Ash and Ambition by Ari Marmell

Author:Ari Marmell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dragon Moon Press
Published: 2019-07-22T20:04:13+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

For the third time in less than twenty-four hours, Nycos found himself approaching the throne room.

He’d been summoned back, as he’d known he would be since he’d taken his leave so abruptly and with the bare minimum of civility toward his liege. The moments immediately following that departure were a crimson blur he could scarcely recall. He had no notion of how long he’d stalked the halls of Oztyerva, conflicting urges waging brutal war within him.

Ultimately he’d decided not to return to his quarters, instead passing the bulk of the afternoon in one of the palace’s most distant and most isolated gardens. There, once he’d determined he was truly alone, he’d allowed himself to run amok, purging the worst of his wrath in a paroxysm of violence. Whole bushes were uprooted and left strewn about, soil-encrusted roots dangling like the entrails of slain soldiers. Several of the smaller trees, which even his strength could not wrench from the earth, had instead been mauled, whole stretches torn asunder by inhuman claws, leaving behind a disturbingly sweet-smelling abattoir of bark and sap.

Presumably, when the groundskeepers discovered it, they’d assume a wild animal must have somehow wandered onto the property, though the walls and the gate guards should make that impossible. Maybe they’d even launch some sort of hunt. He decided—later, when his thoughts had emerged from the fog and reassembled themselves in some sort of order—that it might make a good exercise for some of the younger soldiers.

He also recognized, not just later on but even in the moment, if he were being honest with himself, that the whole tantrum was silly. Immature, childish, and very much not in keeping with either who he once was, or who was supposed to be now.

Maybe Smim had a point, damn the little creature.

Again the great doors swung open before him, and Nycos forced his mind back to the present. The hall was less crowded than it had been. Not only was the Ythani contingent no longer present—doubtless making themselves comfortably at home in Oztyerva’s sumptuous guest quarters—but well over half the bystanders had been dismissed as well. Only his Majesty’s advisors and particularly high-ranking nobles remained. It meant, at least, that Zirresca wasn’t here to see him berated. Then again, as both a margrave and as the heir apparent to Kirresc’s most powerful archduke, Andarjin was, so his rival knight would probably hear every word of it regardless.

Well, so be it.

As was customary, Nycos approached the dais and then dropped to one knee, speaking only after receiving permission to rise. “I apologize for taking so long to respond to your summons, Your Majesty,” he began. “I was walking the halls, and I fear I did not make it easy for your page to find me.”

“And do you feel that is the only breach of decorum worth discussing, Sir Nycolos?” It was not the king, but Orban Laszlan, standing beside the throne with one hand on his Majesty’s shoulder, who spoke.

“I certainly acknowledge that my outburst was inappropriate.

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