by Jasmine Walt
“We need to get out of the castle.” As Bruno spoke, he sidled towards the door and motioned Marrok to stop pacing. Reyn was well out of sight, sprawled in the chair against the wall.
“Let us test this, then.” Bruno opened the door where two guards stood. He stepped out, but the guards lowered their lances, not allowing him to cross the threshold.
“I have decided I do not feel tired,” Bruno said. “I would go out for a bit.”
“The king has called a mandatory curfew,” the guard said. “None may leave their chambers.”
“But I would see my fellow knights.” Bruno waved casually down the hall as if hanging out in the evenings was a regular part of their pastime, which it was.
“Impossible,” came the terse reply.
With a slight nod, Bruno turned, shutting the door quietly. He raised his shoulders to Reyn and Marrok and let them fall. “There you have it.”
“There are only two guards,” Reyn said. “Hardly enough to stop us.”
“And a hallway full after that. And then what?” Bruno shook his head.
“We cannot fight all of the king’s army,” Marrok said. “Regardless of your sword and spear mastery. There are only three of us.”
“Surely we can get some of them on our side,” Reyn argued.
“If Guntram has been plotting this awhile, he will have placed only his loyal guards in the castle.” Marrok paced as he tapped his goatee.
“And it would start a civil war,” Bruno said, shaking his head. He had lived through the purge of Moreno, when his mother had wreaked havoc on anyone who doubted her rule of the duchy. It was not an experience he relished.
“We need the queen,” Marrok said. “We need to discover where she stands.”
“Which brings us back to my original point,” Reyn said, tapping his foot lightly on the stone floor. “We can take these guards and go to the queen’s chambers.”
“Rushing to action will do us no good,” Marrok said. “Guntram will do nothing to the queen. She is safe. But he has Taron and Andre. He will have the three of us as well if we do not leave immediately.”
“This is cowardice,” Reynald bridled.
“It is preservation,” Marrok insisted.
“Which of the guards do you want?” Reyn ignored Marrok and spoke to Bruno.
A sly smile pulled at the corner of Bruno’s mouth. “I’ll take the bigger one and make sure you get out okay.” He stood.
Marrok stepped between the knights and the front door of the chambers. “Sometimes it amazes me you two have survived so long in battle,” he said, his voice harsh. “Put your swords away. What happens to the Order of the Regent if the three of us are forced to swear fealty? We will make an oath we cannot break. We are better off to leave and get the lay of the land.”
“The passageways are all heavily guarded,” Reyn said. “The back ways are known. The castle is full of Guntram’s men. How do you suggest we leave?”
Marrok’s gaze landed on the terrace.
“Shit.” Bruno grimaced. “Is there no other way?”
Reyn grinned as he sheathed his sword and patted Bruno on the shoulder. “I’ll hold your hand if you need it, my friend. There’s no time like now to get over your fear of heights.”
Bruno jerked away.
“It’s going to be fine,” Marrok said, striding across the room and flinging open the thick wooden doors leading to the terrace. The stone balcony set in the side of Castle Ashford looked down upon the roofs of the capital from a towering escarpment. “It’s a dry spring. It will be a simple journey over the ledge, along the eaves, and then sliding down to the walkway.”
“It’s not so bad.” Reyn couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he patted Bruno on the back.
“I’ll get you for this,” Bruno said, but his face hardened as he pressed his lips together. This was his battle to overcome. His skin chilled as he stepped onto the balcony, steadfastly averting his gaze from the steep drop over the castle wall.
Marrok was already over the edge and moving carefully along the apex of the roof, each footstep carefully balanced. “Just don’t look down,” he advised over his shoulder.
Reyn took up position behind Bruno, ready to grab his jacket, already drenched in sweat, even though the trio had just stepped over the terrace wall.
Bruno feared nothing in the world except this one thing. And like anybody else with a fear of one thing, Bruno had found coping mechanisms.
Mostly, he avoided heights.
But he also pulled his prayer beads out from beneath his jacket and clutched the medallion of San Noemie. He pressed it to his lips and forehead, closing his eyes before tucking it back into his shirt. If he was going to survive this, his family’s patron saint would get him through.
Light and warmth seeped into his heart as the icon floated back down against his chest. The prayer beads had belonged to his brother and his father before him. There were already two dead men in his family; there would not be a third tonight. And definitely not from falling off a blasted roof. He gritted his teeth, then hoisted himself over the wall and onto the ledge.
Marrok’s voice soothed him from the other side. “One foot in front of the other in a straight line.”
Bruno forced his feet cautiously forward along the precipice. If he fell off a roof and died, Reynald would never stop mocking him at his own funeral. This was the time to be completely steady, to pretend he was just running through the creeks by the castle as he had done as a child, following along after his older brother, Stavano.
They had practiced balance and precision, finding logs to throw across the creek and cautiously walking along them. Bruno had gotten excellent at it, but when Stavano had ventured to the cliffs, Bruno couldn’t follow. Just the thought had covered him in a wave of black fear and nausea. Stavano tried once to get his little brother to face his fear by dragging him up on a short cliff, but eight-year-old Bruno had fainted, falling into the river and breaking his arm.
Their formidable lady mother was furious with Stavano for a month. She assigned him as Bruno’s serving boy for the six weeks it took the bone to mend. It had been such a delight for Bruno, he’d considered doing it again and blaming his brother.
But he didn’t risk it. If his mother found out he’d broken a bone on purpose, she probably wouldn’t even have it mended.
Now, as he tried desperately to ignore the precipice that fell away sharply on both sides, he pushed the memory of the fall from his head. Instead he focused on Marrok’s soothing voice.
“You’re almost here,” Marrok said as Bruno took the last step. The dark knight reached out, grabbed him, and pulled him safely onto the landing. Bruno jumped off the roof and leaned into Marrok’s support. Reyn dropped off the roof behind them.
Hunched low, they moved through the tower shadows and into the narrow cobblestone alleyways, which descended into the capital.
“I told you Marrok knew the sneakiest paths into the city,” Reyn laughed. But his humor was cut short.
“Who goes there?” A hulking form stepped out from the shadows by the wall. Bruno slid behind his brother knights as Marrok stepped forward.
“It is I,” Marrok said in a relaxed tone. “Sir Marrok.”
“The castle is on lockdown.” The guard stepped into the torchlight.
“Yes,” Marrok calmly agreed. “It’s just, well, it was such a big night for us.” He motioned towards Reyn. “We thought we would enjoy the evening.”
“The whole city is on curfew,” the guard said. “Everyone must be in their rooms.”
Marrok nodded. “It’s a smart move the king made. I advised him to do that. It is difficult when the crown shifts, and on the first night we must be very cautious. But you should let us pass. Our appetites cannot be filled in the castle.”
He gave the guard a wink, but it did nothing to change the guard’s stony appearance as he stood between them and the final archway leading out of the castle.
“We’re just goin’
down to the pub,” Reyn interjected, weaving a bit drunkenly.
From the shadows, Bruno raised the hilt of his sword and brought it down swiftly against the guard’s head. The guard crumpled into a pile at their feet.
“I see you’ve recovered then,” Reyn said.
“Come.” Marrok led the two knights forward. They scampered through the empty alleys, the stench of sewage and rotting food assailing their nostrils.
Bruno covered his nose, but even the reek in his mouth caused him to gag. He swallowed his breath and closed his mouth.
“Thought you could handle a bit more stench,” Reyn chuckled.
“Only yours,” Bruno growled. “By the saints, this is worse.”
Marrok held his finger over his lips as he stopped in front of a low door. He stooped to knock on it.
Once.
Then twice.
Then three times.
Slowly, the door creaked open and the scent of stale gardenias wafted over them.
A dusky snicker rose from behind the flimsy wooden door, and a low voice said, “Welcome, dark knight.”
5
Lorelai’s handwriting flowed in swift loops across the parchment as she wrote to Lady Montbard. She needed to be firm yet clear with Bruno’s mother, the Duchess of Moreno and the head of House du Montbard, if she expected to get support from this daunting ally. Lady Montbard had faced her own difficulties when her husband was assassinated and her position as duchess was threatened. But she had risen to the occasion, forming a tight interrogation group and weeding out all the naysayers in her duchy.
“His intention is to use mages to control the kingdom,” Lorelai wrote. The lady’s dislike of the mages was legendary, and Lorelai needed every advantage she could get to win the great houses to her cause.
The door slammed open as Guntram entered Lorelai’s royal suite. She scrawled her name across the bottom and shoved the unfinished letter into Cateline’s hand, quietly motioning her to deliver it as is. Better than having Guntram discover it. But Guntram had no interest in her machinations. He strode towards her, heels clicking on the cold stone floor.
“Get out,” he barked at the ladies-in-waiting.
Cateline tucked the letter into her bodice and slipped out the door. The others looked hesitantly at Lorelai, but she gave them a nod. This was her demon, and she would have to face him alone.
“Hello, my brother,” she greeted him civilly. She was in no position to challenge him.
“Do you still say you will not wed me?”
Lorelai swallowed. If she was smart, this was when she would say yes, she would wed him. It was the simplest choice. Had not Cateline been married to a dog of a man once? She had survived her marriage and now lived free and well in the capital. Could not Lorelai do the same?
The queen sighed.
No. She could not.
Guntram’s face clouded as he saw her answer before she said the simple words.
“You know I can have any woman in this kingdom. Any woman, it appears, except you.”
He prowled the room like a panther stalking its prey. “You know, my brother was drunk one time and I told him I would bed you on his behalf. And he told me. He told me you refused.”
“I was a married woman,” Lorelai said.
“And now you are not married, yet you still say no.”
“You are already married,” Lorelai pointed out.
“So, everything must be your way, Lorelai?” Guntram asked. “Not good enough to be my second wife? Would you like to be my first wife? That would cause a stir with Guilia, but I wouldn’t mind the cat fight.”
“He wanted to leave the kingdom to me,” Lorelai said quietly.
“My brother was a sick and dying man,” Guntram raged.
“And you killed him before he could decree it,” she continued. “You killed your own brother.”
He crossed the room and grabbed her harshly around the waist, pulling her to him roughly. “You think you are too good for me, you lowland bitch? I offer you the honor of marriage to me. The opportunity to remain queen. To perhaps finally birth an heir to the throne. And you refuse me?”
His hand grabbed at her bodice, ripping the delicate fabric, and her breasts tumbled out. Lorelai gasped in horror, but he pinned her arms to her sides, leaving her pink nipples exposed and cold.
“There is only one thing you truly deserve, whore.” Guntram pushed her back on the settee and pinned both her wrists behind her. He yanked at her skirts, ripping them up around her waist.
“I’ll show you what a real cock feels like.” His voice was a raspy growl of hatred and humiliation.
Lorelai was frozen by fear. She’d heard rumors he had forced women in alleys, but she—she was untouchable. She was the queen. He wouldn’t dare lay a hand on her. This couldn’t be happening.
But it was.
She stared at the ceiling, every muscle in her body cramped and screaming as he ripped at her underclothes.
“Think you’re too good for me?” he jeered in her ear.
“No!” she cried, wresting him off her and finding the strength to whip her knee up and catch him in the balls.
He screamed loudly and fell away as Elba burst into the room. She stood over him, growling menacingly as Guntram slowly pulled himself up, hunched over his aching, bruised testicles. There was no way he was going to rape anybody today.
“I know I’m too good for you.” Lorelai sat up and covered her exposed bosom, trying to still her racing heart. Elba’s long teeth gleamed as saliva dripped down.
She should let the beast kill him. He deserved it. Her grip on the laircat’s scruff started to loosen.
Attack now, ask questions later.
Or in this case, it would be her answering questions. There wouldn’t be much left of Guntram, and the council would need facts. They would put the laircat down.
Lorelai tightened her grip on Elba’s fur. “No. They will kill you for taking the king’s life. I can’t lose you.”
“Seize her!” Guntram yelled.
Castle guards rushed into the room. The room filled with them. Guntram must have expected trouble with the queen, though she wasn’t sure why. She hadn’t heard anything from the Order of the Regent, who were probably sworn to Guntram by now.
Elba crouched low, her eyes roving over the guards. Like all laircats, she had a natural ferocity, but more intensity than Lorelai had seen in her father’s animals. As more guards poured into the room, Elba’s growl became a snarl and a gleam in her eye that didn’t bode well for the castle guards.
The feisty laircat was eager to rip off all their heads.
“No.” Lorelai’s voice was low and hoarse. “There are too many.”
Elba pulled against Lorelai’s hand. The great cat’s blood was boiling to attack. Saliva and the promise of fresh meat was in her mouth. Her tongue came out, unfurling in a massive purple ripple as her lips curled up. The guards stood in force, swords out and pointed at the beast.
The laircat was going to launch. She lowered her front half with her back legs like coiled springs, ready to strike. She could take out a handful, possibly more in the first attack, but would be overwhelmed by the remaining guards.
“Kill it, you fools,” Guntram rasped as he stumbled to his feet, still hunched over his nether regions.
The guards were met by a massive roar from Elba. But Lorelai threw herself towards the cat, hoping her touch would calm the angry beast. Her eyes teared up. She had lost her king. She had lost her throne. She had lost her knights. She could not lose her cat. Lorelai buried her face in the great animal’s mottled fur and grabbed her ear.
“Stand down,” she whispered urgently. “There are too many, Elba. You cannot defeat them. They will kill you. I need you.”
She was desperate for the dumb animal to understand her.
“Find the knights of the Order,” she continued. “If anybody will help me, it will be them. Go, go and find them. Get out of here.”
A growl rum
bled deep in the beast’s throat as Lorelai gripped her neck, massaging the dewlap surrounding Elba’s iron muscles.
“Go,” she said.
The cat’s ears twitched, and her growl diminished.
“Go,” Lorelai insisted.
Elba let out a ferocious roar and leapt forward towards the soldiers, the volume deafening and undoubtedly heard throughout the castle. The soldiers pulled back, but as the giant beast sprang into the air, she did not attack. She twisted midair, almost slicing Guntram with her giant claws as she whirled away from the soldiers. She landed nimbly on the ground and lightly bounded back into the air, shooting for the terrace doors. Only one door was open, but as Elba burst through it, the closed one simply fell off its hinges in surrender to the massive beast.
Lorelai’s heart leapt into her throat as her beloved laircat disappeared. As the guards surrounded her, she hoped Elba would find the peace and safety she would never have.
6
Bruno tossed and turned all night and was glad when daybreak finally eased its way through the cracks in the walls. Though it wasn’t his favorite time to be awake, his dislike of brothels drove him from his bed. Even though those who worked there were willing, and those they serviced had their own reasons for paying for sex, Bruno still believed when you bedded a woman, there should be a level of intimacy and heart in it.
They had spent the night in a dingy room with three single cots, and they settled down for a restless night. Like all seasoned warriors, they had learned to get random sleep wherever they could. Sometimes on their horses during long walks across the country or ten minutes’ respite on the battlefield before re-engaging the enemy. But thoughts of the dead king kept slumber at bay.
Though Bruno had urged them to go to the square early, Marrok insisted they stay in the whorehouse through the morning. “There is no point in going to the market before word is out,” he said. “We are most likely fugitives at this stage. If we are spotted, they will take us to Guntram so we can swear fealty.”
Reyn made a face. “Never going to happen.”
