Free King Callie: Callie's Saga, Book One by B Lynch Page B

his face fall made Kells realize how truly sick he was; the illness had stripped away the life from his face, and he was a gaunt shell of his former self. He’d be a skeleton, soon – living, or dead.
    “So his sacrifice was for naught,” the King said, heavy-hearted.
    “Yes,” Kells replied. The king took another deep breath, and sighed. Kells waited while he collected his thoughts. Finally, the King spoke again.
    “Callie says Royth was the last to see him alive, aside from you and your men,” the King replied. “But I can’t – I don’t understand why he would do this. Twenty years, he’s been loyal to us...”
    “I agree,” Kells said. “That is why we should not accuse him lightly.”
    “Then find out,” the King said, glaring at him. “Marrol’s already sent your men to take him to the dungeon.”
    Kells was surprised. “What?” he said. “Your Majesty, that’s my domain. You shouldn’t involve the Minister of War.”
    “My son is dead,” the King replied, “and the only man who knows why will be yours to interrogate, under Marrol’s direction. We must know if he acted alone, or in concert.”
    “And what if he’s innocent?” Kells asked.
    The king made no reply at first. “If he’s innocent,” the King said, with gritted teeth, “Then we have a far greater problem on our hands.”
    Kells bowed. “Of course,” he said. As he walked, he thought of what might be worse for Barra – Royth’s guilt, or his innocence.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
     
    When the guards came for him, Royth did not fight. He knew why. And although part of him found a twisted solace in Valric’s death, knowing that perhaps the way ahead was cleared for Caliandra, his face only showed the sadness and guilt. Royth had anticipated the heavy cost that would weigh on him, but no imagined heartache could equal the torment in his soul.
     
    As they shackled him, he felt the cold iron ring his wrists – and he saw the icy stares as he was walked down the hallways. He knew what good would come of his deed, but he was no hero to these maids, servants, and guards. They met his eyes with cold disappointment. He had betrayed the Royal family, and forsaken the oaths of his station. He would not be sainted, in this life or the next; his hands were stained with blood. Twenty years of service, marred by arch betrayal. His trip to the dungeon was scored by venomous curses and clattering chains. When he arrived, the guards shoved him down the short stone stairs, causing him to fall and gash his head on the wall. He did not strike back to avenge it.
    The two guards picked him up and dragged him to the wall, where they chained him next to a familiar skeleton. The man’s clothes were distinct – the faded once-bright colors of a juggler’s outfit, which concealed bladesman’s intent. A man that, by virtue of Royth’s visions, had been captured before he’d taken young Prince Valric’s life. It was deliberate irony.
    “You’ll be in good company down here,” one guard said, gesturing to Royth’s neighbor. “Traitor.”
    Royth made scarcely a sound until the guards left; then, there were only tears.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
     
    Kells was very used to being summoned to the guard’s quarters by his men; he was not at all used to being summoned by Marrol, and not at all so early in the morning. The quarters were mostly empty; the guards that managed the night rounds were resting in bunks, and others were out practicing their martial skills. Kells proceeded to his personal office, where he found the Minister of War, sitting in his own chair. Marrol cut a brutishly handsome figure, cloaked in red - clean-shaven, wide-jawed and stone-faced; a second chair, in front of him, was unoccupied.
     
    “Stop telling my men what to do,” Kells said, as he entered the room. He locked eyes with Marrol. “They fall outside of your influence, Minister.”
    “Sit,” Marrol said, gesturing to the other open seat. Kells stood.
    “What gives you the