Alassa smiled. Sir William was old, but he was flexible enough to appreciate the value of the new weapons. She knew others who didn’t believe cannons and muskets would be sticking around, not when their failure rate was so high. The king had privately encouraged that attitude, trying to convince his aristocrats that gunpowder weapons were nothing more than toys. Alassa doubted his efforts had been particularly successful. The gunpowder weapons had proven their mettle at Farrakhan.
“Very good,” she said. The men were hers, technically. Her armsmen. Not her father’s, not Jade’s … hers. And yet, she’d never led them into battle. She’d barely even rewarded them for their service in a manner they might respect. “We’ll depart this afternoon and reach Falcone’s Nest before dark.”
She sighed, inwardly, as Sir William bowed and retreated. It wasn’t going to be a comfortable few days, with or without Imaiqah. She was going to be trapped in a carriage for hours, with very little time to stretch her legs or use the facilities. There were plenty of spells to clear the air or dispose of waste, but even they had their limits. And she was going to be aching everywhere by the time they finally reached their destination.
Shaking her head, she walked to her desk and started to work her way through the pile of paperwork. She had servants – minions, Jade had once called them – to do that for her, but she knew she had to keep abreast of what was going on. It was easy, all too easy, for someone in a high place to manipulate the information his superiors received. Nightingale, damn the man, was in an excellent position to do a great deal of damage. She had no doubt he was quite prepared to do whatever it took to enrich himself.
She stumbled across a note from Saffron and smiled. The younger girl asked for a meeting to discuss her lands and future. That was a good sign, Alassa decided. The chance to pair Saffron up with someone she knew could be trusted was one that couldn’t be missed, although she would have to be careful. Jade was probably the only person at court who’d been taught that men and women were equals. The others would expect their wives to obey them, no matter who had the superior birth.
A woman may rule as a queen, yet obey as a wife, she thought, recalling the judgement of one of her father’s former privy counselors. The bastard had tried to grapple with the problem of a female ruler and failed, spectacularly. He’d have the woman surrender everything to the man.
She made a note to discuss potential candidates with Saffron, then scribbled out an invitation – in her own hand – to dinner after she returned from Harkness. Saffron probably wanted to leave court as soon as possible, but it would take time for her to make the arrangements. Nightingale, damn him, was probably trying to undermine her already. It would be easy for him …
There was a sharp knock on the door. It opened a second later, revealing Mouse. She looked … frantic. Frantic and terrified and breathing hard, as if she’d been running. Alassa tensed. Busting into royal apartments without permission was a good way to get killed. Nothing short of an absolute emergency would convince Mouse to take the risk.
“She’s been taken,” Mouse said. It seemed to dawn on her, a second too late, just how badly she’d messed up. “Ah … Your Highness …”
Alassa stood. “Who’s been taken? And why?”
“She’s been arrested,” Mouse insisted. “She’s been …”
“Who?” Alassa snapped. Arrested? “Who’s been arrested?”
“Imaiqah,” Mouse said. The words tumbled out so quickly that they were jumbled together. “She just arrived. And the king’s sorcerers arrested her! They said she was a traitor.”
Alassa stared. “What?”
She swallowed hard. Her father had to have given the orders. No one else could or would issue charges of treason. And that meant …
“Stay here,” she snapped. Cold logic told her she should slow down, but she couldn’t. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
Gritting her teeth, she marched through the door and out into the corridor.
Chapter Ten
“YOUR FATHER IS IN AN IMPORTANT meeting,” Nightingale said. He stood in the center of the antechamber, blocking her way. “Your Highness …”
“Get out of my way,” Alassa growled. “I need to see my father.”
“Your father is in an important meeting,” Nightingale repeated. “Your Highness …”
Alassa shaped a spell in her mind, then cast it. Nightingale shrank until he was barely two inches high, his clothes shrinking with him. He stared up at her in horror, terror written on his face. Alassa could hear the guards snickering behind her as she strode over him and crashed through the door into her father’s audience room. The wards buzzed around her, but didn’t try to stop her. She was almost disappointed.
Her father was sitting at a table, facing the sour-faced woman she’d seen yesterday. They were talking like equals, not … Alassa had no time to wonder who the woman was or why her father considered her so important. She had other things to worry about, starting with the life of one of her closest friends.
“Father,” she said, sharply. “We need to talk.”
King Randor studied her for a long moment. Alassa gazed back, refusing to be intimidated. Interrupting a private meeting wasn’t just against courtly etiquette. It was something that could get someone – even her – in real trouble. And yet, she needed to talk to her father. She had no choice.
“It seems that something important has come up,” King Randor said, to the woman. “We’ll continue later.”
The woman rose, curtseyed and headed for the door. Alassa tensed as the woman swept past her, feeling an overwhelming sense of menace. She couldn’t help being reminded of Lady Barb. The woman, whoever she was, was dangerous. She felt her back itch as the woman moved out of eyesight, the door closing behind her a second later. A combat sorceress? Or simply someone capable of projecting a threat?
“Alassa,” her father said. He stood, folding his arms over his chest. His shirt was covered in protective runes. “What is the meaning of this?”
“You’ve arrested Imaiqah,” Alassa said, sharply. She had no doubt of it. Mouse wouldn’t have dared tell her that unless she was absolutely sure. “Why?”
She saw, just for a second, a flicker of surprise in her father’s eyes. He hadn’t expected her to know, then. No … he’d expected her to be gone before Imaiqah arrived. Ice ran down her spine as she realized just how carefully her father had manipulated everything. She and Jade had been scheduled to depart well before Imaiqah’s arrival. It was sheer luck that she’d stayed behind long enough to find out what had happened.
Her father met her eyes. “I have proof that her father was behind the assassination attempt on your wedding day,” he said, flatly. “And she has been taken into custody pending an investigation.”
An investigation, Alassa thought, numbly. It was unbelievable. And yet ... her father wouldn’t have moved against a senior noblewoman – and Imaiqah was a senior noblewoman, to all intents and purposes – without being absolutely certain of his ground. And that meant … innocent or not, Imaiqah’s life was forfeit. A traitor’s family would always share in his fate. He’s going to kill her.
She stared back at her father, her mouth suddenly dry. “Father … the evidence could be faked.”
“It has been checked, repeatedly,” King Randor said. He shot her a sharp look. “I am not such a fool, young lady, that I believe everything I am told.”
“But …”
He spoke over her. “Paren himself died, of course, but it was possible to trace the funding and weapons back to his workshop. A number of assassins were linked to underground movements that were, in turn, linked to him. We simply lacked the key to unravel the scheme.”
Alassa shivered at the pain – and anger – in her father’s voice. He’d elevated Paren to the nobility, ensuring that his children would be noble in their own right. It had been a reward for services rendered, services that had ensured the king would keep his throne. And he’d been betrayed. It was nev
er nice to know that someone had tried to kill him – and his daughter – but it would be a thousand times worse to know that he’d been betrayed by a man who’d benefited so much from his patronage. Paren was lucky he was dead. If he’d been caught, his death would have been truly horrific.
“Imaiqah didn’t know,” Alassa said. She couldn’t have known. Imaiqah had spent the entire wedding taking care of Alassa. She wouldn’t have known. “Father …”
“Is that true?” Her father met her eyes. “Did she know? Did you know?”
Alassa felt the answer welling up inside her. For once, she didn’t try to fight it.
“No,” she said. “I didn’t know. But Imaiqah didn’t know either.”
“You don’t know that,” her father corrected. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone has tried to do something to benefit me, while ensuring I had plausible deniability if something went badly wrong. Imaiqah might have known enough to be aware of what was coming, but kept her mouth shut.”
“She didn’t,” Alassa said. “Father, I know her.”
“You don’t know anyone,” her father said, bitingly. “No king or prince knows anyone. They just know the face their loyal subjects present to them.”
He looked down for a long moment. “And your friend Emily did know, after the fact if not before. She said nothing.”
Alassa didn’t believe him. No, she didn’t want to believe him. Emily would not have allowed the assassination attempt to go ahead, not if she’d known ahead of time. She’d warned them, time and time again, of a demonic vision of death on Alassa’s wedding day. But … it was easy to imagine Emily finding out the truth, afterwards, and keeping it to herself. What possible good would it have done to reveal everything? Imaiqah and her family - her innocent family - would be proscribed. Any of them unlucky enough to fall into her father’s hands would be tortured, interrogated and executed. A traitor’s entire family had to die.
She should have told me, she thought, numbly. Her thoughts moved sluggishly. I could have handled it.
“Father,” she said. “I …”
“A traitor cannot be allowed to live,” King Randor said. “I must move against the family and …”
“You let your brother live,” Alassa snapped. “He betrayed you!”
“He was manipulated,” her father snapped back. Cold anger flickered in his eyes. “And you know he was manipulated. And he’s going to spend the rest of his life under arrest.”
“He could have resisted,” Alassa said. It wasn’t fair. She knew it wasn’t fair. But she said it anyway. “Imaiqah didn’t know what her father was doing.”
“It doesn’t matter,” King Randor said, sharply. “I cannot allow treason to flourish, whatever the cost. It has to be cut out of the kingdom.”
He met her eyes, daring her to disagree. “A king must do things he finds reprehensible if he wishes to keep his throne. I have learnt of a plot against me – against us – and moved to deal with it by executing everyone involved. That is my duty! I will not allow the monarchy to be weakened through sentiment. That was Bryon’s mistake.”
Alassa took a breath. “Then give her to me, Father,” she said. “I can keep her in my custody.”
She gritted her teeth, wondering if she should fall on her knees and beg. She’d seen other women do that in front of the throne, making themselves look weak and pathetic as they begged for the king’s personal intervention. But she couldn’t abase herself like that, not in front of her father. She was Crown Princess, not someone like … like Nightingale. She didn’t have to beg for her rank and title. It was hers by right.
“No,” her father said. His voice was very firm. “Alassa, Imaiqah cannot be allowed to live.”
Alassa clenched her fists, feeling magic boiling under her skin. She could lash out at him – she could kill him – but … she had no idea how the wards would react. Her father wasn’t a strong magician, she thought, yet he was cunning enough to offset his weaknesses in his place of power. The magic threaded through the room would turn on her in an instant if she struck out at her father. And even if she succeeded …
Her father wouldn’t budge, she knew. He ruled by the rod, not by love. Imaiqah was condemned simply for being the daughter of a known traitor. And she would be executed, sooner rather than later. No one would take chances with a powerful and skilled magician, particularly one who had powerful friends. The execution warrant might already have been signed, sealed and delivered. Imaiqah’s friends couldn’t be allowed a chance to rescue her.
She lowered her eyes, feigning submission. “Yes, Father.”
Her father didn’t sound convinced. “You will return to your chambers and wait,” he ordered, coldly. “The state visit can be delayed, for the moment. We’ll discuss the matter later, when we have both calmed down.”
Alassa fought to keep her face under control. Her father sounded reasonable, but she knew better than to take that at face value. He’d execute Imaiqah within the day, then expect her to just … to just accept it. Her cheeks burned with shame as she realized that, six years ago, she would have accepted it. Imaiqah had been a mousy little commoner when they’d first met, someone Alassa could use and discard at will. Alassa had learnt hard lessons since.
She wanted to argue, to rebel against being sent to her room like a naughty little girl. But it would give her a chance to act. There was no one else who could act. It might be hours before Jade checked the chat parchment … or Emily or anyone else who might be able to help. And Emily had her own problems. She couldn’t be expected to drop Frieda and come rushing to Imaiqah’s rescue.
“Yes, Father,” she said, trying to sound like a little brat. It was surprisingly easy. “Would you like me to stand in the corner too?”
Her father ignored the jibe. “I know this isn’t easy,” he said. His voice was almost sympathetic. “But the sooner you learn to trust no one, the better.”
Alassa winced, inwardly. She’d trusted the wrong people, six years ago. She knew that to be true, even as she also knew she’d learnt to trust the right people. Emily had never betrayed her, nor had Imaiqah … Imaiqah couldn’t be blamed for her father’s treachery. But she would be executed soon, unless something happened to save her life.
“Go,” her father ordered. “We will talk this evening.”
“Yes, Father,” Alassa said.
She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Nightingale stood on a table, still tiny. Alassa puzzled over how he’d managed to get up for a few seconds, then decided one of the guards must have picked the tiny man up and put him there. She strode over to the table and glared down at the little man. He looked back at her, his face pleading. He was utterly terrified. Alassa couldn’t help wondering if the guards had put Nightingale there in the hopes he’d fall and break every bone in his body. Nightingale was not popular.
“Tell me where Imaiqah is or I’ll blow on you,” she snarled. A gust of wind would be enough to push Nightingale off the table and send him falling to his death. “Where is she?”
Nightingale stared back at her, clearly warring between fear of her and fear of her father. The king would not be happy if Nightingale betrayed him and Nightingale, unlike Imaiqah, had no friends who might come to his aid. But the prospect of dying in such a horrible manner seemed enough to overwhelm him. He stammered out an answer, so quietly that Alassa had to ask him to repeat it. Imaiqah was being kept in the lower dungeons.
She cast a confusion spell, just to keep Nightingale from blabbing to her father, then walked off. The shrinking spell should wear off soon, although Nightingale would have a very unpleasant time of it before the magic faded. Who knew? Perhaps he would fall to his death after all. Her lips twitched. If there was anyone in the castle who deserved such a horrific fate, it was Nightingale. He’d won the king’s favor by spitting on everyone else.
Mouse was sitting in Alassa’s room, waiting for her. Alassa blinked in surprise, then remembered that she’d told Mouse to remain. No doubt t
he maid had considered it a welcome break. Lady Lye could hardly argue if the princess had ordered Mouse to stay in the room. There was no way the older woman would risk punishing the maid for following orders, particularly when the orders came from the Crown Princess herself.
“Stay there,” Alassa ordered. She forced herself to think. Jade and Emily were good at plans, but Alassa preferred to follow her instincts. Besides, she knew there was no way she could outwit her father. She’d have to move faster than him. “I have a job for you.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Mouse said.
Alassa barely heard her. Imaiqah was in the lower dungeons. Heavily guarded, heavily warded … only the Tower of Alexis was more secure. Imaiqah would probably be moved to the tower within the day, if she wasn’t executed in the next few hours. And getting her out of the tower would be impossible. No, she had to be rescued before she could be moved or executed.
There’s no time to call for help, Alassa reminded herself. And I don’t even have time to send a message.
She took the signet ring off her finger and muttered a spell over it. The coat of arms – her coat of arms – started to glow faintly. It wasn’t a complicated charm, but it was bound to her personally. No one, not even the most powerful magician in the world, could fake it. Jade would know it was her ring, when – if – it reached him. And then …
“I have a job for you,” she said to Mouse. “And you’ll have to follow instructions to the letter.”
Mouse looked up, gravely. “Whatever you want, Your Highness.”
Alassa passed her the ring and a handful of gold coins. “Go through the gatehouse and down into the town,” she ordered. The ring alone would be enough to identify Mouse as one of Alassa’s messengers. “Find a place to stay – not your family’s home – and remain there for a week. If you don’t hear from me by then, go to Master Abrams in the Grassmarket and tell him to send a message to Jade describing what happened.”
She sucked in her breath as Mouse took the ring, the glow confirming that Alassa had given it willingly. If she was lucky, her father would accept Imaiqah’s escape as a fait accompli: he’d be angry, of course, but he’d accept it. Alassa would be in disgrace for a while – she was sure of that – yet she was his only adult heir. He might send her off on a long progression or something else that would banish her from court for a while, but he wouldn’t kill her. There was no point in sending Jade an update until she knew what had happened. It would only worry him.
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