Page 12 of The Last Guardian

The couple gracefully made their way down, their matching dark green attire perfectly complementing their dark skin. Two more figures followed them.

“His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Asael of Kalor, and Her Royal Highness, the First Princess Derya.”

Asael offered his arm to his sister, and, together, they descended the stairs with pride. Derya wore a dress like Aurora’s, but in turquoise silk; her long black braids nearly touched the ground.

Asael sported a warm smile, overjoyed to see his beloved. His hair, the same color as his sister’s, fell around his shoulders like a crown. He was attractive, and, as always, Aurora was captivated by her future husband.

Yet, I wondered whether her smile was genuine.

Starting tonight, try to be a little less dramatic with your opinion about marriage—about Rune. You don’t have a choice. It’s better to be in Boren with a jerk than here with…

The four of them stopped before us.

“Welcome to Vallen, Tariq,” Father’s cold voice said, followed by a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It is our great honor to welcome you into our home.”

“The honor is on us, Eldric,” Tariq replied. “I wish to express our gratitude to your heir. Thanks to his aid in letting us borrow one of your legions, we made it here safely. With the Order threat looming, their presence provided a great sense of reassurance during the trip.”

Whispers rippled through the crowd in waves—gasps of fear and stifled sobs at the mention of the killers’ organization.

The Order of the Six.

The greatest threat to the Empire. A guild of assassins trained by the Six and sent through our lands to kill. For the past decade, commoners and noblemen had been attacked, but for the past two years, attacks had been registered on Edoris’ borders. A land no one could enter without being invited. The borders were enormous stone walls, impenetrable to anyone but the Great Council. Probably impregnated with their power. If someone were sent to Edoris, they weren’t coming back.

Never.

With the Order attacks, three High Mages had died. Killing a High Mage was like trying to kill a king—perhaps even a god. They were revered as one. Not impossible, but an act of treason, a transgression that no one could commit. The cost of the crime was death; if only they could get their hands on these assassins.

Yet, the High Mages weren’t the only ones to be targeted by the Order; two royals had died a few months ago—the Prince and Princess of Nazar. The entire continent was now terrified. If the High Mages and the children of the crown weren’t safe, who would be?

The identities of the Six were unknown, as were their followers. And of course, they never left evidence behind.

Father’s stoic face remained impassive, but the vein that popped out of his neck couldn’t be hidden. I knew this vein. Fury. He never hid it well; it was perhaps the only emotion he could show.

The king of Vallen was a man thirsty for power. Even if it was to ensure his guests’ safety, my father never helped anyone without getting something in return. Arthur had lent one of Vallen’s legions to another kingdom without the king’s consent.

Father smiled, a smile that didn’t quite reach the icy, electric blue of his eyes, and said, “My pleasure.”

Of course, he wasn’t going to deny anything before another king or his own court. But the hue of his gaze gave me chills that even the presence of Haedeon or the mention of the Order had not been able to provoke in me.

All faces turned to Asael, who approached our dais, towards Aurora. With a striking smile, Asael gently kissed her hand; their gazes never left each other, even for a second. Aurora seemed fond of Asael; why had she said that earlier?

The Salonor family made their way to their own dais, waiting for the other royal families to make their entrances.

Father moved, squeezing Arthur’s arm with his hand so hard that his knuckles turned white. “What legion, boy?” The king’s teeth clenched.

“The Southern Legion, Your Majesty.”

Seven Hells!

Arthur couldn’t have done worse. Lending the Southern Legion to another kingdom… What had possessed him to do such a thing? It was the mightiest of Vallen’s four legions, known for their strength, yes—but not obedience. They were known for their insubordination and their disregard for the king. Because of their commander. And that drove Father mad.

“Is Kaenington here?” Father’s anger snapped in his face.

Arthur remained silent and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Our father cursed, returning to his position two steps above us.

Commander Kaenington was a dark tale in the North, a name that people only murmured when they told their bloody war stories. The old man hadn’t set foot in the capital since Father had become king.