Frozen Tides
Page 56
• • •
It seemed that Felix had fooled himself into smelling nothing but roses upon gaining the king’s favor once again, but this was, truly, the deepest and foulest pile of dung he’d ever waded into.
As he walked along the main dock under the intense heat of the mid-day sun after checking on the Limerian ship, an image slid through his mind. Jonas, pinned to the floor by the dagger. The rebel had stared up at him, pain and accusation in his eyes, as Felix pocketed the air Kindred.
“Yeah, well, he deserved it,” he mumbled to himself.
Had he? Had Jonas really deserved to be so abused by someone he’d previously trusted? Jonas, who had done nothing but continue to try to do what was right and good, despite failure after failure?
Perhaps they could have made peace if Felix hadn’t been such an impatient, rage-filled arse who solved all of his problems with his fists.
He’d been with the Clan for eight years. Eight years as an assassin before he tried to choose a different path.
He’d been nothing more than an innocent kid when he was first recruited. An innocent kid chosen and plucked up by the king, who gave him no choice but to become a murderer.
He stopped at the storage house at the far end of the dock and smashed his fist into the glittering stonework. He’d always found that physical pain helped clear his head and chase away ugly memories.
Bad things happened when he thought too deeply about the past.
“Stop this,” he gritted out. “Life is good. The future is bright. And I’m going to—”
Felix lurched back as someone grabbed his arm and shoved him backward. He hit the wall of the storage house hard, his vision swimming.
He blinked back his focus just in time to see a fist heading directly for his jaw. He caught it, thrusting forward so the blow landed across his assailant’s face instead.
“Don’t try me today,” Felix growled. “I’m not in a forgiving mood.”
“Funny. Neither am I,” Felix’s attacker said, rubbing his jaw and grinning. The young man had bronze shoulder-length hair that was tied at the nape of his neck. “Impressive maneuver. Did your Cobra friends teach you that?”
So this attacker knew exactly who he was. That wasn’t good.
He eyed their surroundings to find that the large building shielded them from the view of the people on the busy docks. Only the scent of salty water-weed and the squawk of seabirds populated this isolated patch of the shoreline.
“As a matter of fact, they did. And this, too.” He swung his fist, but the assailant ducked, then punched Felix in the gut. He doubled over, giving his attacker ripe opportunity to bring his arm up in an uppercut, hitting Felix right under his jaw. Felix wheezed out a breath and dropped to the ground like a bag of hammers.
“That felt quite good,” the long-haired young man said. “I’ve been itching for a fight for some time.”
As he sat, gasping for breath, on the ground, Felix heard someone else approaching from the far side of the storage building. “That’s enough for today,” said a voice that Felix recognized.
Felix looked up to see Mikah, standing next to the brute and looking calm as ever. “Following me, are you?” Felix said. “I’d take it as a compliment, but you’re not really my type.”
“On your feet,” Mikah commanded.
“I don’t take orders from you.”
“Fine, then sit there. I don’t care. This won’t take long anyway.”
“Are you here to kill me? Or try to?”
Mikah leaned over until he was eye level with Felix. “You have a death wish—I can see it in your eyes. I’m sorry to say I won’t help you with that today.”
“Oh, my. You can read minds, too?” Felix pushed himself to his feet. Surely these two figured his new injuries made him an easy target. But that was exactly what he wanted them to think. It was all part of the game he’d learned from the Clan: Keep the target guessing; let them get in a couple of hits and, just when they think they’ve won, go in for the kill.
Felix knew he could take on this pair if he had to. But first he needed to know what they wanted with him.
“Are you here to harass me about Princess Amara again?” Felix rolled his eyes. “Jealousy really doesn’t suit you, friend.”
“This has nothing to do with the princess.”
“Good. You’d hate to have me as a romantic rival. Now tell me what you want.”
“I don’t like this one,” the long-haired young man said, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“You don’t have to,” Mikah replied.
“You trust him?”
“Of course not. He’s a Limerian.”
“You do know I’m still standing right here?” Felix reminded them. “And I can hear you loud and clear. Now, I’ll ask you one more time: What does a Kraeshian guard and his little minion want with me, a common thug working for the king of Mytica?”
Mikah regarded him skeptically for a long moment, while his friend stood by holding eager fists at his sides. “I wear this uniform, but I’m not really a guard. And though you’re dressed in finery that hides the mark of the Cobra I know you have on your arm, I don’t believe for one moment that you’re a servant to the king or a common thug.” A sly smile spread across Mikah’s face, which only piqued Felix’s curiosity more. Mikah went on. “I’m here, in this uniform, because I’m a revolutionary. I’ve earned this position at the palace to gain information about the royal family.” He nodded at his friend. “This is Taran. He’s not originally from Kraeshia, but he’s joined our worthy fight to rid the empire of the Cortas regime.”
This, he didn’t expect. It seemed he couldn’t wash his hair of all the rebels all over the world. “Well. That . . . sounds like a rather lofty goal. I wish you the best of luck. But what does it have to do with me?”
“We want your help.”
Felix had to laugh. “And why would I help you?”
Taran stepped forward, his posture softer now, but his brown eyes still full of anger. “If you only saw the truth here in Kraeshia. If you knew what the emperor does to anything and anyone that doesn’t meet his standards . . . you wouldn’t hesitate to join us.” Taran’s expression darkened. “The man is a monster. He sends his armies off to invade and conquer every chartered land out there, picking and choosing at random what he wants to keep, and then discarding and destroying the rest—and, yes, that includes citizens as well as property and possessions.”
“Yours is a country constantly at war. People die in wars,” Felix reasoned. “Often people who don’t deserve to.”
Mikah shook his head. “This is not an ideology I’ll ever accept. Brute force—relentless greed—is not right, and I’ll do anything I can to stop it.”
“So it’s just the two of you, huh? And you’re looking for new recruits?”
Mikah smirked. “There are thousands of us, all organized in factions and stationed across the empire, readying ourselves to rise up and fight.”
“Thousands of you.” Felix raised his brow. “Well, that does sound more intimidating than the duo standing before me. Still, yours is only a small army compared to what the emperor has to protect him.”
It seemed that Felix had fooled himself into smelling nothing but roses upon gaining the king’s favor once again, but this was, truly, the deepest and foulest pile of dung he’d ever waded into.
As he walked along the main dock under the intense heat of the mid-day sun after checking on the Limerian ship, an image slid through his mind. Jonas, pinned to the floor by the dagger. The rebel had stared up at him, pain and accusation in his eyes, as Felix pocketed the air Kindred.
“Yeah, well, he deserved it,” he mumbled to himself.
Had he? Had Jonas really deserved to be so abused by someone he’d previously trusted? Jonas, who had done nothing but continue to try to do what was right and good, despite failure after failure?
Perhaps they could have made peace if Felix hadn’t been such an impatient, rage-filled arse who solved all of his problems with his fists.
He’d been with the Clan for eight years. Eight years as an assassin before he tried to choose a different path.
He’d been nothing more than an innocent kid when he was first recruited. An innocent kid chosen and plucked up by the king, who gave him no choice but to become a murderer.
He stopped at the storage house at the far end of the dock and smashed his fist into the glittering stonework. He’d always found that physical pain helped clear his head and chase away ugly memories.
Bad things happened when he thought too deeply about the past.
“Stop this,” he gritted out. “Life is good. The future is bright. And I’m going to—”
Felix lurched back as someone grabbed his arm and shoved him backward. He hit the wall of the storage house hard, his vision swimming.
He blinked back his focus just in time to see a fist heading directly for his jaw. He caught it, thrusting forward so the blow landed across his assailant’s face instead.
“Don’t try me today,” Felix growled. “I’m not in a forgiving mood.”
“Funny. Neither am I,” Felix’s attacker said, rubbing his jaw and grinning. The young man had bronze shoulder-length hair that was tied at the nape of his neck. “Impressive maneuver. Did your Cobra friends teach you that?”
So this attacker knew exactly who he was. That wasn’t good.
He eyed their surroundings to find that the large building shielded them from the view of the people on the busy docks. Only the scent of salty water-weed and the squawk of seabirds populated this isolated patch of the shoreline.
“As a matter of fact, they did. And this, too.” He swung his fist, but the assailant ducked, then punched Felix in the gut. He doubled over, giving his attacker ripe opportunity to bring his arm up in an uppercut, hitting Felix right under his jaw. Felix wheezed out a breath and dropped to the ground like a bag of hammers.
“That felt quite good,” the long-haired young man said. “I’ve been itching for a fight for some time.”
As he sat, gasping for breath, on the ground, Felix heard someone else approaching from the far side of the storage building. “That’s enough for today,” said a voice that Felix recognized.
Felix looked up to see Mikah, standing next to the brute and looking calm as ever. “Following me, are you?” Felix said. “I’d take it as a compliment, but you’re not really my type.”
“On your feet,” Mikah commanded.
“I don’t take orders from you.”
“Fine, then sit there. I don’t care. This won’t take long anyway.”
“Are you here to kill me? Or try to?”
Mikah leaned over until he was eye level with Felix. “You have a death wish—I can see it in your eyes. I’m sorry to say I won’t help you with that today.”
“Oh, my. You can read minds, too?” Felix pushed himself to his feet. Surely these two figured his new injuries made him an easy target. But that was exactly what he wanted them to think. It was all part of the game he’d learned from the Clan: Keep the target guessing; let them get in a couple of hits and, just when they think they’ve won, go in for the kill.
Felix knew he could take on this pair if he had to. But first he needed to know what they wanted with him.
“Are you here to harass me about Princess Amara again?” Felix rolled his eyes. “Jealousy really doesn’t suit you, friend.”
“This has nothing to do with the princess.”
“Good. You’d hate to have me as a romantic rival. Now tell me what you want.”
“I don’t like this one,” the long-haired young man said, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“You don’t have to,” Mikah replied.
“You trust him?”
“Of course not. He’s a Limerian.”
“You do know I’m still standing right here?” Felix reminded them. “And I can hear you loud and clear. Now, I’ll ask you one more time: What does a Kraeshian guard and his little minion want with me, a common thug working for the king of Mytica?”
Mikah regarded him skeptically for a long moment, while his friend stood by holding eager fists at his sides. “I wear this uniform, but I’m not really a guard. And though you’re dressed in finery that hides the mark of the Cobra I know you have on your arm, I don’t believe for one moment that you’re a servant to the king or a common thug.” A sly smile spread across Mikah’s face, which only piqued Felix’s curiosity more. Mikah went on. “I’m here, in this uniform, because I’m a revolutionary. I’ve earned this position at the palace to gain information about the royal family.” He nodded at his friend. “This is Taran. He’s not originally from Kraeshia, but he’s joined our worthy fight to rid the empire of the Cortas regime.”
This, he didn’t expect. It seemed he couldn’t wash his hair of all the rebels all over the world. “Well. That . . . sounds like a rather lofty goal. I wish you the best of luck. But what does it have to do with me?”
“We want your help.”
Felix had to laugh. “And why would I help you?”
Taran stepped forward, his posture softer now, but his brown eyes still full of anger. “If you only saw the truth here in Kraeshia. If you knew what the emperor does to anything and anyone that doesn’t meet his standards . . . you wouldn’t hesitate to join us.” Taran’s expression darkened. “The man is a monster. He sends his armies off to invade and conquer every chartered land out there, picking and choosing at random what he wants to keep, and then discarding and destroying the rest—and, yes, that includes citizens as well as property and possessions.”
“Yours is a country constantly at war. People die in wars,” Felix reasoned. “Often people who don’t deserve to.”
Mikah shook his head. “This is not an ideology I’ll ever accept. Brute force—relentless greed—is not right, and I’ll do anything I can to stop it.”
“So it’s just the two of you, huh? And you’re looking for new recruits?”
Mikah smirked. “There are thousands of us, all organized in factions and stationed across the empire, readying ourselves to rise up and fight.”
“Thousands of you.” Felix raised his brow. “Well, that does sound more intimidating than the duo standing before me. Still, yours is only a small army compared to what the emperor has to protect him.”
