“You can remain as my assistant if you wish, but you must follow my orders,” he continued.
I opened my mouth to argue, but a knock interrupted me. My father stayed seated regardless of his working arms.
I opened the door and found Blaise on the other side, drenched in rainwater. “Are you going to make me stand out here and continue to be drenched, or are you going to let me inside?”
I gaped at her but opened the door wider to allow her entrance. “What are you doing here?”
“May I have a word?” Her gaze flicked to my father.
“As you wish.” I led her to the drawing room, which contained two cream coloured loungers and a stool. I offered her the stool.
She had the audacity to look offended.
“You’re sopping wet.”
She relented, adjusting her scabbard as she sat and wiped the water dripping from her hair off her forehead. “I think you should return to The Guard,” she informed me bluntly.
“Do you?” I raised one eyebrow. “And why would I do that?”
Her eyes scanned my face. “Because you don’t look well.”
I gave her a half-laugh and ran my hands down the tops of my thighs. Who did this woman think she was?
“All this torturing, it hasn’t done you well. Look at you. You’ve lost weight, you stink like a boar and I can barely make out your face beneath that unkempt hair and unshaven beard. You’ve lost yourself.”
“Ha! Who are you to judge me? These things—my appearance—doesn’t matter. What matters is catching the traitors’ leader! And I’m this close,” I made a small space between my finger and my thumb to show her, “to figuring out who they are.”
She slumped in the stool, her sopping uniform dripping onto the floor. “You can still find him as a guard.”
“I—” I began to retort. But what was the point? My father wanted his position back, and I didn’t want to be anyone’s assistant. So instead I asked, “Do I really look that bad?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yes.”
“I suppose I better clean myself up before I seek out the constable.”
A pleasant look crossed her features. She left the stool and held out her hand. I shook it and she said, “It’s good to have you back, comrade.”
On her way out the door, she paused. “Ger will be happy to hear you’re back too.”
I offered a small smile, and she disappeared back out into the rain, probably to inform him of the news.
Chapter 11
I threw down my cards and slid a silver coin across the table to Ger. It was the second one he’d won from me. He and I were back to normal. There was no sense holding grudges when we were both at fault.
Ger tapped his foot and gathered the hand-painted cards into a neat stack. “We need to keep an eye on the chamberlain.”
I rested my chin on my fist and watched him shuffle the deck. “Why?”
“Blaise doesn’t trust him. She says he seems suspicious… will never meet her eye when she’s on duty inside the palace and always hurries from her sight. And when she asked him where he was going the other night, he told her to mind her own business.”
“Maybe wherever he was going was confidential,” I answered. “Jacque Leblond has always been an odd man. He’s been friends with the king since before he took the throne. I doubt he’d betray him.”
After counting out the cards, Ger pointed out, “There’s still a chance she’s right.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” I took my cards off the table and commented, “You and she have grown close.”
“Blaise is—she’s like my little sister. We bonded in your absence. She’s a fierce fighter.”
I scowled at the cards I held, another awful hand. “I know she is.”
Ger won that round too. I won the one after and decided to quit on a good note.
The next evening, I snuck into Chamberlain Leblond’s chambers while he was busy with the king and queen.
I adjusted the hood of my dark green cloak to ensure my face stayed hidden within its shadow. I leafed through the parchments on his desk. Most of which appeared to be letters of business. My eyes drifted over the words of one. His Maj—Majesty wishes to… I couldn’t decipher the next word. I was a terrible spy. I really needed to learn how to read better.
I shoved the letter back into the middle of the stack where I’d found it and continued on into his bedchamber. I ruffled through his wardrobe full of identical sage velvet coats and clean beige breeches. Hung on iron hooks along the wall were half a dozen of the wavy brown wigs he always wore. His white and gold covered bed was neatly made. Nothing out of the ordinary.
I left his chambers and a flash of sage down the corridor drew my attention. The tall, willowy figure drifted quickly down the stairs to the next floor. Leblond. I followed him but kept enough distance to remain unseen.
The chamberlain exited the palace with nonchalance. Perhaps he was going for an evening stroll. Then again…
I kept far enough back that he didn’t notice me. When he arrived at the stables a horse and carriage were waiting for him. A bit late to be travelling, but he could have easily been following the king’s orders. He handed a heavy purse to the driver. Too heavy. My gut twisted.
The carriage rolled off.
I hollered for the stable boy, but he was nowhere in sight. I quickly bridled a horse and trotted bareback after Leblond who was still in view.
I had to be careful. If he saw me I’d have to explain myself. And if he was guilty, I’d have a harder time catching him once he guessed my suspicions.
His driver kept a steady pace north until the forest opened up to the well-built manor house belonging to a noble, Lord Monair. I’d passed his picturesque home before but had never spoken to the wealthy man with an unfairly pretty wife who’d bore him two sons. When I was a child, Monair had worked for the king as his secretary.
I waited for the chamberlain to exit the carriage and disappear into the enormous manor before I tied my horse to a post and approached the driver.
He almost fell off his seat when I jumped up beside him. He didn’t have time to react before I hit him with the pommel of my sword, knocking him out cold.
I managed to stuff him in the hollowed out passengers seat meant for storing luggage.
I crept around to the back of the manor where a balcony jutted out from one of its walls. I climbed up, grinding my teeth as my muscles worked to pull my weight.
Voices drifted out through the open window. I crouched low and snuck forward to hear better.
“He gave your position to his friend,” Leblond’s voice pointed out. “And he gave your land, the land meant for one of your sons, to the queen’s brother. If that isn’t enough to motivate you to join our cause, nothing is.”
Right. The king had given Lord Monair’s position to our current secretary. I’d never known the reason why.
A shuffling, and then another man’s voice offered, “We do agree the king is selfish and should be called out for some of his actions. We just aren’t sure we’re comfortable following—er—the Dark Lord.” Vesirus? Leblond was a follower of Vesirus?
“What has Celestia done for you?” No one answered so the chamberlain continued, “The Dark Lord has come to me—”
“You’ve seen him?” a different voice exclaimed.
“No, I haven’t seen him. I’ve heard him. He whispers to me in the darkness of night. He promises glory for all of his followers. The world as we know it will be forever changed. All we have to do is weaken the kingdom from within.” He was mad, completely and utterly mad.
“And do your followers know of this? That what they do is in the name of the Dark Lord?” the man who’d agreed about King Corbin’s selfishness asked.
“Not yet, but they will. Once I have your alliances.”
I’d heard enough. I scrambled down from the balcony and rushed back to the carriage to wait for Leblond. One against three was poor odds regardless of the advantage of surpris
e. Once the chamberlain was in chains, the rest would be easy.
A groaning came from beneath the seat when I climbed back into the carriage. I opened the seat and clocked the driver on the side of the head again to ensure he stayed down. I didn’t care if he’d never fully recover from the injury. He’d aided the enemy, the leader of The Redeemers.
I drew the curtain in the carriage closed and waited with my sword readied.
Footsteps crunched on the soft earth outside the carriage. I braced myself, giddy as a child with a mouthful of cake.
“Benoit? Benoit, where are you? Bloody useless driver,” Leblond muttered. His bony hand clasped the teal curtain and slid it aside. “Benoit?”
“Don’t move.” The chamberlain’s face paled as the point of my sword met his throat. “I heard everything. I’m taking you to King Corbin. I will relish in watching you hang.”
Jacque Leblond held his hands in the air. He swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Get in the driver’s seat.” I indicated with a tilt of my head. “You’re going to drive us back to the palace.”
“Where—where’s Benoit?”
“Get in the driver’s seat!” I shouted.
He listened, moving slowly to the front of the carriage. I kept my blade pointed at him as I sat beside him. He glanced down at the reins. “I’ve never driven.”
“It can’t be that hard. Pick up the reins and tap them across the horse’s back.”
Leblond stared at me until I pressed my sword against the side of his neck. He slapped the reins against the horse and clucked. “Come on, horse!”
The well-trained horse walked forward.
When we reached the post I’d tied my mount to, I said, “Stop. Pull back on the reins.”
He did as I asked, though he pulled a little hard and the horse tossed its head in the air. The carriage halted.
“Get up.” I took his slim arm and steered him off the carriage toward the horse tied to the post. “Untie him.”
Chamberlain Leblond glared at me as his fingers worked to untie the reins from the post.
“Good, now tie him to the back of the carriage.”
He wrapped the reins around the bar on the back of the carriage. As he finished off the knot, his hand shot down and drew the sabre dangling from his waist.
Wrong move.
As soon as the blade was free from its scabbard, I knocked it from his grip.
He bent to retrieve it and I gouged his shoulder.
“Ow! Celestia’s tits!” He covered the wound with his hand. Blood seeped through his fingers.
I picked his sword up and pointed both weapons at him. “Get back in the carriage.” I wasn’t about to let my prey get away. I had been waiting for this moment since The Redeemers had become a problem. He was mine.
Clouds covered the silvery stars like a blanket. Nightingales twittered songs for love and joy as we wound down the road to the palace. I hummed along to their tune with a smile on my face.
Elly frowned in confusion as we rolled through the gates. She left the other guard on gate duty to question me. “Seph? What’s the meaning of this?”
“I’ve caught The Redeemers’ leader,” I announced, turning my smile on my prisoner.
“Leblond? Truly?”
“Yes. Will you fetch one of the stable boys to take care of the horses?” I had the chamberlain exit the carriage in front of me. He’d kept his mouth shut after I’d stabbed him. The blood on his shoulder had begun to thicken and crust.
Elly nodded. “Of course.”
She returned shortly after with a young lad with a mop of hair who led the horses away. More guards followed her.
“I’ll alert the king,” one of my comrades offered.
“Tell him I’m taking him to the torture chamber,” I told him.
Leblond stiffened. “This is a mistake.”
I ignored him.
“We could take him if you want to fetch your father,” Elly suggested.
“No, I don’t trust anyone else with him.” Hurt flashed across her face, but I didn’t care. Anyone could’ve been working with him. Anyone.
She sighed but accepted my answer. “All right. I’ll fetch your father.”
Another guard said, “I’ll go inform the constable.”
“Thank you. And tell him Lord Monair and Lord…” I searched my memory for the name of the lord who’d lost his property to the queen’s brother. “Belrose are involved.”
By the time I had the struggling chamberlain chained inside the torture chamber both King Corbin and my father had joined us, ready to hear his confession.
“Help me put him on the rack,” my father said to me.
King Corbin crossed his satin covered arms and spoke to his chamberlain. “I don’t understand, Jacque. Why would you betray me?”
Leblond only stared at the king with hate-filled eyes as we forced him onto one of the worst torture devices and strapped his arms and legs down.
A fist pounded on the chamber door. My father looked at me.
I opened the door and found Elly dangling a black cloak and a red scarf in each hand. “We found these in his chambers beneath his mattress,” she explained.
I took the items from her and closed the door in her face. She didn’t need to see what happened next.
I shoved the cloak and scarf in Jacque Leblond’s face. “We have our proof. You may as well save yourself the torture and tell us everything.”
The traitor’s leader tried to spit in my face and failed. Saliva slid down his own cheek instead.
I shrugged.
My father cranked the wheel, stretching his arms and legs farther out on the rack.
“Tell me everything and your death will be quick,” the king urged. His usual bronzed face had turned a shade lighter.
Leblond twisted his neck to stare back at King Corbin. His pressed his lips together so tightly they turned white.
My father turned the crank a couple more rotations.
A groan rose from the traitor’s throat. Sweat coated his face.
“Still don’t feel like talking?” my father goaded.
“We know Lord Monair and Lord Belrose are involved,” I put in.
Leblond, eyes still on the king, laughed. “You don’t know anything.”
A couple more cranks.
The chamberlain shook as his wrists and ankles strained. He howled.
“Keep turning,” King Corbin ordered my father.
The device turned, stretching its victim’s arms and legs further and further. He screamed so loud my ears rang. A sickening pop told me his shoulders and hips had just dislocated.
Leblond’s eyes bulged. His teeth gritted together so hard I thought they might break. “You killed her,” he ground out, his voice high with pain.
“Who?” the king prodded.
“Lucille, my daughter.”
The king threw up his hands. “I thought we were past this. It’s not my fault Lucille killed herself. She was morose.”
“She wouldn’t have been if you’d have let her marry the man she loved instead of using her like some pawn.” The flood gate had burst. Leblond couldn’t keep the words from spilling. “I’m not the only one you’ve wronged for your own selfish needs.”
“She was the daughter of my chamberlain. I couldn’t have her marry some poor slug.” And there it was. The seed that had sowed all of that rage. “You and your friends will hang at dawn.” King Corbin turned away. Finished with the man he’d once thought a friend.
“It doesn’t matter,” Leblond flung at him. “Vesirus will tear this kingdom apart.”
The king paused by the door and chuckled. “You’re mad.” He stepped outside and yelped.
My father and I rushed to King Corbin’s side.
A stable boy, dressed in all black, held onto the dagger sticking into the king’s ribs; a fatal wound if he’d have hit any higher.
He released the blade’s unpolished handle and took off.
I was faster. I gained on him as he headed for the slums.
Almost close enough to grab him, I pulled my own dagger out from my belt and threw it with precision.
The blade stuck into the back of the young lad’s head, and he toppled forward.
He lay sprawled face down on the ground as I walked up and put my boot on his neck. I bent down and wrenched my dagger free from his skull.
So close, he’d been so close to assassinating the king.
I turned the body over and stared down at the face of the stable boy. “Traitor,” I murmured as I slung him over my shoulder and carried him back to be buried with the rest of his kind in an unmarked grave.
Chapter 12
The last stars were blinking out of the sky as Ger and I dragged Leblond through the soil to the Tree of Ends. Others had already gathered around the enormous leafless tree. It was one of the only trees that lost its leaves in the winter. Its leaves turned red like the colour of its victims before dropping. I stared up at the ominous shape standing out like a skeletal silhouette against the lightening sky. Spring would soon grace us with her presence, bringing buds to even the most horrifying tree.
Leblond’s face was the colour of ashes falling after an inferno. He couldn’t struggle and made no complaint as we lifted him onto the platform beneath the tree’s thickest branch.
Lords Monair and Belrose already kneeled on that same platform awaiting their dark fates. Repercussions for conspiring against the king.
A priestess, with flowing sable hair dressed in billowing, white robes, glided to the side of the platform to wait for the king and queen’s arrival.
My father squinted against the golden sun ascending through the tall trees as King Corbin and Queen Nicola approached, hand in hand and flanked by their attendants. The pair dressed in elaborate robes of green and white, the thick material hiding the wound from the night before. They moved slowly, for the king’s benefit. Otherwise, he kept his face blank, no evidence of pain. He hadn’t made the attempt on his life public. It would be a sign of weakness to admit the enemy had come so close to ending him. No, King Corbin wouldn’t let anyone doubt his strength. He’d see this execution through before he went back to the bedrest his healer had surely ordered from him.
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