The Runaway King
I’d ever be so cowardly?”
    “Enough of this!” Frustrated with me, Mott threw his spoon down. “If you insist on us not bowing to your royalty, then I’ll treat you like the obstinate boy you are. Why are we here? I demand an answer.”
    “Or else what?” I grinned and folded my arms. “I can beat you in a sword fight, and we all know what’ll happen if you lock me in my room.”
    “Nothing so complicated as that.” Mott also folded his arms. “I’ll simply decide not to like you anymore.”
    My smile widened. “That’s a serious threat.”
    “It gets worse. I’ll call you only by your title and quietly roll my eyes when you give me orders, and I won’t make it fun for you to insult me ever again.”
    “Well, we can’t have that.” I couldn’t help but laugh and even Mott broke into a smile. My eyes darted from him over to Tobias. “If we must discuss the truth, then I need something to drink. I noticed a half-finished bottle of cider in the buttery. Not much but it’ll do. Retrieve it, will you?”
    Tobias leapt to his feet and scurried from the room.
    I turned back to Mott. “What if you don’t like what I have to say?”
    “I rarely like what you have to say. So I’ll expect the worst.”
    “I promise not to disappoint you there.”
    Mott shifted in his chair, but I barely moved while we waited for Tobias to return. He came in a few minutes later with the cider and three goblets. I held out my hand for them and poured the drinks myself.
    “You should have the most,” Mott said when I handed him his goblet.
    I shook my head, insisting he take the cup that was being offered to him. “I already know my news. Trust me, you’ll want enough to drown your anger.”
    He frowned but toasted a cheer in my honor. They drank to my health and long life. The part about health never concerned me, but I hoped the devils heard the part about my long life and were inclined to grant it.
    I remained silent until Mott cleared his throat, prompting me to begin. I looked at him and said, “If I don’t turn myself over to the pirates in nine days, they’ll attack Carthya. They’ll fight until either I’m dead, or all of them are.”
    “War,” Tobias mumbled.
    “The regents have made it clear that they won’t support a war.” I took a slow breath. “They believe the best way to avoid war is to let the pirates have me. That’s why we’re here, and not where the regents wanted me to hide.”
    “Just because they want a steward doesn’t mean they want you dead,” Mott said.
    “Maybe not. But what if you’re right and a steward is chosen? Do either of you really believe that puts me out of danger? I’ll be sent to the schoolroom, to watch those fools pretend that all is well while our armies crumble.”
    “Then find a way to prevent them from naming a steward,” Tobias said.
    “Until I’m of age, I can’t stop that vote.” I shrugged. “I’ve already lost it anyway.”
    Mott’s eyebrows were pressed close together and his hand was wrapped so tightly around his goblet I thought he might crush it. “And you have a solution to all this?” he asked.
    I sat forward with the intention of speaking directly to them, but in the end my courage failed and I lowered my eyes to talk. After a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I’m going to the pirates, alone. You two will return to the castle without me.”
    There was a long silence while the news soaked in. Mott spoke first, surprisingly calm. “I don’t believe you’d give yourself up so easily.”
    “I’m not surrendering. I’m joining them.”
    “What?” Mott’s eyes widened. “Jaron, no. Please tell me you’re not that foolish.”
    Foolishness was a trait I could never deny with much credibility, but my temper warmed anyway. Pounding a fist on the table, I said, “I’m out of options. Every solution leads either to my death or to the destruction of my country. This is all I have left.”
    “So your plan is to walk into their camp?

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