“How long do you think we have?” Miri asked as they walked through the low grass that bordered the river. They would make for the trees and do their best to stay out of sight. Her eyes had not yet adjusted, and the open air seemed too bright.
“Days,” Cass said. His linen shirt clung to his skin, his hair was dripping, and his chin was dark with stubble. “It will be much harder, but we will have more help.”
Miri’s stomach went tight. Terric and the others had been gathering support, drawing together the last of the queensguard and those loyal to the true heir. They would risk everything, all in on the last chance to save the realm. She stumbled, and Cass’s hand latched onto her elbow to steady her. His gaze came to hers, searching, and Miri reined in her emotions. “I’ve got it,” she said. “Sea legs, is all.”
Cass gave her a look, but she kept on. They walked through thin trees over rolling hills and rich soil and plants greener than anything she’d seen in ages. Familiar scents assaulted her at every turn. Miri’s chest swelled in a deep breath, and her fingers itched to touch the trees and the earth and the undeniable sensation of home. When she glanced at Cass, his eyes were on the forest, and she could see the change in him as well. They had been dragged as children out of Stormskeep, the only place that had ever felt safe and secure. They were there to take it back.
Cass’s gaze met hers, but they didn’t speak. They only moved forward, toward the late-day sun. The location of his exit from the boat had not been an accident, and he led them to a small farm that must have been a full day’s walk from the keep. It was late summer, warm as the sun set on a field of wheat and the call of goats echoed from their pen near the barns. Miri’s thumb pressed against the gold band on her finger, and she reminded herself that she was Bean. They had not a single pack or possession aside from the stolen clothes they wore, but Cass strode forward with a confidence that lent her strength. He left her by the stable while he met with the proprietor and returned by the time the animals had lost interest in their new visitor.
They’d been given a small cabin near the rear of the property, and as Cass fetched water for the heating stove, a woven basket of food and a stack of fresh clothes were delivered.
By nightfall, Miri and Cass were fed and clean and wrapped loosely in soft blankets beneath thin nightclothes despite the heat. It felt good to be in a bed, over steady planks that didn’t sway with the current of the Maidensgrace. The bed was large in the single room, and Cass sat at one end with Miri at the other.
She shifted closer, used to his presence, and leaned her back to the wall beside him. “You’ve not asked me to tell you,” she said. Her voice was soft, and she was hesitant to break the pleasant peace. He’d always asked her before to tell him of the kingdom and the man she would kill and the method in which she planned to do it. But not with Stormskeep and Nicholas.
Cass frowned. “I want to tell you not to do it. After everything, I still want to ask you not to risk it. I warn you that I know it will be the death of you, and my brothers have tried and failed.” His eyes met hers. “That I’ve watched them die trying.”
“Why don’t you?” she whispered.
“Because I know it’s wrong. I understand why you must.”
She’d made a vow, a promise that could not be broken. Cass had made a promise, too, one that she would force him to break. He could not keep Miri alive, because Miri was walking to her death and because Miri’s vow had been an order by their queen.
Miri swallowed the words that bubbled up, unable to give them voice. She couldn’t stomach the idea of losing Cass, but Cass could never be hers. He was bloodsworn. He belonged to the realm. His duty was to protect her, and it was law and his honor that demanded they not be so near. But he wasn’t wrong. Miri would be gone soon. There would be nothing left to protect.
“Cass,” she started, but her voice died away, because in his eyes was an answer to her fears. She leaned forward, watching him as she reached to trace a thumb over the edge of his lip. She had touched him there before, to brush away a spot of honey, and Miri had wanted nothing more than to press her mouth to his.
He did not move to her, but Miri shifted nearer. When she finally brushed her lips over his, Cass’s eyes fell closed in what felt like release or surrender. His strong hands slid over the thin shift that covered her hips, and he drew her closer.
The blanket fell away as his warm lips parted beneath hers, deepening the kiss. Her hands went to his chest then his neck, touching his bare skin, and the presence of him flooded her. She wanted to be nearer and to press herself to him and get lost in the comfort that he’d always provided, the relief she’d felt from the constant loss and knowing what was to come. She wanted to let herself fall. But as grateful as she was to be touching him, part of her would not allow herself to be content in his arms—not while Lettie suffered.
Miri drew away, and Cass’s eyes locked with hers.
Her chest ached with the knowledge that she could never truly have him.
The understanding passed between them and settled heavily in the pit of Miri’s stomach. Resigned, she slid her hands from their grip on him. But Cass drew her to lie down beside him, and he put his arm around her as he rested at her back.
After a long silence, he said, “Tell me about Stormskeep.”
Miri felt the squeeze in her chest lighten. His forgiveness was a balm to her tattered heart. She let her breathing steady before she spoke, her words soft. “Beyond the keep is a large courtyard, a maze of gardens and fountains and sculptures of queens gone past. In the center is a walled sitting area that held the Lion Queen’s favorite bench. Each afternoon, no matter the weather, she would take her youngest daughter to rest there so they could sit among the gardens and have a quiet moment to themselves.” Miri closed her eyes to the memory, hearing the birdsong and the voices that floated over the wall. “The two were not always alone, though, not the only ones hidden beyond that barrier wall. Some days, there was a boy who played at swords.”
Cass’s voice was quiet behind her. “Was it Lord Ham Hock?”
Miri’s laugh was as soft as a breath. “No. This boy was far more pleasant, hardworking, and eager to impress.” She smiled to the room beyond them. “Though he was a bit of a glory hound.” Cass snorted, and Miri went on. “He would climb the walls that circled the bench, his long sword glinting in the sun. And there he would practice, without a word, as the queen and her daughter looked on.”
“Was it to win the favor of a beautiful princess?” he murmured into her hair.
“Impossible to say,” Miri answered. “But the queen had two daughters, sisters unmatched in their wit.” She felt Cass smile, but her own smile fell. “The princesses were fortunate in so many things, but the youngest took her pleasure not from fancy dress and matters of state but from those small moments in the garden with a mother who loved her. From her lessons with Henry on how to use a sword.” Miri’s throat caught, but she forced the words. “From running through the courtyard as if it would always be there.”
Cass did not offer her assurances that it would soon be returned. They had both lost everyone they had loved that day as well as their very hearts and home. Miri fell quiet, remembering the faces of each of her maids, her tutors, and her friends. She recalled Henry’s fingers, calloused from swords, the way her small hand could disappear inside his, and the way a smile could unexpectedly split his weathered face. She remembered her mother’s laugh, how it could echo through the garden, and the way the tension seemed to ease from her shoulders each time Miri entered a room. She had loved Thom and Nan, but Stormskeep would always be home. She might not be able to restore their families, but Miri would take back their home—whatever the cost.
Chapter 30
Stormskeep had always been wealthy. It was the center of the realm, heavily populated, well-developed, and the worst place Miri and Cass could be. At any moment, they could be recognized or cross paths with a sorcerer. They could be caught.
But Miri coul
d not bring herself to regret it. She stared out the window of the massive second-story room toward the bright and busy streets below. They had traveled into the city under the guise of a local lord and lady, the queen’s faithful guard disguised at their sides. Miri had worn a gown and a veil but had changed into slim pants and a jacket, a wardrobe tailored specifically for her coming task.
She had been reminded of her goal and once again embraced her duty. In a thousand ways, outside their window, Miri’s people waited for her to fulfill her vow. Her mother’s face was carved into the buildings and statues of Stormskeep, staring down at her not with the soft, understanding eyes that had graced her in private but with the uncompromising severity shown to those who opposed her.
The effigies had been chipped and broken, but they remained standing just the same, carved into stone as a reminder of the way things were meant to be. To speak her name was treason, but the kings could not stop the symbolism and subvert icons. The people of Stormskeep carried on. So in Stormskeep, Miri’s mother watched her from everywhere and from nowhere.
“Myrina,” someone said from behind her, and she turned to face the room.
A dozen men and women surrounded a map spread over the long table. It was a fraction of what was left of the queensguard, each with their own men to command hidden among the city.
“What of the map?” Terric asked.
He’d only just returned to Stormskeep himself, and as the lot of them gathered, Terric had coordinated contacts across the seven kingdoms. The kings had armies, each of which were scattered through the realm. Nan and Thom would cause havoc at Smithsport and Ginger and Hugh at Blackstone. So many others had risen to aid in their plans as well. Riots and rumor, whatever it took. The sorcerers would need to be drawn out, away from the keep and from Lettie, and should the other tactics not succeed, Miri had given the sorcerers cause enough to leave—to find the second daughter of the Lion Queen.
They would scour the land, and all the while, she would be the last place they would expect her and the most dangerous. Miri and her mother’s guard would be at Stormskeep, in the den of a bear. They had reviewed the detailed map, including every unmarked passage inside the castle walls, every tactic the kings had ever used, and every favor that might be won. They had a plan. They were ready.
But they were running out of time. Three kings were dead. One sorcerer was gone. They knew that Miri lived, and once they had the second princess, Lettie’s life could be forfeit, no need to wait for the end of summer and her name day. Miri’s sister could be killed. And now she knew Nicholas, cowering within the keep, had possession of their mother’s blood. Miri made another promise. Nicholas would be the next king to pay his debt.
She looked at the map beneath Terric’s hand. She knew the layout of the stronghold by heart. “Burn it. We move at dawn.”
Miri and Cass strode through the passages beneath Stormskeep’s castle, quietly dispatching kingsmen who stood in their way. They had an understanding between them. Each was aware of the bone-deep knowledge of a place they’d loved as children, and each was deadly and accurate in their work. It was their home. It was their reckoning.
Behind them and in other parts of the city and the castle, queensguard played their parts. Miri could not go near a sorcerer, but instead of dismay, the news had only brought Terric inspiration. He had called it to their advantage, as Miri’s reaction would give them the precious warning they needed. Bloodsworn could not be killed by their magic, so the sorcerers who tried could be driven through with a sword. Together, they would stand a fighting chance. Cass had looked on darkly at the idea a princess could be used as bait, but Miri had not argued. She was walking into the keep one way or another. If they could defend her weakness—as significant as it was—she would take all the help she could get.
She had every intention of killing Nicholas, but no version of the plan allowed her to stride into the throne room and announce her intentions to run him through with her sword. They had decided that she would maintain her distance from the keep as long as possible to minimize her chance of running into the sorcerers. So, with Cass and half a dozen soldiers at her side, she traversed the passageways to the only other place that would be worth the risk—to the cells to find Lettie.
Miri pressed down the fear of what she might find and how the years might have worn on her sister, because all of her focus had to be on their task and their last chance to save the realm. The lot of them were dressed in black, their uniforms trim and weapons sparse. They would be fighting in close quarters, relying heavily on stealth. The kingsmen deep within the castle, their forms broad and menacing in the dark, had not been prepared for the attack. Caught unaware, they fell easily, unsuspecting in their duties for an area the court rarely visited—unless, of course, they’d been placed there permanently. As Cass slid a key into the locked gate, Miri recognized what had been once fine clothes on the prisoners in the cells beyond. She suspected the lowborn criminals had been killed to avoid the hassle of providing steady meals.
A queensguard took a torch from the wall and led Miri down the corridor to check each of the cells. Firelight splintered across the stone walls as Cass’s gaze made clear he didn’t like the possibility of being trapped in a dead-end hall. The others waited on watch in the shadows near the gate. Time was of the essence, but if they could get Lettie free, the king’s leverage over the sorcerers would take a solid hit. They passed each cell slowly, Cass on one side of the corridor, Miri on the other, searching the faces of the men and women inside. The farther they went, the heavier the dread settled into Miri’s stomach. Lettie wasn’t there, her slender figure and lion’s-mane hair nowhere among the disheveled forms.
As they reached the last of the line, Miri turned toward Cass, sick as she tightened her grasp on her sword. Her sister’s name thrummed with the ragged beat of her heart. But Cass was still. He and the other queensguard were frozen before the opposite cell. Cass fumbled with the key ring as the guard’s torch flickered dim light over a square of stone floor with a thin blanket over a prone form. Miri stepped forward, but it could not be Lettie. It was a man, his figure large but worn thin with what must have been years inside the cell. A strange noise came from Cass as he finally released the lock. The ring of keys clattered to the floor in his haste to open the cell door.
He crouched beside the man, while the other queensguard stood frozen in his spot, and Miri stepped beside him. Cass reached for the man with trembling hands. His gray beard obscured much of a weathered face. But the noise from Cass broke, suddenly louder, and Miri realized it was something of a strangled sob. Her hand went to her throat, her knees suddenly weak. On the floor before them, his massive hand held in Cass’s, was the head of the Lion Queen’s guard—Henry.
Henry was not dead. Miri had seen him fall during their long-ago rescue, but she’d been carted away in the fighting. He had lived, injured enough not to evade escape, and had likely been dragged to the cell to be held for ransom should the queensguard or uprisings call for it. Miri, Cass, and the other queensguard went to their knees before Henry. His gaze roamed over their faces with evident awe. Cass put his hands under the man and pulled him to sit, and a realization started to buzz through Miri frantically. She opened her mouth to say so, but the clang of metal rang through the corridor before she had a chance. They were out of time.
Cass and the queensguard pulled Henry to his feet, and Miri took the torch as the two men slipped their arms beneath his shoulders. Then they ran through the corridor. The queensguard at the gate fought off kingsmen with dagger and sword. Shouts rang from a far-off part of the castle, and two of the queensguard at the gate gasped at the sight of Henry as they came into view.
“Go,” one of them said. “We’ll get him to safety.”
Cass hesitated for just a moment, but Henry murmured, “Go, lad.” His voice was rough from disuse, but his order was clear. Henry might not know what their plan was, but his eyes were on Miri. He understood they had come to right wrongs.
He, above all others, lived by his vow. Miri felt tears well in her eyes, but Henry gave her a solemn nod. “There’s work to be done, Myrina. Show her you’ve the heart of a Lion.”
Miri batted away her tears as the sound of approaching boots echoed through the halls. She stepped forward to place a hand on his chest, heartsick at the feel of bone instead of thick muscle beneath her palm. “Thank you, Henry.” Fear nearly choked her words, but she had to ask. “What of Lettie? Where are they holding her?”
Henry’s brow drew together, something flashing in his gray eyes. “In the tower.” He glanced at Cass, confusion clear. “She’s in the tower with Nicholas.”
A door at the end of the corridor burst open, and half a dozen kingsmen rushed through, swords drawn.
“Go!” Cass shouted, ordering the group with Henry to take him to safety.
Henry’s words echoed through Miri’s thoughts, but the kingsmen were upon them, and all they could do was fight. There were only four left, Cass and Miri and two queensguard, as the other four rushed Henry to safety. A sword sliced through the air near Miri, barely missing a queensguard’s arm. They needed to get back into the passages, staying hidden on their route to avoid facing a larger group of kingsmen. Four was not enough.
Swords clashed, and bodies slid into heaps onto the tiled floor with hands pressed to wounds that could not be staunched. The kingsmen were trained soldiers, brutal in their onslaught, but they met their match in the agile queensguard. Soon, though winded and one bleeding, Miri and the queensguard had dispatched the last of the kingsmen.
They ran again, staggered by the surprise of finding Henry, and Miri’s heart seized in the sudden drowning fear within her chest. She stumbled, and Cass’s fingers dug into her shoulders as he dragged her into a darkened alcove. He stood at her back, holding her steady as he gestured at the other two queensguard. At Cass’s instruction, they crept forward with swords at the ready. Cass’s chest rose and fell evenly behind her, his jaw brushing her ear. She focused on his breathing, not allowing the fear to paralyze her further. Miri had watched her mother fight the kingsmen before she had died. Her mother had been under the sorcerer’s power—they had her blood—yet she had not been frozen in fear, because she had been a queen and the protections of the Storm Queen had saved her.
Seven Ways to Kill a King Page 20
