Rise of Keitus (Kilenya Series, 4) Read online

  Finally, the current carriage stopped in front of a run-down manor. The driver walked in reverse from the carriage to a man—the manor owner—who’d given him the package.

  Jacob followed the package, now in the hands of the manor owner, as it Traveled through the house. Then the package went behind a door where Jacob’s Time-Seeing eyes couldn’t follow, just like with Keitus’s workroom. He tried to break through in a variety of ways, but as before, he was unable to pierce the cloud surrounding the room.

  Jacob pulled back to his quarters, unsurprised at the outcome, but disappointed. Keitus must have warned everyone to magic-proof their rooms. He took a deep breath and decided to get some sleep.

  The next morning, Jacob wasn’t surprised when Sarot woke him.

  “You’ll never guess what happened.”

  Jacob rubbed his eyes. “What?”

  “Someone—no one knows who—stole one of the king’s most important packages. You know which ones: the white boxes he insists on carrying himself.”

  The expression on Sarot’s face let Jacob know that the proper response should be shock. But he was too tired and too frustrated from the activities of the day before to react that way.

  “Really? That’s too bad.”

  Sarot frowned. “You don’t understand. Someone will be killed for this. Someone has to die.” He lowered his voice, looking at the sleeping frames of the other two footmen. “And Thojac, one of the other footmen said you were the last to touch the package.”

  That got Jacob’s attention. He jerked to a sitting position. “What? Who said that?” He bit his lip, thinking hard if anyone had seen him with the package. But only Bekett had. “It wasn’t me, honest.”

  Sarot nodded. “I believe you. But Bekett won’t. He was searching for you last night, cursing, angry. Said he’ll have your head when he finds you.”

  Jacob frowned. “But it was Bekett who had the box last. Yes, he assigned me to take it to the king’s quarters, but just as soon as I had it in my hands, he rushed out of the castle and took it from me.”

  Sarot raised his eyebrows. “This isn’t good. It’s Bekett’s word against yours.” He shook his head. “I’d hate to be in your position when the king returns.”

  Jacob’s stomach dropped. “Do we know when that’ll be?”

  “No, but for your sake, hopefully not for several more days.”

  “What can I do? I can’t afford to lose this job, but I don’t want to die.”

  “I’d recommend you lay low for a while. Maybe leave the castle—stay away from other servants.”

  The possibility that Sarot was lying crossed Jacob’s mind, but judging by the colors in the air, he was being honest. Jacob realized this was the perfect opportunity to return home anyway. It had been three or four days, and he needed an update.

  As soon as Sarot left, Jacob gathered his clothes and Traveled to the present.

  The biggest update was that Akeno, Gallus, and those who were helping seal off the Molg tunnels had finished and wanted Jacob to Key them to the Village, and Gallus to Macaria. They were waiting at Aldo’s cabin when Jacob arrived. That reunion was bittersweet. Jacob was grateful they’d been successful, minus the attack that had killed seven Wurbies. But it was hard to answer all their questions about Matt, Aloren, and Troosinal.

  Jacob Keyed everyone to their proper places, then Early appeared with a flash next to him.

  “Your dad wants to see you—he’s in a shack in the middle of Fornchall.”

  Jacob Keyed there, opening the door cautiously. After everything that had happened over the past few days, he wasn’t in the mood for surprises.

  “Jacob! Good, you’re okay.” Dad jumped from a chair and gave Jacob a quick hug before returning to his seat at the table where Aldo also sat. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a vacation.”

  Jacob smiled. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

  Dad ran his hand through his hair. “Well, we tried to negotiate with the council here, but that didn’t work. They attacked us, injuring several people.”

  Jacob half turned, ready to leave if necessary. “Should I Key them back to Taga?” He looked around. “Where are they, anyway?”

  “They’re with Ebony in another empty house. They’ll be fine—I’ll have you go as soon as we’re done here.”

  Aldo rubbed his eyes. “Ebony is a great nurse. She’s been very successful taking care of them, even without Kaede Sap.”

  Dad sighed—he looked haggard and worn. But he didn’t allow that to taint his voice. “What’s going on back in Troosinal?”

  “You and Kelson aren’t there anymore, and King Ramantus has disappeared.”

  Dad nodded. “Yes—he and my brothers followed me to Gevkan. Caused a lot of problems, but they were unsuccessful. Judging by how much time they spent in Gevkan, they were gone for several days.” He put his hand on Jacob’s arm. “Be alert when he returns—it can’t be much longer before they change to Lorkon. Put yourself in positions to serve him frequently, if possible, but don’t do something that would get you killed.”

  “That’s just it. I’m not sure if I’ll even be able to stay in the castle much longer.”

  Jacob filled them in on the events of the past day, along with what Sarot said.

  “Sarot’s advice is sound,” Dad said. “I recommend you return right before the king does—don’t hang around in Troosinal if at all possible. And especially don’t let Bekett see you. When the opportunity arises, which I’m sure it will, do something to put yourself into the king’s good graces. He can’t possibly know you from all the other footmen, and so long as Bekett doesn’t get his hands on you, you should be fine.” He rubbed his face. “That’s my hope, anyway.”

  “It’s the best plan we’ve got right now.” Jacob really wished he could just stay home and never go back to Troosinal, but that still wasn’t an option.

  Dad leaned back in his chair. “We never did find out what was in those jars. Too bad you couldn’t see what Hayla’s uncle saw.” He got to his feet, moving slowly, as if he were exhausted. “Well, better get going. I love you, son. Be careful.”

  Jacob said goodbye and Keyed the injured people, along with Ebony, back to Taga. Then he swung by the hospital to visit Matt and Aloren. Both were still very sick, so Jacob didn’t stay for more than ten minutes before going home to see Mom.

  As soon as she’d verified he was okay, he retreated to his room in Mendon to Time-See, wanting to follow his dad’s advice as closely as possible. King Ramantus only stayed away for a couple more days, and Jacob returned to Troosinal a couple hours before the king did.

  The very first thing Jacob decided to do was visit the laundry. He couldn’t help it—he needed to know that Hayla was okay.

  Feelings of shame coursed through his body again as he walked the halls to the laundry room, verifying every now and then that Bekett wasn’t anywhere nearby. If only he could’ve done something to help Hayla.

  But she was all happiness, showing no signs of trauma when she saw him. “Hi, Thojac!”

  “Hi, Hayla.” He smiled, and though he tried not to, couldn’t help but look at his feet. Someday he’d be over this silly bashfulness.

  She took his dirty clothes and put them in the separate bins for each item. Jacob watched her closely, but she still didn’t show any signs of having been treated badly in any way. She didn’t have bruises or anything. Was Jacob mistaken? Or did she have really thick makeup that covered everything?

  Hayla rounded up another shirt and pair of pants, taking her time. Every couple of seconds, she looked up at him with an impish expression. His hands started sweating and he tucked them in his pockets, trying to hide their shaking. She was so cute.

  Too soon, she handed him the new clothes, curtsied, and gave him one last winning smile. Though their interactions had been limited, Jacob left the room in higher spirits than he’d been in all week. He couldn’t wipe the grin from his face.

  Not even seeing his two jerk roommate
s could bring him down. He stepped to the side, letting them pass.

  But Mindac stopped. “Why are you so happy?”

  Jacob groaned inside—he’d been hoping that just this once, they’d leave him alone.

  The guy grabbed his arm, squeezing hard. “I said, why are you so happy?”

  “No reason.”

  Mindac stared at Jacob, then looked into the laundry room. His glower deepened. “Right. No reason.”

  Jacob ground his teeth, about to slug the footman. But the pain in his chest kept him from doing so—apparently, standing up for himself would cause problems. These guys were used to pushing people around, and someone beating them up would cause too much attention. But Jacob was trained to fight. He could keep his own, if his dang heart would just let him.

  Mindac released his hold, but glared into Jacob’s eyes. “Stay outta the way, boy.” He shoved Jacob against the wall, then pushed him to the floor and followed Jesson into the laundry room.

  Hopefully Hayla would be more successful than Jacob at hiding her feelings.

  Jacob picked himself up and took several deep breaths, waiting for the tightness in his chest to leave. It took longer than usual—he’d been really close to lashing out at the jerk.

  When the king returned, he was even more foul and bad-tempered. Three servants got killed, from what Sarot said, and Bekett didn’t replace them right away.

  Even though Jacob stayed out of sight of everyone but his roommates, he couldn’t help but recognize and be influenced by the feeling in the castle. It mirrored the emotions of the city: despair, fear, depression. Everyone was so scared that they’d be the king’s next victim, they scurried around like mice, jumping at any sound.

  Jacob watched and waited for the perfect opportunity to serve the king, but nothing came up that wouldn’t have him dead in the end.

  That evening, Sarot fell into his bed and moaned. “Today was horrendous, Thojac. The king performed his tests all day long—I mean all day long! I must’ve taken over a hundred trips to the river. I can’t even feel my arms anymore.”

  Jacob frowned. “Why so many?”

  “He’s getting desperate. Whatever he’s trying to do must be just out of his grasp. And with Dmitri gone, he’s even more edgy.”

  “What is he working toward?”

  Sarot rolled over, facing Jacob. “Who knows. Evil goals, I’m sure. I really don’t care to hear what.”

  Jacob sighed in exasperation, though not loud enough for his friend to hear. “Well, I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”

  “Yeah.”

  They didn’t say anything else, and Jacob fell asleep soon after.

  The next morning, the castle buzzed with . . . with positive energy. Jacob frowned as he wandered the halls, waiting for Bekett to leave the breakfast area so he could eat. Why the sudden change? What was going on? He stepped into a storage room and Time-Saw through the huge castle, trying to solve this newest riddle.

  He searched first for the king. And when he saw Ramantus, he knew why everyone was happy. Ramantus was thrilled, hyper, excited. As Jacob watched, he grabbed a maid and kissed her right on the mouth, then twirled around, released her, and wished her a good day. Jacob’s jaw dropped.

  He pulled back to the storage room and tapped his cheek. A grin spread across his face as he realized what this meant. Ramantus must’ve found the last puzzle piece to becoming a Lorkon. Which also meant Jacob was at the end of his quest. All he had to do was find a way to be around the king as much as possible. The fact that Ramantus was so excited and happy would be very beneficial—Jacob probably wouldn’t die if he tried too hard to please.

  Deciding that nothing else mattered at this point, Jacob skipped breakfast and dashed into the kitchen. He found the elderly woman he’d helped days earlier, and pushing aside his feelings of guilt for lying, said, “The king wants his favorite breakfast today. Sorry I’m late telling you—I just found out I have to deliver it.”

  The old woman looked at Jacob in surprise. “He does? Did Bekett say why?”

  Jacob shook his head and she sighed, staring at the tray of food she must’ve just arranged. “Well, I guess I can throw this out—I was about to deliver it to him.” She turned to a large waste bin, then paused, glancing at Jacob, a twinkle in her eye. “Unless you’d like to eat it while I prepare his omelet.”

  Jacob nodded, taking the tray. “Thank you—can never have enough food here.” He stood over a counter and ate quickly—the woman was fast, and he wanted to get in as much as possible. He had no idea when he’d have another meal.

  She had the king’s food prepared soon, which she handed to Jacob. “Hurry, boy—he hates waiting for his breakfast.”

  Jacob rushed out of the kitchen, pausing only to Time-See, making sure the king was still in his quarters.

  It took five minutes to get there, and he worried the food would be cold by the time it reached Ramantus. But apparently, the woman had thought of that when she’d put it on a hot ceramic plate. The omelet was still steaming when Jacob knocked on the king’s door.

  “Enter.”

  Jacob pushed his way into the room.

  “Finally. Breakfast.” The king was pacing the floor. He pointed to a table. “Set it there—” He paused, sniffing the air. “Wait, bring it instead.” He smiled as the food neared. “Perfect! And on this day of celebration.”

  He turned to Jacob. “Stay with me.”

  Jacob bowed and backed against a wall while the king ate his breakfast, smacking his lips and drinking loudly. When he’d finished, he insisted that Jacob help him dress. That consisted of finding a jacket and pants that matched the crown Ramantus wanted to wear. And, of course, all sorts of decorations and such.

  It took an hour to get Ramantus fully ready. Then the king made Jacob stand near the wall while he wrote a few letters. He had Jacob take them to another servant, but again insisted that Jacob return when done. That was just fine with Jacob.

  Around midday, a message was delivered to Ramantus that had him so excited, Jacob was worried he’d kill someone just to celebrate. He pulled a couple of ropes on his wall—the ones that probably had bells on the other end, and a few minutes later, Het and Isan entered the room. They ignored Jacob.

  Het, the older son, bowed to his father. “What is it?”

  “We’re ready, my sons, we’re ready!”

  Het glowered. “You said that before and then everything fell apart, with Dmitri running.”

  Ramantus shrugged. The colors around him were light blue and green—he was at peace and happy, and it looked like nothing would ruin that. “But I also told you that Dmitri running to Gevkan was part of my plans.”

  Isan strode to the table, digging through his father’s leftovers. “Then why did it upset you so?”

  Jacob straightened, making sure not to bring any attention to himself. Were some of his questions about to be answered?

  “Fool—his marriage to Arien was important, but how much easier would things be if he were still truly my son? I have hard work ahead of me, getting him to revert to his previous ways.”

  “If that’s even possible.” Het sat in his father’s large chair at one of the desks, crossing his legs.

  “It doesn’t matter if he does or doesn’t in the end—the whole point of this is the offspring he will produce with Arien. Having him on my side will simply make the task easier.”

  Jacob’s stomach fell and he listened harder, biting the inside of his lip.

  Isan rolled his eyes. “But you can’t guarantee they’ll inherit the . . . traits you need. I don’t understand your confidence in the plans you’ve put in place.”

  “And you never will. You lack the mental capacity even to arrange a simple hunting party.” Ramantus glared at his son, but still, the colors in the air around him were cheerful.

  No one said anything for a moment, but Jacob barely noticed the silence. He felt sweat drip down his back and tried not to shiver when goose bumps crossed his flesh
.

  He remembered what Keitus had said to him months earlier while he’d been held in August Fortress. Something about how the Lorkon king had created Jacob, bred him, made his parents and even grandparents marry so he would come about. Jacob had scoffed. But now he wondered, and a desire to learn of the role Keitus played in his heritage nearly overwhelmed him.

  Another little thought made its way into Jacob’s mind. Just how old was Ramantus? He was a human now and obviously mortal. But if he’d had a part in arranging generations of marriages, he must be much older than he appeared.

  Jacob’s eyes opened wide as he thought of what would happen if Ramantus found out that he, Jacob, acting as a servant in the king’s castle, was the offspring of Arien and Dmitri, the very person the Lorkon king would come to seek so desperately in the future.

  Ramantus suddenly turned to Jacob, nearly making him jump out of his clothes.

  “You, boy. Come here.”

  Chapter Nineteen: The Workroom

  Jacob hesitated. Had the king figured him out? The expression on Ramantus’s face didn’t reveal much, and his emotions were happy and peaceful. But Jacob still worried. He approached, not sure what to expect.

  Ramantus pointed to a red box that sat near the window. “Bring it to me.” He turned to Het and Isan. “The final ingredient—proven successful last night.”

  “You performed human tests without us there?”

  Ramantus cackled. “Not exactly.”

  “Then how do you know it’s successful?”

  The king took the box from Jacob, placed it on the table near his breakfast dish, and stared at Het before responding. “Must I explain everything to my dimwitted sons?”

  “No, Father,” Het said, looking down.

  The king sighed, and spoke as if to a three-year-old. “I tested it on two wolves. Everything happened as it should. They’re larger, darker. The blood that spreads disease is on their skin, and they didn’t die.”

  Het and Isan both smiled, the colors in the air around them flowing bright green.

  Ramantus handed the box back to Jacob. “There’s a corridor in the castle with purple tapestries and rugs lining the walls and floor. At the far end is a large curtain covering an alcove. I want you to go to that alcove and wait with this box for further instructions. Don’t let anyone see you.”