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  Crown of Thieves

  The Legends of Dhanen’Mar

  A Threads of Fate Novella

  By Peyton Reynolds

  Copyright ©2019 by Peyton Reynolds

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Map

  The Patrons

  The Royal Siblings

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Character Index

  Connect with the Author

  Map

  The Patrons

  Anniah – Patron of Justice. Dominion: First-day.

  Micka – Patron of Harvest. Dominion: Second-day.

  Stahl – Patron of War. Dominion: Third-day.

  Jardin – Patron of Travelers. Dominion: Fourth-day.

  Suzumu – Patron of Harmony. Dominion: Fifth-day.

  Rizea – Patron of Revenge. Dominion: Sixth-day.

  Ehle – Patron of Destiny. Dominion: Seventh-day.

  Ozvald – Patron of Commerce. Dominion: Eighth-day.

  Katrien – Patron of Thieves. Dominion: Ninth-day.

  Arawn – Patron of Chaos. Dominion: Tenth-day.

  Zalis – Patron of Healing. Dominion: Eleventh-day.

  Ardin – Patron of Arts. Dominion: Twelfth-day.

  Dauphinee - Patron of Love. Dominion: Thirteenth-day.

  Eris – Patron of Magic. Dominion: Fourteenth-day.

  Cristiana – Patron of Death. Dominion: Fifteenth-day.

  At the time of birth, each mortal is presented with their Birth Medallion, depicting to which of the fifteen Patrons they were born. For their entire lives, this medallion must be worn and plainly visible at all times. The penalty for not doing so is death.

  Once an individual has reached their fifteenth birthing-day, they are permitted to select their Choice Patron. This medallion is displayed at the discretion of its wearer, and while many reveal its information freely, others choose to keep its knowledge hidden. The combination of a person’s Birth and Choice Patrons then act together to heavily influence the course of their life.

  To make one’s Choice Patron the same as their Birth Patron, one will either gain great fortune in their chosen dominion or suffer madness. Consequently, very few risk making this choice.

  * A Note on Time

  Fifteen days comprise a week, six weeks to a season, twenty-four weeks to a year. The seasons mark the divisions of the year. For example, one would say, “It is Fourth-day of summer’s fifth week.”

  Ninety minutes = one hour. Fifteen hours per day.

  The Jahi Royal Siblings

  Prince Fermin

  Prince Buru

  Prince Neco

  Prince Nevis (twin of Seret)

  Princess Seret (twin of Nevis)

  Prince Loh

  Princess Aya

  Princess Heni

  Prince Borohm

  Princess Tosis

  Prince Selmon

  Prince Padus

  Chapter 1

  The ocean waters were calm beneath the ship as it glided into port, the sun overhead warm and bright on this fourth day of spring. Aharon Shai stood at the rail, observing the familiar sights of Ceja’s royal city as they took shape beyond the wharf, sights he’d not beheld in almost two years. While his time away hadn’t been entirely unpleasant, it was a relief to finally be home.

  Nor was he returning empty-handed. His ship was carrying an impressive cargo, namely riches he’d successfully burgled from all across the western continent. As one of King Jahi’s royal thieves, his deployment had been a command as well as a penalty, issued after an incident involving the captain of his majesty’s royal guard. The captain, Othos Shai, was also Aharon’s father, which was likely the only reason he’d not incurred a more severe punishment. Nearly killing the man had been deemed a “family squabble” rather than a genuine attempt on Othos’s life, an interpretation Aharon hadn’t been foolish enough to correct.

  So rather than face the whip or be dismissed from service, he’d been sent west, and instructed not to return until King Jahi sent for him. Two years later and still no word from his majesty had arrived, although a missive from Prince Neco had recently found him in the country of Sythr’ria, and revealed an alarming state of affairs.

  Come home, Aharon, the prince’s message had read. Father’s not long for this world, and I need you.

  Aharon had started for the coast immediately, and set sail from Balsh directly thereafter. Still, some time had now passed since Neco sent his summons, leaving Aharon to worry over what he might find upon finally reaching Ceja’s shores. With few exceptions, the king’s dozen children were ruthless at the best of times, and had undoubtedly grown even more vicious now that the throne was finally within reach. Indeed, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn several royal siblings had recently fallen to mysterious circumstances, although he was really only concerned for two.

  Neco was the seventh son born, but now third in line for the throne; one of his elder brothers had died of a legitimate illness, while another three had been lost to bizarre accidents. Succession now placed him in a dangerous position, although his two living elder brothers had significantly more cause to worry. Friends since childhood, Aharon was one of the few people Neco trusted, the obvious reason why he’d been summoned. If Neco was to have any hope of surviving his father’s demise, he would need someone he could rely on watching his back.

  The other royal sibling causing Aharon concern was Aya. While one of four princesses, her gender wouldn’t protect her as it would in other realms, for Cejan law allowed queens to rule in the absence of any male heirs. Presently, and because Aya was the second-eldest female, nine of her siblings would need to perish before she was eligible; it also meant her two younger sisters had reason to do away with her. The question of whether either of them was ruthless enough to kill so many of their brothers and sisters was one Aharon couldn’t answer, but for a chance at the throne it was certainly possible.

  Upon his departure two years earlier, twelve royal siblings had been living, with another eight already deceased. It was concerning to think how these numbers might now have changed, and as he considered this Aharon began an impatient pace about the deck of the ship, waiting for the deckhands to secure the vessel and lower the plank to the dock.

  Intending to head straight to the royal palace, his first order of business was discovering whether King Jahi still lived. Not seeing any mourning banners draped about Malat’s streets, he hoped this indicated his majesty continued to endure, and that he’d still have the opportunity to protect Neco and Aya.

  Finally the plank was set and he hurried down to the wharf, although due to the abundance of spoils still onboard he could go no farther. Despite traveling on a royal ship, abandoning such cargo would be foolish and an invitation to robbery, a reality that now prompted him to wave over the dockmaster.

  “Send immediate word to the palace,” he instructed the man. “I require several wagons and a sizable escort of knights.”
/>   Apparently the dockmaster recognized him. “Welcome home, Lord Shai. I’m sure your father will be pleased to learn of your safe return.”

  Aharon very much doubted that, and merely sent the man a blank stare in response.

  “As it happens,” the dockmaster went on, “the royal jester is currently on the premises, and keeping the company of several knights. Might it be more convenient to alert him to your arrival?”

  “Siris?” Aharon said with a frown, debating whether this was bad luck or good. While the royal jester wasn’t his favorite person, he’d definitely be capable of answering his questions. “What’s he doing here?” he then asked suspiciously, for when it came to Siris Pabst, suspicion was generally a wise stance to take.

  “The royal jester is escorting a Jennite emissary to his ship,” the dockmaster explained.

  Aharon frowned again, not pleased to hear the Jennites were snooping about. Likely, they’d caught wind of recent developments and sent someone to assess the situation. This was especially irritating since Aharon himself wasn’t yet aware of the present circumstances.

  “Fine,” he then nodded, “send him over.”

  Several minutes later, Siris appeared along the dock coming toward him. With him were six knights, as well as a tall, pale-skinned man Aharon could only assume was the aforementioned Jennite.

  Siris wore a smile as he approached, his slight frame—perfect for the tumbling maneuvers he often performed for his majesty’s amusement—swathed in satin from head to toe. He further possessed a strangely ageless face that made it impossible to determine how old he was, and could’ve passed for either twenty or forty.

  “Aharon,” the man greeted now, drawing to a pause before him. “Isn’t this a delightful surprise? I wasn’t aware you’d been forgiven and invited to return.”

  Since royal thieves outranked royal jesters, addressing him so casually was ample cause for rebuke, to say nothing of the jester’s baiting remark. Since such behavior was typical and expected of Siris, however, Aharon let it pass.

  “You must be slipping,” he said instead. “Or have your eavesdropping skills degraded so much these past two years?”

  “Not degraded,” Siris returned. “It’s more that I simply don’t have enough ears to keep up with all currently unfolding developments. Furthermore,” he went on, turning to the man beside him, “seeing to the comforts of our foreign guest has been keeping me rather occupied. Allow me to introduce the Jennite royal advisor, Braxis Caye.”

  This man was almost a full pace taller than Siris, looked in his late twenties, and was presently observing Aharon with a mild expression but assessing gaze. “You’re Captain Shai’s eldest son, then?” the Jennite opened with a nod. “It’s said you tried to kill him and were banished as a result.”

  “I wasn’t banished,” Aharon replied with annoyance, “but rather deployed.”

  The advisor appeared unbothered by his tone. “There’s no need to feel ashamed, unless it’s for failing to commit to the task,” he commented. “Indeed, I’ve met your father.”

  Aharon gave him a long look, then decided he didn’t have the patience for this type of exchange. Also, he was somewhat out of practice when it came to navigating political waters, and didn’t think this was the opponent he wanted to re-sharpen his skills on.

  “How long have you been in Malat?” he asked the man instead.

  “Nearly two weeks,” the Jennite informed him, “and while it’s been entertaining, it’s time I return to the east.”

  “Much to the despair of us all,” Siris added, and Aharon barely refrained from rolling his eyes. The jester’s bootlicking was common practice, although it remained anyone’s guess as to whether any of his compliments were sincere.

  “Well, safe travels,” Aharon now told the Jennite advisor, before shooting Siris a pointed look. “A word in private?” he then said, before starting away.

  The jester followed him about a dozen paces down the dock, then turned to take him in with an irritating smile. “Yes?” he drawled.

  “My journey’s been long and my temper is short, so don’t try my patience,” Aharon began.

  “You believe I’d purposely provoke the wrath of someone depraved enough to attempt patricide?” Siris replied.

  Aharon sighed. “Just tell me if the king still lives.”

  “He lives.”

  Relieved, he nodded. “What ails him, exactly?”

  The jester’s head tilted. “Ails him?”

  “Is he not ill?” Aharon asked, frowning in confusion.

  Siris laughed. “Oh my. From wherever did you glean your information?”

  “He’s not sick? Then why am I here?”

  “Neco sent for you, yes?” the jester asked with a nod. “Or perhaps Aya?”

  “Are they all right?”

  “They’re both fine—for the time being.”

  “Siris, I’m going to strangle you if you don’t start explaining.”

  The jester donned another smile. “His majesty isn’t sick, but rather eighty seven years old and finally ready to pass the crown to his most worthy heir.”

  Aharon stared at him a long minute. “Most worthy heir?” he finally repeated.

  “Truly, Aharon, I don’t recall you being this dense. Must I spell it out for you?”

  “Yes. Spell it out.”

  Siris nodded. “The royal palace has become a setting of high excitement these past few weeks. Ever since his exalted majesty announced his readiness to attend his Patrons, and invited his progeny to battle the succession out amongst themselves.”

  Aharon’s blue eyes widened. “Are you saying he bid them to murder him?”

  “Essentially, although he certainly hasn’t made the task easy for them—no one’s succeeded yet, although only Prince Buru presently has reason to try. The others must do away with any elder siblings first, for the line of succession hasn’t been discarded. The women, therefore, have the weightiest task, by needing to eliminate all males and any elder sisters.”

  Aharon was now regarding him in blatant horror. “Were they all forced to participate?”

  “No, they were given the option of exile. None accepted.”

  He was speechless. Aya, why didn’t you leave? Wherever you’d gone, I would have found you!

  But he understood why she’d stayed, and it wasn’t because she had any interest in the crown. No, she’d remained for Neco, to help him succeed or at the very least stay alive, because of all the possible choices he was probably the only one who wouldn’t make a terrible king. And while Aya loved him, little doubt she’d accepted this burden for the realm itself, to prevent the people of Ceja from suffering through a tyrannical or brutal rule.

  “Wait,” Aharon now said, his mind still spinning. “You said only Prince Buru yet has reason to murder the king. What of Fermin?”

  “Dead,” Siris succinctly informed him. “He was the first victim of the affair.”

  Prince Fermin had been the eldest son and established heir. “Who killed him?” Aharon asked.

  The jester shrugged. “It could’ve been any of them.”

  Suppressing a wince, he spoke again. “How many others have been slain thus far?”

  “Three,” Siris told him. “Loh, Selmon, and Borohm.”

  Aharon shook his head, thinking quickly. With Fermin eliminated, Neco was now second in line for the throne and a target of all remaining siblings but for Buru—keeping him alive therefore wouldn’t be easy. Moreover, only eight heirs now remained, and half of them female. The princesses weren’t in any danger from their brothers, only from each other. Which meant Aya also wasn’t safe.

  “How could the king possibly incite this?” Aharon now issued disbelievingly.

  “Perhaps he wanted to conclude his life in a thrilling and entertaining manner,” Siris suggested.

  “Encouraging his children to slaughter one another qualifies as entertaining? Even of him, I wouldn’t have foreseen such savagery.”

  The
jester shrugged again. “Our place isn’t to judge.”

  Aharon looked back at him, his eyes narrowing slightly. Siris lived for drama, and loved nothing more than creating intrigue and havoc whenever and wherever possible. The current circumstances must therefore be delighting him beyond his wildest imaginings.

  For this reason, however, Aharon thought it might be wise to discover any of the man’s personal prejudices, or where his loyalties might lie, presuming he had any. While asking outright would prove useless, knowing whether the jester was an ally or enemy would certainly be helpful.

  The man was now tapping his satin-clad foot impatiently. “Are we finished here? In case you failed to notice, I’m currently in the process of escorting the Jennite to his ship.”

  Aharon glanced back at the man in question. “Are you sure he’s not an imposter? He appears too young to hold the position of royal advisor.”

  Siris chortled at him. “You’re such a fool,” he said.

  “Why’s that?”

  “He’s not an imposter. Advisor Caye commands the largest spy ring in the world.”

  Aharon glanced over again. “I suppose that explains how he arrived from Jennen so quickly. His local spies must’ve alerted him to the circumstances.”

  The jester was beginning to look bored. “May I go?”

  “Not yet. My ship is full of riches, and I need them unloaded and brought to the palace.”

  “I doubt his majesty has much care for riches now, which is something I never thought I’d hear myself say.”

  “Either way, I intend to see them delivered.”

  Siris nodded. “I’ll take care of it, as I’m sure you’re anxious to attend the royal lambs.”

  “Don’t steal anything,” Aharon then warned. “I’ve a complete list of the inventory here,” he added, patting his belt pouch, “and I’ll be checking to ensure all is accounted for.”