Wrath of the Forgotten: Descendants of the Fall Book II, Hodges, Aaron [top 10 non fiction books of all time txt] 📗

A smile lit her face as she turned and saw his approach. “Calafe, we’ve been waiting for you. Are you ready?”

Romaine frowned as he drew his horse to a stop alongside the queen. On her other side, Yasin grinned, though the gesture was mocking. Ignoring the silent taunt, Romaine rested his hand on the pommel of his saddle.

“Ready for what?”

“There is to be a truce for discussion. I plan to demand the Goddess’s return. Given your affiliation with her Divinity, I thought you might wish to attend the meet.”

Romaine hesitated, flicking a glance at the towering walls, but there didn’t seem to be any activity atop the ramparts to indicate an attack was eminent. So instead he nodded, and the queen kicked her horse forward. Romaine followed. The ranks of scarlet soldiers split ahead of them, while a squadron of guards formed up behind the queen’s delegation. Leaving behind the shelter of her army, they rode some hundred yards towards the fortress before pulling their horses to a stop. There they waited.

It wasn’t long before the gates to the fortress creaked open to emit a column of riders. The queen’s soldiers tensed, but Romaine was thankful to see their opposites numbered the same as their own party. They approached at a slow trot, finally drawing up a dozen yards from the queen and Romaine.

“King Nguyen,” the queen said as one of the riders heeled his horse forward a step. “I had not expected you to welcome me personally to your kingdom.”

A grin appeared on the rider’s face and still in the saddle, he offered a mocking bow. “Of course, my lady,” Nguyen replied. “When I learned of your movements I made for the Illmoor with all haste. I would be a poor king indeed if I did not offer greeting to a neighbour who comes to visit.”

“Ay, poor indeed,” the queen said, her voice as frigid as the snow-capped peaks towering above. “Though no more poorly than sending thieves behind a neighbour’s back.”

“Thieves, my lady?” the king said, feigning horror. “What has become of the world that such suspicions enter between friends?”

“The Gemaho have not been friends to Flumeer for a decade,” the queen snapped.

She edged her horse forward and the soldiers behind the king reached for their swords. One, though, flinched at the queen’s advance. Romaine frowned as he looked past the king to the soldier…

…only the rider wasn’t a soldier at all. It was Erika, the queen’s former Archivist. The one who had taken Cara.

“You!” he hissed, pointing a finger at the woman. He kicked his horse forward, but several of the king’s soldiers drew between him and the opposing party. Teeth bared, Romaine bellowed a challenge. “What have you done with Cara?”

Blood hammered in his ears as he looked past the soldiers at Erika. The Archivist’s face had grown pale at his challenge, but now her features smoothed as she quickly masked her emotions. Nearby, the king smiled.

“Ah, so I see you have met my new Archivist,” he said with a laugh.

Watching at Erika sitting amongst the Gemaho, Romaine felt himself a fool. She had convinced him to trust her, to believe she was the long-lost princess of Calafe, but it had all been a ploy, a way to escape the clutches of the queen.

“So you admit to the crime,” the queen snarled.

Behind the king, Erika tensed, but Nguyen laughed and gestured her forward. The woman hesitated, but one of the soldiers prodded the backside of her horse, and with a nicker it trotted forward until she sat alongside the king. His face hardened as he turned and regarded the queen once more.

“I am here because a foreign monarch has camped an army on my doorstep,” he said, and now his voice had lost all humour. “Gemaho does not take kindly to threats against our sovereignty. I would ask you to remove this army from my border, lest blood is once again spilt between the kingdoms of man.”

The queen sneered at his words. “So now the cowardly king concerns himself with the kingdoms of man,” she spat. Clutching her reins, she stared across the field at the enemy king. “Surrender the thief, and the Goddess Cara, and perhaps I will consider leaving your pitiful walls standing.”

Nguyen stared back at them, his expression kept carefully masked. Beside him, however, Erika was a picture of terror, her carefully crafted persona shattered by the queen’s threats. Romaine couldn’t help but feel a touch of satisfaction as he watched her squirm. He cast his eyes over the other soldiers, but there was no sign of Cara. He clenched a fist and swallowed another outburst.

“I am afraid the Calafe princess has requested my asylum,” the king said finally. “In respect for my fallen brother king, that is a pact I will not break.”

Romaine’s heart lurched at the king’s words—not least because this was the man who had abandoned his nation to its doom. Teeth clenched, he looked from Nguyen to Erika. Did the man truly believe her claim, or was he using it as a political tool, a weapon he could wield against the queen?

“What nonsense is this?” the queen hissed, her eyes flicking from the king to Erika. “The bitch is no princess.”

Mock surprise showed on the king’s face. “You did not know?” he gasped, then tisked. “Amina, I am disappointed. I thought your spies were better than that.”

The queen narrowed her eyes and a strained silence followed. Romaine guessed that Amina was weighing the king’s words, trying to decipher whether he spoke the truth. Erika’s potential royalty might mean little, or her appearance could stir up unrest amongst the hundreds of Calafe refugees camped outside her capital.

“You may keep the Archivist,” Amina said finally, though her voice was strained. “It is the artefact she uncovered which concerns me. Her expeditions were funded by Flumeeren coin—the gauntlet belongs to me.”

“The gauntlet?” the king murmured. Then his eyebrows lifted as though he had suddenly remembered something, and he pulled