Chapter 54

Soren had to give it to Nelan; the Rhinnean was a well-trained swordsman. Of course, all of that being said he wasn’t necessarily a good swordsman, let alone a great one, but he at least knew which end was the pointy one and how to move his feet, which is more than Soren expected from a king who appeared all too ready to let others do his dirty work unless his victim was tied and bound. 

If Soren were at full health, Nelan could have held him off for three breaths at the most. It was only because of the extent of Soren’s injuries that it took him as long as he did to find a suitable opening.

He was being picky—but he couldn’t afford anything less. He estimated, judging based on the effort of his jog to the throne room, that he had enough endurance for a few minutes, and while his legs were mostly fine, pain wracked his upper body and back. It was far easier to use his quick footwork to dodge than it was to catch Nelan’s sword full-on; each time Soren used his sword to deflect, the shockwaves that travelled up his arm felt like claws raking across his side.

Then, like the clouds opening during a thunderstorm and allowing a brief ray of light to shine through, Nelan dropped his guard ever so slightly. It gave Soren a window of approximately three inches, but the twist of Nelan’s body and the way he shifted his weight ensured that the king wouldn’t be able to respond in time. 

Soren lunged forward and dealt Nelan a severe blow to his shoulder. The blade bit deep, and Nelan cried out, dropping his sword and clutching the joint with his free hand. Blood ran freely from between his fingers, and the Rhinnean king fell to his knees. 

“Mercy, mercy, please,” Nelan pleaded as Soren placed the tip of the sword at his throat. 

“Mercy like what you showed your envoy our first night here? Like what you showed Annalise, or I?” Soren’s voice was quiet and cold as ice. He hated Nelan; the man was depraved and manipulative and sadistic. He deserved death a thousand times over. 

And yet…Soren looked at Annalise and felt the rage drain out of him. The death of a monarch, especially at the hand of an enemy soldier, was no small thing, and he didn’t wish to destabilize Rhinnea too much when it was the main buffer between Dovea and Praxis. He also hazarded a guess that Nelan had been made enough of a fool that his own lords and generals would champ at the bit to further test his mettle. It wouldn’t surprise him one bit if Rhinnea had a rebellion begin within the year. “I’ll spare your life on one condition, King Nelan.” 

“Name it. Whatever you want, it will be yours,” Nelan cried, falling to the floor on his face. 

“You will enable Queen Annalise and her entire retinue to leave Rhinnea unmolested and will ensure their safety all the way until they set foot on Dovea’s shore.” 

“Yes, yes, of course. It shall be done. General Anar will take care of it.” 

Soren looked to the side where the general in question stood. At Soren’s raised eyebrow, General Anar nodded. 

“Then I will spare your life this once. Do better, King Nelan. Your people deserve it.”

As he walked around the sniveling king, Soren hoped Nelan would take his words to heart; Rhinnea and Dovea may have been long-standing enemies, but that didn’t mean they had to remain that way. As the gateway to the west, Rhinnea was Dovea’s first defense against Praxis, and if the empire was as hungry as King Nelan and his ambassadors believed, Soren would much rather shore up the wall that might protect Dovea than watch it fall. 

Soren walked to Annalise, who stood from her throne and met him in front of the dais. He took her hand in his. “Let’s go home, Your Majesty.” 

Annalise looked up at him with an expression so full of hope and happiness that his heart fluttered. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, a searing pain sprouted in Soren’s side and around his back.

He clutched his side as the agony slid over him like an angry wave. When he looked down at his blood-covered hand and the rapidly spreading blood stain over the side of his tunic, his vision wavered. 

Annalise cried out, her angelic face twisted in a mask of horror. 

“Don’t worry, Annalise, I’m sure it’s just a scratch,” Soren said as his vision narrowed to pinpoints and darkness overwhelmed him.