“The king?” she almost whispered. “Alive. When I left him. But the building did tend to burn down after that. Maybe they got him out.”
GOD it would be awesome to start the 2nd trilogy with
And so, Jezal Dan Luthar, High King of the Union was Higher than a Kite when he awoke in the cindering remains of the Prince of Styria’s whorehouse. Light smeared his vision from the burning palisade all around him. Jezal hoisted himself onto one elbow, licking his lips as his vision crawled into focus. A shallower light tugged leaden eyes to the bottom of the gaudily ornate bedchamber. There, an open doorway lead out to a smoky corridor where two hazy silhouettes met frantically. Jezal fancied he heard the shattering of some distant glass as the pair of figures lurched. The larger one remained for a moment, seeming to throw some large frisbee sort-of object down one end of the hall, then he too vanished behind the first, leaving a gaping window frame through which evinced a yawning slice of cool moonlit sky.
Quite naturally, Jezal figured it wasn’t the worst option given his current circumstances, so he hauled himself up onto flimsy legs still tingling from the husk that damned consort had fed him. Where had she gone to anyhow? Couldn’t have been bothered to spare a moment to wake him in light of this madness? Whores have naught loyalty but to their own coin purses after all it seems, even in the company of kings such as he was. Jezal huffed, straightening his white coat, now soot stained and crumpled, and clucked at his teeth. A shame, he remembered how long he had spent piecing the immaculate articles of clothing together even without his royal tailors, his sense of petty achievement now squandered by the fact that perhaps no partygoers remained to even savor the memory of his striking figure that evening. A large piece of flaming canopy and timber from above the bed crashed down behind him onto the imprint his sleeping form had made as he finally finished smoothing out the wrinkles on his coat. He had the slightest inkling that he should perhaps be concerned but the world still reeled and his thoughts drew lazily around his head. For all of how hard it was to discern the enigma of where such concern was emanating, some distant part of his mind gripped on the invitation of that broken window and the open night beyond. So he stumbled towards it, placing a too-light hand on the doorframe as he steadied himself, the other rubbing his eyes from the bothersome smoke. When he took them away he was suddenly face to face with several rushing figures in gleaming metal facemasks and armor. “The King! We’ve found him! Knights of the Body, to me!”
“Who in the bloody he-“ Jezal found himself swooped over the leather pauldron of one of the guards shoulders, wind pressed out of him.
As the man who held him shifted his gait, Jezal lifted his head, squinting down the hallways as more guards flooded up a spiral staircase, only to be showered and buried under the burning wreckage of the roof.
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