The Source (Creasan #1)

Chapter 4

"I don't think it's a good idea." Fendrel had followed his brother through the palace, all the way to the king's bedchamber, trying desperately to convince him not to go ahead with it. But it was as if his ears had been stuffed with cotton. "Brother," Fendrel tried again, "I think it will only stir more unrest to see a young girl—"

Favian kicked his shoes aside and whirled on Fendrel. "Yes, but she's not just any young girl, is she? Were you not the one to tell me so?"

"The public doesn't know that. They will only see the king beating a young girl for a seemingly petty crime."

"Petty? She tried to murder me!"

"And failed, because she is nothing more than a child." Fendrel drew a breath to collect himself. He'd learned long ago that shouting did nothing to win his brother over. Favian had to be eased into any decision. "There have been grumblings outside of Vuterra."

Favian paused in shedding his satin vest. "Where?"

He sighed. "The Gentis District."

"The ogres?! Why are you just now telling me of this?"

"I wanted to come to you when I had more information but it seemed like something you need to hear now."

Favian sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his eyes. "What sort of grumblings?"

"The kind that lead to alliances with The Source."

The king shook his head as he stared off into the distance. "We are descended from greatness. Our ancestors fought the bloodiest war in our history, and they won. They brought stability to a people who had practically never known the word. Sometimes it feels as if you and I are the only ones who remember that."

Fendrel looked at his brother sadly. These past few months had been harder on Favian than any other. Since Fendrel was a child, he had admired his brother, his strength and intellect. But sitting there, on his bed with only the flames of the fireplace to light his face, Favian looked very old. Withered away both inside and out. "I think they remember," Fendrel said softly. "I just don't think it's enough anymore."

"Aestus will return you know." Favian turned his green eyes to his brother. "He will. And if it is not a Lance sitting on the throne when he does, there will be chaos."

Fendrel nodded. "Which is precisely why we cannot allow this to go further."

Fendrel could see his brother thinking, see the gears moving and shifting as he thought it over. "How certain are you that she's the one?"

"I'd stake my life on it."

"Good." Favian stood, crossing the room to rest his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I will send word to the cities tonight to tell them who we have in our custody. Come morning, she shall receive punishment. And if you are wrong, brother," he said, "I will have your head."

***

Wind whistled sharply in the morning sky, blowing snowflakes listlessly from side to side. Thea stared out at the gathering of people with her head held high and gaze unflinching. She'd known pain before. It would be a momentary suffering.

They'd stripped her down to a thin nightgown, and the breeze brought gooseflesh out all over her body. She clenched every muscle to keep from shivering. Her teeth chattered only once before she locked her jaw.

The king stood on a balcony above the spectacle, Queen Ana to his left and a Guard to his right. He was speaking to the Guard in hushed tones. Lords and ladies circled the ground floor, whispering softly to each other behind their gloved hands. Prince Fendrel stood beside Thea, holding her in place by the bicep.