The Source (Creasan #1)
Chapter 9

The whole Council insisted Thea let the prince stew in their makeshift prison for a bit. Merek and Carac had been pretty adamant about it. She couldn’t really blame them. But she knew exactly what this would mean for their odyssey and she couldn’t be more ecstatic if she tried. For the few hours they left him there, she was practically jumping up and down with barely contained energy. As soon as the agreed upon time was up, Thea rushed down to the prison.

What they called a prison was really just a cage one of the Vuterra blacksmiths had made in case something like this ever happened. It was situated at the bottom of the chasm; it took nearly a hundred stairs down to reach it. Thea held a torch to light her way into the darkness.

At the bottom, Fendrel and the Guard slumped on the floor within the cage. When they heard footsteps, they jumped to their feet. In the nearly dim light, the Guard looked more terrifying than any she’d ever seen.

The Council had insisted on accompanying Thea, but she had refused. One person would be enough. She could handle herself against the prince; she’d done so once before. Isolde hung back, allowing Thea to take control of the situation.

“Well, well, well,” Thea said as she approached, “who’d have thought our roles would be reversed so soon?”

Fendrel laughed once. “Yes, wonderfully ironic.”

“I don’t know if it’s ironic so much as it is wonderfully just.” Thea leaned against the bars of the cage. “How did you find us?”

Isolde clucked nervously. “Don’t stand so close, Thea!”

Thea’s eyes twinkled as she gazed at Fendrel. “It’s all right, Izzy. He knows how stupid it would be to try anything. Don’t you, Highness.”

“Thea,” he repeated. “That’s your name?”

“I’ll ask again. How did you find us?”

“I looked.” Fendrel gripped the bars, bringing his face closer to hers.

She cocked her head to the side. “Those blue eyes of yours don’t seem as tranquil as they once were. Hard times at the palace?”

“You were right.”

“Of course I was,” she said. “About what?”

“I did as you said. I went to see my people. Specifically the people of Vuterra.”

Thea straightened away from the bars. She didn’t think it possible, but the prince had surprised her. “You did.”

“Yes. And it was…”

“Not what you were expecting?” Thea asked bitterly.

“It was cold and dark and sorrowful. It is no place fit for living.”

“I’m glad to know you enjoyed your time in my hometown,” she replied sarcastically.

“And what I witnessed…” He shook his head as his eyes took on a faraway look. “Awful. I had no idea my brother had commanded for our people to be cut down in the streets. I—I am so sorry, Thea.”

“You should be,” she snapped. “What kind of prince knows nothing of his own people?” Perhaps she ought to control her temper but finally faced with a royal at her mercy, she was finding it very difficult.

“But that is why I’m here,” he said, his fingers tightening around the bars. “I want to help you.”

Yet another surprise from the prince. “Do you?”

“My brother has never been especially kind to me. In fact, I find him to be foul on most occasions. But I looked past it, my entire life, because he is king. He was chosen by Aestus and clearly the best suited to the throne.” He shook his head sadly. “Every harsh word, every abuse I witnessed or endured, I put behind me because who was I to say anything against Aestus? But after what I had seen in Vuterra, after what I know he’s been doing to Ana…” His knuckles became white. “I cannot allow it to go on.”

“You want to help us kill your brother so you can sit on the throne?” Thea cocked a brow.

She noted how he flinched at the word “kill”. But he said, “Perhaps he was once a good ruler but that is no longer true. Something must be done.”

“Allow me to be very clear.” She leaned in closer so that they were mere inches apart, so there was absolutely no chance of misunderstanding. “What has to be done is kill him. Could you kill your own brother?”

“No,” he responded instantly. “But I can help you do it.”

Thea snorted. “Did you hear that, Izzy? Highness doesn’t want to get his own hands dirty.”

Isolde laughed awkwardly behind Thea, but she could hear the question in her laugh: What are you doing?

“Let me explain something to you,” Thea said, “each and every member of The Source would willingly drive a knife through the king’s heart. It is how we are able to function so well and why your brother is so frightened of us. It is not only me who’s dangerous but we all are. If you’re not willing—“

“Who did he take from you?”

Thea’s words died on her tongue. Fendrel gazed back at her calmly, those eyes—though more stormy than they’d last been—remained as serene as a gently flowing stream. “Excuse me?” Thea whispered.

“The way you speak of Favian, it’s personal. So who did he take?”

An overwhelmed feeling built up inside her until her insides felt like a volcano about to explode. She breathed harder, her nostrils flaring just like her mother’s had, and she pointed an accusing finger at the prince. “You do not know me, prince,” she hissed. “You waltz into my home and dare to assume you know anything about me, but you don’t. I do not need your help. You were willing to watch me and my friends die, and I will now take great joy in watching you and your Guard do the same. Goodbye, prince.”

She spun around, the torch’s light whirling around her head as she did.

“You need me!” Fendrel called after her.

Thea snorted. “No, I don’t.” She looked at Isolde and jerked her head in the direction of the stairs. Isolde shot her a look as she followed Thea back up the way they’d come.

Isolde was speaking softly so her words wouldn’t carry to their prisoner. “We do need him, Thea. If we want to communicate with Aestus—“

“But he doesn’t know that.” Thea shook her head as her legs began to burn from the many stairs. “Let him stew a bit longer. It’ll do him good to think it through. Once we’ve everything prepared, then we shall tell him. Until then,” she said as she glared ahead, “let him see how much we truly need him.”

Queen Ana watched as Althalos held the wooden sword in his hand, practicing with his trainer, Ulric. Ulric was in his mid-twenties with looks that didn’t quite make him stand out. Brown hair, medium build, not too tall or too short, not thin or fat. But his eyes…Ana supposed they were a form of brown, but there was a tinge to them that nearly made them look red. She’d run into him one night, as she fled Favian’s rage, and had almost thought a gargoyle had come for her. Despite his villainous eyes, Ulric had always been incredibly gentle and kind to her son.

Althalos was clearly a fighter, like his uncle, swinging the sword was excellent precision for one so young. Even Ulric looked impressed. In a movement that took both Ana and Ulric by surprise, Althalos ducked beneath Ulric’s swing and stuck the end of his wooden sword into Ulric’s stomach with a victorious, “Ha!”

Ulric stared at the stab and nodded in appreciation. “Well done, Young Highness. Perhaps you are ready for a real sword now.”

“I’ve been ready for a real sword for awhile,” Althalos declared confidently. “Perhaps it’s you who wasn’t prepared because you’re scared I’d actually beat you and send you to the healer.”

Ulric laughed and he wrapped an arm around Althalos’ shoulders as he tickled his neck. “Is that what you think, Young Highness?”

“Yes.” But Althalos was giggling so hard that it was difficult to take his threat seriously.

Ulric let up, shoving him away softly. “Well, I let you win that last one.”

Althalos’ jaw dropped. “You did not!”

“I did. Queen Anastas,” Ulric said as he turned to her, “is it not true?”

Ana smiled. “From where I’m standing, it would appear you were in fact beat by an eight-year-old.”

“Told you!” Althalos stuck his tongue out at him and Ulric reached over to ruffle his hair affectionately.

“Well, I suppose I can’t argue with the queen.” Ulric winked at Ana.

Ana felt her cheeks flush. “Althalos, your tutor is waiting for you in your father’s study.”

Althalos let out a moan so loud one would have thought she’d sent him to the gallows. “Can’t I play with Ulric a little longer?”

“What we do, Young Highness, is not play,” Ulric started to say but Althalos waved him away.

“Training for the battles I will face, blah, blah, blah. Please, Mother?”

“Now, Althalos.” Ana pointed to the palace behind her.

His shoulders slumped and he rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Fine!” He threw his wooden sword to the ground petulantly as he stomped across the grass.

Ana and Ulric watched him go. There was an awkward beat of silence between them. She hadn’t been left alone with Ulric since he’d seen her running away from Favian. What did a person say to someone who had caught them in their most vulnerable state?

They spoke at the same time.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for my son.”

“You don’t have to live like this, Your Majesty.”

Ana blinked. “Pardon me?”

“I know it isn’t my place to say—“

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t.” Ana pulled up her skirts and made her way back to the palace.

“Your Majesty!” he called after her.

Ana almost turned back. Almost allowed Ulric to comfort her. Almost allowed herself to unload all the things that had been happening to her behind the barred doors of the king’s chamber.

It was so tempting. If that rebel woman was to be believed, the whole of the kingdom already thought her a whore. They even had a cute little rhyme to go with it. She’d been nothing but loyal and obedient to her king, yet it didn’t seem to matter. If she was already being publicly humiliated, shouldn’t she at least have gotten some enjoyment out of it?

But even with all these thoughts flowing through her mind, she knew it was a terrible idea. She picked up the pace from her march to a full out run.

Something caught her arm and jerked her to a stop. She craned her neck up to meet Ulric’s eyes and immediately jerked against his hand on her arm. “Unhand me!”

“Ana, please, I’m trying—“

“How dare you address me like that.” She gave a good yank and broke free of his grip. She pointed an accusing finger at his face. “You think you saw something scandalous and now you want to, what, loom it over my head for the rest of my life? Think you can blackmail me into giving you a promotion or some such thing? Or perhaps a title? Lord Ulric sounds rather nice, doesn’t it?”

“No!” He shook his head frantically. “That’s not what I want at all! I love training His Young Highness, and I love my life here at court. Fighting side-by-side with the prince, protecting the king, that’s all I have ever wanted.”

Ana narrowed her eyes at him. “Then what is it that you want from me?”

Ulric blew out a sharp breath, glancing around to make sure no one was looking. But they were alone in the garden, except for The Guard which were lurking somewhere unseen at all times. “I do not know you well, Ana—Your Majesty,” he corrected quickly. “I know our initial meeting was…I do not pretend to think we are close.”

“Except you do, don’t you?” she retorted. “Calling me Ana. The king has had men’s heads for lesser offenses.”

Ulric paused as he allowed her threat to sink in. “All I meant,” he started again, cautiously, “is that you deserve more.”

“And what is it that you think I deserve?”

He looked around again, as if someone might’ve magically appeared in the past few seconds. Then Ulric leaned in so close that Ana could feel his breath on her neck. Softly, he said, “I am no king. I do not know the inner workings of the palace, nor do I presume to know the inner workings of your marriage. I just know that a woman as…luminous as you deserves much more than the pain the king gives you.”

Ana stared at him, blinking quickly. Her heart rate had doubled and her breathing stuttered in her chest. His brown-red eyes were so close to her that she felt as if they bled out the rest of the world. She was no longer in the garden—she was adrift in the crimson sea of his gaze. She’d not felt such an all consuming pull for so long, not since—

Her mind halted before the name could crawl free, and she backed away from Ulric, stumbling slightly. She swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat. “I appreciate your concern, Sir Ulric, but I would thank you to never broach the subject again.”

Then she turned and ran, and this time, he did not come after her.

Fendrel shifted on the ground, his bottom starting to go numb from sitting on the hard stone for so long. He’d lost all track of time since Thea had left. No light filtered into the pit she’d left them in; it was so dark he couldn’t even see Brom who was sitting only a couple feet away. Neither of them had spoken for a long time, and when they finally did, it came from Fendrel. He sighed deeply, resting his head back against the hard bars of their cell. “Perhaps this wasn’t the brightest idea.”

Brom didn’t reply for a moment before he said, “If I may ask, what was the plan, Your Highness?”

Did it even matter anymore? He’d willingly marched his Guard and himself into the lion’s den, and they were going to be executed because of it. Fendrel had dealt with enemies before—kings, princes, generals, soldiers. He’d had to do a lot of negotiating in his time. There was always something the Kingdom of Creasan had that his opponents wanted, some common ground they could stand on. Fendrel had never dealt with anyone like Thea before; it wasn’t just her arrogance—he got enough of that from his brother—but her complete confidence in her people, in the operation she was running that struck him as refreshing. When she said she didn’t need him, he really believed it. Thea, leader of The Source, needed no one.

“Is this your way of punishing me, Your Highness?” Brom asked.

Fendrel blinked and stared ahead into the utter blackness where he assumed Brom was. “Punish you?”

“For what I did to that woman.”

Fendrel almost laughed. “If I had wanted you dead, there would have been an easier way of going about that than luring you into The Source’s lair and perishing alongside you.”

They fell silent again. A tingling had taken up feeling in his legs as they fell asleep and he stood, shaking them out.

“You and I are both soldiers,” Brom said suddenly.

Fendrel’s brow rose. “We are.”

“Soldiers take orders. It is what we do.” He let out a deep breath that seemed to be filled with the weight of countless orders. “I did not want to kill that woman. I had no choice.”

Fendrel grabbed the bar behind him, leaning back against it. “I know that now. The murder is not yours to own. It is my brother’s.”

Brom hesitated a beat before asking, “Do you truly wish to assassinate the king?”

The question Fendrel had been debating since Thea first posed it. Fendrel didn’t pretend to have never killed a person before. As a prince and a soldier it was nearly impossible to go through life without ever taking someone’s life. But those people had been enemies, soldiers intent on murdering him if he did not beat them to it. His brother…his brother was family. His brother had raised him practically from birth.

But then images of what he’d seen while in Vuterra filtered through his mind. Starvation, filth, death. He recalled Queen Ana’s reddened cheek. Favian’s transgressions were not just directed at enemies. They were aimed at his people, his wife, and who knew who else. The kingdom would not survive much more of him.

Even so…could Fendrel really kill him?

When Fendrel didn’t answer, Brom asked a different question. “Do you think they’ll remember to feed us down here?”

Thea made sure everything was planned meticulously while they waited for Merek to recover from his wounds which Isolde had assured he would do. Thea had vowed to await his recuperation before they ventured out on this mission. They’d need him in tip top shape.

Two weeks it took before Isolde said Merek was well enough. Thea’s hand healed in about the same amount of time. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t felt like a caged animal while they waited. She’d been as patient as she could be, but during that time, her, Carac, and Peronell had gone into Vuterra to try and recruit more people. Each trip had been unsuccessful. The king was apparently very good at striking terror into his people.

Merek sauntered out of the healer’s room, a wide smile on his face. He rubbed his hands together gleefully as he approached Thea in the meeting room where the rest of the team awaited him. “Who’s ready to slay a dragon?”

“We’re not going to slay a dragon,” Thea corrected.

“I know, but it sounded better than ‘who’s ready to search for a dragon and try to convince him to save our kingdom’.”

Isolde giggled softly.

“Right, then,” he said, glancing around. “Where is His Highness?”

“Thea hasn’t asked him yet,” Carac said.

“What?” Merek gaped at her. “What have you been doing this whole time?”

Thea rolled her eyes. “I was letting him sweat it out a bit.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Merek gestured to the door. “Your prince awaits.”

She snorted. “Come on, Isolde.” The two girls strode out of the room, grabbed torches on their way, and descended to the cage below.

Fendrel and his Guard held up their arms to block the light, squinting into the brightness. Quickly, the two of them got to their feet. Spare plates littered the ground inside the cage, and two foul smelling puddles of what Thea assumed to be urine gathered on either side of the cage. She nearly laughed; what it must have been like for the Prince of Creasan to piss in front of his Guard. She hoped he felt humiliated.

She stopped directly beside the bars, putting the hand not carrying the torch on her hip. “Right, so this is what’s going to happen. You and your Guard are going to accompany my team and I to The Forbidden Mountain. While on this mission, I am king. You will do as I say, you will not argue, and you most certainly will not try to make a run for it. We have no qualms about killing either of you, so you ought to make yourselves as accommodating as possible. Am I understood?”

Fendrel frowned. “The Forbidden Mountain? Why in Aestus’ name would you want to go there?”

“That does not concern you,” she answered promptly.

“But…it’s forbidden for a reason. It will be dangerous, treacherous. Countless people have tried to climb it and they never make it to the top—“

“None of them have been me.”

Brom stepped forward. “If we refuse?”

“Then you will be executed.” This came from Isolde, and both men turned to her as if they were surprised to find her standing there. Thea always found that to be one of Isolde’s strengths. At a meager five foot height, Isolde easily moved unseen through most crowds, and the demure demeanor her mother had drilled into her made her one of the quietest people Thea had ever known.

Fendrel’s eyes widened suddenly. “That’s why you need me, isn’t it? You are looking for Aestus.”

Thea felt a moment of annoyance. This was the second time since she’d met him that Fendrel had been able to practically read her mind. “Like I said, it does not concern you.”

The prince shook his head. “You won’t find him there. Aestus is encircling the world, keeping us safe—“

“Right, thank you, Highness. Isolde, see to it that these men are hanged.” Thea turned around.

“No, wait, we’ll do it!” Fendrel pressed his face to the bars of the cell.

Thea glanced at him over her shoulder with a grin. “Brilliant.”

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