Breaking the Gloaming by J. B. Simmons

pulled back the curtain of the carriage. “Come, we must go.”
    As they stepped out and walked through the palace gate, Wren’s mind raced through what he had heard. It was true he had no leverage, but he also could think of no reason why Ball would risk pulling him out of his cell and giving him some measure of freedom. Maybe he could trust Ball, up to a point.
    Ball did not say anything else until they were standing outside gold doors as tall as four men. The doors had a massive sun imprinted in the center. Just as the guards outside began to pull the doors open, Ball whispered: “Make this humble and simple. No smiles, no defiance. Follow my lead.”
    The warning gripped tightly as soon as Wren saw inside. It was a cavernous throne room, with enormous columns, gold everywhere, and enough soldiers to wage a war. They were aligned in tight rows on almost every square inch of the golden marble floor. Their spearheads were like a field of ripe corn. A path between the men led to a throne. It was a chair of pure gold set against the far wall.
    Wren followed at Ball’s heels to the base of the throne, and he bowed to the floor when Ball did. He then went to his knees as Ball did and looked up. The boy ruler was not quite so young as Wren had thought upon first seeing him. His face almost looked gentle and kind in that moment. But then he spoke.
    “My bird?” The boy’s voice was petulant and arrogant.  
    A woman dressed in the full black Sunan coverings stepped up the stairs to the side of the throne. The coverings were a light fabric, almost translucent. Wren could see the woman’s body underneath, lean and assured.  
    He realized it was Ravien a moment before she turned to look at him. Her eyes were all he could see. They might have signaled something, but he saw only recognition and mystery in the instant before she turned away and took the boy’s hand.
    “My bird tells me you are a wealthy merchant in Valemidas, and you funded her travel here.” The boy king pulled Ravien closer to him and kissed her hand. “I thank you for that service and for the beauty it has brought me.” Wren felt his heart sink. “Between my captive princess and my own royal merchant,” the king continued, “you have strong allies. Malam and my soldiers would have me kill a Valemidan before we set sail. Should it be you?”  
    The boy looked away from Wren and out over the hall. He shouted something in the Sunan tongue, something short and rhythmic. The soldiers responded in unison with a shout that sounded almost the same.
    “Because you may be put to some use, I will find another Valemidan if you declare your faith in me as your ruler and your god. Am I not merciful?”
    “Say the words,” Ball said under his breath.
    Wren kept his eyes on the ground and muttered, “I declare my faith in His Excellency and in Sunan.”  
    “That was hard to hear,” the boy king said. “Say it louder, Valemidan. And Ball, translate it for the hall.”
    Wren looked up. Everyone’s eyes were on him. “I declare my faith,” he shouted, “in His Excellency and in Sunan.” The boy’s smile wavered.  
    Ball translated quickly, calmly. The soldiers shouted something in their tongue again, and the boy responded in kind.
    “You may live, foreign merchant. Serve Ball well, or I’ll give my princess the honor of slitting your throat.”
    The boy grinned down, taunting. He stood and put his arm around Ravien’s waist. It almost looked like she drew closer to him, compliant. She whispered something in his ear. He smiled.
    Wren rose to his feet and moved forward. Something held him back by the shirt. He turned and saw Ball large and round as a boulder.  
    Ball said a few words up to His Excellency in a light, mocking voice. The boy laughed and waved them off.  
    Wren found himself being dragged out of the hall by his shirt. Ball had not loosened his grip. The boy ruler began to speak to the hall in a commanding voice. The soldiers looked ready