Scorched (Phoenix Chronicles Book 2)

Chapter 27: Maverick's Choice

Maverick dropped his head into his hands, his elbows resting on the gilded table in his room. No, not room, rooms.

They'd moved him into the King's Chambers, which alone was bigger than his family home back in Treywick. He could have easily housed all of his travel companions in the room with him, but they'd been given rooms of their own.

None of them quite as elaborate as his.

In the weeks since Phoenix had left with Abigail and Trey, things had amplified quickly. In the first day of Phoenix's absence, Maverick had been put through a grueling day of military planning with the Militia generals. They'd allowed Roman to join him, but Youlden and Noelle were nowhere to be seen.

In fact, it almost felt as though he were being pulled away from the people he knew. Even Finny's interactions had been limited.

"There isn't time," General Yow had said, dragging Maverick away from her. "You need an education in how to rule if you're going to be king."

Days of rules, etiquette, training, and strategy bounced around in his head. And all he wanted was to go back home.

A soft knock at the door drew him out of his despondence. "Enter."

"Mav?" Noelle peeked around the door, her heart-shaped face drawn, and her eyebrows furrowed. She slipped inside, her slight frame like a willow in a breeze as she moved across the room to him.

Maverick shifted, sitting upright and forcing a smile onto his face. "Can I do something for you?"

She hesitated at his side, and he realized he was almost as tall as she was while sitting. A flash memory of Aundreya filled his thoughts and he looked away, suppressing a shiver.

"I haven't seen you for a few days and - well I know we've never been very close, but I thought I'd see how you were doing with everything."

He glanced up at her, her brown eyes wide. He could sense a bit of fear in them, as though he might strike out at her with a cruel word or a fist. With a sigh, he forced himself to relax.

"It's not going so well," he said, slumping in the chair. "I wish Laina were here."

Noelle's lips twitched in the faintest smile as she settled herself into the chair next to his. "You were the one who left her behind first, if you recall."

"That's when I was trying to protect her, but now..." he trailed off, glancing around his oversized dwelling space. "I just wish she could tell me what's the truth and what's being overstated."

"What do you mean?"

"The way these men talk, you'd think Bainon was lighting towns on fire and forcing women into a harem. He's from the bowels of the deepest hells and everyone is oppressed."

"And you don't believe them?" Noelle asked, frowning. "Then what's the point of the Militia?"

Struggling to find the words, he traced one of the carvings on the table. It depicted the triumph of Tremaine in the days of first man. "I don't know. Bainon doesn't have an heir, and Narissa can't be trusted. They are killing people - people like Abigail and Trey who never did anything. But I don't think they're quite as bad as the Generals say. They all want me to ride in and destroy the entire Army and force myself onto the throne."

Noelle dropped her chin onto her fist, propping her elbow on the table. "And what do you want to do?"

"I want to help people."

"So do."

Maverick frowned at her. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"You're the heir." Noelle gave a little shrug. "You don't have to do anything they say. In fact, they should be asking you. Not telling you. You should be the one in charge if they expect you to lead. If they don't want it that way, then that's fine. But you don't have to do what they say, either."