The Halo Of Vakh (BOOK 1)

FIENDISH CROWN

The only sound in the court room was that of the guard's heavy boots as he moved towards the king on the head of the long table. The monarch's face was blank with an expression of pure fury and disappointment as he took the scroll the guard presented. Arcturus crossed his arms above the velvet waistcoat. The heat stifled him and yet he kept the black Draeked cloak around his shoulders. He had seen the monarch angry before but never had it been as blazing as this. This time he knew that the source of Harfen Parr's vexation would be incinerated. He hoped it was Faske.

Never had the members of all the courts of Falargimea sat before the king as they did now. The Court of Draeked sat nearest to Harfen Parr, two on each of his sides. Next came the War Council which made up half the attendees and took up one entire length of the table. In front of them sat the Bench of Philosophers and the Hall of Ambassadors.

The House of Night, the band of Parr's spies and assassins, was the only one who could not be distinguished. They were the king's ears and eyes. Arcturus knew the identities of only four of their number.

"Humour me," Harfen Parr's voice rang cold along the walls and the cold blue flames in the hearth flickered, almost going out before springing back up.

None of them knew what to say and he knew it was better to remain quiet. It was better not to speak when they had been the cause of the monarch's ire.

The silence prolonged and Parr finally stood up and turned away from them. They watched as he walked over to the high windows, the sunlight filtering from the tinted glass, shadowing his face green.

"Tell me," he started without turning around. "Have I failed in asserting the importance of catching each and every VannØrn? Have I not been clear that it is the Bones girl that I want to be brought to me no matter what it takes?"

A few of them stared at the oak wood table with their heads low, as if that would save them from being burned by the man's wrath. It wouldn't work. If any of them didn't take responsibility for their failures, the council would end with flames leaping in the air. And he knew it would be him, he knew it would be him because it had been his fault anyone in that village had escaped, wasn't it? He was the one who had been delayed and the soldiers at Kapok had hatched half-baked disasters without him. All because of Faske. He wanted to blow the man into smithereens.

"Yet, you have failed time and time again to do so," he grit out. "Twice, she was in your grasp. As Ward Ceri informed me, she was there, injured in a forest and yet you failed to get your hands on her. You led the troops onto the village and the very people I wanted captured escaped."

Arcturus knew his name was coming. He clenched his hands into fists, trying not to point an accusing finger at Faske. If this ended with the king's trust broken in him, then he'd make sure Faske faced the retributions of what he had done. For now, he would keep his lips sealed. He would keep his silence. He would not play his cards till he knew what the others had in store.

"Master Toluer you failed in Pyropa."

There it was. That rebuke he had been expecting but there was lesser heat in the words directed at him. The anger was clouded with curiosity and some confusion.

No wonder. His best man had run to the ground.

"Did you manage to find out who it was, Master Toluer?" Arcturus frowned. Managed to find what? "The one who countered your attacks against the woman?"

Arcturus remembered. He had searched high and low for the culprit and yet the only thing he had managed to find was the ripped edge of a worn out cloak.

"There was no one on the battlements from where the attack came, Sire," he leapt to grasp the one opening that he had been given to palliate the anger towards him. He would not see Faske as the victor. "We reckon whoever it was, had allied themselves with Bones. We searched the citadel for traces of unfamiliar Draedech and found none, Sire."