by Janeal Falor
If only I’d been a little faster. A little stronger.
I should have been training with Nash more. Doing something to make myself better besides regular exercises. My skills are growing weaker without something to challenge them daily. No use worrying about it now.
I turn to the nearest servant. “Send word as soon as you have an update on Jaku.”
If he dies on my watch, saving my life, I’ll never be able to forgive myself. I just have to go and put myself in danger.
No. It’s not my fault. It’s the Kurah’s.
They are the ones who attacked. They and some well-trained assassins. Between the two, it could be his undoing. It won’t be mine.
The servant bows and scurries off. Everyone hurries around me, like a storm is brewing and I am the force behind it.
“Nash?”
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Take me to the interrogation room. You can come in, if you’d like, but we’re going to find out who’s at the bottom of this.”
“Right this way.” He turns and heads down a hall that leads toward the dungeon. I follow him, my many guards surrounding me. There are several more than usual, like even in the palace they don’t trust that I’m safe.
Not that they should. I’ve never been safe, no matter where I go.
Nash leads me through the halls until we reach a door near the dungeon. A guard stands on either side, and Nash says a word to them. He then opens the door and proceeds to lead me inside, where two more guards watch over a man sitting on the sole chair in the room.
It’s dark in here, with no windows or any light except for a lantern held by one of the guards. The man sitting on the chair isn’t one I recognize from the fight. He must have been taken down by one of my guards. He has a big chin and nose and small eyes that are too far apart. His expression says he doesn’t want to talk to me, but there’s a hint of fear in those tiny eyes.
I pull out my dagger and use it to clean under my fingernails. I take my time, though what I want is to scream at him to give me answers. Once I finish with one hand, I move on to the other. I don’t have long nails, but the process is what matters.
When I’m done, I slide the dagger back into its hilt with a snick. The man before me has beads of sweat dripping down his forehead.
“What was your mission, and who ordered you to do it?” I ask in my calmest yet most sinister voice.
The man’s response is shaky. “You can’t make me talk.”
I let a grin creep across my lips. “Are you sure about that?”
He whimpers.
“I see my reputation precedes me, so let’s make this easy. You give me answers, and I won’t be forced to hurt you.” I wouldn’t, though he doesn’t need to know that.
His chin quivers, but he clamps his mouth shut. Doesn’t want to talk but is scared not to. Maybe he needs a little nudge. I pull my dagger back out and almost place it on one of his fingers, but that reminds me too much of Nash and what he went through. Instead, I place it under his chin, the tip pointed up. “It would only be too easy to leave you with a hole in the bottom of your mouth.” I pull the blade away but keep it out. “Did the Kurah hire you?”
He darts his gaze from me to the guards and back.
“We know the answer, so you might as well admit it,” I say.
“They did.”
“Good answer. And who—specifically—was it?”
He licks his lips. “I don’t know.”
I slide my blade against his neck. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
“Please. I’ll tell you. I would, anyway, because there’s not much to tell.”
I don’t take the dagger away. “Tell me.”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the metal. “The man who hired me was wearing a cloak with the hood up. I didn’t see his face.”
As much as I’d like to think otherwise, I believe he’s telling the truth.
“What color was the cloak?”
“Brown.”
Same as before. “Did you notice any jewelry or other clothing?”
“Nothing. It was dark, and he was hidden within the folds of his cloak.”
Drat. I'm going to get no further information.
I storm from the room, Nash on my heels. Once the door is closed, I say, “I want you to interview all the Kurah who attacked us. Find out who organized them.”
He gives a jerky nod, eyes haunted. “Consider it done.”
Is he strong enough to do this? “Are you certain?”
His voice lowers. “Anything for you, My Queen.”
Warmth blossoms through me, though there’s no time to dwell on it. “Thank you. I’ll interview the rest of the mercenaries and see what I can find out.”
We part ways, though my heart says that we should stay together. I know that we need to do this.
It takes hours and hours, but all I get from those I can get to talk is the same answer. Two hold out, refusing to say a thing, but the others all say the man who hired them was hooded and cloaked, hiding his features. Male, medium build, in a nondescript brown cloak. That’s the best description I can get out of them. It’s not nearly enough. That could describe almost half of the population.
I stalk through the halls, ignoring my guards as I head toward the interrogation room Nash should be working at. He’s leaning against the wall, by the door, expression so neutral I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“Any luck?” I ask.
He runs a hand through his short hair, fingers shaking. “No. Everyone I talked to heard a rumor from someone else in this prison. The one woman who didn’t hear it from another Kurah said she heard it from a man cloaked and hooded in brown.”
“Let me guess. Medium build?”
“Yes.”
I refrain from punching the wall, but only just. It would do much greater damage to me than I would to the brick. “This is useless. Someone wants me dead or to give in to them, and we don’t know who. The Kurah are too well-organized. Everything is going far too smoothly for them. I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll keep searching for answers.” His voice is soft, calming my rage.
I want to go to him, to find solace in his touch, but there are too many guards around. “Why don’t you go rest for the night? It’s been a long day. Hopefully, we’ll have more answers for you in the morning. In the meantime, you can get a clear head.”
His eyes have dark circles under them, fraught with heavy blinks.
“I will, on the condition that you get some rest too. You need to sleep, to refresh yourself.”
He opens his mouth, eyes fierce, but then they soften. “You’re right. I’ll try. But first let me walk you back and find out if there’s any news on Jaku.”
“Fair enough.”
We head out toward my rooms. The stroll is companionable but silent. Though I’m frustrated and upset, being next to him is soothing, even if we can’t touch. It doesn’t take long to reach our destination. A servant is waiting outside the door.
Julina goes to check inside while the servant gives us a report on Jaku. “He’s going to make it. The healer wants him to take it easy for a while, but Jaku is trying to get up and about. Says he needs to figure out why this attack happened and keep it from happening again.”
Tension leaves me. He’s going to be all right. “Tell him he’s to rest, by order of the queen. He can get back to his job when the healer says he’s well enough.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll try.”
Try may be all any of us can do, but it’s enough to ease my worries, if nothing else. As long as he didn’t die saving my life and is going to heal well, I can be fine with him trying to get back to work.
I excuse the servant and glance at Nash. He gives me a bow, and as I go into my rooms, I turn to see him talking to one of the guards.
“Your rooms are clear, Ryn,” Julina says, “but your parents are in there, waiting for you.”
How long have they been w
aiting? It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing I can do to change it. “Very well.”
I move into my rooms. Julina stays outside, but Wilric follows me in and places himself in an out-of-the-way corner. It’s warm in here, the fire lighting up the room against the dark night. I barely have time to register that much before Mother is almost on me, tears streaming down her face.
“We heard you were almost killed again. I couldn’t handle it if something happened to you.”
“I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.” I’ve been gone for much longer than I meant to—especially for not learning anything.
“We had to make certain you’re all right.”
I glance at Father, who’s waiting behind her. He nods but doesn’t get a chance to speak before his wife continues.
“I’ve never seen so many attackers at once. I don’t think you should go out anymore. Let the people come here to see you. Don’t put yourself at risk of being hurt again.”
My immediate instinct is to snap that I will do what I want to, but then I realize she’s only trying to protect me. If it wasn’t so annoying, it’d be nice to have someone thinking and caring about me. “I know you’re trying to help, but I must do what’s needed of me as leader of this country. Between my skills and those of my guards, I’ll be fine.”
She wrings her hands. “If you think that’s best.”
“I do. But I appreciate your concern.”
She goes silent and moves to the window to look outside.
I walk deeper in the room, facing Father. He gives me a commiserating look. Whatever he feels about his wife, he knows how over the top she can be.
On the other hand, she does care.
There’s a knock at the door. I turn to glance at who is coming in. There’s a sharp pain in my back. I cry out and dive forward while grabbing my daggers. I whirl around, ready to face an enemy.
Father—Carver stands in front of me, knife drawn, wet with my blood.
Chapter 36
Everyone is frozen, staring at that knife for a split second. Carver jumps toward me, but Wilric blocks him.
I’m too stunned to do anything other than watch as Wilric takes Carver down, ties him up, and calls out for other guards. Something drips down my back. I blink and force myself to move as the door is opened.
Guards pour in the room and surround me, Nash leading them. “What happened?”
Wilric glances up at me. “Are you all right, Your Majesty?”
It takes me a moment to reply, “Fine.”
“Are you certain? You’re rather pale.”
I blink heavily. “I’m sure.” I can barely feel the stinging in my back. The stinging in my heart is something else entirely.
Wilric hauls Carver to his feet with his hands tied behind his back and turns his attention to the guards. “He attacked Her Majesty.”
One of the guards gasps. I can’t take my eyes off Carver, who’s hanging his head.
“Why did you do it?” Shillian—I can no longer think of her as Mother—says between her sobs. How long has she been crying? “Our own daughter, and you attacked her. Why?”
Is this an act? Is she in on it too? Or is she an innocent bystander? Either way, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to trust her again.
I echo her question. “Why?”
Carver finally lifts his head, his eyes so haunted I flinch. “I had debt that needed to be repaid. He said killing you was the only way I could repay it.”
“Who said?” I have a feeling I already know.
“Daros.”
I clench my teeth. That man gets into my hair more than anyone should.
“You were willing to kill your own daughter to pay back a debt to Daros?” Wilric asks with venom in his voice.
Carver hangs his head again, shoulders sagging. “It was a lot of debt.”
I fold my arms in front of my chest, not sure if I’m holding myself together or holding myself back. “You’re despicable.”
He hunches more.
Shillian comes around to face him, tears still streaming down her face, though the sobs have quieted. She smacks him across the face. “I thought you were done gambling when we had to give up our daughter. You’re disgusting. I want nothing to do with you ever again.”
He doesn’t even have the decency to look up.
I nod to the closest guard. “Please take Shillian Nilmac and have her questioned.”
She turns to me, despair smeared across her features. “You don’t trust me?”
I hold her gaze. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
She nods, though more tears drip. “I’ll do what I can to earn your trust back.” She turns and heads out the door, the guard following her.
* * *
“Are you all right?” Wilric asks.
“Give me a moment, and then I'll worry about my back. It's not a big wound.”
I return my attention to Carver. I feel like smacking him myself but refrain. “I’m going to ask you a few questions, and you’re going to answer them honestly. All right?” I’ve had more than enough of this tonight, but I want answers now.
“I have nothing left to live for, anyway, now that I’ve failed.”
I snarl. I can’t believe this man is my father. “When was the last time you met with Daros?”
“Last night.”
That’s good news. If we can discover his location, we may recapture him. “And where did you meet with him?”
“Here, in the palace.”
I’m too well-trained to gasp, and thankfully, so are my guards. Nash glances at me, eyes clouded with worry. I turn my focus back on Carver. “Where in the palace?”
He looks at me, his gaze earnest. “You won’t find him if he doesn’t want to be found. He’s come to me as a guard, as a servant, and as a courtier. He’s well-versed in disguises.”
Which I should have guessed since he was the one who taught me that skill, though I haven’t put it to much use. “Doesn’t matter. Where did you last meet with him?”
He drops his head again. “In my rooms. He was dressed as a servant.”
My back stings, but I push the pain aside and turn to Julina. “Organize a search throughout the entire castle. No one is above suspicion. No one.”
“Consider it done, Your Majesty.” She bows and rushes from the room.
“Any other questions for the prisoner, Your Majesty?” Wilric asks.
“No. Send him to the dungeons to await his fate.”
Wilric passes him off to a skinny guard, who takes him away.
“The rest of you may leave,” I say.
They filter from the room, leaving Wilric behind. I should have kept Julina around so I could sleep. Granted, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep after all that’s happened, though I’m exhausted.
Inkga should be here soon. I’ll at least be able to change into something more comfortable to work out in. I pace the room, trying to decide what my next course of action should be. Was Daros in this castle the entire time? How is he getting away with blending in without being caught?
“My lady,” Wilric says from his post in the corner. “Might I suggest that we get a healer for your back?”
It’s still stinging, wet, and sticky. “Send for one.”
He opens the door and calls a servant to send for the healer.
It’s a scratch; it won’t do much, though it would be nice to have it cleaned up.
Several minutes later, there’s a knock on the door and a servant announces Inkga and the healer. They both enter, and Inkga comes straight to me while the unfamiliar healer sets down her things on the low table, her ample body taking up a good chunk of space.
“I heard you’ve been injured,” Inkga says.
I wave away her concern. “I’m fine.”
“The palace is going mad with the search for Daros.”
“They’d better find him soon.” I feel like raging but not at her. Part of me wants to be scared again. Part of me is scared, but I shove it down, lettin
g my anger boil it away.
The healer comes over, pulls something out of her long sleeve, and presses it to Inkga’s throat.
“What are you doing?” I glance at the dagger and then at the healer’s eyes. Her familiar eyes.
Daros.
Chapter 37
“You have an uncanny knack of living through everything I throw at you,” Daros says. “Until now.”
My heart is thrumming in my ears so loud I can barely hear him. “Leave Inkga out of this. She’s done nothing to you.”
“And give up my advantage? I don’t think so.”
In the corner, Wilric goes to pull out his sword, but Daros shoves the dagger farther against Inkga’s neck. I hold out a hand to stop him. “We can’t let Inkga get hurt.”
Daros grins, the long hair appearing wrong against the thin face that doesn’t match him or his body. With his free hand, he shakes off the wig, revealing thinning brown hair. His rounded body looks incongruous with the rest of him, as does the well-rounded bosom I know isn’t his.
“What do you want from me?” I ask to distract him so I can think of a plan.
“I want you dead.”
So he can put someone else on the throne and control them, something he’ll never be able to do with me again, even if it means giving up Inkga’s life. I work hard not to gaze into her eyes. To ignore the fear and pain in them. To ignore that same fear and pain in me.
“Even if you kill me, there will be others who stand in your way,” I say.
“I haven’t come all this way to lose. Hold out your hand.”
I hold my head high. “Why should I?”
“Because if you don’t, I’m going to kill your little friend here.”
I try to think of something that will buy me time and give me a way to save her, but all I can think of is obeying—for now. I won’t let him win this.
I hold out my hand. “There. Happy?”
