The Exiled Prince by Alyson Peterson

Author:Alyson Peterson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cedar Fort Publishing
Published: 2017-10-10T16:00:00+00:00

13.

In all my sixteen years, I never thought I’d done anything bad enough to stand in court and be sentenced. On Earth I was a skinny nobody and I kept my nose clean. On Bankhir I was a total screw up. Who knew losing one little war would lead to possible execution?

Yeesh.

Sir Locke took me to Edrak’s throne room at the head of the Great Hall, dead center of the castle. The magic Locke used to bind my wrists didn’t allow for an inch of movement and pinned my shoulders back at an uncomfortable angle. Not that I cared. I didn’t regret for one second what I had done on Bantif.

I stood in the darkened castle in a room full of cranky War Lords. Edrak sat on his white stone throne with General Burne standing on his right. Everywhere I looked, glowing pairs of blue eyes stared back. Sir Locke, Corporal Parr, and Captain Stokely, among many others, glared at me as if I were something smelly stuck in their boot treads. Captain Rylan was seething, but I don’t know what got up his backside. He wasn’t the one on trial. All around me, there wasn’t one friendly face. Not even Corbin, who was mysteriously missing. Edrak kept nodding off where he sat, his face paler than usual. He didn’t look healthy enough to endure listening to a trial.

General Burne called for order. “War Lords,” he bellowed, his voice echoing in the large room. “This is a dark day for the Warriors of Bankhir.”

“Technically, it’s the middle of the night,” I muttered.

“One of our own, the very Prince Ian himself, has lost a war,” Burne bellowed.

Way to get to the point. There was a roar of cursing, some insults more heated than others.

“Never has this been done before!”

“Are you sure about that?” I said, but was drowned out by the general once again. He was really throwing himself into his big speech. I’d love to tell him to just get on with it, but with all my failures, there was a lot of evidence to cover.

General Burne drew himself up proudly. “The Warriors have always returned gloriously from battle. A glory we are proud to uphold or die trying.”

“Yep, there’s that death thing again,” I cursed under my breath. The general was winding everyone up to the grand finale.

“Ian Quicksilver has failed his Warriors!” Burne shouted as he pointed accusingly at me. “The battles between Ulphen and Bantif will go on for years to come because of his incompetence.”

“Not hardly,” I shouted this time. I straightened and faced the general with my ears feeling as if they were on fire. I wasn’t going to take this one lying down. “Granted, I admit, living on Earth put me behind a bit, but I am fit for duty. And that war? The one that supposedly Bantif had started? It wasn’t them. They were framed.”

“Framed?” Sir Locke stepped forward, his hand extended as if he was going to grapple the truth out of my throat with his fingers.

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