Free King by R.J. Larson

for his indulgence, but he could leave her out of his religion! Didn’t he understand how vengeful the Ateans would be if she gave the slightest appearance of following the Infinite?
    And yet, what else could she do? Would the Ateans understand the extent of her isolation? Her virtual imprisonment here—abandoned by her family and surrounded by hostile courtiers?
    Forcing herself to think of less frightful things, Caitria nodded. “Of course, sir. I’ve never been. Can you imagine? My life’s controlled by land I’ve never seen.”
    “You haven’t traveled?”
    “Not since Mother died ten years past. I’ve been isolated on our estates. My lord-father . . . has been busy.” Too busy to do more than snap at her or lash out when she offended him. If only Mother had lived! Safer to not remember Mother now—risking a display of weakness before all these haughty courtiers.
    As they walked along the huge marble-columned corridor, Caitria shivered despite the stunning surroundings. The palace was too opulent for her tastes. She loved coziness. Here highly wrought carvings of birds, flowers, and trees fretted the white marble columns, arcades, and walls like stonework embroidery—all coldly forbidding her to touch them. Semiprecious gems and gilding sparkled overhead on the soaring ceilings in massive sunbursts of gold and crimson that dazzled her and made her feel like an intruder.
    But the king’s chambers were worse. She couldn’t move in those dim rooms without fear of breaking something priceless and irreplaceable.
    Didn’t he possess a refuge in the palace? A sunlit chamber where one could flop onto a couch or into a cushioned window seat with a favorite collection of stories, then read until a nap took hold? Did kings and queens even indulge in naps?
    This whole situation promised a dismal life.
    Silent, she accompanied her new husband as he ordered his servants and guards to prepare for the impromptu temple inspection. It seemed almost natural to ride beside him in a plain open chariot through Munra’s streets. And, despite her predetermined loathing, the vast temple site amazed her with its white steps and immense smooth-slabbed paving stones, not to mention the multitudes of workmen.
    Yet the king scanned the site, visibly tensing. Speaking so softly that Caitria almost didn’t hear, he said, “Those men don’t belong here. Too well-dressed to be workers. Not reverent enough to be worshipers . . .”
    Caitria followed the king’s gaze, eyeing the suspectednoblemen—for noblemen they were. They swaggered about, armed with swords and daggers, and . . . oh . . . was she imagining she’d seen them before?
    While she sifted through her memories, trying to recall faces and names, Akabe signaled to four of his guards. “Sirs, follow me.”
    Tucking her mantle close, Caitria started after her husband. But a guard stepped in front of her. “Majesty, please wait.”
    “Very well.” Curious, she leaned around her concerned guard and watched as the king hurried toward one particular supervisor, who’d been beckoned by the noblemen.
    Busy overseeing his workers, the supervisor shook his head, refusing to leave his task, which irritated the aristocrats. Caitria frowned. Where had she seen these men?
    Akabe called out, “Good sirs, allow him to do his job!”
    The troublemakers turned and gawked, obviously recognizing their king. One recovered and lunged for Akabe, dagger drawn.
    Assassins!
    Caitria struggled as the guards pulled her away.

 8 
    A kabe drew his dagger but had no chance to defend himself. Two royal guards tackled his foolhardy assailant, while the remainder chased down the man’s cohorts.
    Dan Roeh, who’d resisted speaking to these men and thereby escaped their trap, abandoned his work now and hurried toward the scuffle. “Majesty!”
    Akabe halted Dan, noting smears of blood on the ground from the skirmish. Had the attacker suffered a wound? It seemed so. Infinite, let there be