The King's Guard

Chapter 34

The memorial square stood quiet, its stones still damp from the morning rain. Black iron plates rose in neat rows, each carved with names in tight, precise letters. Cadets gathered in silence, the weight of absence pressing heavier than the grey clouds above.

Kael stood among them, cloak hanging loose, hands hidden at his sides.

Reyna stepped forward when the bell struck. Her voice was steady as she spoke the words all cadets were expected to know.

“We remember those who trained beside us. We honour those who fell before their time. Their names etched here will not fade. Their blades are gone, but their watch continues.”

Her tone never wavered. But Kael noticed the way her fingers curled tight around the scroll she read from, knuckles pale.

The echo of her words died slowly. Cadets bowed their heads. A few murmured the creed under their breath. Others simply stared.

Kael’s eyes scanned the plates. The names blurred until one sharpened into focus.

Joran Helvik.

He froze. That was one of the cadets from the squad ambushed in the northern ravine. The whispers still haunted him, how the bodies had been recovered in pieces, how no one explained why they were sent there in the first place.

His hand brushed the hilt at his belt. His throat tightened.

“I won’t be next,” he murmured. The words slipped out before he realised.

Reyna, stepping back from the dais, caught his voice. “Kael?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

But she didn’t move. “That name… you knew him?”

Kael’s gaze didn’t leave the iron plate. “No. Just the story of how they died.”

Reyna frowned, folding the scroll against her chest. “Stories are smoke. They change every time someone repeats them.”

“Smoke comes from fire,” Kael said quietly. “Something still burned.”

Her eyes softened, but only for a moment. “You sound like you’ve already decided what’s true.”

“Maybe I have.” His voice was low, but the steel in it carried. “Maybe truth still leaves a mark, even if it’s buried.”

Kyna joined them, carrying a single flower she laid beneath the plates. “He wasn’t supposed to be on that patrol,” she said, her words cutting across the silence. “I checked records.”

Kael turned to her, sharp. “What do you mean?”

She glanced between them, lowering her voice. “Joran’s squad rotated schedules. Another group was meant to take the ravine pass that day. The roster was altered.”

Reyna’s head snapped toward her. “Altered by who?”

Kyna shook her head slightly. “That’s the problem. It doesn’t say. Just a correction written in after the fact.”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “Corrections don’t write themselves.”

Reyna stepped closer, her voice sharper than before. “You’re telling me someone deliberately reassigned them?”

Kyna’s silence was answer enough. Her hand lingered on the flower she’d placed, fingers pressed to the stone as if grounding herself. Finally, she said, “By someone with access. And that narrows it more than you’d think.”

Kael’s grip tightened on his hilt again. “So they were sent to die.”

“No proof,” Kyna said.

Reyna exhaled. “Proof or not, if rosters are being changed from above, it means these plates will keep filling.”

The ceremony continued, instructors taking turns speaking brief words of remembrance. Their voices droned with ritual familiarity: solemn phrases carried more out of duty than grief. Cadets stood stiff, some mouthing along, others staring at the wet stones.

Jared stood near the back, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His head tilted slightly, as if the entire ritual amused him. When Kael glanced at him, he found Jared already watching. A faint smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, too small for anyone else to notice, but sharp enough to feel like a blade drawn just for him.

Later, as the cadets dispersed in hushed groups, Kael lingered. He touched the edge of the iron where Joran’s name was cut deepest. The grooves bit cold into his skin, a sting that forced him to breathe slower.

Reyna stayed close, watching him. “You said you won’t be next.”

Kael gave a short nod.

Her brow knit. “Then don’t fight like you’re alone. Alone is how they fall.”

He met her gaze, searching for a retort, something to throw back, but nothing came. Her eyes were steady, too steady, and for a heartbeat he thought she might press further. Instead, she turned away and walked off, her cloak brushing wet stone as she left him by the plate.

The silence closed in again until Darius approached. His boots made almost no sound against the damp square. “You’re staring too long.”

Kael didn’t move. “His squad wasn’t supposed to be there.”

Darius studied him, weighing the words. “You’ve been told that, or you’ve guessed it?”

“Kyna checked.”

Something flickered in Darius’s expression before it settled into a hard line. His jaw tightened. “Then she’s digging where she shouldn’t.”

Kael’s head snapped toward him. “Why shouldn’t she?”

Darius’s eyes narrowed. “Because answers carry weight. And not everyone survives carrying them.”

Kael turned fully now, anger pricking at the edge of his voice. “So we just stand here? Watch names get carved until it’s ours?”

Darius’s voice dropped, colder, heavier. “No. We fight. But you’d better decide who you’re fighting for.”

Kael frowned. “Meaning?”

Darius glanced once toward the Archon’s tower, black stone rising above the rooftops like a blade pointed at the sky. His words were quiet, almost swallowed by the damp air. “Meaning you’ll learn soon enough.”

Kael followed his gaze, unease rooting deeper into his chest.

Behind them, the bell tolled again… one long, heavy strike.

Kyna appeared at Kael’s side, her cloak hooded, eyes sharp. She spoke low, each word careful. “There’s something you need to see. Meet me in the archives after lights-out.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. No hesitation. Only warning.

Kael studied her, then gave a single nod.