Cass had been distant, allowing Miri to ride beside Ginger and not holding Miri’s gaze longer than was necessary for his duty as her guard or at least appropriate for a pretend husband. But every evening, they sat shoulder to shoulder at dinner, arms brushing as they ate and listened to stories from Hugh. And after, when the fire burned low and the moon was the only light, Cass crawled into the tent beside Miri, closed away from the light and the night bugs, and they lay together in the stillness of the night with a closeness neither could deny. Miri had begun to look forward to it, even though she knew it was wrong. Cass was honoring his duty, the same as her, and neither should be taking comfort in the other or allowing the unspoken accord to carry on. They were walking a dangerous line, and Miri had the most difficult task she could face at risk with every turn.
She rolled over in the dim morning light of that tent, less than a day’s ride from the next king and Ironwood. Cass was already awake, watching her. He had stopped lying at her feet after the kingsmen had attacked, and his hazel eyes were level with hers. He was painfully handsome, particularly when mussed from sleep. She reached up to brush a dark eyelash from his cheek, and her fingers came away slowly from his skin. It was another action that felt dangerous—and entirely too right.
“Tell me about Edwin.” Cass’s voice was no more than a whisper, his expression serene despite his words.
Miri swallowed. It was time to prepare for the next king, whether she was ready or not. “He collects snakes. He keeps the poisonous ones caged but likes to bring them out to intimidate guests. He is well trained with a spear. I’ve seen him strike a man from across a courtyard without even pausing to aim. He laughs too loudly at things that aren’t funny. His smile is too sharp.” She drew a slow breath. “His rooms are at the top of a small keep. A woman will be sleeping beside him, but she’s not his queen.”
Edwin’s mistress had been sneaking into the tower through secret passages since Miri was a child, but the woman had since grown brave. Rumor told that she walked the halls as if she were more powerful than the queen. And if she had Edwin’s ear, such could be exactly the case.
“What waits in his rooms?” Cass asked.
He’d heard the explanation before, but Miri repeated it dutifully. “A low stone tub surrounded by the king’s favorite incense and oils.” It would be as simple as poisoning Casper. She would just place the poison in the oil and leave then let time and habit run their course. But it would be more dangerous as well, because it was not a remote stable. It was the king’s own rooms, and she would need to get in while he slept.
“And how will you escape?”
Miri’s gaze snapped to Cass’s, and it was only then that she realized she’d been distracted by her thoughts for too long. He was constantly having to draw her back. She wondered if she’d spent too much time alone. “I’ll walk from his rooms as one of the ladies. The guards will pay me no mind, not at the hour before dawn when the ladies make their journey to the chapel.”
“If you are not able?”
Miri frowned. “It will work.” The plan for Edwin was one of her least favorites because there were no backup escape routes. The keep was secure and only had two ways out: down a tall flight of stairs or through a tower window to crash to the stone below. She would not be able to return through the passageways from which she had come, because climbing into a tower was one thing. Climbing out from a height was something else.
Cass watched the emotions play over Miri’s face, and she let out a long sigh. “It will work,” she said again. Miri had set to rights one piece of the map of her realm, and the second would come in a month’s time. Edwin made three, less than half the kingdoms when summer was already more than half gone. “It has to.”
Chapter 21
Miri and the others came through the borders of Ironwood all at once. There was no other way for it to be done. Thick forests surrounded the town, and only a few routes were used heavily enough to keep the roads and trails from becoming swallowed by growth. Massive stone structures rose in a sprawling assemblage, their tiled roofs baking in the late-day sun. The group had made it well before nightfall through the muggy heat beneath the trees, and Miri had never been so eager for a bath.
“There we are,” Hugh said, gesturing toward the west side of the town. Cass’s gaze moved to him, and Hugh chuckled. “Oh no. Don’t you go telling me you’ve other plans. You’ll come to our home and sup with us, at least for tonight. Let us thank you for the company in the only way we can.”
Cass opened his mouth to reply, but Ginger made a gesture that cut him off. “No,” she snapped. “We’ll not hear otherwise. I’m terrible at farewells, and I’ll need a moment before I can manage to send off the likes of you.”
Hugh gave her a look.
“For the maiden’s sake.” Her eyes rolled toward the heavens. “It’s not an insult. Don’t make me explain it again.” Ginger shook her head and kicked up her horse, smacking Wolf on the rear as she rode past. “Come on, Bean. Let’s get you into clean clothes and bake something sweet now that we’re finally off the trail.”
Cass drew a resigned breath and pressed his heels into Milo’s flanks to ride beside Miri. They traversed the cobbled streets through a town that was better fed than some of the others, for Ironwood was self-sustained with access to ample water and wildlife, the ease of shipping goods down the Maidensgrace, and a king who relished splendor and rewarding his people when they showed their loyalty. Edwin had treasuries aplenty before he’d joined the other lords in their plot. He hadn’t allied with the others for money or power. He was in it for the standing, to be the central figure, the most important in his kingdom. It had worked. Edwin was king.
They rode past cottages and small buildings, heading through the winding streets toward the manors and shops. A man was selling ribs, and a woman near him hawked bread. The soil was rich in Ironwood, and many houses had small gardens for vegetables and herbs. They didn’t have room for pasture, so meat was supplied by rabbit, fowl, and wild game. Miri had been educated in the current workings of the kingdoms by Nan and Thom, but she remembered those kingdoms from when she was a child. Even where they seemed to prosper, Miri could see signs of the toll the kings had taken on the people and the land.
“Here we are,” Ginger called over her shoulder, smiling broadly at an impressive two-story home between a cottage and the yard of a small manor.
Hugh whistled, and a figure moved behind the shutters in the neighboring cottage. A freckled girl with long braids sprang through the doorway a moment later, eagerly meeting the group in the street.
“Hugh!” she said.
He gave the girl a smile. “Aye, it’s us. How are the goings-on?”
She stared up at him solemnly. “I’ve watered the plants and tended the animals. The laundry is fresh, and I’ll have perishables brought over before the sun sets.”
“Good girl,” Hugh said. “What about Izzy?”
The girl scowled and held up a long-fingered hand. “The beast scratched me. I’ve never met a creature who enjoyed so much sin.”
Hugh snorted a laugh, pointedly not acknowledging the disgruntled sound that rumbled out of his wife. “Cannot argue with you there, my girl. Now, how about we settle for your work with an extra copper for the scratch, and you take these horses to the stable for grain and a decent brushing?”
“Deal.” She glanced only briefly at Ginger before she leaned in to whisper, “And next time, let Harry mind the cat.”
At her comment, Hugh laughed full out, stepping down from his horse as he patted the girl on top of her head. “Thank you, Sarah. For your work and the utter joy of your honest soul.”
Miri and Cass dismounted as well and slid their packs over their shoulders after the horses were tied in wait for their turn with Sarah. Ginger led them into the house, stopping in the center of the front room to swoop up a large tabby cat missing half an ear.
“There’s my girl,” Ginger murmured, but the cat only stared at Miri ove
r the woman’s shoulder with a look that promised blood.
Cass gave Miri a grin then took their packs as he followed Hugh through the house. “You’ll sleep here,” Hugh said, leading Cass to what was apparently a spare room off the kitchens.
Ginger set the cat back onto the floor, and the creature let out a low warbling growl. “Now,” Ginger said, “I’ll start the bath water while you get out of those filthy clothes. I’ll send them with Sarah when she’s done with the horses, and she’ll have them fresh bright and early for you.” Ginger’s expression fell. “I’ll be sorry to see you go, Bean. But I’m happy to have been graced by your presence while I could. Maiden’s blessings on you both.”
Miri hadn’t come to like goodbyes any better but let herself relax into the bittersweet feeling of cooking alongside Ginger and eating to the sound of the couple’s banter and Hugh’s hearty laugh as a game of backgammon was overtaken by stories from his youth.
When Hugh and Ginger retired to their upstairs rooms and Miri and Cass finally made their way to the small bedroom, Cass’s fingers brushed against Miri’s in the narrow hallway. Her eyes caught his as she turned through the doorway, and an inescapable urge rose through her. Cass seemed to recognize it, and something in his gaze told Miri he was feeling it too.
He moved toward her as her steps slowed, bringing her backward into the room, and Miri could only think of how it would feel when he touched her, when his warm, soft lips pressed to hers, and when his hands, always gentle, tightened around her in something that wasn’t comfort or protection. It was something that felt as reckless and urgent as she did.
A screeching yowl came as Miri stumbled over the cat. The creature danced underfoot before sinking its claws into Miri’s skin. Miri hissed a curse, and Cass grabbed her arm to steady her as she hopped on one foot and the hateful feline shot through the door.
“Isabella,” Ginger scolded from upstairs.
Cass stared down at Miri as she leaned to rub the tender leg. Her feet were bare beneath a borrowed homespun gown. She sighed and straightened, acknowledging whatever foolishness that had come over them. Miri was of queen’s blood. Cass was bloodsworn. They both had duties to fulfill. Cass’s was to protect her. Miri’s was to kill a king. In the morning, by the grace of the gods, each would see it done.
Miri rubbed salve over the angry scratch on her leg, and she and Cass said their farewells to Ginger and Hugh with a promise to visit, should they ever return. Their packs had been filled with supplies, and their clothes had been laundered and scented with violets. Their first stop had been the seamstress, where Miri procured a lady’s dress. Their next was the stately manor where they would linger until nightfall while their horses hid in the stables. Their cover stories were secured in case Miri was noticed.
“We have friends in Ironwood,” Cass had said. He meant friends loyal to the dead queen.
Miri dressed in a richly furnished bedroom while Cass waited in the parlor. She would not allow a maid to help, should something go wrong and Miri be caught. She was already risking more lives than she cared to think about for long.
Miri tied her corset, wondering if Lettie had been able to track time where they kept her. It was impossible to know if Lettie was even aware her name day was approaching. It was possible Lettie felt as if centuries had passed, as if there were no torture greater than waiting for her death.
She also wondered if Nicholas visited her sister’s cell to taunt the rightful heir. It was unlikely. Nicholas might have named himself king of Stormskeep, but that didn’t mean the man had changed. He didn’t relish attention like the other lords. He quite enjoyed his secrets. Lord Nicholas had been able to hold his tongue. King Nicholas was doubtless even better at the task.
His son, however, had a tongue like a snake. He was a whispering, slithering reptile of a thing. Lettie had made sheep’s eyes at Augustus every time they were forced into his company. Miri had never understood it or been able to see why Lettie needed so badly the approval of those lords and their sniveling sons. And now she was prisoner to the very lord she’d wanted so much to impress.
Of all the kings of the realm, Miri hated Nicholas the most. But he was not the king she would kill next.
A soft knock came at the door, and the rhythm of it tugged Miri’s scowl into something softer. It consisted of the three short raps Thom had always used. “Do you need… assistance?”
Miri let out a resigned laugh. “Apparently. Please come in. I’m decent enough.”
Cass came slowly through the door, his eyes meeting Miri’s before he closed the door again behind him.
She shrugged. “I’ve gotten as far as I can, but the laces will need tightening in the back.”
He gestured for her to spin as she muttered that she should have chosen a better gown, and Cass was suddenly behind her, his clever fingers on the laces and his breath on the back of her neck. Miri swallowed.
He tugged each row tighter then paused. “I’ve never—I don’t know how tight these should be.”
Miri looked down at her chest, where it swelled perilously from the bodice. “Tighter, I’m afraid.” She raised her arms, testing to be certain she would be free to climb and move. “But not much.”
The bodice was black cambric, embroidered with delicate vines. The skirt was black as well, traditional in style and entirely ordinary. She appeared to be a lady of no real stature who would serve at the beck of Edwin’s queen. A lady on her way to mass warranted no attention.
Miri turned to face her guard.
Cass dutifully did not look at her chest. “Do you have your blades?”
She nodded. “Three. Two within easy reach.”
“And the vial?”
Miri carefully patted the small pouch hidden beneath folds of material at her waist.
“And your courage?”
She smiled. “I’m unable to leave it, though I might like to.”
Cass’s gaze stayed on her a moment too long. “Then we should go.”
Chapter 22
As they stood in the shadows of the chapel, the only light was the flicker of far-off torches and lanterns. Miri looked up the tall tower of the castle. Its stone was tinted blue by a scant bit of moon through the clouds. She would part with Cass, climb that tower, and kill the next king.
Miri turned to her guard in the darkness. His eyes were on her face as she drew the cloak from around her shoulders. She handed it to him wordlessly, unable to say goodbye.
“We’ll need to dye your hair soon. It’s getting lighter. On our way to Ravensgate.”
It was a promise that she would make it and they would escape with their lives. She nodded. “On our way to Ravensgate.”
Miri hoped it was true.
She said no more as she slid into the shadows, her slippered feet silent on the path. It would not be a maze to find Edwin’s rooms. There was only one way: up. She entered through the postern gate, her hands carefully positioned in front of her waist, fingers clasped together. She kept her gaze on the smooth stones beneath her, moving with purpose through the quiet corridors. The whispered swish of her skirts echoed through the hall, barely audible as she turned toward an inner castle wall. Kingsmen were posted at a wide arch across the small courtyard, their shoulders straight but their eyes on the darkness before them, not behind—not where Miri was.
She unclasped her dusty hands, grateful for the lack of rain or dew and that the stone was dry as she wrapped strips of cloth tightly around her palms. Miri wasn’t certain she would have managed the wait if weather had impeded her plans. She tied her skirts back as well as possible and gripped a wood beam then a carved corbel. Her feet slipped into the narrow cracks of stone as she pushed herself up. The construction curved outward, so if Miri fell, it would be to the flat stone covering the earth, not the rough pieces she was crawling over. It was why she’d had to dress as a lady and why there would be no return using the same route. After her task was complete, she would have to descend the tower while the ladies made thei
r way to the chapel under the cover of early morning, but her disguise was not foolproof. She couldn’t pass for a lady in the light of day, not when all eyes were upon them as they returned to the queen’s rooms, so the way up had to be in the dark of night, through the second-level window.
Miri’s fingers slid from the gritty stone, and she slipped. Her elbow slammed against the side of a support before she caught herself, black dress pressed against the shadows as she waited to discover if the guards had heard. When her breath returned, she raised a hand toward the carvings beneath an oriel window and drew herself up and over the ledge. Her arms trembled with the strain, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse on the floor inside.
A hideous tearing sound came as Miri’s skirt caught on the edge of a carving, and she was suddenly jerked to a stop—stuck between the frame of the window and the ledge outside. Her eyes snapped to the space above her, her heart skipping with fear that someone might have heard, but she couldn’t let go to free the material. She was caught, every measure she tried to shift stolen by a determined snag. She felt without warning more hopeless than when the guard at Kirkwall had touched her with his sword. She couldn’t go backward, or she would fall. She was trapped, snared by a foe she could not fight or stab. Gods, she felt hot tears welling in her eyes.
It was not how she would die. Miri gritted her teeth and drew herself forward with all of the strength in her arms. The material ripped loudly, but with a finality that let her fall over the ledge inside. She panted, fingers trembling as she jerked the frayed threads free, then with more horror, she checked her pouch to be certain she’d not lost her vial. It was there, so she scurried into a nearby alcove to sort the torn bits of her dress into reasonable order. She pulled the fabric from her palms, unsurprised her fingers were tipped in scratches and blood. She would not have to climb any farther—not that she could have with the sheer flat walls of the upper levels. She’d only needed to bypass the lower level and reach the second floor so that she could gain access to the spiral stairs that led toward the lady’s rooms, which had secret passages.
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