unForgiven (The Birthright Series Book 2)

by Bridget E. Baker

  The ambulance stops, and I don’t know why. I unsheathe my sword and stand on the balls of my feet, ready to take down anyone facing us on the other side.

  But when the doors open, no one is waiting to hit me with a tranquilizer.

  Frank’s mouth drops open and his eyes glance nervously from my sword to my face and back again. “Uh, we’re here,” he says. “Are you alright?”

  “We’re fine.” Billy hisses at me. “Put the sword down, crazy.” Then he slides around me and hops out of the ambulance. “Thanks, Frank. I owe you one. Seriously.”

  Frank shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s what friends do.”

  “Your boss seemed pissed,” Ambrosia says.

  “Nah, she just doesn’t want to get in trouble, but it’s fine, really. Chest pain or not, you needed a ride somewhere safe, and you got it.”

  “Thank you.” I climb out of the back, and Ambrosia follows me.

  A tall man with black hair that’s greying at the temples strides out the ambulance bay doors. “William? Ambrosia? What are you doing here?”

  Billy kicks at a spot on the concrete. “Hey Dad.”

  “Are you both okay?”

  Ambrosia nods. “We’re fine, but our friend might need some help.”

  “Who is your friend?” the tall man asks. “And what does she need?”

  “Uh,” Billy says loudly, “her name is Jud—Judy er, Meecham, and she’s not safe.”

  “Not safe? What does that mean?” His eyes shift to me, taking in the spots on my pants that I didn’t take time to change.

  “She’s uh, she’s in bad shape,” Billy says. “I didn’t know what to do, because I found out she’s . . . she was assaulted. On the street.”

  The man’s mouth drops open. “I’m very sorry to hear that. Well, let’s get her inside right away.”

  “What was that?” Ambrosia whispers as we follow him inside.

  “You’re covered in blood. What was I supposed to say?” Billy asks. “We both know there won’t be a scratch on you.”

  “Dad is going to ask a lot of questions,” Ambrosia says.

  “Technically, I was assaulted,” I say.

  “If you tell them you’re too nervous to talk about it, they’ll let you sit in here for a while. But you’ll have to be really clear that you aren’t ready to call the police, okay?” Billy beams when one of the nurses arrives, clipboard in hand.

  At least Melina won’t think to look for me in a human hospital. It would be like taking a tank to a bicycle repair shop. They want me to write down a lot of details on a piece of paper before they leave us alone, but Billy helps me make up most of that information.

  “How far, exactly, is this from the place I’m meeting Roman?” I ask once they’re gone.

  Ambrosia bites her lip. “It’s not close, but you have a while to wait, right? How long will it take him to fly here?”

  “He has to take a plane, right?” Billy asks.

  I cock my head. “As opposed to what? He doesn’t have wings.”

  Ambrosia laughs. “Well, seeing how our night has gone, I wouldn’t rule anything out.”

  “Luckily, this is all about to be over for you,” I say. “Roman should be here pretty early in the morning. I’d say nine at the latest.”

  “Wait,” Ambrosia says. “When he gets here, you’re leaving with him? Just like that?”

  It didn’t occur to me that would upset them. “I’m sure it will be a relief,” I say. “And I can explain things to your father, if that helps.”

  Ambrosia hugs me and I stiffen.

  No one hugs me. Ever. I’m not a huggable person in any way. When she pulls away, there are tears in her eyes. “I’ll miss you.”

  No one has ever said that to me, under any circumstance. But what shocks me more than her words is the realization that I’ll miss her, too.

  12

  The Past

  Balthasar brings a file with him. “I can’t find a single motive for Angel to want your Mother dead.”

  I close my eyes.

  “By all counts, she loved Enora until the day she died.”

  “Explain.”

  “Angel stopped multiple attempts to murder your mother in the last two months. Four, actually. We executed an agent from Shenoah, and one from Adora. Two were unidentified.”

  “If she wanted Mother dead,” I say, “she could have simply let one through and never have been implicated herself.”

  Balthasar nods. “She provided Enora with information on two of her relatives in the past two years that both resulted in banishment, but she never showed one ounce of mercy toward them or any anger toward your mother for her decisions. She turned them in herself, and from what I can tell has had zero contact with them since their banishment.”

  “Not that we would know if she covered her tracks, by definition.”

  “And with her skillset and contacts, she could brush over any evidence easily.”

  She’s been Mother’s spymaster for over five centuries.

  “She was also your mother’s chef. Enora trusted her implicitly.”

  Mother would tell me to keep looking, because she’d never have believed Angel would harm her. But Lyssa kept a secret for almost two decades. How well do we ever know anyone? I drop my face into my hands.

  Balthasar puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, J.”

  “I’m failing her,” I whisper.

  His fingers tighten. “You aren’t. You’re bearing up under all this strain admirably. I’ve been very impressed, honestly, and if she can see us right now, she’s impressed too.”

  I lift my eyes to his. “What would you do?”

  “I’d free Angel and use her to find the real killer. As you mentioned, her skillset is impressive.”

  I tell him about Nihils and Cina.

  He brushes the scruff on his face with his hand and breathes in and out slowly. “You’re doing great work, you know. There are so many angles on this that it’s hard to track them all down. Keep in mind that whoever actually poisoned her is unlikely to have done it sua sponte.”

  On their own. I bob my head. “That’s probably true, and getting them to provide me information on whoever gave them the orders. . .”

  “Your plan to ask Nihils questions while distracting him physically is a good idea.”

  “If we release Angel, could we put someone on her to watch who she talks to? Can we tap her phones?”

  He compresses his lips. “Spy on the spider herself?”

  I shrug. “Maybe.”

  “I like your enthusiasm, but it’s very unlikely she wouldn’t recognize all our attempts.”

  “We can still try.” We hammer out a plan involving three layers of surveillance, so that hopefully, even if she finds the first level, or even the second, we’ll still have eyes on her.

  “I guess I should talk to her again,” I say after we finish.

  “I’ll come along.”

  “Thanks.”

  She’s sitting in the same exact meditation pose when we reach the holding cells down below. “Has she caused any problems at all?” I ask the guard on duty, Gideon.

  He shakes his head. “Not a single complaint or a request. Not even a question.”

  This time I enter her cell.

  Angel unfolds herself gracefully and stands up, then she inclines her head respectfully. “Your Highness.”

  I flinch at the slight.

  “I don’t mean to insult you,” Angel says. “But your mother named Chancery before she died. Paperwork is a formality. Even you acknowledged that, which leaves you the Heir.”

  “Correct.”

  “Don’t be petulant when I honor the reality of our situation. I wouldn’t chafe at you mentioning that I’m incarcerated.”

  She sounds so much like Mother. I close my eyes.

  “Speaking of the present circumstances, where is Chancery? I expected her to interrogate me next.”

  I open them again and breathe in deep
ly. “I haven’t killed her, if that’s what you’re asking. I have no idea where she is, but probably New York. She left with Alora. She’ll be back in a few days and we’ll settle things then.”

  “Interesting.”

  “What is?”

  “You could have insisted on fighting her immediately, yet you gave her time to prepare. She was far more distraught than you over your mother’s death.”

  “I mourn my mother.”

  “Of course you do, child, but you weren’t incapacitated by it like she was. I’m surprised you didn’t press your advantage.”

  Why wouldn’t I? Judica the monster, who would stab her sister in the heart while she stood over their mother’s dead body. When the rage flooding my chest has nowhere to go, my hands begin to shake. “I’m not here to discuss my sister.”

  Angel shrugs. She either can’t sense my anger, or she doesn’t fear it. I wonder which. “Why are you here?” she asks.

  “If you decided to kill my mother, how would you do it?”

  Angel smiles. “That’s a very good question. Well done.”

  “Answer it.”

  “I suppose it would depend on my motive.”

  “Explain.”

  “If I were angry and I wanted retribution, I would probably approach her when she’d be distracted and behead her.”

  “You’d immediately be killed,” I say.

  “I would, but I respected your mother a great deal, and if I felt I had no choice but to eliminate her, either out of revenge or duty, I wouldn’t hide my actions.”

  “Convenient.”

  She shakes her head. “If I felt she was making a grave mistake, I might do it covertly. I might have cut her life short through more devious means, so that I wouldn’t be harmed by the fallout. If I had more confidence in the next person in line for the throne, I could take no further action.”

  “In that case, you could use poison to eliminate her.”

  Angel inclines her head. “Even so. But since I’m the head chef, I’d probably find another delivery mechanism, one that didn’t shine a neon light in my face.”

  “What if you poisoned her via her soap,” I say. “Or her shampoo.”

  Angel shrugs. “Not the case here. I’m sure Chancery was right and you’ll find the poison was administered via her eggs.”

  “What makes you so positive of that?” I put a hand on my hip.

  “Cookie died as well, and both Chancery and Duchess eschew eggs. Common knowledge in the kitchen. So someone who wanted one of them dead and not the other would have targeted that fact. The effectiveness of any other food would have been prevented by her dog. I told her a dozen times or more to divest herself of Duchess and find a dog that eats anything and everything. She ignored my admonitions.

  “If I had decided positively on poison, I’d choose one I could place in her cosmetics, or through a tack on her shoe. I would likely vary the delivery mechanisms, honestly, if it was a slow acting poison as I assume this was. That would make tracking me down exceptionally difficult. And I’d employ the use of several helpers, who individually had no idea what they were doing.”

  I sigh.

  “But Judica, I had no reason to kill Enora. Now that she’s gone, I stand to lose my position, my joy, and my life, in that order.”

  Her position is likely as Intelligence Officer. Her joy has to be cooking. And Balthasar found nothing to contradict her statement.

  “I won’t lie and tell you that I haven’t made mistakes over the past few centuries, but your mother knew about every single one. The one mistake I never made was lying to her, and I won’t lie to you now. In fact, I made a solemn promise to her during her last breaths. I told her I’d do whatever it took to ensure that Alamecha stayed safe and strong in the coming years. I told her I’d sacrifice everything I have, if it comes to that. I meant that promise.”

  “I’m going to free you today, Angel.”

  Her eyes widen.

  “And if I hear anything that contradicts what you’ve told me, if I see any evidence that you’ve lied to me, I’ll execute you myself.”

  She inclines her head. “I’d expect no less from Enora’s daughter.”

  “But I am not my mother.” My lips curl up into a half smile. “So I won’t stop there.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “After I kill you, I’ll kill your sons, all forty-one of them.”

  She swallows.

  “I’ll kill their one-hundred and seventy-nine children, and I’ll kill your twenty-six daughters and their two-hundred and eleven children.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  My eyes flash. “You can save them by confessing your guilt to me now. Because if I find out you lied to me, and that you killed my mother, you will wish you’d killed me too. I will end your entire line. Forget deletions to your DNA, you will be eradicated from this earth along with every single person you ever touched.”

  Angel’s smile surprises me. “You are what your mother made you, and she’s never fashioned a weapon quite as glorious. With anyone else, this would be a threat meant to intimidate. With you, it’s a fact. You’ll kill hundreds of innocents if I dealt you harm and don’t confess it freely.”

  Something inside of me trembles, because I think she’s right. I might actually do it, if I find out she betrayed my mother. But I won’t only do it because she took my mother from me. In part I’ll do it because she fooled me, and I do not like being made to feel imbecilic.

  Luckily that doesn’t happen often. “I trust that won’t be an issue.”

  Angel clasps her hands in front of her. “I would sacrifice my entire family if it was necessary to honor the vow I made to your mother, but as it turns out.” She shakes her head. “You won’t need to harm me or mine. I’ve been entirely loyal to both her and you.”

  I open the cell door and gesture for her to precede me. She walks through right away, which means she won’t notice that my hands are shaking.

  An hour later, when I walk into the arena for my training session, I’ve regained my serenity, at least temporarily. Confronting former mentors and possible assassins isn’t something I enjoy.

  Five evians wait for me. Roman, Barrett, Agate, Agamemnon, and Nihils. They all meet my eye, except for Nihils. Good. He’s nervous. But at least he hasn’t been summoned or confronted head on. I didn’t even shift the schedule.

  Roman sets us all to stretching, a mostly fruitless endeavor for anyone above tenth gen, but I comply. Barrett and Agamemnon were both purchased by Mother so I’d have options, and they’re as perfect as you’d expect. Both are eighth gen, and both are tall. Barrett’s skin and hair are dark brown, and his eyes are grey. He’s well-muscled and keeps his hair short, as prudence dictates. Agamemnon has pale, pale skin, with black hair and eyes so dark they’re almost black. He’s lean, but his muscle is corded like a whip. His features are sharp and pointed, like someone drew him when they were angry.

  Nihils looks almost smudgy by comparison with his button nose and curved jaw, but then again, he’s fifteenth generation. It’s respectable, but it’s not overly impressive. Agate’s hair is fifteen different colors, as though she couldn’t quite decide. Black strands mix with dark, deep brown, and light brown, and red, and orange and tawny gold, and even locks of white shot through the mix. Her eyes dart from me to the boys nervously. She’s fourteenth generation and probably dreads these trainings as much as Nihils. But I need to practice with a variety of opponents, so everyone is recruited to help occasionally.

  Both Agate and Nihils are respectable fighters with good bloodlines, but I’d decimate either of them in a solo fight in under a minute. There’s a reason I mostly train with the men Mother bought. They’re the closest to my skillset.

  “We’re going to do something different today,” Roman says. “Instead of attacking in pairs or engaging in preset sequences, you’re going to attack all at once.”

  Sure they will. Someone always lags, and I’m pretty sure I know who that will be.
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  “Are we using weapons?” I ask.

  Roman grins. “Up to you, Your Majesty.”

  I bob my head. “Let’s do this the hard way then, hand-to-hand.” I said hard, but I meant slow. I need time to work on Nihils. Time to press him, to scare him into talking.

  “Zanshin,” Roman says with a half-smile. “Who can tell me what that word means?”

  Barrett snorts.

  “Some of the people present haven’t had the benefit of the same training as you, Barrett,” Roman snaps.

  “It’s a state of awareness,” I say. “You can only achieve it once you’ve moved beyond the need to think about attacking or defending and you’re able to be proactive about what and who is near. Your body needs to move through patterns of sladius without conscious thought, naturally knowing what moves and countermoves to use to accomplish your goal.”

  “You should all be watching Judica during this fight to learn from her,” Roman says. “Balthasar always says she has an aptitude for multi-opponent work, and she naturally understands the rules of facing more than one enemy.”

  Blah blah blah. “Let’s go.” He’s making me nervous, and the last thing I need is to actually lose when I should be interrogating Nihils.

  Luckily Roman steps out of the ring and leaves me with only four opponents to face. When he starts us, I’m standing as I was bidden to do, in the center of the ring. But the second we start, I pivot and back toward Nihils. The first rule of fighting multiple opponents is to keep them all in front of you, but with four attackers and me in the middle, I’ve got to reach the edge somehow. My only hope at doing that while not eliminating Nihils right away is to let him get behind me. Plus, you always put the weakest danger at your back.

  Barrett and Agamemnon advance together, coming at me from forty-five degree angles while Agate rushes me from the front. Nihils’ arm wraps around my neck from behind and he uses his other arm to shove my head down and solidify the headlock. I have a cool five seconds before my brain becomes blood deprived and shuts down. Plenty of time. I step backward hard and fast, to throw him off balance, and then I bend my knees and lunge forward, tossing Nihils over my shoulder and slamming him into Agate’s advancing form. They both go down like bowling pins, leaving me with ten seconds while they regroup to face the two main threats.