Sundered by Fate (Shadowbound #3)

Chapter 17

Seventeen

A ric and Davin exchanged a wary glance before joining the throng of courtiers and officials streaming toward the Great Hall. Even now, as they moved with the crowd, whispers spread like wildfire, weaving a tense tapestry of anticipation and fear.

The king is awake.

The regent summoned him.

What could it mean?

Aric's own heart was a storm of conflicting emotions. He had never known King Aster personally—the aging monarch had been more of a figurehead in his later years, while Valerian assumed most of the responsibilities of state. But the idea of Aster reclaiming his throne and undoing the strange alliance that Aric and Davin had forged with Valerian . . .

The Great Hall was already teeming with people by the time Aric and Davin arrived. Brilliant tapestries depicting battles against demon forces hung on every wall; crystal chandeliers cast prisms of light on polished marble floors. Long tables laden with food stood against one wall, but no one paid them any mind.

A heavy silence descended on the room as all eyes turned to the raised dais at the far end of the hall. A line of armored guards flanked the dais, their expressions grim behind their gleaming visors.

"We must be cautious," Davin whispered as they took their places toward the back of the chamber. "We don't know what Aster will say—or what Valerian's plans might be."

Aric nodded absently as he scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Olaya and Ruta were already seated near the front, deep in conversation with some high-ranking official. And there was Cyrus, standing off to one side with several other members of his Pureblade order.

Before Aric could spot any more friends or foes, though, a horn blared from somewhere overhead, and all conversation died away as two figures emerged onto the dais.

King Aster's appearance silenced even the whispers of gossamer and silks in the Great Hall.

He looked nothing like the monarch Aric had glimpsed in portraits: the gallant warrior whose cunning and bravery had driven back the demons from his kingdom; the benevolent ruler beloved by his people. This Aster was a gaunt, skeletal figure, skin ashen against the royal blue robes that draped his frail body. His hair, once described as a fiery crown, lay limp and white against his sallow skin. And though his eyes still glinted with intelligence—an unsettling intensity—their brightness seemed dimmed, as if some vital part of him had already slipped away.

As he shuffled to the throne, leaning heavily on a twisted staff, the courtiers' expressions shifted from shock to carefully crafted sympathy. Even Valerian, standing at his side, seemed taken aback by the transformation. But no one moved to help him.

And when Aster finally reached his seat and turned to face the gathered assembly, Aric’s blood cooled.

"A new age is dawning."

Aric shivered at the sound of King Aster's voice, sharp as frost on iron, despite the old man's withered appearance. Even from across the Great Hall, the tendons of Aster's neck were visibly straining, the cords and angles of his face pulled taut.

"We are done cowering behind our wards, clutching our last embers of magic," the king continued. "We have suffered enough, both at the claws of our enemies and by the demon-tainted vermin festering in our midst."

The king raised a spindly arm, gesturing toward the banners hanging high above, portraying winged demons swooping down upon screaming townsfolk. "But we have endured. And now it is time for us to do more than endure. To take the fight to those hellish realms and purge them once and for all."

Gasps rippled through the gathered crowd. Aric glanced around him—Ruta's eyes were wide with alarm; Cyrus's gaunt face was set in grim satisfaction; even Davin seemed unsettled by the fervor in Aster's words.

And still, the king spoke on. "Our mages have long been shackled by outdated oaths and cowardice. But I say no longer!" he shouted, his voice rising. "Let us unleash our full might upon these demonic foes. Let their infernal darkness be seared away by our righteous light!"

Aster's gaze swept over the room, his eyes blazing with a fevered intensity that seemed almost inhuman. There was a fervor to him—a fanaticism—that made Aric's stomach churn with unease.

Valerian stepped forward, his expression humble, but there was the faintest hint of satisfaction lurking in the set of his jaw.

"As you command, Your Majesty," Valerian said, bowing low. "In your absence, I have striven to protect Astaria and our people from all threats, internal and external. And now that you have returned to us, I am at your disposal, as always."

"You have my gratitude, dear nephew." Aster's smile was tight as he grasped Valerian's shoulder. "Your leadership these past years has been invaluable. But I believe it is time for us to take a more direct approach to our challenges."

Valerian's blue eyes met Aric's for a heartbeat before he nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"And speaking of which," Aster continued, turning back to the audience, "I must commend our Lord Regent for the bold new measures he has introduced. His initiative in researching new methods to combat the demon scourge is admirable."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Aric glanced at Davin beside him and felt an answering surge of unease. Valerian's research had been shrouded in secrecy and speculation for months now, ever since Aric had first stumbled upon it during their tour of the city. And if the king's praise was any indication, they were about to find out exactly what Valerian’s research was all about.

"We cannot afford complacency in this age of darkness," Aster went on. "Which is why I am announcing today that we will send the Pureblade Order to the border to lead the charge into the demon realms."

The murmur swelled into an uproar as Aster raised a hand to silence them once more.

"Far from merely protecting us, they are now tasked with rooting out any demonic influence within our borders—no matter how small or insidious," Aster declared. "They will act independently of any other faction and report directly to me."

Aric felt a chill run through him at the words—at their implications—and caught Davin's eye again, warning him with a look.

"And for this, we have one man to thank," Aster continued. "Lord Inquisitor Cyrus Revenant."

Cyrus stepped forward, his silver cloak gleaming in the torchlight. His expression was impassive, but Aric knew better than to trust him at his surface appearance.

"Your Grace," Cyrus said, bowing deeply. "It is an honor to serve you and our realm."

"Your tireless dedication to rooting out demonic corruption—both within our borders and beyond—has been an inspiration to us all," Aster said. "Your faith in the light of the divine has never wavered, even in the face of the most insidious darkness."

A murmur of agreement ran through the crowd as Cyrus straightened, his eyes glinting with something like triumph.

"We will all follow your example," Aster continued. "As we enter this new age, we must remain vigilant against all threats to our realm, no matter how small or insidious. We must do whatever it takes to protect Astaria and our people."

Aric's stomach churned at the words, at their implications—and at Cyrus's satisfied smile. For all that he despised the man and everything he stood for, he had to acknowledge that Aster's endorsement made him an even more formidable opponent than before.

And if Valerian had been working with him . . .

Aric's mind raced as he tried to piece together all the threads of palace intrigue. Valerian and his grab for power; the arcane experiments hidden away beneath the palace; the Pureblade Order being sent to the frontlines.

And lurking through it all, reaching for goals even Aric couldn't begin to guess, had been Sylthris the Gravewhisper. Even if she wasn't serving the Sovereign outright, Aric still couldn't discern her true aim.

Everything was shifting under Aric's feet, a labyrinthine tangle of alliances and betrayals, each move cloaked in deception and misdirection. But he couldn't afford to hesitate now—not when so much depended on him finding a way out of this labyrinth alive.

"The Pureblade Order will be dispatched to our border regions," Aster said, "to reinforce our defenses and eradicate any demonic threats. We will not be content with merely holding back the tide; we will send troops to the front lines at Thornhaven, Frostfall, and beyond."

The gathered courtiers remained silent as the king continued to speak—at least until Aster was overcome by a violent coughing fit. As the attendants moved forward to assist him, they were waved away; with a wheeze of breath, the old man seemed to shrug off the coughing fit as if it were nothing more than an inconvenience.

But in that moment of weakness, Aric glimpsed something he had never seen before.

He leaned forward, straining to get a better look as the king's head slowly rose, eyes gleaming beneath the rims of his spectacles. For a brief moment, Aric could have sworn he saw a flash of violet in those sunken orbs—a strange, otherworldly light that vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

Aric blinked, wondering if he had imagined it. But no one else seemed to notice—certainly not Valerian, who was now staring at Aster with a mixture of concern and growing impatience.

But by then, Aster had resumed speaking, and Aric was forced to turn his attention back to the king.

"As for you all," Aster said, his voice rasping now as the bout of coughing returned, "I will address your concerns personally in the days to come. But for now, rest assured that I will do everything within my power to see our realm restored to its rightful place of strength and security."

With that, the king slumped back onto his throne, his frail body seeming to shrink even further within the rich folds of his robe. Valerian stepped forward again, nodding to the gathered assembly.

"You have heard your king's words," he said, his voice carrying an edge of warning. "Now is not the time for dissent or division. We must stand together, united in our purpose."

With those parting words, Valerian gestured for the guards to help Aster to his feet. The king seemed reluctant to leave his throne at first but finally allowed himself to be led away by the attendants—though not before casting one last lingering look over the crowd.

As the doors closed behind him, a stunned silence fell over the Great Hall. And then, like an ember being fanned into flame, a wave of murmurs and speculation washed over the crowd.

Aric remained rooted to his spot at the back of the room, his mind still reeling from everything he had just witnessed. He hadn't dared tell Davin or Olaya what he'd seen—but it was clear from their faces that they were equally unnerved by what they had heard from Aster.

The king's words had been bold—reckless even—and seemed certain to send ripples through Astaria's political landscape. Already there were rumors swirling about factions forming within court: those loyal to Valerian versus those who remained steadfast in their support for Aster. And then there were those like Aric himself: outsiders caught between allegiances both old and new.

Aric shook his head, trying to dispel the dark thoughts that had taken root there. There was no telling yet whether Aster's return would be a boon or a curse for him and his allies—but either way, he needed answers before they were all caught up in whatever new turmoil was coming their way.

Aric elbowed his way through the milling courtiers, his mind still spinning with the implications of King Aster's speech. He needed to find Davin, to talk this through with someone he trusted. But as he pushed through the crowd, more than one familiar face turned toward him, concern etched on their features.

"Aric, is it true?—?"

"Is the king really?—?"

"What does it mean for the war?—?"

Aric dodged the questions, offering only vague reassurances as he forged ahead. He couldn't afford to be drawn into idle speculation right now—not when his thoughts were already a tangled web of half-formed theories and fears.

Finally, he spotted Davin at the far end of the hall, conversing with a few other representatives from the Silver Tower. But as soon as he caught Aric's eye, Davin excused himself and made his way over.

"Let's talk," Aric said in a low voice, guiding Davin toward a secluded alcove near one of the great tapestries.

Davin nodded, but said nothing as they settled themselves on a bench, well out of earshot of the other courtiers. For a moment, neither of them spoke, both trying to digest what they had just witnessed.

"I don't know what to make of it," Aric finally said. "Aster's return—it changes everything."

Davin nodded slowly. "But why now? And what's with this new order? It's too convenient for Valerian."

Aric sighed. "I don't know. But there's something about Aster's whole demeanor that just—feels off. Like he's not himself."

Davin studied him carefully. "You've thought this before we saw him."

Aric ran a hand through his hair. "It's hard to explain. Just a feeling."

Davin didn't look convinced, but he let it go for now. Instead he leaned back against the cool stone wall and closed his eyes, taking a slow breath.

"The political landscape has shifted overnight," he said finally. "And we need to figure out where we fit into it."

Davin shifted on the bench, a crease forming between his brows. "I know you don't want to hear this, Aric, but I think we need to bring the Silver Tower in on this. Whatever Valerian's up to, it's dangerous. And if Aster's sudden return has anything to do with it . . ."

Aric let out a long breath, his mind racing. He hated the idea of dragging his old mentors into this tangled web, especially when he wasn't sure where their loyalties lay. But he couldn't deny the wisdom of Davin's suggestion.

"You're right," he said reluctantly. "We can't handle this alone. But we need to be careful—Valerian has eyes everywhere. And if he's truly aligned with the Pureblade Order . . ."

Davin nodded, his expression somber. "We'll have to watch our backs."

Aric glanced around the empty hallway, suddenly feeling exposed. He had spent so long isolated in Drindal, with only Malekith as his constant companion, that he had almost forgotten what it was like to be truly alone.

"We need to find Olaya," Davin said. "Tell her everything we've learned. Maybe she can reach out to the High Mages without arousing suspicion."

Aric and Davin both stilled, and Aric's gaze followed Davin's to a figure across the room. Lord Regent Valerian was watching them, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, Aric and Valerian locked eyes, and that stare was like a physical thing. There was something calculating in Valerian's expression, something that made Aric's skin prickle with unease. He had been so careful to keep his distance from the Lord Regent, to shield himself from his influence, but now he felt as though that carefully constructed facade was being peeled away, layer by layer.

Davin stood, brushing off the front of his robes. "We should go."

"Right." Aric rose to follow him. "I'll meet you later—by the old oak."

Davin nodded, and together they slipped back into the flow of courtiers heading for the exits.

Aric cast one last glance toward Valerian, but the Lord Regent had already turned away, his attention focused on some other conversation.

As they wound through the palace corridors, Aric felt with a grim certainty that events were spiraling out of control. Aster's return, Valerian's ambitions, Cyrus's new order—it all felt like pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. But Aric couldn't see the whole picture yet; couldn't discern who was manipulating whom or what sinister designs were truly at play.

All he knew was that something dark was lurking beneath the surface, threatening to engulf them all.

And he had to uncover the truth before it was too late.