King by R.J. Larson Read Free Book Online

you’ve decided them!”
    The lord of the Plidian Estates stared at Akabe. “It seems I’ve heard the truth. You are a . . . plain-speaking man. Very well, sir. Marry my youngest daughter and I will sign a document giving you control of the lands—in addition to the payment we’d originally negotiated. Those are my terms.”
    Marry his daughter. Akabe almost turned his back on the man. This known Atean. What were his ambitions? Merely to assure his daughter’s future? To ultimately seat a relative on Siphra’s throne? Or to further some Atean plot to disrupt the rebuilding of the temple?
    Exhaling, Akabe said, “I will consult with my advisors and consider the matter. Until then, you and your family are welcome to stay in apartments within the palace as my guests.”
    Inwardly, Akabe groaned. Infinite? If only You would advise me through Your prophets!
    But Siphra’s lesser prophets had offered him no counsel from their Creator. As for Siphra’s preeminent prophet . . . no. Nothing would induce Akabe to ask Ela’s advice on marriage. His feelings were still too raw.
    Well-enough. He was Siphra’s king.
    He must make his own choice.

    Enduring the fourth day of his trial, Kien clenched his hands into fists. Beside him, Alan mimicked his motion, then sat statue-still, staring at the judge, who sighed gustily, then read from the scroll, his tone sonorous and reluctant. “To the charges of corruption and subversion, this court must add an additional charge. An official question of the accused’s loyalty to the Tracelands.”
    Alan threw a writing reed to the marble floor in mute protest. Whispers of confusion and indignation lifted among the onlookers. Kien heard his brother-in-law, Jon, growl. “Outrageous!”
    Beyond the prosecutor, Cherne smiled. Gloating. Laughing! And why not?
    What else could his or Father’s opponents do to him beyond what they now intended?
    Short of the death penalty, nothing. What a mercy his mother hadn’t attended today. But Rade Lantec, his supporters, Kien’s brother-in-law, Jon, and General Rol offered Kien looks of encouragement. They hadn’t a clue. None!
    While the judge pursed his lips and wrote notes, Kien muttered to Alan, “I’m doomed.”
    “Perhaps the magistrate will be more lenient if we offer Akabe of Siphra’s formal plea.”
    “He won’t be lenient. He can’t. And the representatives will ridicule the king’s plea. You know they will.”
    “Kien, we must offer the plea. To ignore it would insult Siphra.”
    “To offer it would provoke far worse insults to Siphra.”
    “I disagree. Siphra is our ally.”
    “Don’t present the letter!” Kien grabbed Alan’s heap of legal parchments to extricate the written plea. Where was it? “Nothing can be changed—it’s all formalities now, and the letter will only cause a rift between the Tracelands and Siphra.”
    “Your opinion. Not mine.”
    Kien flicked through page after crisp page of parchment. “You know, Alan, for being my legal advisor, you’re entirely too optimistic.”
    “Someone has to be.” Reaching inside his formal black robe, Alan, the traitor, removed the document garnished with Akabe’s official red wax seal, marched to the magistrate’s table, and presented Akabe’s formal plea that Kien not be held liable for his title.
    Crushing the urge to yell and throw things at Alan, Kien shoved aside the heap of documents. As Alan sat down again, Kien said,“You’ve just disturbed relations between two countries. It would have been better to tell Siphra the letter couldn’t be presented!”
    The judge skewed his mouth to one side of his face as he read the parchment. Finished, he hammered his mallet on the sound box. “I have here a formal plea for clemency on behalf of Kien Lantec . . . from Siphra and its king.”
    The prosecutor stood. “Irrelevant, sir! Kings may bellow, but laws rule the Tracelands!”
    Behind him, Cherne intoned, “Tracelanders do not bow to kings! The