Grand Traitor

Grand Traitor

Jayden Woods

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Jayden Woods

Cover by Jenny Gibbons

*

Grand Traitor (previously called The Key to Castle Krondolee) is a stand-alone novella. However, the story will continue in the form of an animated webseries, Serafina’s Saga, releasing online Fall 2013. This story also takes place in the same world as the fantasy book series, The Broken Balance, and features some of the same characters. To learn more about The Broken Balance series, visit www.jaydenwoods.com. To learn more about Serafina’s Saga, visit www.serafinasaga.com.

*

BROKEN BALANCE SERIES

Ashes of Dearen

Sands of Hanubi

***

PREFACE

The horses were saddled, the bags packed. Arken’s most trusted servants waited at the Forest Gate to open it as soon as he gave them the signal.

But he should have given the signal fifteen minutes ago.

His plan had been to leave before sunset. Now the sun sank below the horizon, scattering hues of pink and orange across the sky and stretching shadows over the stones of the castle. Arken knew how quickly night fell in Krondolee. Soon enough, the walls and towers of the great fortress would swallow the ground in darkness. Arken did not fear the night. He only feared what tonight brought with it.

When darkness closed around the castle this evening, it would fail to envelop the Grand Courtyard. Hundreds of glittering candles would chase away the creeping shadows. A thick ring of torches would blaze around the fortress walls, burning with the sweet chinder bark of the Darzian jungles, said to be enchanted by the goddess Demetral herself. The lovely wood released a scent like a garden of roses and jasmine when burned, and the light it gave off would flicker slightly with all the colors of the rainbow. This celestial light would bathe the entire courtyard with its luminescence, as well as the large multitude of people standing within it. But most of all, it would illuminate a path of bleached white pebbles, which would seem to glow under the moonlight. And nothing would look so magnificent as those who would walk down the path, glittering with jewels and fine fabrics—and soon, maybe crowns.

But Arken didn’t want to think about that. He paced back and forth over the cobblestones, his silk cloak whispering around his shoulders. He could hear the courtyard thrumming with energy and excitement, though a few walls separated him from the festivities. He wished he could already move further away. The distant sounds thundered in his ears and increased his own restlessness. He could hear the guards rustle about in a jangle of metal weapons and armor while trying to keep order. Peasants cheered or yelled while shoving each other about. A herald strained his sonorous voice over the clamor to announce lords and House Leaders as they entered the chaos. Every peasant and noble capable of squeezing through the castle gates today had done so to witness the marriage of Princess Nadia Elborn to Prince Gerald Feldren, making Nadia Queen of all Darzia.

If Arken’s own plan succeeded, the wedding would never occur.

He heard a horse’s hooves against gravel and pulled back into the shadows, trusting his own two horses to stay calm. He had hand-picked the finest. But just in case, he gripped the pommel of his short-sword.

He watched through the red rays of sunlight as the rider came closer. Even as a silhouette, the rider’s broad shoulders and boxy head suggested a man, and a large one at that—or at least wide. The creak of strained leather and thudding metal portended weapons and armor. Then Arken distinguished more soldiers on foot behind the rider, perhaps four in all, male and female, armed to the teeth.

Who could this be? A noble, most likely, judging by the entourage. But why was he not at the wedding, as every honest man right now ought to be?

Finally, as the rider pulled to a stop, Arken glimpsed the sparkle of jewels upon the man’s cloak. A slight turn in the light revealed that the young man wore diamonds all over his person: they lined his tunic, his belt, his gauntlets, and even the sword resting across his horse’s flank.

Arken sighed and stepped out of the shadows, releasing his weapon. Tristan. You shouldn’t be here.

Tristan jolted with surprise, then fixed his beady eyes on his older brother. "I shouldn’t be here? Look who’s talking!" Tristan grumbled to himself while beginning to dismount. Doing this took awhile, for despite his youth at barely eighteen years of age, Tristan was not a particularly lithe young man. He possessed small bones under his bulk and a sweet ringing voice like a minstrel’s, both of which he squashed on a regular basis with wine and delicacies. He might have been a handsome fellow, with hair so blond it was almost white and eyes that sparkled like the diamonds he so cherished, but the strain of his waist against his belt and his chin against his collar reduced any natural charm. Once he had landed with a jingle of swishing diamonds, he resumed a slow swagger towards his older brother.

Arken, meanwhile, closed the remaining distance between them with a few brisk steps of his long, booted legs. At age twenty-one, Arken was only a few years older than his brother, but possessed a far more intimidating physique of tall stature and lean muscle. His cloak billowed and helped cast a shadow over Tristan like a storm-cloud. The younger brother cowered appropriately. Leave now, Tristan. I’m expecting someone. And she might not come here if she knows someone’s watching.

I know who you’re waiting for, brother. Tristan’s jowls trembled with fear, but he held his ground, nonetheless. When he saw an even greater fear reflected in Arken’s eyes, he stood a little taller. "Everyone knows. Your little secret plan to elope with the future queen of Darzia was exposed this morning. The Royal Duma knows everything."

What? Before he could stop himself, Arken reached out and grabbed Tristan’s tunic. As he shook the chubby fellow about, Tristan’s bejeweled clothes chimed like a music box. "How did they find out?"

I don’t know! Tristan flailed back at Arken until he finally wriggled free. By then, both were breathless: Arken from fury, Tristan from exhaustion. In any case, the Royal Duma held a vote. They unanimously agreed that if you and Nadia eloped, she would no longer become queen of Darzia—and you would not become Grand Prince.

Tristan might have kept talking after that. Arken hardly knew anymore. All he seemed to hear was a thunderous roar in his ears. All he felt was the fierce pounding of blood in his veins. He and Nadia had been so careful. How did the Royal Duma discover their plan?

... understand? It’s over, Arken. You can’t become king of Darzia this way.

Arken let out a coarse, rasping breath. Then he spoke before he had fully thought his own words through. I don’t care.

Tristan blinked a few times. His eyes, the fierce golden hue that any descendent of Mallion possessed, reflected shards of the sunlight as he squinted, trying to discern Arken’s expression. What’s that now?

I don’t care about the throne. I want to marry Nadia. That is all that matters to me anymore.

"All that... matters? Tristan laughed nervously, then reached out to grip Arken’s shoulder. Brother, I think this defeat must have made you lose your senses. Think about what you just said. ‘You don’t care.’ He laughed again, even louder this time. Mallion’s plenty. As if we haven’t both dreamt of wearing the crown since birth!"

Tristan’s laughter faded as he met Arken’s unwavering stare.

Arken flung Tristan’s hand from his shoulder. "I don’t care. I choose Nadia. If we can only be together without crowns on our heads, then so be it."

Tristan staggered backwards. He gaped for a long while at his brother, trying to discern some crack in Arken’s bold proclamation. But he could not. At last, he shook his head. "I can’t believe it. I never thought you capable of such a… foolish decision!"

Think what you’d like. Just stay out of my way. He turned back to his horse and grabbed the saddle.

Wait. What are you doing now?

Going to find Nadia. Arken pulled himself up and felt the stallion stir with eagerness beneath him. I will make sure she knows that I haven’t changed my mind.

It’s too late for that, Arken. She’s already—

Then I’d better hurry. Arken slapped the reins and drove his horse deep into the fortress.

*

He already knew where to find her, if he wasn’t too late. The Elborn family lived in the oldest part of the castle, a place where large chinder trees rose up alongside the walls and towers. If one didn’t know any better, one might have assumed that this part of the castle had been abandoned for decades, allowing giant jungle trees to invade the architecture of the castle. But upon closer look, one would see that the structure of both worked harmoniously together. Man-made mortar and natural wood arose in support of each other, leaning on one another and combining strength. The result was something strange and beautiful, if rather archaic—something only House Elborn would fully appreciate.

Arken jumped from his horse to race up the steps of the Elborn Tower. The Elborn guards in colors of blue and yellow gave him puzzled glances, but did not dare stop him. After all, most recognized him as someone who visited often; and those that did not could easily discern by his clothes and bearing that he was a noble of some importance. If any of the guards still thought for a moment to question him, his determined frown and brisk pace made them quickly reconsider.

Only when Arken had nearly reached Nadia’s chambers did someone dare to step in his path. Arken had already put his hand on his short-sword before he recognized the bold servant as one of Nadia’s closest hand-maidens.

Selene! Thank the gods. Selene Perin rarely left Nadia’s side. If she were still here, then there might be hope yet. Take me to Nadia. Now!

Selene trembled in response to his thunderous demand, but not in fear. To Arken’s surprise, he saw tears crinkling the young woman’s deep brown eyes. She turned away and covered her mouth, but failed to hide her distress.

Selene. Arken stepped closer, his tone shifting quickly from brusque to imploring. Please. I need to see her. I have to let her know that nothing has changed.

I hoped you wouldn’t come here. I waited, just in case, but I didn’t really think... Selene took a long, shuddering breath. I hoped that when you heard the Royal Duma’s decision, you would choose not to marry her. She looked at him suddenly, her face twisting with anger. You’re a Jeridar. So I don’t understand. There must be something else you’re after.

Nothing, Selene, he assured her. He understood why she would think that. His family descended Mallion, god