Tejus’s minister gasped, and then choked, shoving Tejus back.
“What in the name of Nevertide are you doing?” the minister roared.
“I could very well ask you the same question,” Tejus snapped back, undeterred by the quivering rage of the Impartial Minister.
“This is the water of Lyis; it has healing properties—we were near dead!” the minister spluttered. “And you, son of Hellswan, have the audacity to rip us from our sacred ritual!”
Tejus pushed the minister back in disgust, leaning against one of the columns and crossing his arms as he looked down at the old sentry with as much disdain as he could muster.
“I want answers from you.” Tejus spoke in a bored monotone, glancing over at me. Hastily, I shook the second minister awake. He coughed, spraying water over his already sodden clothing, and then stared around, wild-eyed and just as furious as the first.
“Answers from both of you,” Tejus continued, before the second minister had time to condemn us for the rude awakening.
“Why should we speak to you?” the first one demanded. “You gave up your kingship, Tejus—you have no right to demand anything from us.”
“Speak to me then,” I interjected. “You’ve managed to eradicate most of the royalty in Nevertide, surely I will suffice?”
“Their deaths were not our responsibility!” the second minister objected, glancing at the first. They were starting to realize that we could potentially pose a threat—one look at Tejus’s glare and they fell silent again.
“We want to know why you sided with Queen Trina, why you abandoned Nevertide to her,” Tejus demanded. “What did you gain?”
“We d-didn’t,” the first stuttered. “We didn’t!”
“You did,” I shouted back. “You sided with her throughout the trials—you ignored Hadalix’s death, and I’d be amazed if you didn’t give her a heads up at every single trial!”
“She was the strongest contender,” blustered one of them.
“We needed a strong emperor, one who could protect us from the entity, one who would be able to unite the kingdoms and repair the damage done by your father.” The Impartial Minister pointed at Tejus, his old, gnarled finger trembling.
Tejus barked with laughter.
“You fools! Queen Trina is the head of the Acolytes—she’s been aligning herself with the entity since this began. Had you no idea? Were you so arrogant that you couldn’t see what was right in front of you?”
“Nonsense!” one of the ministers cried. “She was the only one worthy of the imperial title!”
Tejus sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration.
“Shall we pull out the rest?” I asked, hoping that at least one of the others might be more forthcoming and reasonable.
“No!” the first minister cried. “Let them heal. We’ll tell you anything you want to know, but leave them to their peace. You are not the only ones who have suffered.”
“But we seem to be the only ones not taking a nap,” muttered Hazel. Tejus smirked.
“What do you know about the entity?” I asked. “We need to know more if we’re going to put a stop to it.” The accusation on my tongue, that they were clearly not going to do a thing, remained unspoken.
“We don’t know much,” one of them replied.
“Just tell us what you do know. I’m running out of patience.”
There was a long pause before one of them began in a shaking voice, “He has risen now. It was foretold…if one ever removed the stones that held him, he would rise—and he would end the reign of the sentries. He will awaken his army from the depths of the sea; they have lain there, waiting, for centuries—waiting for the day when they will be called on by their master to be reborn, and take back the land that was once theirs.”
“What do you mean?” Hazel asked quickly. “An army of what, exactly?”
The old minister turned his rheumy eyes toward her, surprised that a mere girl would demand answers from him so directly.
“We don’t know exactly,” he replied after a moment. “But the entity and his army are the pure forms of sentries. When the first settlers landed here, human settlers, Nevertide—or the ‘Lost Land’, as it was known then—was already inhabited by deadly, vicious and powerful creatures. In awe of these creatures, the humans begged for the powers of the ‘pure’ sentries—and their wishes were granted. Today, we are all the descendants of these human and sentry hybrids.”
“We’re really part human?” I asked in astonishment.
The minister nodded, looking shamefaced. Clearly it was something that brought them great distress, but it temporarily lifted my spirits. I glanced over at Ruby. Our eyes met and she gave me a small smile.
“When the hybrids grew in number and power, the ‘pure’ sentries were banished at the request of the emperor, locked into the stones for all eternity. They became known as the ‘forbidden’—the true nature of them being long ago forgotten, and their mention erased from our history books. Well, most of them.” He glared at Tejus and me, as if we were somehow at fault for knowing about the entity. Was their pride so great that it was more important to keep our enemy secret than to annihilate it? These ministers were insane if that was what they thought.
Still, the information was hard to digest. Tejus remained silent, evidently as stunned as I was. I couldn’t believe that the entity we so feared was essentially our creator—that the shameful secret the Impartial Ministers had tried to bury for so long was our own origin.
“Do you know how we defeat it?” Tejus asked after a few moments.
“We do not,” the minister replied. “The book of the emperor, however, is rumored to have the answer to that question. We must, must progress with the trials if we are to contain the situation.”
“Contain the situation?” Tejus repeated incredulously. “No. There will be no trial. We cannot risk Queen Trina being victorious. Ash is our only option; you will anoint him emperor today.”
“How dare you make such demands of us!” one of the ministers blustered. “Who are you to change the ancient traditions, the sacred acts that were created long before your birth? The trials are a Nevertidian institution—we must preserve them.”
“Even if it means the death of all Nevertide’s people?” Ruby exploded. “You people are crazy! What is wrong with you? Are you so blind that you don’t see what’s happening here? Everyone’s going to die!”
“You are hysterical,” the old man shot back. “We will contain the entity, and Nevertide will resume as normal.”
I wanted to laugh. I couldn’t believe their complete and utter ignorance. It blew my mind that Nevertide had survived this long with such foolish men at its helm. I looked over at Tejus, who hadn’t reacted to the latest insanity. We all fell silent, and I realized that we were waiting for him to speak.
We didn’t have long to wait.
He leaned down toward the minister who had just spoken, and smiled at him.
“Old man,” he said, his voice low and caressing, “please believe me when I say that I am perfectly willing to end your existence—all of you, in fact—to get this done. Know that your life hangs in the balance.”
“What of Memenion?” asked the minister. “Where is he? He should have a chance to compete.”
Tejus let out a low growl, grabbing the minister by the robe. “He is dead,” he snarled. “He lies at the bottom of the crevice that has torn its way across this land. Dig him up and see for yourself if you wish.”
“I did not know,” the old man whispered, clearly shaken by the news. “He was a good king.”
“Yes, he was,” Tejus bit back.
The ministers looked at one another, their glances frightened. We had won. In theory. I still had huge reservations about this plan… Everything that I had been shown since I became king—the danger of my homeland, the gray areas between right and wrong, the true nature of Tejus, the underbelly of evil in the best of us, and most of all Ruby and my love for her—made me want to turn
my back on this responsibility. The boy who had dreamed naively of ruling Nevertide, of righting wrongs, had died the day of the disk trial, and I was left with nothing but uncertainty and fear—nothing but self-doubt, and the knowledge that Tejus was the right sentry for the job, not I.
“Very well then,” the minister muttered. “Ash, we will anoint you emperor. Please understand this is a great undertaking. I hope you show more dignity than this…madman.” The minister directed his insult at Tejus. He rose slowly, painfully up from the floor, and then helped his friend to do the same.
“Move away from the basin,” the minister commanded, gesturing to the stone floor. We all backed up, giving the ministers some space.
“Shall I wake the others?” one said to the other.
“No, we will do it. Let them rest—let them arise in another time, a happier one than this, perhaps.”
I looked at Ruby, who shrugged.
How old are these sentries?
The ministers staggered toward us, stopping a few feet away. One of them bent down, placing his palm flat out on the stone. He closed his eyes, and as I watched, open-mouthed, his hand sank into the floor, disappearing from sight. A few moments later he pulled his arm back, holding the imperial staff, the crown, and a roll of parchment. He handed them to the second minister, who placed them carefully on the floor, the staff first.
“Are you ready, Ashbik of Hellswan, to do your duty for Nevertide?” the first minister asked.
“I am.” I swallowed.
I am not. I am not—not in a million years.
Ruby’s hand found mine, and our fingers entwined. I looked down at her and she gave me a reassuring smile. One of the ministers cleared his throat, and she let go of my hand, moving back to stand with Tejus and Hazel.
“This is the staff of Nevertide, a symbol of your leadership,” the minister intoned. “It represents the promise you are making today to protect each sentry, to protect each kingdom, to treat all as equal.”
I nodded, taking the staff in my hand. It was gold, and felt impossibly heavy — even more so than the replica scepters we had retrieved from the forest.
“This is the crown of Nevertide. It represents your position as head of all six kingdoms. You are responsible for their unity. You are their leader.”
The crown was placed on my head. It was heavy too…the staff and the crown felt like chains.
Am I losing Ruby?
The thought struck me suddenly, without warning.
The ministers continued speaking, informing me that the parchment was the irrefutable evidence of my decree. But all I could think about was her. Was this why Tejus had abandoned his crown? Had he chosen Hazel instead of this? I felt a million miles away from Ruby—the objects might have symbolized a lot to the ministers, but to me they just represented the divide between Ruby’s world and mine. For some reason, I looked up toward Tejus. His eyes met mine for the briefest moment, and then he looked down at the floor, avoiding me. Hazel’s hand was tightly clasped in his. Suddenly everything became blindingly obvious. He had chosen her. My heart broke into a million pieces. I hadn’t realized—I hadn’t thought this through. I hadn’t understood the consequences.
I am a fool.
I have lost everything.
The staff, the crown, the parchment, they were chains tying me to Nevertide.
“Well done, Ash.” Ruby turned to me. The crowning was obviously over, but I hadn’t listened to a word they had said.
“How do you feel?” she prompted.
“Great,” I replied, my throat tight.
“You’ll get Nevertide back on its feet. I believe in you, Ash.” She grinned, completely misunderstanding my demeanor.
“Yeah.” I tried to smile.
“Let’s go,” Tejus muttered, looking uncomfortable. “Shall we take the ministers with us?” he asked, deferring the decision to me for the first time since I had been crowned king.
“Let’s do it.” I nodded.
I didn’t care either way. I didn’t care in the slightest.
Ruby
Hazel and I gave up our bull-horses to the Impartial Ministers. Even after everything they’d done, I kind of felt bad for them. It might have been because they looked like they were going to keel over and die at any moment, but I also felt that Tejus had been effective enough in making them come at least partway to their senses. They wouldn’t be crossing us again in a hurry—accidentally or otherwise.
“Where to now?” I asked as we made our way back down the narrow path. I was riding on the back of Ash’s bull-horse, and turned my head to see Tejus and Hazel behind me.
“We should get to Hellswan castle as swiftly as possible. Ash?” Tejus deferred again, and I gave Hazel a bemused look. It was the weirdest thing to see Tejus checking in with the man I’d previously heard him refer to as the ‘Kitchen King.’
“I agree, though we should get more of us to help. Let’s go via the palace and get help. I don’t suppose finding it is going to be an easy task,” Ash muttered.
“Absolutely,” Tejus replied.
Ash pulled the bull-horse to a stop, turned around and glared at Tejus. “Stop it,” he barked.
Stop what? Was Tejus’s deferral making Ash uncomfortable?
Tejus nodded sullenly. “Fine. As we were, then.”
What? I didn’t really understand why Ash would have a problem with Tejus acknowledging his new position—if anything I’d thought he would have wanted it, would have reveled in Tejus bowing down to him. I frowned as Ash spurred on the bull-horse. He had been acting strange ever since he was crowned, and through the ceremony, like he wasn’t listening to a word that the Impartial Ministers had been saying. This was what he’d always wanted, wasn’t it?
“Ash,” I said, leaning my head against his back, “are you okay? You seem to be…distracted.”
“I’m fine, Shortie, don’t worry. It’s just a bit strange, that’s all.”
“As long as that’s all it is?”
“Yeah.” He squeezed my hands that were clasped around his waist. “That’s all it is.”
I only felt half reassured. There was something in his tone that made me think his sentiments weren’t exactly true. Then again, it wasn’t like I’d ever been crowned emperor of a country—how the hell would I know how he felt? There must have been a million thoughts going through his head right now, and it wasn’t as if Nevertide was in good shape. Ash would have hardships ahead of him. We all would.
The journey passed without incident. The Impartial Ministers didn’t say a word. Ash asked them if they needed a break at one point, but they shook their heads, muttering something about not slowing us down. I realized that we didn’t even know their names. It was something we would have to remedy later…especially if they were going to be staying at the palace with us.
The return journey felt a lot shorter, and soon the towers of the palace broke through the treetops in the distance.
“What’s that noise?” Hazel asked as we approached the muddy path that would lead to the grounds.
“Damn!” Ash hissed, spurring the bull-horse onward. Tejus’s horse started to canter as well, coming to ride side by side with ours. A moment later, I could hear the thundering of hooves from the Impartial Ministers’ mounts as well.
“What’s going on?” I yelled.
“The other kingdoms,” Ash yelled back.
I didn’t get more of an answer than that, but I didn’t need one. A few seconds later, we were on the lawn of the palace, which was completely covered with yelling, rowdy sentries.
Benedict and Julian!
Without a doubt, these sentries weren’t gathered here for any purpose other than revenge and taking their frustrations out on someone they could hold accountable…
They were so intent on screaming toward the palace that none of them noticed our presence.
“Do something!” Tejus barked at the Impartial Ministers. “They need to know! We need to stop them before this gets out of hand!” r />
The Impartial Ministers kicked their bull horses ahead of us, taking the lead. A few sentries fell silent at their approach, and the effect fell across the rest of the crowd—one by one, the villagers, ministers and guards stopped hurling insults and the crowd parted to let us through.
“Oh, my God!” I cried out as I saw Benedict standing, frozen, at the opposite end of the lawn, a mean-looking young sentry holding a scythe to his throat. The offender dropped his weapon as the Impartial Ministers approached. He stood back from Benedict, glaring at us.
“All silent for the emperor of Nevertide!” the ministers announced. “All silent for Emperor Ashbik!”
Absolute silence descended. Hazel clambered off her horse and rushed toward Benedict, holding him in a tight embrace. Her soft mutterings were the only sound that came from the lawn.
A moment later, I heard rustling coming from behind me—then next to us—then from every single part of the lawn as each soul gathered in front of the palace began to kneel.
“Oh, Ash,” I whispered.
It was the most moving sight I’d ever seen. I could hardly believe that the Ash I knew—the boy who had rescued me from a dank cellar with a cart of vegetables, who had slept in a makeshift bed buried deep within the Hellswan castle, who had faced defeat after defeat—was witnessing the survivors of all six kingdoms bowing down to him in reverence and respect.
Tingles ran throughout my body and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I vowed I would remember this moment forever. Every time I thought something was impossible—when my grandchildren thought something was impossible—I would be reminded of this moment. The day a kitchen boy became an emperor.
“Rise!” Ash barked, following the Impartial Ministers in the direction of the palace. “Someone tell me what’s going on here!”
The crowd did as they’d been commanded, and as we waited by the porch, a minister stumbled forward from the crowd.