Read Flight of the King Online

Authors: C. R. Grey

Flight of the King (34 page)

Bailey thought about the dog who'd attacked the Jackal that day, and how it had continued to attack, ruthlessly. It made him shudder. He wondered too what else Dominance could be capable
of. If, as Viviana said, she could make an army instantly from whatever beasts were nearby, then the battle ahead would be harder than any of them had anticipated. But there had to be a way to
fight her. He had felt it, in his own body, when the mechanical tiger was bearing down on him.

“Somehow, if we could harness the goodness of the bond, in the same way that she twists it, we could overcome her,” Bailey said. “Using the opposite of Dominance.” He
noticed Tremelo standing a few paces away with a funny look on his face.

“‘Both the reflection and the opposite of evil,'” Tremelo said.

“Exactly,” said Bailey, a little confused. “I think.”

Tremelo walked over and crouched in front of Bailey. He gave Taleth a slow, respectful stroke along her spine, and then smiled wearily at the students.

“Even if Viviana does have infinite armies,” Bailey continued, “and the people are scared, they know that
you're
alive.” He nodded at Tremelo. “Trent
Melore is alive! That has to mean something!”

“For some, it will,” Tremelo said. “There are those who believe the rumors about a True King. But many will see me exactly as Viviana hoped they would—as an
impostor.”

He took a small jar of King's Finger salve from his pocket and handed it to Tori. She nodded, and held her hands out again to Hal. Tenderly, she applied the healing salve to his cuts as
Tremelo continued to speak.

“I don't see an impostor anymore,” Tremelo said, looking directly at Bailey. “I wanted to hide from this—from my birthright and my true self. If I'd had my
wish, I'd have ignored the real danger that the kingdom is in. But I can't, can I?”

Slowly, the entire room started paying attention. Everyone, RATS and Velyn, was looking at Tremelo. Fennel stood by his side, her furry chest puffed out proudly.

“I'm your king,” he said, turning to face the entire room. “I didn't want it before.…I didn't think I could ever live up to it. But I know now that I have
to try. If these kids—these brave kids—can face their enemies and their challenges with the courage and heart that I saw today, then I must try to do the same. I owe it to
them.”

Bailey smiled up at Tremelo. He petted Taleth's dirty, blood-matted fur, and he experienced a comforting moment of deep connection. He saw a flash of woodlands, and smelled mountain pine.
Taleth was dreaming of the Peaks. He closed his eyes for a moment and joined her there, willing the memory of her nearly attacking him out of his mind. Viviana had tried to make them fear each
other—hurt each other. But he wondered if, in fact, their ordeal had only made their bond stronger.

“Viviana claims to have created an army today—well, we have the seeds of an army too,” Tremelo continued. “The greatest warriors in the kingdom are here together. The
Velyn and the RATS.”

Cheers sounded through the dingy room, filling its musty corners with hope and excitement. Digby Barnes and Eneas Fourclaw stood together in the corner. At Tremelo's word, Digby slapped
Eneas's back, and Eneas nodded solemnly—but not unkindly.

“I still can't believe it,” Digby said, overcome. “Bidin' your time all those years. Clever as old Loony always said you were. It's an honor, an
honor.”

“There are more of us, deeper in the mountains,” said Eneas to Tremelo. “I can't promise you thousands, but those who still live will fight on your side. We're with
you.”

Bailey sat up a little straighter.

“More?” he said. “Are any of them my family? Are there more who are Animas White Tiger? Is Taleth really the last?”

Eneas and Tremelo regarded him seriously.

“That's not for me to answer,” said Eneas. “I've known no humans with white tiger kin after the Jackal's reign other than you. But Aldermere is a larger place
than some folks think. Over the mountains…one never knows.”

Tremelo looked down at Bailey.

“You and Taleth together were the bravest fighters I've ever seen,” he continued. “And your bond was able to overcome everything that Viviana tried to do to it. You have
the Velyn to thank for that—and also your own hardships.”

Behind the bar, one of the RATS pushed a foam-topped mug of rootwort rum toward Tremelo, who paused to take a sip. He continued to look at Bailey, with a small, tired smile showing under his
mustache.

“You have enormous power, though it's not the kind that someone like Viviana treasures. You have an old soul, Bailey Walker. It stretches back to encompass those who loved you long
ago, and those who paved the way for your life. They were with you today.”

Tremelo raised his mug.

“To Bailey Walker,” he said. “To the Child of War.”

“To the Child of War!” echoed the RATS and Velyn.

Bailey raised his own mug of sap milk.

“To our king,” he said, meeting Tremelo's gaze. “And to Aldermere.”

“To Aldermere!”

Everyone in the room tipped back their glasses, eager to find the warm light at the end of a dark day. War was coming, whether they were prepared or not. Bailey knew that the next morning would
bring more hardship—but now, with his friends, he counted himself among the luckiest in the kingdom. What he couldn't know was that at that same moment, in attics and alleys throughout
the Gray, and even in the stone-walled homes of the nearby villages, others were whispering the very same words—
The True King! The Child of War!
—like a wish or prayer, like a
flicker of hope in the darkness of a long, cold night.

I WOULD LIKE TO THANK
the editorial team at Paper Lantern Lit: Lauren Oliver, Lexa Hillyer, Alexa Wejko, Tara Sonin, and especially Rhoda Belleza, as
well as PLL alums Beth Scorzato, Angela Velez, and Adam Silvera, for their vision, guidance, and support. Thanks are again due to agent Stephen Barbara as well as Rotem Moscovich and Julie Moody at
Disney Hyperion for their insight and dedication. I'm grateful to my good friends Jen Whitton and Michele McNally and to Judy, George, and David—my family—for their love and
enthusiasm. I'd especially like to thank my husband, who keeps my oceans calm and blue.

C. R. GREY
was born in a house on a pier in Maine—literally on the ocean. She grew up in Memphis, Tennessee, then received
her BA in theater from the State University of New York at New Paltz and her MFA in fiction from Ohio State University. Grey lives in Poughkeepsie, New York, with her husband, one black cat, one
white cat, and a Boston terrier named Trudy. She can often be found weeding through ephemera in antique shops or walking over the bridges that span the Hudson River.

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