The King's Guard

Chapter 70

The carriage rolled to a stop under the shadow of House Varion’s northern balcony. The lamps along the drive burned blue, throwing the cobbles into hard relief. Jared stepped out first, gloved hands tight, posture perfect, as if posture could hide hesitation.

The servant at the door bowed low. “My lord waits in the study.”

Jared gave a curt nod and followed the hall, each step echoing against the marble floor. The portraits on the walls stared down at him: ancestors, generals, names weighed with expectation. His father’s words, drilled into him since childhood, whispered somewhere in memory. “A Varion bends to nothing but the throne.”

He found Lord Eryndor seated behind the long oak desk, silver hair catching the lamplight, his expression carved in patience that wasn’t patience at all.

“You’re late,” Eryndor said without looking up.

Jared removed his gloves. “My duties at the Academy kept me longer than expected.”

Eryndor gestured toward the chair opposite. “Duties. You sound like Darius.”

“That’s not an insult, I hope.”

“That depends.” Eryndor finally looked up. “He’s a soldier, not a statesman. You, on the other hand, were raised for more than field drills and orders.”

Jared sat but didn’t lean back. “You didn’t summon me to discuss my commander.”

Eryndor’s smile was small and practiced. “No. I summoned you because Archon asked questions about your squad. About Kael Estaran.”

Jared’s jaw tightened. “What kind of questions?”

“The kind that interest men who plan wars in silence.”

“So, he suspects something?”

“He observes. As do I.” Eryndor folded his hands. “You’re close to Estaran. Closer than most.”

“We’re in the same squad. That’s not closeness.”

“Proximity breeds knowledge.”

Jared exhaled. “You want information.”

“I want truth,” Eryndor said mildly. “Archon wants certainty. He believes Darius is grooming Estaran for something outside the Corps’ purpose.”

“And you believe him?”

Eryndor’s gaze didn’t waver. “I believe in staying ahead of men who move pieces I can’t see. Archon may be reckless, but he has influence. If Veridale shifts, I want the Varions steady.”

Jared’s voice hardened. “And you want me to be your eyes.”

“I want you to remember where you came from.”

Jared leaned forward. “You think I’ve forgotten?”

“I think the Academy softens loyalty. Friendship clouds judgment. You can’t afford either.”

Jared looked at the floor. “Kael’s not the enemy.”

Eryndor’s tone cooled. “Then who is?”

There was silence. Outside, rain began to fall, tapping against the windowpane like a clock counting down.

Eryndor rose and crossed to the window. “You know what happens to soldiers who choose loyalty over lineage. They vanish when the next purge comes.”

“You sound certain there’ll be one.”

Eryndor turned. “There’s always one coming. Power feeds on itself.”

Jared stood. “So, you’d rather I feed Archon scraps than stand with the people I fight beside?”

Eryndor’s voice sharpened. “You’ll stand where your family stands. You’ll pass on what matters — quietly, precisely. No more, no less.”

“And if I refuse?”

Eryndor smiled again, a thin edge of amusement masking something colder. “You won’t. Not while you still carry my name.”

Jared didn’t move. His father walked past him, stopping at the door.

“You think friendship makes you strong,” Eryndor said softly. “It doesn’t. It makes you predictable. Archon understands that. You should, too.”

When the door closed behind him, Jared exhaled for the first time in minutes.

He didn’t leave right away. The desk still smelled faintly of ink and steel oil: his father’s constant blend of paperwork and weaponry. A ledger lay open, half-written. At the margin, a note in Eryndor’s own hand: “Stormhaven negotiations: finalize shipment under Shadow Corps cover.”

Jared’s throat tightened. He closed the ledger quietly and walked out.

The rain hadn’t stopped by the time he reached the lower courtyard. His cloak soaked through, boots echoing against the stone, Jared moved fast, half hoping the storm would swallow him whole.

A voice came from under the archway. “You look like you’re walking away from something.”

He turned. Velreth stood there, hands clasped behind his back, as calm as the rain was not.

“High Chief Commander,” Jared said stiffly.

“Lord Eryndor keeps late hours.”

“You were watching?”

“I watch everything,” Velreth said. “It’s easier that way.”

“What do you want from me?”

“To know what your father wants from you.”

Jared frowned. “You two talk often?”

“Often enough to know he underestimates you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Velreth smiled faintly. “He wants Archon secure. Archon wants the King secure. Everyone forgets who the throne really belongs to in the end.”

“And who does it belong to?”

Velreth’s eyes gleamed. “To whoever can stand the longest without blinking.”

Jared shook his head. “You speak like him.”

“Because I taught him.”

Jared hesitated. “You taught Archon?”

“Once,” Velreth said. “Before he learned ambition has no teacher.” He stepped closer. “Your father thinks he’s feeding Archon. In truth, Archon’s already feeding on him.”

Jared’s voice dropped. “So, which side are you on?”

Velreth chuckled softly. “The side that wins.”

When he left, Jared stood alone in the courtyard, the rain hammering down.

He wasn’t sure when the cold reached his bones, only that by the time he returned to the barracks, he couldn’t feel his fingers.

Kael was there, awake, sitting by the dim fire. He looked up. “You’re late.”

Jared dropped his cloak by the door. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“You’ve been gone half the night.”

“So have you, apparently.”

Kael didn’t rise to the bait. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Your ‘nothing’ could drown a city.”

Jared laughed once, without humour. “You’d know.”

“Try me.”

Jared stared at the fire. “Ever wonder if loyalty’s just another kind of leash?”

Kael frowned. “You mean family.”

“I mean everything. Orders, bloodlines, duties…all of it.”

Kael leaned forward. “Depends on who’s holding the leash.”

“And if it’s the same person giving the orders?”

“Then you learn to bite back,” Kael said quietly.

Jared looked at him for a long time. “Maybe I already have. Do you mind if I bite you?”

Kael furrowed his brows. “Bite me? What are you? Some bloodsucking vampire?”

“Oh, yeah. I wish I could suck life out of you.”

“How sweet…”

The fire crackled. Neither spoke again for a while.

When Jared finally lay down, sleep refused him. His father’s words still rang in his head. Proximity breeds knowledge. You can’t afford friendship.

He turned onto his side, staring at the wall.

Under his breath, he whispered, “Maybe friendship’s the only thing worth affording.”

Outside, the rain began to slow, but the weight of the night didn’t.

At this point, Jared wasn’t sure which side he was on.