“Leymonn wants you, Verras,” he said, then spat onto the carpet. “Fine thing for an assistant to the advisor to leave when a madman like the duke terrorizes the city.”
“I was tending to the rangers.” Lord Verras spoke carefully.
Pergam noticed me. “Wasn’t all you were attending to, I’d say. If you’re going to hide down here, find the champion for us.”
Lord Verras’s fingers tightened around the door handle. “Go.”
“But—”
“Go!” Lord Verras slammed the door closed. “Leymonn has chosen a lieutenant worthy of him.” He glanced at me. “Don’t mind him.”
“I don’t.” Pergam wasn’t worth the spittle he’d left on the floor.
Lord Verras rolled his eyes. “I must go. Though I should have asked where Leymonn was before I sent Pergam away.…”
“And I should give Will his tunic.” I pulled it from my apron pocket and showed it to Lord Verras.
He looked up from the crest and half smiled at me. “An ear trumpet and … a chest that’s opening? The ear trumpet must be because he said he’d listen for you. But what does the chest between the lions represent?”
“You noticed?”
“My work is to watch, to make sure that King Eldin and the city are kept safe by seeing important things first. Yes, I noticed the chest.”
I refolded the tunic and tucked it in my pocket. “Will found a lock of my hair in a trunk. That’s how he discovered my secret.”
Lord Verras laughed. It was the most heartening sound I’d heard all day.
I held it to me as I scurried down the halls to find Will. I’d felt safe in Lord Verras’s room. But I’d witnessed too much blood and madness today to believe that Will was safe until I could see the truth for myself.
I was breathless by the time I stood outside his door. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and tried to hide the fear I felt. Then I knocked.
No one answered. After another knock, I opened the door.
Will wasn’t there. Only the empty bed, its linens rumpled and thrown back. The bedside table was covered in the little toys and tools that Lord Verras had promised. But no Will.
Something was wrong.
I dashed down the corridor, straining for any sign of him. Let him be safe.
The passage changed as I moved out of the servants’ halls, widening into a corridor with high ceilings and cut-stone walls. Golden evening sunlight filled the rooms I passed.
Will’s laugh rang out, and I followed it.
The moment I crossed the threshold, two guards barred my way, their hands on their swords. I lowered my gaze and dropped into a curtsy, my heart throwing itself against my ribs.
“Miss Gramton!” called Leymonn. “We didn’t expect the guards to fetch you from Lissa so soon.”
Lissa? He dared call the princess Lissa? For a moment, I wanted to hide her as much as I longed to hide Will.
Will.
I rose from my curtsy, eyes taking in the room: an old nursery. Dolls, toys, wooden swords, play horses, and painted boats were all carefully arranged. There were even two wooden castles in the corner each armed with catapults.
Will sat in the center of the room, clutching a limp knight doll, his eyes wide as he looked up at me.
“Let her pass,” said King Eldin from his seat in the corner.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I whispered.
Will grinned at the young king and returned to his play. Only an idiot would think a boy of eight would smile so at an adult. Will was still acting the spy.
“We have been enjoying young Will’s lively antics, Miss Gramton.” Leymonn rested a heavy hand on the boy’s head. Will scowled, but his eyes flicked toward me and he forced another grin.
“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him,” I managed, my voice brittle with fear.
Leymonn ruffled Will’s hair so roughly that his head jerked side to side. “The king brought him a toy.”
Will held up the rag doll knight and smiled widely. Too widely. He would have loved the castles, would have wanted to take apart the catapults just to see how they worked, but King Eldin had given him a silly doll.
And, all the while, Leymonn watched the boy like a hawk tracking its prey.
Time slowed around me. I tried to slow with it, to move so softly that the predator in the room would have no reason to attack.
“It’s a fine knight.” I knelt beside Will, glad the doll gave me an excuse to be near him. “May I hold it?”
“Here.” For a heartbeat, I remembered Will with the giants, a rag doll in their hands. I blinked the image away, but before I could take Will’s doll, Leymonn snatched it.
“Miss Gramton doesn’t have time to play, I’m afraid. The king needs her.”
I looked up at Leymonn and then the king, who perched uneasily in his chair near the castles. He waved a hand dismissively. “Tell her, Leymonn.”
I stood slowly. I didn’t look at Will, but I stayed beside him, hoping that would be enough to keep him safe.
“The city has grown restless after the duke’s visit this afternoon.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Will turn away and begin to move the doll in some sort of pantomime. I knew he was listening.
I waited for Leymonn to continue. The silence was worse than his slick voice. Then I saw his smirk and realized that he wanted me to ask what was needed.
I’d rather wait all day.
Leymonn glanced at Will.
“The city is restless?” I prompted.
He smirked as if he’d won a game. “Yes, the city needs to see their champion.”
“They don’t have a champion! You know that.”
Leymonn raised an eyebrow. “When I was a member of the castle guard, a man could be beaten for talking to his superior that way.”
“Even if it was the truth?”
“Especially if it was the truth.”
“I won’t give them false hope.” I looked at King Eldin, hoping he would say something. Do something. He turned away, staring at the wooden swords that hung on the wall.
Leymonn cleared his throat. “The king and I have already discussed this, Miss Gramton. He feels it is more a matter of giving the city time.”
Time. So he could find a way to escape. I clenched my jaw against all I wanted to say.
“You owe your king whatever he asks of you.” Leymonn wasn’t smiling anymore.
I folded my arms.
He didn’t look away from me. “Guard!” he commanded. “The boy is tired. Remove him.”
One of the guards walked to the middle of the room and plucked Will up. Will yelped and dropped the knight doll.
“Careful with him!” I darted toward the guard, but Leymonn grabbed my arm and pulled me back. He smiled, baring his teeth. He’d found my soft spot, and we both knew it.
I’d never felt so powerless.
I looked at Will. He was breathing quickly, but his mouth was pressed tightly closed. He was determined not to show his fear, even with the guard’s arms wrapped around him.
I turned back to Leymonn. “The city will have their champion,” I whispered.
“What?” he asked. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“The city—”
“Don’t worry about me!” interrupted Will. “My foot doesn’t hurt so much now. The doctor put a special bandage on it.” He reached over the guard’s arm to knock on his foot. It sounded like he rapped against stone. “He says it’s better than the starched rags they normally use. He says—”
“Quiet, boy!” bellowed Leymonn.
Silence filled the room, the quiet after a thunderclap. Will blinked, but didn’t look anywhere near crying. I wanted to hug him.
And I wanted to belt Leymonn.
“What’s happening here?” Lord Verras stood in the doorway, coatless, his sleeves still rolled up. He was furious, but he held the anger outside him, as if it was a wildcat on a leash.
I stood straighter just to see him.
“I was explaining to Miss Gramton what the king requires of her.”
“I asked the king,” said Lord Verras.
Leymonn’s face turned red. “You serve me, the advisor to the king!”
“I serve the king.” Lord Verras stepped into the room. “What is this, cousin?”
King Eldin flushed. “Who are you to ask what I am doing, Galen Verras? You remain in the castle only because someone must give Leymonn the information he needs.”
Leymonn chuckled. “And yet I couldn’t find you when I wanted to ask about this duke. I shouldn’t have to send Pergam to fetch you.”
Lord Verras’s eyes flitted from the king to Leymonn, then to Will and me. He tilted his head. “I apologize. When I heard the boy cry out, I was alarmed. But, of course, you wouldn’t hurt him.”
“Never,” said Leymonn. “Miss Gramton is already looking out for him. In fact, she was just leaving on an errand.”
“I’ll go out on the balcony again.” I hoped Lord Verras understood every word I wasn’t saying. “I wonder, though, if Will would be more comfortable if he was set down. The guard isn’t gentle.”
“I’ll take him,” said Lord Verras.
“No,” Leymonn moved to block him. “You won’t.”
I folded my arms.
Leymonn understood my message. “Perhaps … you can escort the guard as he carries the boy to his new room, one closer to His Majesty’s. King Eldin enjoyed this visit and would like to see him again, I’m sure.”
Lord Verras looked at the king, who nodded. I wanted to wrench Will out of the guard’s arms and hide him far away from giants and the castle politics that used him like a plaything. But I stood there, silent and limp as the knight doll that lay on the floor.
“I’m scared,” whispered Will. Not once, in all the time I’d known him, had I ever heard him speak those words. He shot a look at Leymonn and added, “Of the giants.”
King Eldin had been fiddling with his cuffs, but he sat straighter at the boy’s comment. Lord Verras cupped Will’s face in that way that men have, his palm close to Will’s ear, his fingers curled behind the boy’s neck. I wished I’d thought to hold Will so. I’d been so afraid to touch him, afraid it might betray my secret.
“There isn’t a person here who isn’t scared. It shows you have sense, that you can see what’s coming. But if your heart is as strong as I think it is, you’ll remember those who care about you. And you won’t let the fear run you.” For a moment, Lord Verras looked at his cousin, but the king would not meet his eye. Lord Verras sighed and looked back to Will. “Fear will try to chase you down—like hounds after their prey—until you are too tired to run anymore. You can’t let that happen. When the time comes, you’ll have strength to do what you must.”
Will stared at Lord Verras, his brow pinched. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“You’ll know.”
Will’s shoulders relaxed. He gave the tiniest of nods.
Leymonn picked up the knight doll, and tossed it in the air. “You should go now before the boy gets tired.”
“His name is Will,” I snapped.
“Before Will gets tired. And you should do what the king asked of you, Miss Gramton.” He smiled. “You should do it now.”
I turned to leave, but looked at Will one last time. I was afraid to touch him, afraid to let Leymonn see how much I loved the boy. “You rest, do you hear me?”
He nodded.
I reached into my apron pocket and gave Lord Verras Will’s tunic. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Of course.”
As I left, I heard Will. “Thank you, Sir.” My heart lurched to hear Will’s name for me, and I blinked the haze from my eyes. “I had a good time here with you and the king and the knight you gave me.”
Chapter 22
Half an hour later, I was dressed in the clothes I’d never wanted to wear again. I tugged at my cravat and paced the room outside the balcony, rehearsing the lines Leymonn had given me. I ached to tell the people the truth: There is no champion, there is no plan. The king is weak, and Leymonn? He will do nothing to save you.
I stopped and looked around. The room was filled with Leymonn’s cronies. They weren’t the men who had guarded the king when I’d first visited the court, the quiet men who watched his every move. These new guards milled about, muttering among themselves.
And then Leymonn entered and the castle guard watched him. He approached the king and bowed.
“It’s time,” said Leymonn.
King Eldin walked out onto the balcony.
“People of Reggen!” Immediately the clamor in the courtyard quieted to an uneasy murmur. “An enemy … a great enemy has threatened our city. You have seen his riders. You have seen him.”
I stood behind the king, hands clenched. His voice was so small. Reggen deserved better.
King Eldin straightened, like a puppet whose string had been yanked. “But you have also seen what one of your own can do against his giants! I give you …” Thunderous shouts and applause. King Eldin swept an arm toward me, finally finding his voice. “… our champion, the tailor of Reggen!”
I’d been given my father’s name: Tailor. My stomach turned just to hear it.
In a heartbeat, Leymonn was at my side and mouthed one word: Will.
I walked out onto the balcony.
The crowd went silent. Every face was turned toward me. Then I imagined giants as tall as the city walls, moving through the crowd, great boots stomping these people. They shouldn’t die just because the duke wanted the city and the king didn’t know how to defend it.
The people wanted comfort. I closed my eyes and remembered what Lord Verras had just told Will.
“I know you are scared.” I didn’t shout. I didn’t need to. My voice carried across the courtyard.
Leymonn coughed behind me. This wasn’t what he’d given me to say. I didn’t care. The people needed to hear it.
“I know you fear for your homes, your families, and your lives. Only a fool would say there’s nothing to fear. But I ask you not to panic, for the duke will do everything he can to frighten you. Do not let your fear give him this city. Stand strong these next few days. I will do everything I can to help Reggen. The duke and his giants do not know what awaits them.”
Neither do we, I thought.
I leaned out over the balcony and said it one more time: “Stand strong.”
A roar rose up around me and the crowd began chanting, “Stand strong! Stand strong!”
I bowed once, the way I had when I’d first stood before the city, and then stepped back into the shade of the castle. The people needed courage, but the words I’d spoken tasted bitter as bile.
We had no defense against the duke and his army.
I did not return to Princess Lissa’s suite until the next morning.
The moment she saw me, she dismissed Nespra and Kara. “Leave us. I wish to speak with Saville.”
The girls scurried away, and I braced myself for the princess’s displeasure.
“So you’ve decided to return,” she said.
Did she have no idea what was going on? If I’d had a sword, I would have drawn it; I was that angry. Instead, I marched to her chair and … dropped into a curtsy. Perhaps she wouldn’t kill me if I observed that one nicety.
“You needed someone to read to you. Lord Verras—the only man who defended you against the duke’s claim—needed someone to help him attend to his dead rangers. He needed someone to help him wash their blood off his hands! Or would you have been willing to do that yourself, my lady?”
I saw anger flash in her eyes, but she wouldn’t speak it, not even when we were alone. And then something else rushed over her face, taking the anger with it.
“They never ask me,” she murmured.
“What?”
She lifted her chin, a regal expression that tucked anger and wistfulness and fear far away. “My brothers never expected me
to do anything more than stand beside the throne. They would never ask me to help Galen wash the blood from his hands. I supposed I stopped thinking I could.”
She looked down at her lap. “But it’s no surprise that Galen was alone. Ever since Lord Cinnan was sent away, it’s been unwise for other noblemen to associate with him. I think Galen’s grown used to it.”
It was the closest she would come to telling me she was glad I’d gone with him.
Princess Lissa shrugged. “After you helped Galen, what did my brother and Leymonn ask of you?”
All my earlier disgust at playing the tailor rolled over me. “They wanted the champion to speak to the people.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And what did the champion of Reggen say?”
“He lied. The people think he can save them.”
“He said that?”
I shook my head. “I let them believe that.”
Her faced softened just a little. “I was right. You are naïve.” She leaned forward in her chair. “Do you know what my mother told me before she died, Saville?”
I held my breath, afraid that if I spoke too quickly, the moment might shatter. “No, my lady.”
“She told me to take care that I didn’t love my husband—it would give him too much power over me. She said I should be merely fond of him.”
She paused, and I wondered if she ever tried to remember her mother’s voice.
“You are more than fond of that little boy you saved, Saville. And for some strange reason, you are more than fond of this city. It gives people too much power over you.”
She was right. Sky above, she was right.
“No one person can save a city,” pressed the princess. “You shouldn’t expect that of yourself. You shouldn’t even hope for it. It will break you.”
I sat down on a stool beside her chair and wrapped my arms around my knees. There was truth to what she’d said—and ugliness, too, though it took some time to see it.
“Hope …” I sighed. “My mother hoped the Tailor would be kind to her.”
“Was he?” asked the princess.
“No. Never.” I gathered up every memory I had of Mama, every scrap of every song she’d sung to me. “But she loved me—and she hoped good things for me. That’s why I couldn’t leave Will on the street. I had to want good things for him, too. I think it saved me.”
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