Shattered Throne (Book 1 of The Shattered Throne Series)

by Cate Dean

  “I—I didn’t check him for a weapon.” Fool—she let living in a safe place lull her. Then she realized what Thomas asked. “How—”

  “I have asked around, since milord is set on spending time with you.” She closed her eyes, waiting for him to tell her she had to leave. Or worse, that he planned to tell Micah what he learned. “Your past is just that, Raine. Yours. You need to tell him, before his feelings for you compel him to do more than smile your way.”

  “I will,” she whispered.

  “Why were you interrogating him?”

  Joseph stared at her, even more pale and sweaty. She decided to show pity.

  “I thought he might know something about Liam. Let him go.” She freed her wounded arm long enough to hand Thomas the key, and let out a harsh gasp when the blade shifted. Gods protect her, it felt like a small, sharp-clawed animal was tearing its way through her arm. She watched Thomas release him. “Can you leave us alone for a moment, Thomas?” He nodded and stepped outside. Raine used the wall to stand, blocking the door. “If you value your life, you won’t return to the castle. I’m going to tell Micah everything.”

  She didn’t think it was possible, but the man’s face paled more. “You will be arrested.”

  “Probably. But he will be safe. I made a mistake, letting you leave alive. I won’t make it a second time.”

  “You are not—”

  “Come anywhere near Micah, and you will die. Even if it costs my freedom, I will make certain Micah knows your part in his abduction.”

  She stepped aside, and like the rat he was, Joseph scurried out of her room. Relief flooded her, swept away the adrenaline keeping her upright.

  “I’ve got you, Raine.” Thomas caught her around the waist, led her to the chair next to her bed. “I am going to do it here, so we don’t bloody the sheets.” He knelt in front of her, pulling a long knife off his belt. “Do you need me to tie you down?”

  “No.” Her mind flinched away from the memories that kept trying to push their way back to the surface. Memories she spent so long burying behind the façade of a new life. “Do it quickly, and please keep me from hitting the floor if I happen to pass out.”

  “As a royal guard, it goes against all my training to allow any part of a lady to hit the floor. Unless she requests it.” He winked at her, startling a smile from her. “Ready?”

  She nodded, afraid she might beg him to drug her if she opened her mouth again. No mind altering substance was crossing her tongue again, if she could help it.

  Thomas carefully straightened her left arm. Raine clutched the edge of the chair, every movement shooting hot needles of pain into her.

  “Raine—”

  “Please do it,” she whispered. “It will be fine, Thomas. I’ve had worse.”

  He nodded, not looking surprised. Gods, he must have learned more than she feared.

  “This is going to hurt you, and I am sorry for it. Will you be able to stay conscious?”

  “No—promises.”

  “Forgive me.”

  Before she had the chance to tense his blade slid into her arm.

  Pain exploded through her. Raine lowered her head, bit back the scream clawing up her throat. Even with the noise in the main room, it would be heard.

  The cold steel cut deeper into her arm. She jerked, her body overriding her mind, and trying to find an escape from the torture.

  “Raine, I need you to keep still.”

  She nodded, and wrapped her free arm around the slat of the chair back. The next step was twice as bad—unhooking the end of the blade from the muscle and tissue in her arm. Completely blind.

  Thomas wiped the sweat on his forehead, and tightened his grip on her wrist. His blade shifted, and she gasped, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood.

  “—Raine? I need to know where the hook landed. Tell me where.”

  It took surprising effort to open her eyes. She felt lightheaded, the pain in her arm radiating across her chest. Blinking, she focused on Thomas, on what he needed.

  “I can—feel the blade. Against my bone.”

  “Inner or outer part of your arm? Raine.” The urgency in his voice told her she must have greyed out again. “Which side of the bone?”

  “Inner.” Her muscles convulsed, and she wanted to tear her arm off, to get away from the fire burning through her. “Please—leave it. I can’t—gods, it hurts so much—I can’t think—”

  “Which is why I will ignore your ridiculous request. Look at me. Focus on me.”

  She did, startled by the anguish in those clear green eyes. Sweat slicked both of them, but his hands were steady, the fingers that gripped his knife sure and strong.

  “You’ll have to—” She swallowed the nausea crawling up her throat. Later—she could be sick later. “Cut the hook free.”

  He closed his eyes, but he nodded. “You can feel it?”

  “Tugging. It’s already cut through muscle.”

  “I want to do as little damage as I can.”

  “Too late,” she whispered.

  “Have a bit of faith in me. Raine—look at me. Keep your eyes on me.”

  The pain threatened to devour her. It was so huge, worse than any she’d felt since—

  She screamed when Thomas cut the hook free.

  He caught her, held her up in the chair until he slid both knives out of her arm. In one graceful move, he whipped a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it against her wound.

  Celia burst into the room. She halted, her gaze landing on Raine’s arm. “What in all the hells happened?”

  “A would-be thief,” Thomas said. “Raine surprised him and he attacked her.” The lie slid off his tongue, so smooth and convincing even Raine believed him. “I will take her to the local—”

  “You’ll be taking her to the castle.” Celia moved to her, brushed sweat soaked hair off her cheek. “You know I don’t often take advantage of my brother’s position. Tonight will be an exception.”

  “Of course.” Thomas guided Raine’s free hand to the handkerchief. “Keep pressure on it. I want a more permanent bandage, since we are traveling.”

  Celia pointed toward the kitchen. “There’s an emergency kit in the cupboard next to the sink.” She laid her hand over Raine’s, applying the pressure Raine didn’t have the strength to give. “You’ll be fine. You’re so strong, Raine. So strong.”

  Celia kept murmuring to her, rubbing her back, touching her face, keeping her conscious. After an eternity, Thomas returned, and gently bandaged the wound. Even with his care, it still felt like her arm was on fire.

  “Raine.” Thomas cupped her chin, lifting it until she met his eyes. “I will carry you now, so there is no need to fight. Do you understand?”

  She did. It was safe to let go, to fall into the darkness closing around her.

  Strong arms picked her up. She felt Celia’s hand on her right wrist, walking alongside them through the main room. Oh, gods—not in front of the—

  “She’s all right,” Celia said. “Stopped a thief from cleaning out my larder. Stay with her, Thomas.”

  “I will, ma’am.”

  Thomas carried her past the silent patrons, and she heard the first whisper.

  “She’s half-blood. Ye think it were—”

  “The murderer, come straight to their victim—”

  Thomas walked out, the heavy door cutting off the rising voices. She leaned against his shoulder, the cold wind off the harbor chilling her damp skin. It eased the fire burning through her. The wound on her arm throbbed in time with her heart, blood saturating the bandage, sliding over her skin. She knew the damage was bad enough to possibly cripple her.

  Joseph may have won their battle after all.

  Twelve

  Micah was in his workshop, poring over the maps he’d snuck out of Liam’s office when Thomas pushed the door open.

  “Raine is here, milord. She’s been injured.”

  He slid off the stool, the plan forming in his mind wiped
clean by those three words.

  “Where?”

  “Come.”

  Thomas turned, and Micah ran after him, Kres on their heels. He refused to think beyond putting one foot in front of the other. She had to be all right, she had to be—

  They sprinted across the main hall, toward the small chamber where Liam met with petitioners. Micah halted, turning to his fire drake.

  “Stay out of sight. I don’t want you ending up with an arrow in your wing because a nervous guard is jumping at shadows. Besides, I know you can hear everything from here.”

  Kres snorted, but did as he was told, leaping up to settle on the wood beam just above the door. Micah took a shaky breath, and stepped inside.

  Blood stained the stone floor, the old carpet Liam refused to get rid of, the trail leading to the musty velvet settee. People crowded around it, blocking his view. Not able to stand it any longer, he pushed past the guards at the back—and heard her voice, edged with pain but firm.

  “Use the silk thread—you’ll need to leave the stitches in—gods—”

  “Out of my way.” He pushed through the last line of human obstacles. Once they realized it was him, the space in front of the settee cleared. Raine sat at one end, her right hand gripping the rolled arm. Giles, the castle physician, had her left arm on his thigh, giving Micah a clear view of the source. “Raine—”

  She glanced up, her eyes dark with pain. “I’m all right, milord.” A harsh gasp told him her assurance was a lie. Not that he needed any prompting; her face was so pale, her freckles stood out.

  “You would be in less pain, girl, if you accepted the opiate.”

  “Keep sewing. Smaller stitches—the muscle has to be—”

  “What knowledge gives you the right to direct me?”

  Raine stared at him, her face draining of what little color remained. Micah answered for her. “She is apprenticed to one of the city physicians. I believe stitching a wound is basic, and she would have the knowledge to judge your handiwork.”

  Giles scowled, but his stitches changed, small and precise as they closed what was obviously a knife wound in her forearm. Micah waved at Thomas.

  He strode past the ever-growing crowd of castle staff. “Yes, milord?”

  “Can you clear the room for me, please? Raine doesn’t need an audience for her ordeal. But I want you to stay.”

  Thomas bowed, curiosity in his eyes when he straightened. “I will be interested in knowing why, milord.”

  “Then you’d better move them along.”

  Thomas flashed a rare smile turned to the small crowd. “Come on, now, you all have places to be, and work to do. Go on, back to it.” He followed the stragglers to the door and closed it behind them.

  When Micah turned back to the settee, he found Raine studying him. She looked less pale, but there were dark circles under her eyes, and sweat slid down her face.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Micah waited for the physician to finish bandaging her arm and take his leave, scowling. Then he crouched in front of her, laid his hand over hers. “Can you tell me who did this?” Instead of answering him, she glanced at Thomas. “Raine—tell me what happened. I trust Thomas, whatever it is.”

  She tugged her hand free, anger snapping in her eyes. “I am not one of your subjects, milord. I merely reside in your city, until my bond is paid.”

  “I didn’t—” He closed his eyes, forced down the need to take her in his arms, make certain she would be fine. That she would stay here, with him, until she was well. “Please, tell me who did this to you.”

  The anger faded, replaced by regret, and another emotion he could not identify before it disappeared.

  “Your brother’s advisor, Joseph Kerrow.”

  Shock jolted him. “Joseph? No.” He stood, backing away from her. “Joseph is the most loyal man I have ever met. He wouldn’t—”

  “He was part of your abduction, Micah. I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. He was wounded in the explosion.”

  Micah shook his head—and closed his eyes when the memory of the man who protected him shot through his mind. The man had called him lordling, a nickname only Liam used.

  “You’re certain of this?”

  “I pulled the shrapnel out of his side myself. I also threatened to kill him if he betrayed you. He—” She let out a low cry, and clutched her arm.

  Micah sat next to her, eased her back against the settee. “What?” He already knew, but he needed to hear it spoken.

  “Joseph betrayed your brother.”

  The words hurt more than he anticipated. “I have to go after Liam. I have to find him.”

  “The men sent after him will bring him home.” Ari stood in the doorway. He had obviously been there long enough to overhear their conversation. The rage on his face told Micah that much. “Your job is here.”

  “I—what?”

  “It will take time for them to track down the Duke, return him home. Until then, Palamar needs a leader.”

  Micah stared at him. He was no leader. His life had been planned based on his order at birth; he was the second son. The extra. He never felt that way, because he enjoyed the freedom that came with being second far too much.

  “I can’t.”

  “There is no on else.” Ari stalked forward, and shocked Micah by kneeling in front of him. “I accept you as my lord, and my Duke, until your brother returns.”

  “Please, don’t kneel before me, Captain.” He caught Ari’s arm. “I am no leader.”

  “You are now. Unless you wish for one of your brother’s council to step in as regent.” Ari studied him. “I wouldn’t care for the idea if I were in your place.”

  Raine touched his hand. “He’s right, Micah.”

  “My lord.” Ari brought Micah’s attention away from her. “It is past time for you to resume your sword lessons. I will take over from Thomas.”

  Micah barely managed to keep from flinching, and held up his hands. “These may not cooperate.”

  “Then we will work around them.” He stood, and paused next to Thomas. “I would have a moment before you leave on patrol. I’d like to hear about your progress so far.”

  Thomas glanced over at Micah. That report was not going to be complimentary. “I’ll meet you in the courtyard.”

  Ari nodded, and walked out of the chamber.

  With a final bow to Micah, Thomas strode out of the room, leaving them alone.

  Raine cradled her bandaged arm. “I should get back to The Black Arrow.”

  “You’re staying here. At least for the night.” Micah stood, needing to put distance between them. He wanted to hold her, take care of her, so badly his hands shook. “I believe I still have the sling you gave me. I can take you to a room in the guest wing, and have one of the maids find it for—”

  “I would prefer being closer to you. In case Joseph comes back.”

  “Right. Of course.” He shoved down the hope that surged through him. Raine had been distant from the moment he laid eyes on her. He did not understand why—oh. Gods, he was a fool. “The guest wing was not a euphemism for the dungeon.”

  She let out a surprised laugh. “I assumed you would wait until morning before tossing me in a cell.”

  “It’s not going to happen, Raine.” He took a chance, and moved forward, cradling her cheek. “We all trusted Joseph.”

  “But I knew what he did—and I kept it from you. Because of that Liam is—”

  “He’s gone because a group of men wanted him gone. It would have happened, and I think they may have simply killed him outright, if Joseph hadn’t been there to negotiate for his life.”

  She closed her eyes, and Micah watched her sway. The injury was worse than she let on; he’d known that since he saw the ugly gash in her arm.

  Before she could argue, he slipped his hand under her elbow. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  He knew she was hurting when she didn’t argue with him.

  ~ ~ ~

 
Raine woke early, her arm throbbing. She decided it would be best to leave now, before Micah could convince her to stay.

  And he would, studying her with those clear blue eyes, pointing out all the reasons for her to recover here. But she couldn’t—couldn’t be here, couldn’t be near him.

  She was falling in love with him.

  “Fool,” she whispered. A snort answered her. Startled, she lifted her head, and found the fire drake crouched on the footboard of her enormous bed, dark eyes intent. “I know you understand me, drake. I would appreciate your company, while I sneak out.” He tilted his head. “Do you happen to know a fast and quiet way out?”

  With another snort he hopped off the footboard and trotted to the door, glancing behind him. The look in his eyes told her he was obviously ready, and what was taking her so long?

  She smiled, and eased herself out of the bed, reaching for her bloodstained clothing. Used to dressing in a common dressing room, having a drake watch did not bother her.

  Slowly, every movement stabbing pain into her arm, she pulled on her white blouse and blue wool skirt, making the effort to buckle her thick leather belt. Her arm throbbing now, she picked up the sling she left on the night table. She slipped the linen over her head, and eased her arm through the support, breathing easier with the arm cradled and protected.

  Now all she had to do was get out of the castle before Micah talked her into staying.

  She moved across the room, halting next to the drake. “Lead on, Kres. And yes, I’ll owe you for this.” She swore he grinned at her before slipping out through the partially opened door.

  How did he get in? Raine saw Micah close the door behind him when he left. She had a feeling the fire drake was far more clever than even Micah suspected. Taking advantage of that, she followed him out of the room, closing the door.

  They made it halfway down the corridor before one of the castle maids stopped her, clearly startled by Kres.

  “Miss.” She bobbed a quick curtsy, most likely to cover herself, since Raine was here because of Micah. “I was on my way to escort you to breakfast.”

  “Can you take me to the main hall instead? I really need to get back.”