Seven Ways to Kill a King

by Melissa Wright

  Cass leaned against a building, glancing down at his hand as if distracted, and cut a sharp whistle. The kingsmen’s glares were swift, but Miri had turned too. She had looked backward and saw them advancing.

  Cass wanted to face the soldiers and incite them instead to give chase to him. But he knew they would not. They’d seen the blood on Miri’s side. It was only by the grace of the maiden that they’d not already called an alarm.

  She was only a maid. They thought they could take her. But Myrina of Stormskeep was no maid. She hadn’t run at his warning call. Instead, she’d turned and moved back toward the soldiers in their momentary distraction. A scarf was suddenly over her face, a blade in her hand.

  Cass moved, too, but the kingsmen had drawn up on her. They hadn’t realized they’d walked into a trap.

  Don’t kill them, Cass wanted to call, but he held his tongue and instead drove the hilt of his sword down hard on the base of a kingsman’s neck. He staggered forward, and Cass followed, shoving the man to the ground.

  Miri crouched low, her dagger hand ready. The guard muttered a curse and reached for her, as if to knock the weapon away. Miri’s other hand slammed into his chin, knocking his head back, and she reset and followed with a solid blow to the nose.

  Cass hit the back of the third guard’s knee an instant before his forearm was pressed against the kingsman’s neck. There was a short, grunting shuffle as the first two rose and were batted down again. Miri produced a rope from somewhere and tossed it to Cass. He looped it around one guard’s wrists as she swung a brutal kick into the side of another’s head. She yanked off her belt, threw it at Cass, and shoved a sword away from the third guard with her foot.

  Cass made quick work of the second’s wrists as Miri pulled a vial from her waist.

  He caught her gaze and gave her a look.

  “It’s not permanent.”

  That was all she said before she pressed a soaked cloth over their noses. Cass’s eyes watered against the fumes, but he dragged the bodies behind a wall of crates. Gods, they’d been in an open alley, in plain view. It was beyond foolish.

  Miri tossed the cloak into a bin at the opposite wall of the alley then checked the end of the street. No one had seemed to notice. Or possibly a hundred kingsmen were on their way.

  They moved a few crates to block the pile of men, then Miri glanced at Cass. What do we do? her look seemed to say.

  “We get through the outer gates. Now.”

  “We have to go,” Cass hissed. He’d argued against going back to the inn, but Miri had threatened him with blood. She was impossible and unbearable, and he would not stand for watching her be killed. “The moment they realize their rogue maid is not inside the castle walls—” It would be too late. They would all be done for.

  Miri jerked her shift from inside the mattress, glaring up at him. “I know. They’ll close the main gate.”

  He glared at the garment in her fisted hand, remembering all the times she’d reached for her hem. “You have to tell me, Miri. If you’re caught, if you end up dead—” He bit down the words but didn’t look away. “There is a sorcerer within these city walls. If we lose you, nothing will stop the remaining queensguard from moving on the kings.” They would attempt a rescue of Lettie and give everything in a final attempt.

  He could see Miri understood. She knew it meant they would all die.

  “I need to know,” he said quietly. “I need you to tell me.”

  Miri’s hands shook. They did not have time for this and needed to escape. The kingsmen had seen Cass. They would be searching for a maid Miri’s size and possibly a man of Cass’s.

  He realized his hands were on Miri’s, and he drew back, glaring at the straw mattress.

  She shifted nearer and said, her words no more than a whisper, “Why can you not even look at me?” There was hurt in her tone and concern that she’d somehow done everything wrong.

  But Cass’s answer slipped angrily free before he could rein it in. “Because I like looking at you.” Expression hard, he forced himself to face her. “And that’s something I shouldn’t.”

  Miri did not move. Her entire being had gone terribly still. Her voice was all air when she asked, “Shouldn’t do or shouldn’t like?”

  Cass’s fingers curled into fists. “Either.” He snapped the fists open. “Both.” He turned, moving to peer out the window. He hated that he’d said it and that he’d had to move away.

  Behind him, Miri said, “I like looking at you too.”

  Cass felt his shoulders drop. Of all the things she might have said. “That only makes it worse.”

  Miri moved closer. “I’ve never told. Not anyone.”

  When Cass turned, her gaze was cast down. He let it stay there and only stood before her, inches separating them as Miri breathed her confession.

  “Mother had been reading, and I had fallen asleep. She’d left me there, though I should have been in my rooms, like Lettie. When I woke, Henry was already covered in blood. He was saying something, grabbing at her. His hands were so tight. I remember his knuckles going white, snowdrop pale in the midst of all that rose-red blood. I didn’t even listen. I couldn’t even hear. I only stared.”

  Miri’s arms wrapped around her middle, and Cass could almost feel the heat of Henry’s warning.

  “The doors crashed open, and men ran in. They were dressed like the guard, but they were not bloodsworn. They didn’t—” She shook her head. “I didn’t recognize a single one. Henry had his sword out. I’d not even seen him draw it. It must have been in his hand already, I thought, but his hands had been on my mother. She was standing, too, then, a dagger in each fist. The silver ones with the lion paws that wrapped around the cross guard. Her favorites. The men rushed her and Henry. And those daggers sank through the men’s chests. They didn’t… no one said a single word. Just stabbed. Fought. Fell.”

  Miri was silent for a moment, as if remembering and reliving the nightmare she’d faced as a child. He remembered, too, his own nightmare of the wet sounds of blade entering flesh, the muffled grunts, and heavy bodies as the king’s men and queensguard fell.

  “‘Kill her,’” Miri said abruptly, her gaze finally raising to Cass’s. “That was what the head of those guards said when he finally spoke. He pointed at me and said, ‘Kill her,’ to his men.” Miri swallowed. “And my mother went very still. Her daggers came to her side, and she adjusted her grip. My limbs were frozen. It was like I couldn’t act. All I could do was watch. She stepped forward one pace, Henry at her side. She meant to rush the head of that guard. I could feel it. She was going to stab him for what he’d said. Because of me.”

  Cass didn’t speak. He did not argue with the idea she’d had as a child. He let Miri go on and let her get it out. It was too late for anything else.

  “The men smelled like smoke. The room tasted like wet ash. I didn’t understand what was happening. I didn’t help at all. Henry’s sword swung, but Momma stumbled back. I can still hear the clatter of her daggers on the tile floor. I can still smell… well, I didn’t know it then, but it was burning flesh and treated wood. It was the other levels the sorcerer had set aflame.” Miri drew a breath, her eyes closing to the memories. “I stared down at her. My mother was sprawled half across the floor and half over the chaise where she’d read. Where I had slept. Blood as dark as pitch ran from her nose. As Henry fought the last of the men, I fell to my knees before her, palms pressing her shoulder and chest. ‘Momma,’ I said. That was all. She didn’t let me finish. She seized in pain, her eyes going wide, then she came back, found my face, and took hold of my hand. Her locket was pressed to my palm. She wrapped my fingers around it until I held it firm, then she grabbed my wrist.”

  “‘Henry,’ she whispered, but her words were followed with blood. So much of it. So dark. I knew what color it should be. It was red on her daggers. Red on her hands.” Miri’s fingers trembled, and she wrapped them into her ribs harder, tight enough that Cass could see the strain. “‘You know wh
at to do,’ she told Henry, but I didn’t look. I knew what Henry would do. What he always did when she gave him an order. He would nod and do as she asked. I heard Lettie then, her screams tearing through the halls like the roar of a lion.”

  They had not been Lettie’s screams, but Cass didn’t interrupt. Lettie had already been taken captive. The sorcerers had gone after her first. The true heir was held as ransom, should their plans go awry. She was last true queen and the kings’ only recourse to hold sway over the sorcerers.

  Miri swallowed again, pale and looking more than a little sick. “Her hands were wrapped so tight around my wrists. Her knuckles were white, and I could only think of Henry’s. How they’d just been the same. How even he had shown fear.” Miri shook her head. “I’d never seen them scared. Either of them. And there, on my wrists, were my mother’s bone-white hands. Covered in blood. Just like Henry’s.” Miri pressed her lips together. “She was holding so tight that I wanted to pull away. I tried to fight her, Cass. As she lay there dying, I fought to get away.”

  A wave of emotion washed over her face, but Miri soldiered on. “‘Henry will take you now, my little bean. He’ll get you to safety.’ She held me tighter, though. She wouldn’t let me escape. I wanted to scream that she was hurting me. I wanted to scream like Lettie. To roar and kick and fight. But all I could do was let her hold me there. She jerked me closer, forcing me to look into her eyes. They were so black. So huge and dark, and her nose spilled blood like tar.”

  “‘You will come back, Myrina of Stormskeep. You will earn your name. I command your vow that you will end the traitor for good. Only a true Lion will hold the throne.’” A tear tracked down Miri’s cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away. She didn’t even seem aware it was there. “‘Swear to me, Myrina. Swear you will do this, by our own blood.’”

  Miri’s voice cracked, and Cass wasn’t certain whether it was her emotion or an echo of the command of a dying queen.

  Cass knew what happened next. The plans had already been in place. He’d gotten the information he needed and understood how the sorcerers’ work was done. But Miri went on. “She coughed, dark blood spattering on the bright red of the other. She was drowning. Choking on her own blood as it boiled within her. ‘Vow,’ she ordered. And I did. I nodded, just to get away. Just to make her let go.” Miri shook her head in disgust, at herself, it seemed, and the helpless child she’d been. “She died. Right there in front of me. And all I’d wanted to do was run. When I realized she was gone, when her eyes went blank and her muscles no longer taut, I screamed. After all the things I could have said and didn’t, my voice came back. Henry grabbed me. He jerked my mother’s dead hands from my wrists, shoved a cloth in my mouth, wrapped his arms about my ribs, and tore me away from her. He ran, and my body flailed, fighting and kicking as he went.”

  “The girl had already burnt.” Miri’s tone had changed, somehow steady and still. It had gone someplace that felt darker. “They must have brought her up from another level. Henry stood me on my feet and stripped me down to my shift, right there in the corridor. I watched as they put my gown on the body. I’m not sure I understood what I was seeing, if I was seeing anything at all. I certainly hadn’t understood that they were going to burn my mother. But of course, they had to because of her blood. My hands were tight in fists, my arms rigid. My mouth tasted of blood. Henry didn’t bother dressing me, only wrapped a drape around me and tossed me over his shoulder. He ran through the secret passageways—through tunnels that should have been safe.”

  They had not been safe. That much, Cass knew. Henry had been killed in their escape. The sorcerers had known secrets that had belonged only to bloodsworn.

  Miri seemed to become aware of Cass and recall she was speaking of a man he knew and had been like a father. “He didn’t make it out,” Miri said. “Two other guards took hold of me, tossed me into a crate, and carted me to the river.”

  There, she stopped and looked as if she might truly retch. Cass had learned the story of her arrival and how many close calls she’d shaved through in the hands of his brothers. She’d arrived at the mouth of the river with two dead men steering the boat. Their corpses lay sprawled over the floor of the small vessel, no more than a rowboat, one draped bleeding over her crate. She’d been trapped by the weight of him, unable to remove the lid. The vessel slammed into a piling, pressed on the current, and had overturned into the sea. Miri’s crate began to sink to the bottom, and Thom’s men had barely saved her in time. She’d been dragged from the smashed coffin choking on water and blood, blistered from sorcerer’s fire and battered and bruised.

  They had rushed her to Nan. No one had thought she would live.

  She had escaped Stormskeep to the screams of everyone she loved. It had probably felt like no escape at all. She’d refused to speak for a very long time, but the girl that was Miri did not die. Cass understood that it had not been lack of want. It had been the vow.

  He also understood that the Lion Queen had known who her betrayer was. As the blood had boiled from within her, she would have known. She had not asked Miri for the vow for no reason. She had understood that the sorcerers had not done it on their own. Someone else had let them in. Someone had given the sorcerers the Lion Queen’s blood.

  Chapter 18

  Cass should have never told Miri how he felt. It was a weakness, one that would have had him thrown out of the guard. He was bloodsworn to the queen—a queen who was dead at the sorcerers’ hands.

  He pressed his heels into his horse’s flanks as they rode through the forest, kicking the beast faster between a break in the trees. They’d barely escaped Kirkwall with their lives, and until he had Miri safely inside the boundaries of Ironwood, he would not count her out of harm’s way.

  Miri’s confession regarding her mother made his duty infinitely more complicated, and he wished he’d had time to leave a message for Terric. Someone on the inside, close enough to have taken her blood, had betrayed their queen. He couldn’t imagine how the queensguard would manage the sorcerers if they held a queen’s blood—not that they’d been able to conquer them yet—or how to discover who had betrayed the queen. Blood magic was not a subject Cass had studied. No one aside from the sorcerers had been allowed knowledge of the dark arts, by order of the oldest laws.

  He could only hope they didn’t have Miri’s blood and that it was merely the presence of the queen’s inside of her—the connection of mother and daughter—or the nearness of Miri’s exposure to that dark magic while soaked in her mother’s blood that had caused her reaction to the sorcerer’s presence in Pirn. She had nearly frozen, her eyes had gone misty and far away, and only distance from the sorcerer had made her recover.

  If Miri could not function in proximity to a sorcerer, she would not have a single chance of setting foot near their home at Stormskeep. There, sorcerers were everywhere. Like the hungry wolves of Blackstone’s forests.

  For Miri’s part, she’d been quiet, barely a word spoken since the flood of memories she’d shared at the inn. Cass understood why she’d held it so near. He understood, too, that what drove her was not bloodlust or the need for revenge. It was the vow—a promise made.

  Miri was no fool. She knew the lives she risked outside of even her own. The sorcerers were beholden to the kings because magic required blood—life. Had the sacrifices been made on the streets, they would have been called murders, but under the protection of the crown, the killings were deemed necessity in their duty to the throne and to law.

  Their relationship to the queen was governed by much older laws, bindings that protected the realm. The Lion Queen had been more than sparing in her use of the sorcerers, and because of it, they had turned on her. They had yearned to be set free, and with the lords who desired the throne, they found their way. That left the queensguard figuring out which of those kings held the blood of the Lion Queen, which had control of the sorcerers in a way the others did not.

  Blood was power, and by the way Miri reacted to the sorcere
rs, they clearly held at least some power over her. He had to find out who was the betrayer. He had to be sure. The Lion Queen’s blood had to be recovered and destroyed.

  Cass was no betting man, but should he be forced to guess, it would be Nicholas, the self-named king of Stormskeep, who held the key. He, above all others, seemed to be at the helm of the treachery. And in Miri’s plans, Nicholas would be the last to die, which meant she suspected him too. But Nicholas was locked in a tower, surrounded by magic and kingsmen.

  “Cass.” Miri’s voice was a low hiss, her fingers tight on the reins.

  He broke out of his ruminations to take in her expression of evident concern. She nodded toward the ground, where the tracks of three horses, two carrying a burden, marked the soft earth. They were fresh.

  The horses slowed as Cass considered which route to take. They could risk meeting strangers in the wood or risk the less passable ground.

  “We’ll head west,” he suggested. “Just off the trail that borders the ravine.”

  Miri nodded, but when she began to turn her horse, both she and Cass stopped cold. A shout came from the distance, and as they watched, above the trees rose a pillar of smoke. Kingsmen.

  Cass met Miri’s hard gaze. “It’s too damp. They’ll see our tracks,” he said. “Follow the trail, and we’ll split off over rock or water as soon as we can.”

  Miri kicked her horse into a run without further instruction or a single response. She knew what would happen if they were caught and how lucky she truly was that they had escaped at all.

  They rode at speed through the thickening trees, keeping their horses over the previous hoofprints to confuse the trail. They would need to find a clean escape. The kingsmen were far from poor at tracking, especially when they’d been given to hunting down sympathizers at every turn. The sun was falling low in the sky, and if they could only cross onto rocky ground before nightfall, they might have a chance.