Hadrian

The servants secure Dwennon's breastplate, working silently as they fit one piece of armor after another. Steel gleams in the light of the torches illuminating the tent.

Jasper enters, wearing his usual minimum of armor. He always preferred the agility of movements to the protection that heavy iron provided.

"You won't actually fight," Dwennon tells me over his shoulder. "Just show up in front of the troops before we begin, so that they will know their future king is with them." He chuckles to himself and shakes his head a little.

"Is this how you spoke to my father?" I say. "With your back turned?"

He growls and turns around. "Is this better?"

"Barely," I say. "What makes you think I won't participate in the battle?"

"Were you planning to?" He frowns. "I'm not sure we have armor small enough."

"I'm not sure this is the way to speak to your future king," I say.

For a moment, we hold each other's gaze. Then he lowers his eyes and mutters something under his breath.

"Forgive my insolence," he says through his teeth. "The excitement before the battle made me forget myself."

"I forgive you," I say. "And I want to ride with the troops, so do make an effort to find armor that fits." If I'm about to become a king, this may be the time to start acting like one, instead of hiding behind others' backs.

"Fine." With a jerk of his head, Dwennon sends his servants outside. "Go find armor for his highness."

The two men leave. As they exit the tent, the sounds from the outside briefly pour in—the voices, the nickering of horses. The camp is coming to life. If the sentries on the wall are awake, they will notice. To benefit from the surprise of an early attack, we must begin as soon as possible.

"It's a brave decision," says Jasper, coming to me. "You never liked fighting."

"I've been trained," I say. "Also, as long as you got my back, I'll be fine."

I give him a smile but he doesn't return it. He looks really tense. Is this the battle that bothers him, or is he worried about me?

"What will you do with your sister?" says Dwennon, fixing his metallic headpiece and removing his hair from his forehead.

"We'll see," I say.

The truth is, I don't know. There's no reason to show Aurelia more mercy than she did to Ferox and our father, but she's still my blood. I'm not sure I'm cold enough to repay her with the same coin.

"I wouldn't execute her if I were you," says Dwennon. "People won't like it, and you don't need more unrest. During the last couple of weeks she's been doing everything to win their love. Lowering fees, abolishing the first child tax, donating money. She opened a children's home for orphans last week, and a new hospital for the poor."

"Cheap tricks," I say, my annoyance rising.

"Well, not so cheap." Dwennon chuckles. "But all the most popular reforms are associated with her name and not her husband's. He's ruling, officially, but people go crazy about her."

"She's smart," says Jasper, and I throw him an angry look. I don't need to be reminded of that. She's always been the smart one, and Ferox the strong one, and I could never quite compete with either of them.

I shrug. "Perhaps I'll lock her up somewhere, and just keep her there until she becomes a toothless hag that poses no threat to anyone."

Jasper raises an eyebrow. "Would you really do that?" 

"What's that to you?" I snap. "You're on my side, aren't you?"

"Hush!" Lord Dwennon raises one finger, and we all go quiet, listening.

The noise outside is getting louder. It's not just voices now, but shouting, despite Dwennon's command to keep the preparations as quiet as possible. Also, I begin to hear what sounds like clanging of steel on steel.

"My lord!" A man bursts into the tent, making us all take a step back. It's only by his clothes that I recognize one of the two servants who left the tent earlier. His face is distorted in a grimace of pain.

"Betrayal!" he shouts. He takes a couple of faltering steps towards Dwennon and drops to the ground, and we all stare at the handle of a knife sticking out of his back.

"Quick!" Dwennon turns to me. "You stay here, we must keep you alive. Now, you --" He turns to Jasper and his words get cut short by the dagger that Jasper buries in his throat.

I gasp in shock. Dwennon stumbles back, making choking sounds, his hands pressed to his wound. Even before he hits the ground, I have my sword out, but so does Jasper. He swirls around and our blades meet. The sounds of clanging metal fill the tent alongside the gasps of the dying man.

Jasper is pressing forward, dealing one quick blow after another, while I barely manage to parry them. He's a better swordsman than I am, and he was ready for this, while I've been taken completely by surprise. My mind still boggles, failing to process what has just happened.

"Jasper," I gasp in between the blows. "You...but ...why?"

I'm at the wall of the tent when he swings at me and my sword flies away. I'm with my back at the wall, and the tip of his sword presses at my throat. The world goes still. My blood turns to ice.

Without looking, he kicks a stand with a torch with his foot. It tumbles to the ground. From the corner of my eye, I see the first flames climb up the fabric of the tent. I keep my eyes on Jasper, though, on the unmistakable triumph on his face. The blade presses against my throat, breaking the skin.

"Why?" I croak. "You...said..."

"I said I'll put the rightful heir on the throne." He smiles. "And so I will."

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