“Why’s that?”
“What punishment will you get if you fail to arrive with me? They’ll beat you harder than you could ever beat me here.”
“You are more obstinate than your worst reputation.” He tried again. “Now, get on your feet.”
“You can knock me unconscious or drag me to my death, but I will not walk any farther. Get me a horse.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re a prisoner.”
“I’m a king. And I demand to be treated as such. Get me a horse.”
Kippenger licked his lips, and then turned to Terrowic. “He’ll use your horse. Help him up, then see that it’s tethered to mine.”
Terrowic’s eyes darkened, but the order had been given and the commander was already marching away. He grabbed me from the ground and all but threw me onto his horse.
In his anger, Terrowic had neglected to remove his pack from the horse’s saddle. Once we were under way again, I took advantage of that. He had a container of water, some dried meat and biscuits, and a few apples. When I finished the first apple, I made sure to toss the core over my shoulder and hoped it hit him on the head too.
Other than what was necessary for the care of the horses, we took very few breaks throughout the journey. Still, it was dark when I first saw the lights of Farthenwood in the distance. Once we got closer, I saw that a gallows was being constructed at the front of the home. Two nooses were already in place. One was for me. I didn’t know who the other was for.
At the far end of the property were several Carthyan wagons, under heavy guard. Most of them were covered, but the corner of one had come undone and flapped in the breeze. The moonlight lit the gold inside the wagon. As Kippenger had said, the wealth of Carthya was here indeed.
Kippenger personally verified the chains were still firm around my wrists, which I thought should’ve been obvious by the way the metal had worn sores into my flesh. When he was satisfied, they pulled me off the horse and made me wait while someone informed their king I had arrived.
I was once again amazed by how little Farthenwood had changed since my last visit here. Certainly to attend Vargan, the grand estate was filling with people, but they couldn’t have been here long. Other than the gallows and the gold-filled wagons, the home itself seemed no different.
Eventually I was led inside. On my first trip here, I had also been a prisoner. Escorted in with more courtesy and fewer chains, but a prisoner nonetheless. I hated the thought of having to face Vargan here. Vargan would gloat over his victory, humiliating me as I signed papers that preserved the lives of my countrymen, giving us peace, but at the very highest price. And Vargan would be sure I knew every detail of what would happen tomorrow, the day of my execution. That was intolerable, but it infuriated me to know that Conner would be here too. He had wanted the throne from the moment he became a regent. He had murdered my family and expressed his regrets that I hadn’t been amongst his victims. And he was willing to turn Carthya into a feeding gallery for the Avenian vultures, just so he could wear a crown and pretend that made him any sort of a royal.
I was taken to Conner’s office, or perhaps it was considered Vargan’s office now. Conner’s wide desk was gone, as were his books and other decorations. Over the past several months, nearly everything of value had been stripped from this place. Vargan rose from a simple wooden chair that must have been intended as a temporary throne. Conner was already standing behind him, arms folded and dressed in all his former finery. He appeared to have aged considerably in the prison, but now, with his hair washed and combed neatly back, he looked rather distinguished, a weak facade for his rotting soul inside.
Vargan immediately spoke. “You gave yourself up, Jaron. Why?”
“I needed medical supplies for my men.”
“Are you surrendering?”