by Janeal Falor
I sneer. He has no idea who he's dealing with. Granted, he is big, but not enough to scare me. “You'd better run home to your own momma before I cut off your life,” I say.
He shakes his head. Slowly. Like he's stupid.
I throw one of my daggers at him, knowing it'll hit its mark no problem. But he moves faster than I expected a man of his size to. He darts down. I stand and stare. Maybe he's more of a challenge than I first thought.
He comes up, thrusting his sword toward me. I block with my dagger, my heart thudding in my throat. I need to get a gap between us, but I can't lead him to Nash.
We do a dance—me darting in and out of his reach, him following my foot patterns. There's a danger in getting too close, but it's better than taking him to Nash. I manage to slice him on the left arm as I twirl away. He growls but shows no sign of slowing. I swing my torch at him, to force him to keep his distance. He bats at it, almost knocking it from my hand. I give the handle a firm grip to make certain it doesn’t slip from my grasp.
As I continue sparring with this huge man, I notice my guards try to reach me, but their combatants get in their way. They don't want me to have help. That's fine.
The sword flashes in my face.
I may need more help than I thought till now.
There's a clang as the blade of my dagger hits the metal of the sword. It happens over and over again. I'm losing my area. Soon, I'll be over by the wall, close to Nash. At least I think it's a wall. It's hard to tell.
I have to keep my ground, though. I whip the torch back and forth, near my opponent's face. His lip has a split right down the middle, glistening with saliva. My stomach protests, but there's not time to think on it.
The man grins at me, the split stretching out. I block his sword with my torch and move my dagger toward that split. Before I get there, he jerks back. No easy target. Exactly what I don't want, when Nash is lying on the ground. If he's still alive, he needs attention. And if he's not…
Can't think. Must fight.
I move reflexively, diving in and out, away from danger and in for a strike. I get the tip of the torch on him, but he moves before it can do any real damage. He jumps so far back I'm tempted to run to Nash. But no. I have to finish the man and all other combatants still up, or I won't be able to help Nash properly.
Taking a wild step to the side, to end this fight early, I chuck my torch at my opponent. It hits its mark. The man screams, staggering backward. I keep my attention on him while seeing how everyone else is doing out the corner of my eye.
A guard is next to me, fighting for her life against another burly male. I pull out a dagger and throw it at her attacker's back. There's no time to see if it does its job. My opponent is coming back at me, face contorted with rage.
Maybe throwing that torch was a bad idea.
I pull out yet another dagger as I block the first blow. I move my hands in a fast array of motion. I'm faster than him, but he's got a longer reach. And anger, which is both good and bad in a fight.
He presses in on me, making me wish I fought with longer blades. Then he slumps to the ground.
Wilric stands in his place. He gives me a nod.
With a quick glance around, I find that my guards are holding their own, and many of our opponents have gone down. I could jump in the fray, but it doesn't look like they need me.
I keep the dagger in my right hand, but put the other away as I rush to Nash's side. His eyes are closed.
Is he…?
I grit my teeth against the sudden onslaught of emotion. This is too much to deal with. I glance around the room, to make certain no one’s sneaking up on me. My guards are headed this way, but everyone else is tied up or unconscious.
When I look back, Nash's face is ashen. I reach forward, hand shaking. I yank myself back before I can touch him. It doesn’t matter if I do or not, his chest isn’t moving. Tears pool in my eyes. I knew it would come to this. Knew he wouldn't be able to last.
“What have they done to you?” I whisper.
A tear drops and lands on his skin. I so badly wanted things to turn out differently. To be all right. For Nash not to suffer because of the choices I made.
“I'm so sorry.” I want to rest my head against his chest, but I can’t touch him. Instead, I cry into my hands. The soundless sob aches through me, but is nothing compared to the agony inside my soul.
“Ryn?” The voice is raspy but familiar.
I pop my eyelids open to find Nash staring at me.
“You're alive.” The words jump from me.
“For the moment.” It’s the most wonderful sound I've ever heard.
“How are you not dead?” I ask.
“I don't know. This feels like heaven, compared to what I've been living through.”
I want to take his hands in mine, but don’t dare with the guards watching. “I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. I should have done what they told me so you wouldn't suffer.”
“We'll talk about it later.” Despite his voice cracking, it’s so good to hear him. “I want you to know I would do anything to protect you—to protect the crown—even if it meant dying.”
“Don't talk like that.”
“Can I get some water?”
I turn around to order one of my guards to bring some. They're all focused on Nash and me now. I add fierceness to my words. “Someone go get some water.”
I want to do more for Nash. “We need to get you back to the palace.”
He closes his eyes with a nod. “There's a lot we need to talk about. My attackers were plotting against you.”
“I know.” I keep my voice soft.
“Do you know who they are?” Wilric asks, voice soft yet demanding.
Nash coughs. When he gets his breath again, he says, “There was one they called the Hand.”
I glance up at Wilric to find his knuckles white from gripping the sword so tight. “Do you know who that is?”
He nods and points to the man I threw my torch at. He’s tied up in the corner, barely conscious.
Without a thought, I hurry toward the man. He smirks at me, as though drunk, until he sees my face. Then he tries to scoot back, but there’s nowhere for him to go. I grab him by his shirt, fisting my hands up. It takes everything in me not to hit him, even when he’s already so beat up.
“Why did you do this?” I demand. “Where’s Daros?”
“Who’s Daros?” His words slur together.
“You know who he is. The man who’s been ordering you around. The one who told you to hurt Nash.”
His lips clamp tight together. He’s not going to talk.
Rage ripples through me. I want to punch him in the stomach over and over again until he talks. I can’t handle him keeping things from me when I’m so close. “Where is Daros?”
His gaze crawls up to meet mine. He must see something of my rage there because he blanches, but still doesn’t give in. Wilric puts a foot on his hurt ankle and presses down. The man cries out and yells, “You can’t tell him it was me who told you.”
“You’ll have a lot worse to deal with if you don’t tell me everything you know right now.”
“It was Ranen.”
“Ranen?” What is he talking about? His pain must be making him delirious.
“You don't know.” He cringes, as if in pain, which he probably is.
“Know what?” I try not to make my tone harsh. Demanding. But it comes out that way anyway.
“Ranen's the one who had Nash kidnapped. The one who made us torture him.”
“No. No, no, nononono.” That doesn't make sense. It can't be. “He's been in the dungeon this whole time. He can't be behind the plot.”
“He is,” the Hand says.
“Could he be, Your Majesty?” Wilric says from somewhere behind me.
I shake my head. “I don't know. Tell us more.”
“All I know is what I’ve been told. Ranen’s been in contact with us this whole time, even from the dungeons. There’s at least
one guard who is loyal to him. Didn’t want to let him out yet, though, because he was safe orchestrating it from his cell.”
“What about Daros?” I ask.
“He has nothing to do with this.”
Ranen was really behind it this whole time? I can’t believe it. I let go of the Hand’s shirt, and he slumps backward. As I hurry back to Nash, I send instructions to have several of the guards check out the prison.
Wilric is at Nash’s side, binding the worst of his injuries.
When I get to them, Nash reaches for me but then stops himself. “I'm so glad you're here.”
“I'm glad to finally have made it.” I whisper the words and then say more loudly, “Can you walk?”
“Better than being carried.”
“Not if you need the assistance. We can get you to the palace.” Except that would slow us down, and I'm eager to get back.
He sits up so slowly he might as well stay lying down. Wilric reaches over to help him. I make myself scarce in a corner, to process what the Hand said. Could Ranen be behind this plot? I have no reason not to trust the Hand, but none to trust him, either. I have to find out for myself.
“I have to get back to the dungeon.”
Nash gives a humorless laugh. “That's definitely you, Ryn. A few times I thought you were here, but it was my brain playing tricks on me. No, this is you.”
Guilt slaps me in the face. I haven't done a great job with him. He needs nurturing kindness right about now, and instead, I'm giving him nothing good. Just more worries and fears.
I get to my feet and let Eldim assist Wilric with Nash. He can stand on his own, but not without grimacing. It's a long way back to the palace to go like this. Part of me wants to go ahead, to get to Ranen and make him pay for what he's done. The other part is frightened to leave Nash again. Even with my guards surrounding him, I don't trust his safety.
I don't trust anything.
I have to stay with him.
But—oh—it hurts to see him like this.
“Be gentler with him,” I say. “Can't you see you're hurting him?”
He's got an arm slung over the shoulder of Wilric and another over Eldim’s. It's then I notice it and gasp. Nash’s pinky-less left hand lays limp.
“What's wrong?” Wilric's sword is out while he continues to hold up Nash.
“It's nothing.” I try to erase the sight from my mind.
“She's just surprised I'm so pretty,” Nash says.
He really is a sight to behold. Bruises cover him. Dried blood. Who knows what other scars? He's not at all like the man I knew a week ago.
His head lulls forward while he half-walks and is half-carried by Eldim and Wilric. We head out of the building. We never considered this. Just another basement, in a Kurah house, down the street from the one we were at before. The longer we're here, the more guards show up, but they're too late to do any real good.
It doesn’t matter. Nash is here, not well but alive.
Chapter 41
“Go on ahead and make certain Ranen is in the dungeon and stays put until I get there,” I say to Eldim. “I sent guards, but I want you to go too.”
“I should stay with you, Your Majesty.”
“No. I need to do this myself, but since I can't, you're the next best thing. I'm trusting you to make sure he's there.”
He looks as if he wants to argue more, but Wilric says, “We'll take care of Her Majesty. There are enough guards here. I'll make sure nothing happens to her.”
Eldim nods, another guard takes his place helping Nash, and he runs off toward the palace. He'll be there long before us and keep an eye on Ranen.
Now that I know the true source of the problem, I can't help but worry about it. How has Ranen managed so much from behind prison bars? And why?
I have to focus on Nash.
I tell the closest guard, “Get Nash’s family to the palace.”
He nods and hurries away.
“How are you holding up?” I ask Nash.
He grunts.
Not good. I wish there was a way to get him to the palace faster. I need to think of something to distract him. “Did you know I made Jem my Head Advisor while you were gone?”
“You didn't.” There's a hint of humor in his voice.
“I certainly did. You'd be surprised how much better we're getting along. I'm beginning to think that she has some good opinions. Some.”
He snorts.
“Go ahead and laugh, but all I say is true.” I want to ask what they did to him. How he handled it. How he's even still alive. But I can't have that conversation when he's barely dragging himself through the streets. “I did all sorts of things while you were away.”
“Like what?” He takes short, gasping breaths.
I want to grab hold of him. “I sat for my portrait. And, would you believe it,my ladies-in-waiting are not as bad as I thought. I enjoyed spending time with them, in fact.”
“Things have changed,” is all he manages to get out.
I continue to talk. About what I said with the girls. About how Stird’s parents were captured, but we got them back. About how finding him was thanks to Wilric’s hard work.
We come to the palace, and the portcullis is raised for us. I don't worry over how many people are behind us. We go right in.
Inkga is the first person I see. She's not even waiting inside the palace but outside the front doors.
“What do you need, Your Majesty?” she asks before I get to her.
“A healer, as soon as possible.”
She gives a curtsy and runs like I want her to. Like I want to.
“Help will be here soon,” I tell Nash.
“I'm fine.”
I give a slight smile. “Sure, you are.”
“Seriously. Now that you saved me, I feel better.”
My heart melts a little, but he's not doing as well as he says.
Eldim is not in the dungeon, where he's supposed to be. He's waiting for me inside the doorway. We usher Nash to a nearby seat where he curls in on himself.
My heart thuds against my ribs as I look to Eldim. Why is he here? This can’t be good.
“I'm sorry, my lady.” His voice is more regretful than I’ve ever heard it before. “Ranen is gone.”
Chapter 42
Nash makes a choking sound.
“That can't be,” I say, trying to not let myself be distracted to go help Nash. There’s nothing I could do for him right now anyway except try to find his captor. “He has to be there. Has to.”
“I'm sorry. It's all my fault,” Eldim says. “He wasn't there when I arrived, but if I’d gotten here sooner, I might have caught him.”
“What about the guards down there and those I sent before?”
“I found them tied up, unconscious.”
Is one of them Ranen’s man pretending to be captured to stay close to me? I can’t trust anyone except a few of my close guards. Maybe. “Did you wake them? Did they know anything?”
“Not a thing. The guards you sent said Ranen was in his cell when they arrived. Next thing they knew, they were being woken by me, with a giant headache.”
Fabulous. “What do we do now?” I can't have another criminal on the loose. It's not happening.
I turn around and go right back outside, facing the eighty or so soldiers still hanging around. “Ranen, the old Head Advisor, has gone missing. I want him found and brought to me as soon as possible.” When they stare at me, I yell, “Now.”
The guards turn back to where they came from, Afet going along and giving them orders. It's likely they'll have just as much luck finding him as they have Daros. This is horrible. I can't believe the predicament.
“Nash, let’s go to my rooms. You’re rooms aren’t secured, and the healer will come see you there.” Mostly, I want to be with him. Especially with Ranen on the loose, I can't trust Nash to go to the barracks to be seen by a healer.
Wilric and Afet help him to my rooms, where Nash insists he's fine in
a chair in the sitting room instead of going to my bedroom where he can lie down. “It wouldn't be proper,” he says.
“Like I care for such things.”
He gives me a faint smile, but says nothing further.
Wilric and Afet leave the room, presumably to stand guard outside.
“What happened?” I ask. “How did they capture you?”
“As easily as I snuck into your rooms.” Ranen and several burly guards come out from my bedroom, one with a bow pointed directly at Nash.
Chapter 43
At least I found Ranen. This is a horrible place to be in, though. I can't handle putting Nash in danger yet again. I stand in front of him to block him from view. Now the arrow is pointed at me, but it doesn't matter. Better me—the one who messes everything up—than Nash, who is good to the core.
I open my mouth to call for Wilric and the other guards, but Ranen stops me. “I wouldn't do that if I were you.”
“Why not? Afraid to handle a little fight?”
“I know you better than that. It wouldn't be just a little fight. It would be something atrocious.”
I give a half-smile. “So you're scared.”
He glowers, reminding me of all the reasons I always hated him. “I'm no such thing.”
“Then why don't you fight me yourself?” I ask.
“I'm not trained in fighting, like you are. Unlike some uncouth people, my strength lies in words.”
“Words are not your specialty, unless you count yelling and throwing a fit as a good thing.”
He scowls, and I know I've hit a nerve. One I shouldn't be hitting when his man has an arrow pointed at my heart.
I hit it anyway, grateful to be able to. “So why all this charade, if you could have gotten yourself out of the dungeon long ago?”
“Like I'll ever tell you.”
“How did you get in here?”
“Secret tunnel that you’ll never find.” He grins and snaps his fingers. It's the only warning I get before an arrow is speeding toward me. I duck, but not fast enough. It embeds itself into my left shoulder. Thank goodness or it would have made it hit Nash. I’m not accustomed to protecting anyone but myself. I break the shaft and pull out my daggers before another arrow is loaded.
