DECAN LANCASTER

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Betrayed by a brother.

In my father’s fury, not a single one of my men remained standing as the council emerged from the buildings to calm his anger.

“Drop your sword, Decan,” Salazar ordered.

I didn’t have much of a choice when Quates soldiers surrounded me.

He leaned into my ear. “I’ll explain everything later. Just be angry and confused that I betrayed you.”

I don’t need to pretend.

I let Thorn clamour onto the ground. “When you swore to stay loyal to my side, were those just false words?”

Salazar threw me at his men. “Put him in chains and throw him in the dungeons.”

The gates to the Iron Keep swung open as Lord Nelbrandt stepped off his steed and took off his helm. The reinforcements that my father called trotted behind him. “The battle is over, Your Grace. We have won.”

My father’s reddened face turned back to normal. “Leaving you off the board to draw them in was the right choice.”

I’m guessing that not a lot of people know the truth behind the ritual. He’s treating this as any other rebellion.

As guards marched me into the dungeons, my father stared with a disappointed face. However, within that visage lurked another person and only someone who knew how to read others could see him.

Deep gaze. Pulled eyebrows. Tensed neck. My father wanted to end me right then and there.

The guards chained me to the walls of the cell-less dungeon. This place was a maze of sorts where each dead-end was a place where prisoners were kept.

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In a place like this, a new companion would summon its inhabitant's curiosity. But it seemed as if there were no prisoners here except for myself. The old prisoners must’ve been asked to take up arms for my father in exchange for their freedom.

They got it, but it was short-lived. Every soldier on my father’s side, save for the ones that deserted, had fallen.

The straws that littered the dungeon floor stank of urine. There were no windows that let in light. Even my eyes weren’t able to adjust to the dark. A slop bucket wasn’t even provided so I had to pick a corner to do my business.

Most of my time was spent sitting cross-legged and thinking. And that was what I did. I couldn’t see, my sense of smell got used to the stench that hung on the walls, and it was so quiet down here that I could hear my eyeballs move.

All I had were my mind and the thoughts that occupied it.

So many questions hovered. So many of them I wanted answered.

Were Ser Castell and Patch able to flee back to Harkhall? Did they make it back to Joy and, if so, what are they doing now? Where are they headed? Who did they bring with them?

What about Valentine? Did they just leave her behind at Harkhall? Did they bring her? Did they deliver her back to her father?

Valentine was not my blood, but she acted as a daughter in my would-be child’s stead. For seven years, I thought of her as my own.

What happened to the men I left to guard the city walls? Were they executed or sent home? What happened to all my bannermen?

What of the Mobley banners Salazar had under his command? Were they executed or pardoned? Are they his to command now?

Were the two thousand Mobley soldiers returning home with Minerva’s body able to arrive back safely or were they slaughtered out in the field?

What of the realm? What do they think of me? Am I loved? Am I hated? Do they even know what I did to save them?

The city was cheering for my defeat. That I knew.

And what are Salazar’s true intentions?

Was he really on my father’s side this entire time?

We grew up together and the truth of my father’s plans was revealed to us at the same time. Did the bribes of ultimate power and immortality sway his morality?

Neither. It has to be.

He is a nandir and can live five times longer than me. He’s the second strongest jynxist and was well endowed enough to crime.

Did I even know him at all? Did I?