remembering her brief time in the king’s tent. If even one of those candelabras had been knocked over by an errant elbow, the king’s own tent could have gone up in an instant.
The second scout, the mousier of the two, shifted from leg to leg, clearly eager to share his opinion.
“What do
you
think?” she asked him.
“I heard it might have been a plot against the king. He’s invited his enemies to compete in the games then put his best athletes up against them. That hasn’t won him any friends.”
The other scout added, “He
was
in his tent when it erupted. He was lucky to escape.”
Avery closed her eyes.
The king believed victory would signal God’s favor on his reign.
What would he make of the destruction of the Olympiad by fire?
Avery thanked the scouts and instructed them to return to their posts and keep her updated. She headed back to find Kendrick, Kate, and Tuck. The sooner they assessed what this meant for the kids, the better. One thing was certain: an angry king was a threat to everyone, including himself.
“There is something else,” a voice said behind her.
Avery turned to see the mousy scout. “What is it?”
He looked around and approached. “I may know who started the fire.” He leaned close and whispered into Avery’s ear a name that made her eyes widen.
The rest of the afternoon and evening, reports reached the tunnels of how many had been trampled to death in the stampedes to escape the blaze. Dozens more died trying to put it out.
As quickly as people had arrived from the Salt Sea to watch the great games, they fled. The king’s grandiose spectacle had become a colossal tragedy. He was destined to die without an heir and with the Olympiad as his legacy, destroying his reputation.
He retreated to the castle for his own safety, but a castle fraught with distrust was no place to hide.
But did he even know from whom he was hiding?
Knowing one’s enemy is half the battle.
Chapter 19
The Night Visitor
Avery wanted nothing more than to slip outside and survey the damage. Rumor was, the king’s counselors advised he erase all traces of the Olympiad. They even said any unclaimed trampled or charred bodies should be tossed into the Salt Sea by dusk.
Avery was tempted to sneak into the pantry upstairs and spy down into the king’s study, but she settled for sitting with the cabinet, waiting for news from the scouts.
“How did you know, Kendrick?” she asked.
“Know what?”
“You predicted from the beginning the Olympiad would end badly.”
He looked away and seemed to study the floor. “Just a good guess, I suppose.”
“One of the scouts believes the fire was an assassination attempt,” Avery said.
Kendrick nodded. “Many would agree.”
Avery looked both ways and whispered, “He believes Angelina was behind it.”
Kendrick didn’t even flinch. “Maybe.”
For once Avery slept soundly that night, so it took a moment to realize Bronte’s growl was not part of a dream. Her eyes fluttered open to a massive man looming over her.
When she screamed, he quickly limped away, dragging his left leg.
“Stop!” Avery called out as she leapt from her bed. “I command you to stop!” Kate, too, was out of bed in a flash and beside Avery.
A pack of boys appeared out of nowhere, overtaking the man in the main tunnel. They jumped onto his back, but he shook them off like mere grasshoppers.
Spinning around, the man spat, “You’re making a scene, which we must avoid! Now, back to bed, children!”
“Not until you tell us who you are,” Tuck said.
Kendrick raised a torch, and Avery moved closer for a good look.
It was the figure who moved through the tunnels each night, a stick over his shoulder bearing a lantern. He seemed harmless during the day but looked ferocious at night.
The upper half of his face was pockmarked and scarred, and he wore a thick white beard and a mangy white ponytail. But—despite all that—there was something gentle about the way
The second scout, the mousier of the two, shifted from leg to leg, clearly eager to share his opinion.
“What do
you
think?” she asked him.
“I heard it might have been a plot against the king. He’s invited his enemies to compete in the games then put his best athletes up against them. That hasn’t won him any friends.”
The other scout added, “He
was
in his tent when it erupted. He was lucky to escape.”
Avery closed her eyes.
The king believed victory would signal God’s favor on his reign.
What would he make of the destruction of the Olympiad by fire?
Avery thanked the scouts and instructed them to return to their posts and keep her updated. She headed back to find Kendrick, Kate, and Tuck. The sooner they assessed what this meant for the kids, the better. One thing was certain: an angry king was a threat to everyone, including himself.
“There is something else,” a voice said behind her.
Avery turned to see the mousy scout. “What is it?”
He looked around and approached. “I may know who started the fire.” He leaned close and whispered into Avery’s ear a name that made her eyes widen.
The rest of the afternoon and evening, reports reached the tunnels of how many had been trampled to death in the stampedes to escape the blaze. Dozens more died trying to put it out.
As quickly as people had arrived from the Salt Sea to watch the great games, they fled. The king’s grandiose spectacle had become a colossal tragedy. He was destined to die without an heir and with the Olympiad as his legacy, destroying his reputation.
He retreated to the castle for his own safety, but a castle fraught with distrust was no place to hide.
But did he even know from whom he was hiding?
Knowing one’s enemy is half the battle.
Chapter 19
The Night Visitor
Avery wanted nothing more than to slip outside and survey the damage. Rumor was, the king’s counselors advised he erase all traces of the Olympiad. They even said any unclaimed trampled or charred bodies should be tossed into the Salt Sea by dusk.
Avery was tempted to sneak into the pantry upstairs and spy down into the king’s study, but she settled for sitting with the cabinet, waiting for news from the scouts.
“How did you know, Kendrick?” she asked.
“Know what?”
“You predicted from the beginning the Olympiad would end badly.”
He looked away and seemed to study the floor. “Just a good guess, I suppose.”
“One of the scouts believes the fire was an assassination attempt,” Avery said.
Kendrick nodded. “Many would agree.”
Avery looked both ways and whispered, “He believes Angelina was behind it.”
Kendrick didn’t even flinch. “Maybe.”
For once Avery slept soundly that night, so it took a moment to realize Bronte’s growl was not part of a dream. Her eyes fluttered open to a massive man looming over her.
When she screamed, he quickly limped away, dragging his left leg.
“Stop!” Avery called out as she leapt from her bed. “I command you to stop!” Kate, too, was out of bed in a flash and beside Avery.
A pack of boys appeared out of nowhere, overtaking the man in the main tunnel. They jumped onto his back, but he shook them off like mere grasshoppers.
Spinning around, the man spat, “You’re making a scene, which we must avoid! Now, back to bed, children!”
“Not until you tell us who you are,” Tuck said.
Kendrick raised a torch, and Avery moved closer for a good look.
It was the figure who moved through the tunnels each night, a stick over his shoulder bearing a lantern. He seemed harmless during the day but looked ferocious at night.
The upper half of his face was pockmarked and scarred, and he wore a thick white beard and a mangy white ponytail. But—despite all that—there was something gentle about the way
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