage melted out of the shadows behind the throne like smoke in an alleyway. At a jerk of his head, two robed men stepped out from behind him. "Take him and throw him outside the gates," Naru said, his voice rich and thoughtful. Cocking his head, he regarded the man on the floor as one might observe an insect pinned to a corkboard. "Perhaps it will remind him what it is to be a commoner."

It was in silence that Roddin rose to his feet, shrugging off the hold of Naru's men. Agnir watched him turn, caught the venomous look the man likely thought he'd gotten away with. Perhaps it would be wise for Agnir to post extra guards around his chambers tonight. He'd had enough assassination attempts over the past months to last a good long while.

"Tell me, dear mage," Agnir remarked, folding his arms as he watched the doors swing shut and listened to the bolts fall in place, "how is our lovely little thief faring in the mountains? Has she worried herself sick over her father yet?"

Naru's grimace was answer enough. "Not exactly. She seems to have acquired a...distraction."

Brushing a thumb over his nails, Agnir flexed his jaw, then his neck, watching the milky fractal pattern the chandelier cast on the obsidian ceiling. "What kind of distraction?"