A Trial of Sparks & Kindling (Fall of the Mantle Book 2)

by Yolandie Horak

  “Celestine is dead. Do you know how many assassins have tried to get close enough to the old hag to kill her? She was a frail little woman in a bloody wheelchair, but armed to the teeth, and sharper than any blade in Ehrdia. Don’t ask me how—I suspect that secret died with her. But Cara? She was the weak spot in Grandmama’s defence. I don’t quite think Cara murdered Celestine, but she must have knocked her out, which enabled Du Pont to kill her.”

  Nathan crossed his arms. Why was Frank telling him all of this? He’d said earlier he was going to kill him. Was he supposed to hear Frank’s sins, then forgive him?

  Frank could go to hell.

  “You don’t look impressed,” Frank said.

  “Nothing you’ve said changes the fact that Cara deserves to be queen.”

  Frank raised a hand. “Oh, she deserves it, does she? No, this is my birth right. Mordoux has no queen, not while I live. I’d never hurt Cara, even if she tried to kill me—you can die in peace with that knowledge. I love my sisters and will always protect them.

  “Before I lock her in a cosy prison somewhere, though, I’d rather deter her from even trying to kill me. If she wants to run away, that’s up to her. I won’t stop her. If she wants to come back and help me fight that war, I’d welcome her back with open arms. She’s worth more to me when on display, anyway, and now that I know what a feisty, sharp player she is, I can use that. I just want her to understand that there will be consequences if she comes for my crown.

  “Besides, I’m pissed as hell. My best friend died a traitor, and Celestine is also dead. I need an outlet for my frustration, and you’re conveniently available.”

  Nathan nodded. Cara would hurt when he was dead, but she’d survive. He had many regrets, most of them surrounding her, but there were others. He’d never said goodbye to Dorian. They hadn’t been close for years, but they were still brothers. Maybe he shouldn’t have left Magnus so easily. Yes, he loved Cara, but he managed to ruin that anyway. Maybe he should have stayed with his father till the end.

  “Are you going to kill me now?” Nathan’s voice was steady. The surgeon.

  Frank tutted. “No. I’m a nice guy. I’ll let you have one last night and look you in the eye when I kill you tomorrow.”

  ***

  Nathan had paced the length of the cell for about two hours when the soft tap-tap of feet broke the dark for the second time that night. Did nobody sleep in this place? Was it Frank, returned now that it was tomorrow?

  But the footsteps were lighter than Frank’s, and paused frequently, as though whoever approached was afraid to be found.

  Could he dare hope that someone would try to rescue him? Had Pointy and the others learned Nathan was in danger?

  He held his breath, waited.

  The figure in the shadows was the last person he’d expected. Malak, with her finger pressed to her lips, just like Nic. A key that glinted in the dim light, just like Nic’s. This key was smaller, slipped into the lock, then turned without a sound.

  The cell door rattled as it opened, and Malak held out her hand to him.

  Nathan hesitated only for a second before taking it. She’d helped Cara, after all. Why would she go to all this trouble if he couldn’t trust her?

  Was this it? Was he free?

  She led him through the castle slowly, step pause, step pause, careful, careful, as though threats lurked around every stone. Her neck jerked at the sound of a far-off voice, then she padded in the opposite direction, only to gasp and throw herself against Nathan.

  Nathan’s heart banged with such force it was a wonder the guards hadn’t heard it yet. The voice behind them sounded again, this time followed by laughter, while a confident footfall came from ahead. Ashes, they were trapped.

  Malak tried the handle of every door in the hall, opened the first one that turned, and yanked Nathan in behind her. Creator alone knew how she closed the door so soundlessly. She stood, breath held, ear flattened to the wood.

  Where were they? The room was dark, but soft snores sounded from the left. Of course, they’d enter a place with a person. Let them stay asleep.

  The next few minutes stretched into aeons, but finally Malak released her breath and nodded. She opened the door a sliver, peered out, then opened it all the way and waved for Nathan to follow.

  They headed back the way they’d been following originally. The hall was quiet, but Nathan’s neck itched, as though the grey stones were all observing. How did that saying go? Every stone in Mordoux had a listening ear, but what about those that watched?

  Malak held up her palm so that Nathan would wait, then sneaked ahead. She peeked into the next hall, jerked back behind the edge of a corner, then hurried into a different hall. She shook her head, pointed in the direction from where they’d come.

  They went faster now. Had someone seen her? Were they being followed?

  Nathan’s legs wobbled so much he could barely remain upright, but he had to get back to Cara. He had to make things right.

  An old man with blue eyes and a whimsical smile leaned against the wall of the hall ahead. Magnus? Impossible. Nathan blinked and Magnus was gone. Just a trick of the mind.

  Malak led him onwards until the clangs of the alarm shattered the quiet of the castle.

  Everything inside Nathan shrivelled. He could barely see through the blurriness and the spots of black.

  “I really tried,” Malak said, then disappeared.

  Was she just going to leave him here? Ashes.

  Nathan ran blindly ahead. Where was he? Was he far enough from the prison that they’d take a while to find him here?

  The hallway split off left and right, and Nathan went right.

  A serving woman shouted and jumped back as he made the turn, hurling a pile of folded laundry into the air. “Here! He’s here!”

  He ran faster. Now that he’d been seen, it was just a matter of time before he was caught.

  Booming footsteps echoed behind him, and he pushed through the pain in his side, ignored his throbbing muscles and kept going. Just a bit more, just a bit more, but dammit, where was he? How the hell would he get out?

  The footsteps behind him grew louder, and people rushed out of their rooms to stop him. He dodged an opening door. Servants? Was he in the basement?

  Nathan finally found a path he knew; this way led up, away from Nita’s place. He smiled and pushed himself harder. Behind him, more and more people shouted, more footsteps crashed. They were too close. Shit, he wasn’t going to make it.

  He clung to the light in his heart, the little flicker of hope as he rounded the final corner that would open to the hall that led to the door.

  Frank stood by the open door. His moustache twitched up as he smiled. “Ten more steps to freedom.”

  Nathan froze.

  The footsteps behind him halted, then grew softer.

  Frank was toying with him. This was all a part of his game. He’d said Nathan wouldn’t be able to outrun the bolt. He’d said he’d look Nathan in the eye when he killed him.

  Had Malak been a part of this too? Had she let Nathan out just so Frank could enjoy the chase a bit more? Had Frank’s people herded him in this direction, so he’d end up where Frank had been waiting?

  Hunted like an animal.

  Magnus stood outside in the moonlight, arms wide open.

  “Well, this was fun,” Frank said.

  Nathan’s forehead prickled. “I love you, Cara.”

  Frank levelled the crossbow, pulled the trigger, and—

  Chapter 53

  “I love you, Cara,” Nathan Cutter said.

  Varda entered the hall from behind, jaw slack as Frank pulled the trigger and Nathan crumpled to the ground. A bolt protruded from his forehead, but his expression was serene.

  No. Not him, too.

  “Why, Frank?” She stomped closer, nails sharp against the fleshy inside of her palms. “What did he ever do to you?”

  Frank blinked. “He was an escaping prisoner. I couldn’t let him go
.”

  She groaned at the ceiling. “He was a person. A physician.” She bent to examine him. “Unarmed! He didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “He admitted to treason in front of three witnesses. I know Cara loves him. Loved. But I can’t forgive treason just for her.” He propped up the crossbow on his shoulder. “Because of treason, I also lost someone tonight.”

  “No less than three witnesses? Ha.” Blessed Ehrd, what a son of a bitch Frank turned out to be. Her bloody husband. “And you didn’t lose Nic, Frank. You murdered him. In cold blood! You shot him in the head without even pausing to consider the consequences.”

  His lips parted, eyes widened. His expression flickered to that of a little boy who wanted his mommy, then settled into apathy.

  Not that feigned innocence could change what she felt about him. “If you wanted a wife who’d shut up and—”

  “Go back to bed. I can join you in a minute,” he said.

  Sex? Now? Was he turned on by this, or did he really care so little that he’d shot and killed two people?

  She had to get out. Walk a bit. She hadn’t known Nathan at all, but nobody deserved to die on the whims of kings. “I’m going to see my mother.”

  Frank blocked her way. “Why?”

  Good question. She shoved him back. “Because you make me sick.”

  His brow furrowed. “I— No. We can—”

  Varda shoved him again. “This is wrong, Frank. What you did was wrong. And it bothers me that you don’t see that. It bothers me that you seem to have enjoyed it. Maybe you’re even turned on. It bothers me that I don’t know you at all, and I’m bloody stuck with you. Now get the hell out of my way before I punch you.”

  He hesitated, then stepped aside. His gaze scorched the back of her neck.

  She drew the hood of her chamber robe—a gift from her new husband—and checked that it covered her legs. Her new nightgown—another gift—barely reached her thighs, but there hadn’t been time to dress when the blasted alarm sounded.

  The night air remained cold, even as the days warmed. There was nothing for it now, she’d just walk fast and stay warm that way.

  At least she’d had the clarity of mind to put on the fur-lined slippers that went with the rest of her new bedroom attire.

  Frank. Damn him.

  Varda sniffed and jogged on.

  To see her mother. Why, of all people, had she told Frank she was going to see her mother? On her wedding night.

  No wonder Frank had looked so confused. Had Malak ever refused when he’d told her to wait for him in bed, or did she ready her body like a good little mistress, so he could just slip in?

  She shuddered. Why had she gone through with it? Frank was going to kill her, just like he’d killed Nathan and Nic, blame it on some sort of treason, and ruin her reputation. What happened if she was barren? Would he make her death seem an accident?

  Her vision swam, and she blinked. Was she going to cry about it? Vanth’s bloody balls.

  Varda sprinted. The night air stung her throat, burned in her lungs. Her nose and eyes ran—she wasn’t crying.

  Cara would be heartbroken, but was she still in Collinefort to hear the news? It would be best if she’d gone, though the chances of her leaving without her love were probably slim. Poor thing.

  Varda slowed a bit, then picked up the pace again. Cara was her sister. Strange. It had been so long since she’d had any kind of family except her mother, and now she had two sisters, and their father. A father-in-law. Would he be anything like her father had been, or would the resemblance end with their Mordian ancestry?

  Her heartbeat boomed in her ears. Her wedding day, and two people dead, without reason. Collinefort was asleep, blissfully unaware of the bloodshed and heartache that had happened this night. Come daybreak, Nic’s and Nathan’s deaths would be officially announced, and their bodies displayed on the keep wall.

  Frank thought he was so smart, killing his best friend like a traitor, but Nic had been well liked. The soldiers were going to be unhappy about this. Ghedi would also be unimpressed—he was friends with them both.

  Her throat constricted, and her lips trembled. Nic was a good man. Had been. Always ready with a joke, always smiling. They’d never had that drink she’d missed. He’d been Varda’s only friend in this forsaken place. Except for Nita, of course.

  Shit, she hadn’t even thought of that. Nathan had been one of Nita’s best friends. How was she going to take the news?

  Maybe Varda should’ve gone to tell her, instead of coming to the Dvaran camp. She slowed. Somewhere unseen, a pair of bears groaned as they mated. People snored, someone talked quietly, but otherwise, it was silent.

  The air stank of fish and ale, sweat and stale coffee. Varda filled her soul with it. Soon, this part of the tent village would be deserted. Frank would find new bodies to stink it up, but they wouldn’t be her people. She’d be alone.

  She wiped her nose and went on.

  Vendla’s tent was dark, but for the glow of the coal oven.

  “Old whale?” Varda kept her voice low, then stuck her head into the tent.

  Vendla turned on the bed and peered at Varda with one open eye. “Come in, child.”

  Her head must be thick with sleep for her to call Varda child, but there was something soothing about the word. Something that felt like family.

  “What’s the matter?” Vendla sat up, and her expression hardened. Even the low orange glow from the oven couldn’t soften the angles of her face.

  “I don’t know why I came.” Varda hesitated in the entrance.

  “Come here.” Vendla patted on the bed.

  Varda went, and slumped next to her.

  “Can I help?”

  “You almost sound like my mother,” Varda said.

  “I am your mother.”

  “I forget sometimes.”

  “What happened?”

  “Frank just shot and killed Nathan Cutter.”

  Vendla’s eyebrows pulled up for only a second, then her expression smoothed. “Why?”

  Varda sighed. “I don’t really know. He said Nathan had spoken treason in front of three witnesses, then broke out of the cells, and he had to kill him, or he’d have escaped. But it gets worse—he also killed Nic. Another treason.”

  A strange sound rose from the next tent. Something between a gasp and a sob.

  “What was—” Varda almost laughed when Cara entered the tent a moment later, short hair sticking up at the back. “I should have known, old whale.”

  Cara gave a tentative step closer, eyes as wide as they would go, silver with tears and horror. “Did you just say…”

  Varda stood and crossed the gap between them. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. Had I known you were here I’d have come directly to you.”

  “Frank killed Nathan.” Her voice was a breath. “But Nathan is here. In his tent.”

  “I’m sorry. We’re sisters now, and…I don’t want this for you.” Varda put her arms around Cara and tried to be hard. Tried to not remember the way Ylva had felt in her arms. Tried to not wish Cara was Ylva.

  Cara sobbed once, and tears fell from the corners of her eyes, but she remained otherwise frozen. “Where— Where is he? His…body?”

  “Still in the castle,” Varda said. “They’ll probably display him and Nic tomorrow. That’s what they do with traitors of the resistance.”

  “This isn’t real.” Cara clamped her lips together, shook her head. “He must be in his tent. I’ll go look.”

  Varda held her by the upper arms. “I saw it happen. I saw his corpse. He came into the castle earlier, and Nic found him. They threw him in the cell around nine o’clock. His last words were that he loved you.”

  Cara hid her face in her hands. “No. No, I—”

  “I’m so sorry.” Varda blinked, and a warm tear rolled down her cheek.

  “I love him, and I left him, but I didn’t want him to die.”

  She what? Was that why Nathan had come to t
he castle? What had happened here?

  “Frank—” Cara wiped her nose on her sleeve. “He killed Nic, too? He’s a monster.”

  “I know.”

  “You have to come with us, Varda. You have to come, or he’ll kill you.” Cara’s face contorted. Her entire body shook.

  For a minute, Varda was tempted. If the gods really wanted her to have Frank’s child, she’d already be pregnant. They were powerful enough to make it happen after only once. Yet, she couldn’t. She had to be sure. Once she knew, she’d consider leaving, but until then, this was her divine mission.

  Cara rocked forward and back. “I have to— Excuse me.” She slipped out of the tent with a squeak.

  “Poor girl,” Vendla said.

  “Yes,” Varda said.

  “I meant you. Come here, child. Let your mother hold you.”

  Varda crumpled in Vendla’s lap, and wept, though she wasn’t sure why.

  Chapter 54

  “Pointy? Pointy, you have to come.”

  He was instantly awake and pushed himself up in bed. “My queen?”

  Carabelle all but ran closer and flung herself at him. “It’s Nathan.” She sobbed hard. “Varda says Frank killed him.”

  His mind drained, and he stared down at her, jaw slack. Intelligence training faded away, breathing exercises, all of it. A high whine filled him. “What did you say?”

  She pressed her scrunched-up face, wet and red, into his neck, breath hot and fast. She moaned, shivered. “Varda says Nathan is dead, Pointy. Frank killed him.”

  Impossible. “No. He’s in his tent.”

  “We have to go check, but I’m so afraid. Please, come with me?”

  “Of course.” Pointy manoeuvred around Carabelle and slid his legs over the side. Pain shot up his calves from his ruined soles, but the physical pain dwarfed when measured against the shuddering hollowness inside him. It latched to his soul, sucking the life out of him.

  “You’ll get hurt.” Carabelle wobbled on her feet but rolled the chair closer and helped him into it. She pushed him out of the tent. Her tears fell warm, then cooled on the back of his nightshirt.