Wrath of the Forgotten: Descendants of the Fall Book II Hodges, Aaron (simple e reader TXT) 📖

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Maisie added, reclining into one of the sofas herself. “Nguyen tends not to care about such things.”

“Is he here, you think?” Erika asked. She cast an eye over the sofas, before muttering a curse and falling into the nearest one. She was too exhausted to remain on her feet for a second longer.

“I sent a bird from Fogmore before we left,” the spy replied. “I doubt he’ll have waited in Solaris for what I promised him.”

Erika narrowed her eyes at the woman’s words. What had Maisie promised the king? Did the spy intend to betray her and claim Erika’s offerings as her own? She clenched her fist and felt the pulsing of the gauntlet’s magic. If Maisie did betray her, she would find her lifespan measured in minutes rather than years…

Angrily, Erika shook her head, banishing the thought. Despite her chosen discipline, Maisie had been a surprisingly pleasant travelling companion—at least compared to Cara’s open animosity. They had developed a system to sleep and keep watch, and the woman had even shown Erika a little about what it took to navigate the swirling currents of the Illmoor. Not enough that she could sail unsupervised, but at least it had taken Erika’s mind off the constant threat of the hunters.

Still though, if the king was in the fortress, where was he? Surely he’d been summoned as soon as the guards recognised Maisie? A frown wrinkling her forehead, Erika glanced at the door, impatient—

She flinched as her eyes fell upon a man standing in the doorway. Somehow, he’d opened the door and entered without them noticing. No, without Erika noticing—there was a knowing grin on Maisie’s face as she watched Erika’s reaction, and she caught a snort from Cara. Chuckling, the man stepped into the room, allowing the door to close behind him.

“Greetings,” he said, spreading his arms. “Maisie, I have had searchers out watching for you. The river is crawling with Flumeer. I was beginning to fear they might exceed even your talent for concealment.”

A smile crossed the spy’s lips as she rose and gave a short bow. “Gladly, that day has not yet come, Nguyen.”

Erika swallowed as she looked from the spy to the newcomer. Nguyen, King of Gemaho. Though he wore no crown or other indication of his position, there was a presence to the man, a power in the sea-green eyes that watched her from across the room. Age had added white streaks to the short-cropped brown hair and his clothes were plain, if expertly tailored. A short sword hung from his belt and he wore leather riding gloves. Had their arrival interrupted other plans the king might have had for the morning?

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as the king turned his gaze on her, and she stood in silence, suffering his inspection. This man was regarded as a traitor by the Calafe, for he had abandoned the alliance after the disastrous southern campaign. Without Gemaho soldiers to aid them, the lands of Calafe had fallen all the quicker to the Tangata. Erika supposed she should hate him for that—after all, Calafe was her native homeland.

But then, the Calafe had turned their back on Erika’s family after the king—her father—had fallen. By birth, she should have been a princess, honoured amongst the Calafe nobility. Instead the council had named her mother the king’s paramour, and sent them from New Nihelm in exile.

Why should Erika care whether this man had betrayed the Calafe, when they had done the same to her?

“So this is Queen Amina’s famed Archivist,” the king said finally.

Erika offered a short bow. “Thank you for inviting me to your kingdom, Your Majesty,” she replied.

The king wrinkled his forehead. “It was the least I could do for the daughter of an old friend.”

For a moment, Erika didn’t understand the man’s words. Her heart twisted in her chest and her mouth suddenly felt dry. She swallowed, struggling for words, as the stoic expression she had cultivated amongst the Flumeeren nobility slipped. There was only one man alive who knew the identify of her father, and she had left him in an infirmary bed back in Fogmore. Surely Romaine hadn’t told anyone…

“I…what?” she croaked.

The king chuckled. “I came to know King Micah quite well during our campaign in the south,” the king replied. “It pained me when he…fell in that last battle. It was some years before I learned what had become of his family. I have followed your progress with interest over the last years.”

Erika clenched her fists, struggling to contain her sudden anger. “I suppose that’s why your man tried to have me killed,” she grated.

The smile slipped from the king’s lips. “A regrettable miscommunication,” he replied. “I was most relieved to learn you had survived.”

“And was it also a ‘regrettable miscommunication’ when you abandoned my people to the Tangata?” Erika spat, taking a step towards the king. In her anger, her earlier thoughts were thrust aside.

Arms clasped behind his back, the king stood regarding her for a long moment. Then he sighed. “I have made many mistakes over the last decade—first among them leading my soldiers against the Tangata. I argued against the invasion, but in the end, I allowed myself to be convinced.” He shook his head. “We were fools to poke the hornet’s nest. Thousands of lives were lost in the south, and for what? Our forces were so depleted that we couldn’t even defend our own lands.”

“You didn’t even try to defend Calafe,” Erika hissed.

“It pains me, what has befallen Micah’s nation,” the king replied, “but the sand upon the shore cannot hold back the tides. What we witnessed in the south…” He swallowed, and there was a tightness to his voice as he continued. “The Tangata cannot be stopped, not over open land. Once the Agzor Fortress fell, Calafe was already lost.”

Erika opened her mouth, then closed it as she saw the pain lurking in