Knight, Heir, Prince. Morgan Rice

another bunch of peasants a lesson. And there is nothing you can do about it, whoever you think you are.”

      Thanos wanted to hit Lucious then. He wanted to hit him and keep hitting him until there was nothing left but a bloody smear on the marble floor. The only thing that stopped him was the touch of Stephania’s hand on his arm, approaching as her dance ended.

      “Oh, Lucious, you’ve spilled your wine,” she said with a smile that Thanos wished he could match. “That won’t do at all. Allow one of my attendants to fetch you more.”

      “I’ll get my own,” Lucious replied with obvious bad grace. “They got me this one, and look what happened to it.”

      He stalked off, and only the pull of Stephania’s hand on his arm stopped Thanos from following.

      “Leave it,” Stephania said. “I told you there are better ways, and there are. Trust me.”

      “He can’t just get away with all he’s done,” Thanos insisted.

      “He won’t. Look at it this way though,” she said. “Who would you rather spend the evening with? Lucious, or me?”

      That brought a smile to Thanos’s lips. “You. Definitely you.”

      Stephania kissed him. “Good answer.”

      Thanos felt her hand slip into his, pulling him in the direction of the doors. The other nobles there let them pass, with occasional laughs about what would happen next. Thanos followed as Stephania led the way to Thanos’s rooms, pushing the door open and heading in the direction of the bed chamber. There, she turned to him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply.

      “You don’t have any regrets?” Stephania asked, as she stepped back from him. “You’re happy you married me?”

      “I’m very happy,” Thanos assured her. “What about you?”

      “It’s all I ever wanted,” Stephania said. “And you know what I want now?”

      “What?”

      Thanos saw her reach up, and her dress fell from her in waves.

      “You.”

***

      Thanos woke to the first rays of sunlight spilling through the windows. Beside him, he could feel the warm pressure of Stephania’s presence, one of her arms thrown across him as she slept curled against him. Thanos smiled at the love welling up inside him. He was happier right now than he had been in a long time.

      If he hadn’t heard the clink of harness and the whinnying of horses, he might have curled up against Stephania again and gone back to sleep, or woken her with a kiss. As it was, he rose, heading over to the window.

      He was just in time to see Lucious leaving the castle, riding at the head of a group of soldiers, pennants flying in the wind as if he were some knight-errant on a quest rather than a butcher preparing to attack a defenseless village. Thanos looked out at him, then over at where Stephania was still sleeping.

      Silently, he started to dress.

      He couldn’t stand by. He couldn’t, not even for Stephania. She’d talked about better ways of dealing with Lucious, but what did they involve? Politeness and offering him wine? No, Lucious had to be stopped, right now, and there was only one way to do it.

      Quietly, taking care not to wake Stephania, Thanos slipped from the room. Once he was clear, he ran for the stables, shouting for a servant to bring him his armor.

      It was time for justice.

      CHAPTER TWO

      Berin could feel the excitement, the nervous energy palpable in the air the moment he stepped into the tunnels. He weaved his way underground, following Anka, Sartes by his side, passing guards who nodded with respect, rebels who hurried every which way. He walked through the Watcher’s Gate and felt the turn the Rebellion had taken.

      Now, it seemed, they had a chance.

      “This way,” Anka said, waving to a lookout. “The others await us.”

      They walked down corridors of bare stone that looked as if they had stood forever. The Ruins of Delos, deep underground. Berin ran his hand along the smooth stone, admiring them as only a smith could, and marveled at how long these had stood, at who had built them. Maybe they even dated back to the days when the Ancient Ones had walked, long before anyone could remember.

      And that made him think, with a pang, of the daughter he had lost.

      Ceres.

      Berin was yanked from that thought by the clang of hammers on metal, by the sudden heat of forge fires as they passed an opening. He saw a dozen men toiling away as they tried to produce breastplates and short swords. It reminded him of his old smithy, and brought back memories of the days when his family hadn’t been torn apart.

      Sartes seemed to be staring, too.

      “Are you all right?” Berin asked.

      He nodded.

      “I miss her too,” Berin replied, putting a hand on his shoulder, knowing he was thinking of Ceres, who always lingered by the forge.

      “We all do,” Anka chimed in.

      For a moment the three of them stood there, and Berin knew that they all understood how much Ceres had meant to them.

      He heard Anka sigh.

      “All we can do is keep fighting,” she added, “and keep forging weapons. We need you, Berin.”

      He tried to focus.

      “Are they doing everything I instructed?” he asked. “Are they heating the metal enough before quenching? It won’t harden otherwise.”

      Anka smiled.

      “Check for yourself after the meeting.”

      Berin nodded. At least in some small way he could be useful.

***

      Sartes walked by his father’s side, following Anka as they continued past the forge and deeper through the tunnels. There were more people in them than he could have believed. Men and women were gathering supplies, practicing with weapons, pacing the halls. Sartes recognized several of them as former conscripts, freed from the army’s clutches.

      They finally came upon a cavernous space, set with stone plinths that might once have held statues. By the light of flickering candles, Sartes could see the leaders of the rebellion, awaiting them. Hannah, who had argued against the attack, now looked as happy as if she’d proposed it. Oreth, one of Anka’s main deputies now, leaned his slender frame against the wall, smiling to himself. Sartes spotted the larger bulk of the former wharf hand Edrin on the edge of the candlelight, while Yeralt’s jewels shone in it, the merchant’s son looking almost out of place among the rest as they laughed and joked among themselves.

      They fell silent as the three of them approached, and Sartes could see the difference now. Before, they’d listened to Anka almost grudgingly. Now, after the ambush, there was respect there as she walked forward. She even looked more like a leader to Sartes, walking straighter, appearing more confident.

      “Anka, Anka, Anka!” Oreth began, and soon the others took up the chant, as the rebels had after the battle.

      Sartes joined in, hearing the rebel leader’s name echo around the space. He only stopped when Anka gestured for silence.

      “We did well,” Anka said, with a smile of her own. It was one of the first Sartes had seen since the battle. She’d been too busy trying to arrange to get their casualties away from the burial ground safely. She had a talent for seeing to the details of things that had blossomed in the rebellion.

      “Well?” Edrin asked. “We smashed them.”

      Sartes heard the thud of the man’s fist against his palm as he emphasized the point.

      “We destroyed them,” Yeralt agreed, “thanks to your leadership.”

      Anka shook her head. “We beat them together. We beat them because we all did our parts.