Evan had never been to Last City. Many of the cities were built during his childhood when the first Straton Queen and King held him and Evadine captive. The Queen and King kept a very tight rein on them, and always insisted on knowing their whereabouts and keeping them close by.
I shouldn’t even be here. He never had an interest in the Crown Soldiers or their work. Before the Stratons took possession of the Crown the same soldiers had belonged to them, owned and controlled as a source of power. Terra never had an army before the Crown Soldiers; there was never any need.
Evan watched as Alcander addressed them, his demeanor having changed significantly since their debriefing with the Queen. Each soldier was armed; they looked frighteningly like the guns, small and potentially lethal. He had no taste for violence. From the way Alcander and Hector described their encounter with the Elder and the residents of Last City, there was no need for such force. The King’s involvement, however, made the presence of weapons a necessity.
One of the soldiers stood abruptly and pointed beyond the walls of the transport. “Sir, look!” he demanded.
The transport was decreasing in speed as it approached the entryway of the Last City Transport Station. Evan looked in the direction the solder pointed in and saw a large crowd gathered on the platform. The King stood in the middle surrounded by residents.
Evan looked to Alcander and Hector. “Do you remember the faces of the residents who took the King?”
“Yes,” Hector replied.
“Good. Have the others take them. You two take the King and check him for injuries. Secure him in a private car away from the other prisoners. I’ll take custody of the Elder woman and the book.
Alcander exchanged looks with Hector. “It’s our job to protect the Queen and her assets, Evan, even dusty old history books,” he scowled.
“And if you were meant to so much as breathe on it then it wouldn’t be locked away to begin with, would it?” Evan argued. “I will take the book and you can explain to the Queen how you failed to protect her assets in the first place.”
Alcander’s face turned bright red. He adjusted the armed device he carried and turned his attention to the crowd of residents and the King.
The transport doors opened to silence. Each resident stood in silence, their facial expressions neutral at the sight of Evan and the armed Crown Soldiers. The King did not appear to be hurt. In fact, he didn’t look the least bit concerned with his circumstances.
Ten of the soldiers dispersed around the large crowd while another six took possession of the presumed kidnappers. Hector and Alcander went straight for the King with Evan following behind.
“Have you joined up with the Crown Soldiers, Evander?” asked the King, a cocky smirk on his face. His charms were lost on Evan, who didn’t appreciate the King’s humor in light of the circumstances.
“The Queen asked me to come get you, Your Highness,” he retorted. Owyn’s chin lifted and Evan thought he saw a faint smile of defiance. “Which one is the Elder?”
“I am her,” a woman spoke. She did not have the face of an Elder.
Evan was not convinced. “Your Highness is she woman who stole the book and held you captive?” he asked.
“She is,” the King replied. “She has given her word that no resident will act in violence against us. Let’s show her the same courtesy.” His eyes were on Hector and Alcander, his words a command they heeded without question.
“Hector, Alcander,” Evan called to the soldiers. They looked to the King and moved only after he nodded in approval. Evan turned his attention to the Elder. “Where is the book?” he asked.
A male resident stepped forward, the book clutched tightly in his arms. He held the book out to Evan with great care, his eyes never leaving the elaborate royal seal stamped in the center of the hard cover. Evan took it and was surprised by its heavy weight. One by one the residents turned and left, vacating the platform.
“What’s your name?” he asked the Elder woman.
“Thea,” she answered, never once taking her eyes off of him.
“What’s your real name?” he clarified. She didn’t answer. “Whether or not you lie makes no difference to me. Nothing you say is likely to influence whatever punishment the Queen has planned for you,” he remarked.
The Elder woman’s expression seemed to soften as she examined the features of his face. “Owyn called you Evander. Are you a Nero?” she asked.
An indignant flame burst beneath his skin, first at her informal use of the King’s name and more so at the recognition of his.
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” she asked, her head crooked to the side. “Evander Nero,” she whispered as if she couldn’t believe her own words.