Drawing herself up in offense, Delcy let any trace of serene maturity slip. “People may change, my lady, but I have, at one point, been the focus of every boy in this town.”
“Oh don’t play spoiled princess with me, missy. I’m one too. The difference between you and me is that I am the princess of Raven City, so I’ll get what I want. Do you realize I have the right to arrest spoiled brats just because they could be taken for mocking me?”
“Daddy would never let you come in here and threaten me with such nonsense,” Delcy fumed.
“I’m sure he wouldn’t. He would send you reassuringly to your room to suck your thumb and tell you he’d take care of everything, wouldn’t he? But he’s not here to cushion and coddle you, is he? And instead of being here in his place to console you like you might once have fantasized, your childhood sweetheart is being held under the headsman’s pending blow for your father’s very murder – and you, you are being investigated for responsibility in this treachery. What a mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Delcy. Doesn’t it ever bother you that the real killer is still out there, perhaps among you, getting away with murder and potentially planning the death of any one of you next?”
Glassy, diamond tears pricked Delcy’s eyes – haunted, guilty, and terrified – but she kept them from falling.
“How dare you condemn an innocent man to death to conserve your social image,” Catris said.
Suddenly Delcy sobbed. “No, he could have done it,” she insisted, losing her stand.
“You’ve convinced yourself of that, haven’t you? But I know, Delcy – I know he didn’t do it.”
“You can’t prove anything.”
“It doesn’t matter what I can prove. If I know you aren’t being honest with me, I can find excuses to rip you from this place and keep you smothered in the dark for the rest of your life.”
Delcy sobbed again. “But I didn’t do anything.”
Catris stared at her, pointedly without pity. “Neither. Did. Godren. Yet his consequences are far worse than yours ever would have been, and he is taking them without expressing an ounce of a fit, much less sobbing like an idiot. I am giving you a direct order to clear him. Do you understand me? You will talk. And maybe since no fatal harm came of your little cover-up, your town will forgive you. That is the best you can hope for. I will imprison you if you do not oblige.”
Laying out her options, Catris let her absorb the black- and whiteness that had become of her bleak existence. Looking helpless and distraught, Delcy struggled within herself, on the verge of a cataclysmic breakdown. Catris willed her to understand that it was really very simple. All she had to do was speak, and the severity of her consequences would be reduced significantly.
Finally, Delcy looked up through tear-laden eyes, her decision made.
*
Lifting his head at the sound of hoof-beats on the road, Godren watched the princess approach the yard, Delcy at her side. The dark-haired girl was a mess, her face streaked with tears and masked by locks of disordered hair. She avoided meeting the eyes of the world, and had to literally be dragged from her mount by the princess. With one hand still around her elbow, Catris forced her to the yard and sought out the authorities.
Hope nested inside Godren. Delcy looked like she would rather be anywhere but here, but perhaps Catris had somehow convinced her to talk. He strained his ears, trying to make out the exchange of words. At first it was difficult, but then a breeze stirred and carried their voices to him.
“What is the meaning of this?” the constable was asking.
“Delcy Caster is here to testify on Godren’s behalf,” Catris announced.
“With what?” the man demanded impatiently, not taking kindly to this last-minute interruption.
“She can denounce the evidence that places him at the scene of the crime.”
Frowning, the constable turned his eyes on Delcy. She shrank further into her hair, but dragged the explanation out of herself. Her voice was meek and shameful, and broke as she made her testimony; “Godren didn’t…come to see me that night,” she confessed, and sobbed.
“What?”
His tone encouraging the intensity of her crying, Delcy cowered against the princess’s hold. “He never came to see me.”
The constable’s mouth worked, but no words came out. He blinked against this new information, and then sputtered. “What in the gods’ names do you mean by this? Don’t play games with me, girl. A man is awaiting execution on the grounds that you placed him at the scene of the crime, as the only man who had access to your estate during the time your father’s murder took place.”
As the constable received the revelation less than graciously, tears ran more freely down Delcy’s face.
“What do you mean by this?” he demanded again, and she flinched.
“I made it up,” she squeaked miserably.
“You made it up? You self-gratifying wretch. Do you realize what you could have done?”
Whatever Delcy managed to say after that, Godren didn’t hear it. A huge weight dissipated from his shoulders, a weight he had not realized had become so much a part of him. It left him deeply raw with the ability to breathe in a way he had forgotten. He felt so light he could whisk away with the free, free wind, so elated he could outshine the sun. As ironic as it was, he stood there in the execution yard, shackled, thinking to himself, I’m free…
And then someone was releasing his bonds, and Delcy was being collected for some manner of punishment or deliberative custody in the background, and Catris was coming before him. He gazed at her blankly, unable to decide on a feeling, wondering if this was real.
Catris bit her lip. Opened her mouth.
But then an interruption of hoof beats reverberated down the road once again. This time, when the residents of Wingbridge looked to see who was coming, a great cloud of dust met their probing eyes. It was a much greater procession than the first time, and everyone grew silent in bemusement for the traffic passing through Wingbridge that day.
When the riders drew closer, Catris’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly, but she squared them and stood her ground as her father and his entourage came to a stop just shy of the execution yard. The king’s face was grim, but he didn’t immediately speak.
“Catris,” he decided on after seeing no better way to address the unknown situation.
“Father,” she returned.
“Dare I ask what you are doing here?”
“Something…came up.”
“Something came up leagues away from the nunnery I left you in,” he corrected her.
“Well…naturally. Nothing comes up in a nunnery, father. They’re all too stanch in oaths of utter plainness for that. The very air is boring to breathe.”
“Please tell me this is not merely an escapade for a breath of fresh air. We cannot afford your whimsical defiance right now, Tris. I–” For the first time, the king caught sight of Godren behind his daughter. Where the princess had always gotten stuck on mere familiarity at the sight of his face, the king was obviously more informed when it came to Raven City’s most wanted. Instant recognition registered on his face. “Catris…” he began, and then changed his approach; “Someone put this man in irons.”
Just as quickly as relief had found Godren, his freedom was stomped back into ashes.
Two of the king’s men dismounted to obey, and Godren could do nothing but stand there as his fate was juggled from one course to another.
Catris, however, was not so quick to accept defeat after going to such measures to free him. Taking a step back, she blocked access to Godren. “This man is not what you think,” she objected.
“Tris, step away from him,” Talivor said very evenly. “He is wanted for murder and countless other crimes in my city.”
“Murder which he did not commit and other crimes that he only engaged in for survival.”
“I am not asking you to defend him, Tris. Step away.”
“Father, this man saved my life. He i
s the one who rescued me from the cottage in the woods.”
The king seemed taken aback by that, but he stuck to his initial sentiments. “And how do we know he did not deliver you for popularity, only because he was seeking some manner of clemency?” He nodded to his men, not waiting for an answer. “Get her away from him.”
“If he had wanted popularity, he would have sought it,” the princess protested. “You forget he disappeared without showing his face.”
“Well he was both wise and deceitful not to,” Talivor said.
Catris did not defy the guards as they removed her from Godren’s presence and began shackling him again. She was too focused on getting through to her father. “Father, they have denounced the accusations of murder, and surely a smattering of small crime can be pardoned in exchange for him delivering me from my captors in the woods. If you had seen the grievances he suffered to get me out safely, you would not think twice about whether or not to pardon him.”
The king turned to the constable. “Is this true? The murder charges have been dropped?”
The constable inclined his head, looking more humbled and awkward by the minute. “Indeed, your majesty. Just now.”
Talivor’s eyes shifted to Godren. “What grievances were these?
Godren opened his mouth, but found himself faltering at what to say, and how to say it.
Seth cleared his throat in the background. “He…ah…was a walking horror of wounds and lacerations, Sire,” he volunteered a little hesitantly. “Stabbed, scored by glass he used as his own weapon, beaten to a pulp by fists, and, ah…caught in a game trap.”
The king glanced at Seth as he spoke, but returned his eyes to Godren as soon as the account was spoken. “You endured that in the sole interests of my daughter?”
“Someone had to,” Godren replied, and then remembered himself and thought to add, “Your Majesty.”
“And you are responsible for rendering her captors to the state we found them in,” Talivor wanted to confirm.
Wanting to squirm with the increasing urge to preserve his modesty, Godren nevertheless answered the question. “That depends on how you found them, Sire. But if they were still unconscious by the cottage – then yes.”
“By yourself?” came the next doubtful question.
Cringing inside, Godren hesitated as he wished he could find a more comfortable answer.
“He’s afraid so, your majesty,” Seth tried to help once again.
Ignoring Seth, Talivor’s steady gaze pressured Godren to give his own answer.
“It’s alright, Godren,” Catris urged.
Seeing there was no help for it, Godren nodded once. “Yes.”
Considering him with great intensity, Talivor let a small suspenseful silence settle over the yard. “What crimes have you committed, Godren?”
“Father–” Catris protested.
“Be still, Tris.” He waited for Godren’s reply.
Feeling a grave lump form in the pit of his stomach, Godren resigned himself to it and gave a report. “Theft, evasion, trespassing and breach, vandalism…and a manner of treason,” he finished.
“Godren!” Cat exclaimed in objection at that last item, but he didn’t look at her.
“And what manner of treason would that be?” Talivor pressed.
“Fraternizing with an enemy. I was contracted into the services of Mastodon, Sire.”
The silence grew pale.
“You work for Mastodon?” the king asked very dangerously.
Godren shook his head. “My services have been terminated.”
“On what grounds?”
“I fulfilled my contract as quickly as possible.”
“And what was your contract?”
“To round up the bounty hunters that posed a threat to her.”
“You knowingly thwarted the noble attempts to bring in a great terror of my city,” Talivor interpreted.
“Father–”
“Hush, Tris.”
“I hunted them,” Godren elaborated honestly.
“So you did worse than thwart them. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Only that I have been fighting for justice all along, so I will accept the consequences of my actions.”
Talivor did not immediately reply to that. Catris took the opportunity to meekly penetrate the conversation again;
“Father?” she tried very docilely.
“Yes, Tris?” he granted without looking at her.
“He is also the man who felled the wolf from the shadows when it attacked me in the city. I would have been gone twice if not for this man. If you cannot bring yourself to give him thanks for saving my life twice over…at least let him go.”
That additional revelation broke through some of the king’s unwavering sentiments, but he did not let them go completely. “Get on a horse, Tris.” As she moved to obey at his no-nonsense tone of voice, the king addressed Godren one more time. “Because you have done me an unthinkable personal service, apparently twice over, I will choose to overlook the crimes that others seem to have forced you to commit. But if you know what’s good for you, you will not show your face in my presence again. And if you ever aspire to come near my daughter again, it had better be because you’re saving her life. Do you understand?”
Somehow, even though his freedom had finally been granted by the greatest authority, Godren found himself stung. He blinked against the unfriendly restrictions, but could make no objection. “I understand.”
Giving a curt nod, the king reined his mount around, and the rest of his men followed suit like a flock of birds. They fanned around in an arc and cantered away from the yard, down the road and over the bridge.
35: Forbidden Ambition
Godren ignored the blow of being forbidden to see the princess in order to dedicate himself to a long-overdue family reunion. Rather than beating, his heart throbbed, but he had denied himself the princess before and he had a great deal to be thankful for, just now. Ilsa and Carra were both overjoyed with relief – heartbreakingly so. It was a miracle to see his family again, especially happy. Their radiant joy brought back memories of festive nights in town, whenever the townspeople could find something to celebrate. The dazzling strung lights that criss-crossed over the streets, the girls running around with flowers in their hair, the quaint melodies of folk dances that drifted in tempered waves to those who dodged the action and ate candy in the companionable shadows… He smiled fondly remembering when he and Seth used to do that, retiring to the edges of the party and finding a cozy nook where one house overlapped with another, bonding to the tune of peace and happiness around them. There was something about standing back and observing the liveliness that just encouraged a homey vibrancy in your soul.
But there were no lights strung over the dormant streets of Wingbridge, and though a homey sense of familiarity was awake in Godren’s soul, the vibrancy wasn’t there. A pale, broken shell of it flickered inside him, haunted and still restless. The town had been shaken – by a murder, a resulting injustice, and an unlikely confession – and the depth of the scars was not quick to level out and repave itself.
After spending the rest of the evening and half the night catching up with his family, Godren left them to restore their sanity with some sleep and went to find Seth. His friend had been welcomed with equal enthusiasm, but had declined joining them in order to reunite with his own family, and now Godren came upon his dark house and continued on to the bridge.
Seth stood at the water’s edge, a smooth stone in his hand. He only stroked its texture absently as he stood there, though, and the water looked undisturbed. Godren wondered what he was thinking.
“You haven’t lost your touch, have you?” he asked to announce his presence as he came up behind his friend.
Seth glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t know, I haven’t tried yet. I’m a little cautious of the memories I’ll set loose when I break the surface of that water.”
Nodding in understanding, Godr
en stopped before the water’s edge. “How’s your family?”
“Like yours. Overjoyed They had a lot to say about me running off without word, though, when I had nothing to do with any murder and had no business involving myself.”
Godren avoided looking at Seth as guilt rose to his eyes, but Seth saw it anyway.
“Don’t worry, they don’t hold it against you,” he assured him. “They have utmost sympathy for you, and can’t imagine… In the end they couldn’t fault what they called ‘a noble act of loyalty’ on my part.” A smile touched his lips. “There’s a lot to restore, but it’ll come.”
“If there’s anything I can do,” Godren reminded him, “you’ve only to say the word.”
Seth nodded. “I know.
“Is something else bothering you?”
“They never…exactly…pardoned me of my crimes. Am I supposed to expect further grief? I mean, I didn’t save the princess from any life-threatening tight spot. Instead, I encouraged her to defy her father’s sentence of safety and helped her break her way out of her holy haven in the mountains.”
“How did that come to pass?”
“Evantralis told me you’d gone home and how her Highness had prompted it. All I could think was how brainless you were and that the princess had no idea what she’d done. I don’t know what I expected to achieve, but I had to make her understand what she’d done. I certainly wasn’t going to stick around Mastodon’s at that point, and staying in the city just didn’t have a ring to it. I also knew I’d be completely powerless to do anything at home, so I took off into the mountains seeking the princess’s hideout.”
“How did you get in?”
“I played an estranged traveler on his last legs, collapsing on their doorstep in the middle of the night. Of course they took me in.”
“How did you convince Cat to defy her father again and come to my rescue?”
Bounty Page 32
