“If you want your father dead, why not throw him down the hole yourself. Like he did your mother?”
He laughed with mirth. “I want you to kill him because I’m telling you to.”
The prince wanted to turn me into an assassin, a murderer. A monster like him. “No.”
Jori scowled. “You don’t get to tell me no. When you do, another will pay for your impudence.” Jori’s malicious glare fell on Bradyn and Buffont. “Which one shall it be?” He scooped Bradyn over his shoulder, moving beside the hole. Buffont cried and stamped his feet, trying to get the prince’s attention. But the prince paid him no heed.
“What are you doing? Put him down!” I struggled against the cuffs, against Raleigh’s hold, to no avail.
“Do as I ask.”
Buffont inched toward the prince, his pleading sounds muzzled by his gag. A soldier latched on to his shoulder, holding him back. His frantic gaze on me, the cooker threw his weight, barreling into the king’s throne, tipping it forward.
Several things happened at once. Soldiers reached for the falling chair, but the king’s mass was too great. He went over, plummeting through the hole. Raleigh tossed me aside. He strode forward and without hesitation threw Buffont headfirst through the hole.
“No!” I screamed. “No . . . how could you? How could you?”
Jori was so baffled by what happened that when Bradyn started shrieking and wrestling in his arms, the prince nearly fell himself. Soldiers grabbed him, pulling him back.
“Well, that was unexpected,” Jori said. He called a soldier over. “As soon as we’re done here, bring Sir Griffin to my chambers. I will send our champion out to let the people know of the king’s demise. The traitor was within the castle all along. Buffont poisoned the ale. And when all that failed, he took matters into his own hands.”
Raleigh said what I was thinking. “And the witness?” He jerked his head at Bradyn.
“I’m afraid he will also have to disappear, forever.”
“No. Please.” I swallowed my pride, and it tasted like piss. “He won’t tell a soul. I swear it. And I’ll do as you ask. Just—you must spare him.”
Jori took two long steps, grabbed my face, and kissed me, hard. I held as still as possible, suppressing the urge to bite his lip. He pulled back, still holding my face with a satisfied grin. “Good. Very good.”
“You’ll let him go?”
“After we’re wed. After you’ve proven to me that you are being honest with me. After a while. For now, he will be locked away.”
“Not good enough.”
“I could take his tongue right now so he could never tell what he witnessed. Would you prefer that?”
I drove my forehead into his nose, delighting in his gasping screams. He stumbled away from me, craning this neck, covering his face. Blood seeped through the cracks between his fingers.
“Sire, we have things to deal with. I think a little cooling-off time is in order.” Raleigh yanked my arms up, straining my shoulders. It hurt but I refused to show it.
Still trying to stop his nose from bleeding, Jori waved his permission.
Raleigh hoisted me onto his shoulder. “Bring the boy.”
As he swung me around, I saw the other soldiers force Bradyn to his feet. Raleigh wanted my burden to remain in my sight. His way of telling me that Bradyn would die if I didn’t do as he asked.
“You should let me go, Raleigh. If I marry the prince, I could kill him whenever I wanted to. His very days would be numbered.”
Raleigh set me down in the hallway. He grabbed my throat, pressing me against the wall but not choking me. “Why can you not see what is right before your eyes? He offers you a crown. He offers you a home. He is a good person.”
“Who asked me to kill his father! I suspect our definition of a good person differs in extremes!”
“A few hours from now, your definition of a good person will be vastly changed.”
Raleigh scooped me up like a helpless child and started down a spiral staircase that had no visible bottom.
Minutes later we were swallowed by darkness. The dungeon. I could already feel the thick walls pressing in. The moon’s energy draining from me—our connection thinning.
A soldier lit a torch to guide us the rest of the way. I heard Bradyn’s chains clanking on the steps behind us.
“Think about this while you’re down here,” Raleigh said. “Good planning evaluates all possible outcomes. There is a plan for the best-case scenario, and the worst. Best case, you do as you’re told. Have a life with him. Play nice. He’s handsome. You could do worse. Give him heirs. Turn all that venom raging inside you on those who would seek to tear down all that has been built here. But if you can’t, the other outcome will have you blamed for his death.” He jerked his head at Bradyn. “And we’ll add a few others to the mix. Lady Sybil, maybe? Griffin’s pals, Thoma and Dres? All acts laid at your feet. Gossip will spread of your madness. And the prince will end your life and your dragon’s. Either way, he comes out king. The only question in all of this is whether you will be on the throne beside him, or in a grave.”
Eighteen
Griffin
Griffin lost track of time. After Maggie was dragged from the balcony, the guards finally let him go, but escorted him to the palace, directly to his room, where they locked his door—from the outside. His wardrobe and trunks ransacked, his sword table emptied, not a weapon remained. They even took the cheese knife, leaving the bloody stinking blue cheese. How long was Jori going to leave him like this?
“Let me out of here!” He hurled the board at the door.
The king had seen Maggie using her power and controlling Rendicryss. With little interrogation, he would find out Xavier was false. He wanted magic. He searched for it all this time. He would never, ever hurt her. Neither would Jori. He was infatuated on top of everything else. That gave Griffin hope.
The lock clicked. The door opened, and Lady Esmera swept into the room. There was blood on her dress and her hands. Cornwall’s blood.
“Griffin . . .”
Griffin slid his boot in the door before it could close. He tugged it open, finding a hallway filled with soldiers, all dressed in black cloaks.
“Return to your room, Sir Griffin. The prince will see you shortly.” The guard slammed the door shut.
“What is going on here?” Griffin asked her.
Esmera threw her hands in the air. “Everyone is missing. Jori isn’t in his rooms. Malcolm and Sybil have vanished. They went with my brother and father, to settle their bodies and have them taken to our soldiers outside the city, and never returned. The guards have every turn of every hallway blocked off. They won’t let me pass.” Tears brimmed. “I can’t lose Sybil and Malcolm too.”
“I’m sorry,” Griffin said. “I really wish Cornwall had listened to Malcolm.”
She sniffed, pressing a finger beneath her eyes to stop her tears from falling. “I wish he had too. He’s so stubborn. Was . . .” She sighed, swallowing hard. She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t you find it odd that the guards have all changed colors? Black, no less. I suppose I should take it as a compliment, a nod to my North.” Esmera ran a finger over a black cloak hung over the chair. “You have one too?”
Griffin stared at it, the knot in his stomach twisting tighter. Weapons gone and a new cloak. Griffin opened the door again, finding a soldier about to knock. Esmera moved to stand in the entrance beside Griffin.
“Prince wishes to see you. Change,” the soldier ordered. “Get out of that red. It’s not a safe color anymore.”
“What does that mean?” Esmera asked.
The soldier looked surprised to see her. “You should return to your room, Lady Esmera.”
“I don’t take orders from you. I’ll go with Griffin to see my fiancé.” She tossed the cloak at Griffin.
“No. You’re to remain—”
“No one asked you,” she countered.
“Excuse us for a moment, please.” Griffin closed
the door.
“Esmera, do you have any weapons in your room? A sword? Anything. Even a small, dainty knife with a pretty grip?”
“No. Sybil had an arsenal under her bed, but it’s all gone. Griffin, what is going on here?”
“I don’t know, but I believe we’re about to find out.”
Griffin removed the red tunic, replacing it with the cloak. He smoothed his hair down.
Esmera padded toward him with a wet towel. “Wait. You have dirt.” She turned his cheek, wiping it off for him.
He flinched at her touch, which registered on her face. “I thought my scars offended you, Lady Esmera.”
She pursed her lips, ruminating. “I’m sorry for that. I, well, your scars remind me of my mother’s. Of what the draignochs did to her. That’s all.” She threw the towel on the bed.
Griffin was surprised by her honesty. “Then I’m sorry for that.”
“It’s hardly your problem.”
The soldier knocked on Jori’s door, announcing Griffin’s arrival.
Positioned on the corner of the castle, Jori’s suite had two rooms with no wall between them, only a deep bend. Griffin was led into the sitting area. Jori hopped up from the chair, rushing to the table, and poured wine for two. When he saw Esmera, he brought out another glass.
“I wasn’t expecting both of you, but saves me time in hindsight. Come. Take a glass of wine. I have important news.”
Griffin passed one to Esmera before taking one for himself.
Jori frowned as he announced, “My father is dead.”
“What?” Esmera blurted.
Griffin set the glass down. “How?”
“Buffont.”
“That’s . . . not possible.”
“He did it, Griffin. He dropped my father through the murder hole on the bridge. I was there. I witnessed the entire horrifying event.” Jori took a long sip of his wine, then turned to Esmera. “This changes everything.”
Esmera set her glass down on the table so hard it was a wonder it didn’t break. “What does that mean?”
“I will not marry you.”
“Then you will not have the North. My brother Malcolm—”
“Is locked in the dungeon with your sister. If you behave yourself, I will have them released, Esmera, but to their rooms only. They will still be under heavy guard.”
Esmera launched her glass at him. Jori made no move to avoid it hitting him. He let the red wine drip off his cloak onto the floor. “There is no reason to get emotional, Esmera. It is simply a matter of politics. I must marry—”
“Maggie,” Griffin sighed.
Jori’s grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yes.”
“You marry a . . . a nobody?” Esmera countered.
Jori sighed at her. “Maggie isn’t a nobody. She is the true Ambrosius. Xavier was a fraud.”
“What are you talking about?” Esmera growled. Jori’s answering snicker sent her to Griffin. “What’s he talking about?”
Griffin stared at Jori. He had been playing a game all this time. All his maneuvers carefully planned. Griffin hadn’t thought the prince had it in him. “How long have you known?”
“Much longer than you.” Jori drained his glass and poured another. “And I want to thank you for training her in the short time you had together. Today was an impressive beginning. Her powers will only grow, and then . . .” He hummed.
Griffin wanted to punch him as realization dawned. “You let me take her to Oughtnoch, knowing full well I would want to see Rendicryss. You used me.”
Jori smirked, his thin blond eyebrows lifting. “And I will reward you for it.”
“Did it ever occur to you that your plan would backfire?” Griffin asked. “That I might have real feelings for her? And she for me?”
Jori set a hand on the pommel of the Phantombronze dagger, Griffin’s dagger. There was a sword on his other hip. “Maggie has agreed to marry me, Griffin. It’s done. But I haven’t forsaken you or Esmera.” He looked at Esmera, who was eyeing the sword on Jori’s hip, glaring as if she wanted nothing more than to slit his throat with it. “You will marry Griffin, and we will all be one big happy family.”
“No,” Esmera said flatly. “Our treaty is broken. I will return home with my siblings to our people. We will not combine our lands with yours.”
“Afraid I cannot allow that either. My forces are already heading for the northern border.” Jori sat down, letting out an exasperated breath as if annoyed by the ignorance of his audience. “Our kingdoms will be joined, and I shall not have to marry you to accomplish it. We will seize control of the North as peacefully as the Northmen will allow. I will keep you here as . . . as a tribute to them. The North will still have representation at court.”
“As a hostage,” Esmera shot back. “As collateral against—”
“If you resist in any way”—Jori raised his voice over hers, silencing her outburst—“I will send word to attack, and order no able-bodied fighters left alive. The North may have difficult terrain, but Raleigh knows it well, and we have numbers on our side . . . and magic.”
Esmera threw the door open. Several black cloaks prevented her exit.
Jori shook his head. “We’re not done, Lady Esmera.”
She turned around, her eyes narrowing to slits.
“Sybil will remain here as well, safe, but under my watch. Malcolm will be in the finals. He will face the new beast—”
“—who killed Cornwall?” Esmera shook her head. “No! You can’t do this!”
Jori shrugged. “It is what my father wanted. He will likely die, but that is what happens in the arena. Malcolm knew well the dangers involved in the tournament. Griffin too will have to face the dragon.” Jori winked at Griffin. “But Maggie would never let her hurt you, would she?”
Griffin couldn’t believe Maggie would agree to any of this. “I should speak to her.”
“Why?” Jori grimaced.
“To be sure she understands what’s expected.”
Jori hissed the smallest of laughs. “She understands. And she will do as I tell her to do.”
Anger stiffened Griffin’s back. His chest gave away his frustration. He took a long deep breath, letting it out slowly, methodically, changing his demeanor to play the part of the loyal best friend, until he figured a way out of this trap. “Why would she comply? For Xavier?”
“No. My father had him executed for lying before he died.” The prince sipped the wine, his eyes looking beyond Griffin. Nothing Jori said was whole truths, but at least there was something to learn from him.
“Xavier is dead?” Esmera asked.
“Didn’t I just say that? Gods, you really are stupid, Esmera.” Jori waved at the guards. “The Lady Esmera will return to her room and remain there until tomorrow morning.”
Esmera looked at Jori as if he’d slapped her.
“I’ll escort you,” Griffin said, wanting to get out of this room as quickly as possible.
“Yes, you should do that, Griffin. The guards will shadow you both. I’m taking no chances. Tomorrow must go as planned. The people will see me and Maggie, side by side on the balcony, and we will watch our heroes take on the dragon.
“That is what they will witness. Me with true magic at my command, and my champion slaying the fiercest beast to ever walk into the arena.”
Seven guards followed Griffin and Esmera as they returned to her room. Six posted outside, while one took up a position inside, beside the door.
Esmera plucked two long thin combs staking her hair in a bun, letting it fall, then spun. The sharp point of one pressed into the underneath of the guard’s chin but not enough to break skin, yet. The other she fisted, resting the tip against his chest, over his heart. “Get out!”
Griffin opened the door, letting him scoot out, then slammed it shut, throwing the bolt. “That was impressive.”
“Just because I know how to embroider doesn’t mean I haven’t trained in other arts.” She slid the combs into her blonde m
ane.
Her room was cold. The fire out. Griffin set to building a new one for her.
“Stop that. We have more important things to do. Do you honestly think I didn’t see this coming?”
Griffin turned, finding Esmera lifting a piece of the floor up. She waved him over. “Sybil’s idea.” Between two floorboards were three swords, several daggers, and a quiver of arrows. There was also a small bowl of crushed dark berries. “Belladonna. Concentrated. There’s enough there to put several guards to sleep. We just need to mix it with wine. They’ll never notice.”
Griffin let a smile creep up. “You are my new favorite person, Esmera.”
She glared at him.
“I am surprised as you are. Where’s the bow?”
“Tacked behind the bed.” She retrieved it, passing it off to him. “What do we do now?”
Griffin handed it back. “Keep it. I’ll take only a dagger and the belladonna. You and Sybil arm yourselves.”
“Why? We can’t fight hundreds of soldiers.”
“You won’t have to. I have a plan, but it all revolves around Jori believing we’re going along with him.”
“What is it?” Esmera asked.
“I can’t tell you. Honestly, it is better that you have no knowledge in any case. That way, Jori can’t leverage it out of you, and if it fails, only I’m to blame. Don’t trust anyone. Not even those with as much to lose. I have to find Maggie. And right now, after what Jori likely told her, I’m pretty sure she would like to see her dragon eat my liver.”
Esmera unsheathed a dagger, checking the blade, then handed it to Griffin. “Then I wish your liver good health and godspeed.”
Griffin opened his door, handing one of the guards his untouched meal and full carafe of belladonna-infused wine.
“You have the finals tomorrow, Sir Griffin. You haven’t touched your food.”
“I can’t eat. Help yourselves. There’s wine too. Sadly, the king’s favorite.”
He closed the door. An hour later, he heard them laughing, then the sound of heavy thuds. When he opened the door, a guard fell backward into his room. He used his pillows to make it look as if he was in the bed sleeping, propped the guard beside his door, and made sure the others were sleeping before he entered the secret passage behind the tapestry.
The Color of Dragons Page 28
