A March of Kings by Morgan Rice

Ephistopheles, had been the only father figure he’d ever had. He felt as if he owed him something, that it had been his responsibility to save him, and somehow, he had failed. As the bells had tolled, Thor felt as if they tolled the announcement of his failure.
    Then there was his encounter with Gwen. She hated him now, that much was obvious. Nothing he could say would change her mind. Even worse, her true thoughts came out today: she felt he was beneath her. A commoner. It seemed Alton had been right all the while. The thought of it crushed him. First he had lost the king; then he had lost the girl he had grown to love.
    As he walked back towards the Legion, he realized it was the one thing left that he could cling to here. He cared not for his village, or his father, or his brothers. Without the Legion and Reese—and Krohn—he did not know what he would have left.
    Krohn yelped and Thor looked up and saw the barracks before him. The king’s banner flew at half mast, and he could already see dozens of boys sulking, and could tell the mood was somber. It was a day of mourning here. The king, their leader, had been murdered, and worse, no one knew who did it, or why. There also seemed to be an air of expectancy. Would the armies be disbanded? The Legion with it?
    Thor saw the wary looks of the boys as he walked through the large, arched stone gate. They were stopping and staring at him. He wondered what they thought of him. Just the night before he’d been thrown into the dungeon, and Thor was sure that the rumor had spread that he had something to do with poisoning the king. Did these boys know that he was vindicated? Did they still suspect him? Or did they think he was a hero for trying to save him?
    From their looks, he could not tell. But he did know that the tension in the air was thick, and he could tell that he clearly had been a subject of conversation.
    As Thor entered the large wooden structure of the barracks, he noticed dozens of boys stuffing their clothes and various objects into canvas sacks. It looked, oddly, as if the Legion were packing up. Was it disbanding? he wondered, in a sudden panic.
    “There you are,” came a voice he recognized.
    He turned to see O’Connor standing there, smiling in his typical good-natured way, his bright red hair and freckles framing his face. He reached out and clasped Thor’s forearm.
    “I feel like I haven’t seen you in days. Are you okay? I heard you were thrown in the clink. What happened?”
    “Hey look, it’s Thor!” yelled a voice.
    Thor turned to see Elden hurrying towards him, a good-natured smile on his face, embracing him. Thor was still amazed at Elden’s attitude towards him, ever since he had saved his life across the Canyon, especially when he recalled the hostile greeting Elden had once given him.
    Coming up beside him were the twins, Conval and Conven.
    “Glad to have you back,” Conven said, embracing Thor in a hug.
    “And I,” Conval echoed.
    Thor was relieved to see them all, especially as he realized that they did not assume he had anything to do with the murder.
    “It’s true,” Thor responded, looking at O’Connor, not sure which question to answer first. “I was thrown into the dungeon. At first they thought I had something to do with the king’s poisoning. But after he was killed, they realized I had nothing to do with it.”
    “So they let you free?” O’Connor asked.
    Thor thought about that, not quite sure how to respond.
    “Not exactly. I escaped.”
    They all looked at him, wide-eyed.
    “Escaped?” Elden asked.
    “Once I was out, Reese helped me. He brought me to the king.”
    “You saw the king before he died?” Conval asked, shocked.
    Thor nodded back.
    “He knows I am innocent.”
    “What else did he say?” O’Connor asked.
    Thor hesitated. He felt funny telling them about what the king said about his destiny, about being special. He didn’t want to seem like he was boasting, or seem delusional, or cause