Chapter Four
NADIR
adir cracked the joints in his knuckles and rolled his neck, doing hisN best to pay attention as he swallowed a yawn. He sat on the south side of the round council table in the center of his father’s meeting room with eight others seated around the perimeter. They were High Fae of various
stature, each one more in love with the sound of their voice than the last. The Aurora King sat directly to Nadir’s left, occasionally tossing a disapproving glance his way in a not-so-subtle reminder of what a disappointment Nadir was to him. They’d all been debating for hours on taxation and what to do about the growing dissent in the mines of the Savahell Foothills.
Nadir knew these things were important, but these questions all had simple, decisive solutions. The problem was that each of these sycophants
wanted to orchestrate an outcome that benefited them and them alone. It wasn’t enough for them just to win; they had to ensure their rivals suffered at
least a little bit, too.
And so in endless circles they went.
Each of these High Fae ruled one of The Aurora’s eight districts, each one named for the primary colors of the borealis: Emerald, Crimson, Silver, Violet, Indigo, Teal, Amber, and Fuchsia. Their lives were an endless cycle of jostling for scraps of power and wealth, each one confident their own
district’s contributions were the most valuable and therefore deserved the most rewards. It was pathetic.
His father could put an end to this bickering. As king, his rule was nearly absolute. But Rion preferred to coddle the council, collecting their promised favors like jeweled treasures. After all, a favor owed was the most valuable currency to a king who had no need for more gold or riches.
When Nadir took the throne, he’d put an end to this nonsense. The only solution was one that would result in the least amount of unrest amongst the citizens and, more importantly, get him out of these meetings the quickest.
In fact, he relished the idea of impeding their plans if for no other reason than to see the looks on their faces when they were told, probably for the first
time in their lives, the word “no.” It wouldn’t make him popular, but he didn’t give a fuck what these windbags thought.
Nadir watched the king absorb every detail, savoring the words of the council like the finest wine to be sipped and swallowed and then pissed out when he was through. If Nadir wanted to change how things were done, he’d
first have to get rid of his father, but that was a challenge he’d been considering for decades and had yet to come anywhere close to a solution.
A sharp knock sounded at the door, and ten heads lifted. Everyone knew
the council wasn’t to be disturbed for anything but the most dire of reasons.
“Enter,” said Rion, and four of his guards filed into the room, their
postures stiff and erect. Like Nadir, Rion stood well over six feet tall with a crown of raven hair and the penetrating gaze of The Aurora’s night sky— black irises that sparked with flashes of vivid color. Unlike Nadir, Rion’s hair was neatly trimmed around his delicately pointed ears, while Nadir’s hung in waves past his shoulders, much to his father’s eternal disdain.
“Your Majesty,” the lead guard said with a quick bow. “I apologize for the
disturbance, but there’s been a riot in the prison.”
Nadir observed his father carefully, looking for signs of a reaction, but the Aurora King was stone and marble, nothing ever cracking his shell.
“I see. What are they rioting about this time?” Rion leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. Nadir’s father was nearly eight hundred years old, but as High Fae, he had the hardened physique of a warrior and appeared little more than thirty in mortal years.
“We’re not really sure,” the guard said, his voice cracking, clearly nervous about his answer. “Things have been fairly quiet lately, so this took us by
surprise.”
“Where is the warden?”
“Still dealing with the aftermath, but we’ve subdued most of the prisoners.”
“Body count?” Rion asked with cool detachment, as if asking for the number of emeralds they’d mined this summer.
“We aren’t sure of the exact number yet, but the last I heard, it was nearly
a hundred.” The guard stood up straighter, perhaps attempting to create a shield against Rion’s infamous wrath. But no amount of feigned confidence
would save him from the king’s retribution. "Kelava is on his way. He wanted to speak with you directly and asked that we alert you beforehand."
Rion gave a sharp nod, then turned to Nadir and the rest of the council.
“We’ll have to reconvene at a later time.”
“But Your Majesty,” Jessamine, a noble from the House of Violet, said, “we’re not done with these statements.” She ruffled the pile of papers in front of her as if to demonstrate just how much work they had left to do.
“I said ‘out,’” Rion barked. “Now.”
There was a shared huff around the circle, anger shading everyone’s expressions. Eager for the excuse to leave, Nadir placed his palms on the table and prepared to stand.
“Nadir,” said his father. “You will remain here.”
Nadir sank back down into his chair with a nod.
The remaining eight members of the council stood, definitely insulted by the king’s behavior but unable to do anything about it. Nadir didn’t bother containing his smile, enjoying how they were all pretending they weren't being dismissed like a group of worthless underlings.
As the council was leaving, the warden appeared in the doorway. Sweat ran down his forehead, trailing his cheeks and down the line of his throat.
Blood spattered the front of his grey uniform, crimson specks dotting his rumpled white collar. A streak of blood marred his cheek, and he wiped at it absently while he bowed to the exiting gentry.
“Enter,” said the king, and the warden scurried inside. “Close the door.”
He did so, leaving only Rion, Nadir, and the warden in the massive room.
Bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with leather-bound titles. A large bank of windows opened to the north, where the lights of the sky rippled in
their full glory. Though Nadir had been alive for nearly three hundred years, the sight of those ribbons of light would never cease to feel like home.
After pushing his chair back from the table, he leaned forward, elbows braced against his knees. Nadir held his hands a few inches apart, conjuring bands of colored light between them, like he was pulling strings of taffy dipped in paint.
“What happened, Kelava?” asked the king, and Nadir peered up to witness their exchange.
“It was a surprise,” Kelava said, scratching his chin. “Things have been calm of late, and we noticed no signs of dissension.”
“It’s your job to keep incidents like this contained,” the king said, and the warden nodded, looking as chastened as a schoolboy caught letting a frog loose in the middle of class.
“My apologies, Your Majesty. They have been subdued now, and the casualties were minimal. We lost two guards and one hundred and twenty- seven prisoners. It could have been much worse.”
Kelava hesitated, and Nadir sensed there was more the warden wasn’t revealing.
“Is there something else?” his father asked, clearly picking up on the same
feeling.
The color from the warden’s face drained to his feet.
“That’s what I wanted to tell you myself, Your Majesty. Prisoner 3452 is…gone.”
Rion shot a quick glance to Nadir as though he hadn't intended for the
prince to hear this bit of news. Then Nadir watched several emotions cross Rion’s face, but there was no mistaking how the tension in his shoulders
eased, as though a great burden had just been lifted. Why would he feel relief about the disappearance of a prisoner? Nadir sat up. Who was prisoner 3452?
“Perished in the riot? You’ve seen the body?”
The warden’s fist clenched before he opened his mouth and then closed it.
“Out with it!” Rion smashed his fist against the table so hard both Nadir and Kelava jumped.
“I believe so.” He swallowed, clearly steeling himself.
“What do you mean you believe so?” The king leaned forward, menace in
the shape of his large, imposing frame.
“The prisoner had been sentenced to time in the Hollow and was still there
when the riot started.”
“And?”
“And, when we went to retrieve them, they appeared to have met their fate
with one of the ozziller.”
“What do you mean, appeared?”
“There was nothing left but a puddle of blood. We have no reason to believe the prisoner escaped the Void. The wards would have stopped them even if the ozziller hadn’t.”
Nadir frowned. The warden was spinning circles, obviously trying to
weave this into a convincing story.
“What was the prisoner doing in the Hollow?” the king asked. Nadir watched the conversation as it volleyed back and forth, a thousand questions forming. What was the fate of one lowly prisoner to his father? “You were under strict orders to keep 3452 in your sights at all times.”
Kelava ducked his head, shame etched in the lines of his features.
“Yes, Your Majesty. The prisoner started a fight, and the punishment was two weeks in the Hollow.”
“Two weeks.” At that, the king stood, drawing up to his imposing height.
He was more than a head taller than the mortal guard. “You let the prisoner
out of your sight for two weeks?”
“No,” the warden said, blanching at the violence in his king’s expression.
“No. Someone was always there watching, ensuring they didn’t get away. I swear it. But when the riot started, the guards on duty abandoned their posts to help subdue the inmates. When things calmed down, they returned to find the Hollow empty.”
“Except for a puddle of blood.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The warden’s voice had dimmed almost to a whisper. “No one would survive the Void, even if they managed to climb out of the Hollow.”
He said it with such weak hope, Nadir almost pitied the man. He flexed his hands, sparks of light playing between his fingers as he watched his father cycle through a myriad of emotions. Worry, fear, confusion, and then relief?
“Who is prisoner 3452?” Nadir finally asked, unable to stand the secrecy any longer. His father ignored him, the king’s intent stare still focused on the warden.
“You’ve failed in your singular task,” Rion said. “What further use are
you?”
At that, Kelava paled even further, a knot bobbing in his throat.
“Your Majesty. It won’t happen again.”
Rion took a step forward, towering over the trembling man.
“How can it happen again when there is no longer a prisoner to watch?”
The warden was having trouble breathing now. He clutched his chest, sweat running down his temples and pooling around his collar. The king’s hand clamped around his fleshy jowls before the warden went wide-eyed.
Nadir said nothing, magic still dancing between his fingers, trying to puzzle out this strange sequence of events.
Rion squeezed the warden’s neck, and Kelava let out a wheeze. The king’s face morphed into a wicked grimace as he slowly, slowly cut off the man’s air. He lifted the warden, whose feet dangled above the floor. Kelava continued to choke and sputter, clawing at the king’s hand as though he were any match for Rion's Fae strength.
A moment later, the king crushed Kelava’s windpipe, crumpling his entire
neck like the bud of a dried rose. Blood drained from the warden’s nose and mouth, spilling down the king’s arm and onto the floor. Rion dropped the warden at his feet, weapons rattling as the final whispers of life drained from his ruined body.
Nadir looked up at his father, an inky eyebrow arched.
“Well, that was dramatic,” he said. “You want to tell me what all that was about?” Rion’s lip curled as he stared at the cooling corpse of the warden.
“I want you to search the forest and ensure no one is wandering around in there.”
“Who am I looking for? Who is prisoner 3452?”
Rion turned his dark gaze to his son. “It’s not important. Particularly if
they are, in fact, dead.”
“Then how do I know who I’m looking for? Is it a man? A woman?”
Rion placed his palms flat on the council table and leaned over. “You’re looking for any lost prisoner wandering the woods, Nadir. Surely that should be easy enough? Even for you?”
Nadir ground his teeth at the condescension in his father’s tone, but knew there was no point in arguing. The Aurora King always got what he wanted.
Nadir stood and tugged on the hem of his tailored black jacket. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Good. If you find anyone, bring them to me immediately.” Rion cast another disdainful look at the mutilated guard. “And on your way out, send someone in to clean this up.”
