“I…” Zachary hesitated. “I have no further duties.”
“Will you take a ride with me?” Sverrin nodded toward the stables with a hopeful smile.
Zachary was taken aback. “It would be an honour,” he said.
They set off toward the stables, Sverrin shouting ahead to prepare the horses. When Zachary asked after any servants Sverrin might want to take with him, the King laughed lightly.
“I am sure I can manage without.”
They set out a few minutes later, their horses trudging through the snow as they exited the city out into the open fields toward the moorland.
The evening was coming in but it was still fairly light, the sky painted in brilliant colours. It was going to be a clear night.
As they rode out, the clock bell tolled. Even now, the sound of tolling bells rallied something up in Zachary and brought him back to the years of the curfew. He recalled the sick excitement of his impatient years, the rush of the transformation and the iron taste of blood. Those were manic times, months of darkness and a hunger he could never quench—a ravenous guilt. Panicked by the sudden noise, a flight of pigeons took off from the tower, soaring over their heads. Sverrin scowled up at them and Zachary frowned.
“Something the matter?”
“Pigeons,” Sverrin replied indignantly, eyes narrowed.
Zachary widened his own. “Are they after your crown?”
Sverrin laughed loudly at the sincerity in the Magi’s expression, throwing his head back.
“Truly,” Zachary continued, straight-faced, “I have an inside man, should you require information.”
“You’re mocking me.” Sverrin’s tone was light.
Zachary grinned.
“Sky-rats,” the King said. “I don’t like them. They’re vermin with wings, shitting on my city and giving nothing in return.” He paused and added, “But if you have an inside man…”
“Have no fear, my King,” Zachary saluted, “if the pigeons conspire it will be nipped in the bud. I shall see to it, with all of the might of the Night Patrol.”
Sverrin chuckled and leant back in the saddle, breathing out. “It really has been a long time,” he said wistfully. “We used to ride like this so often as young men.”
“I recall.”
“Do you remember,” Sverrin began, laughing, “that summer you and I rode out toward the coast? I decided to cut through that field of flowers, and you followed me even though they were in full bloom.”
Zachary snorted, “Oh sons of the gods—that was a bad day…”
“I had no idea you would have such a reaction!” Sverrin’s laughter grew. “I remember, I heard you sneezing, and we were halfway through, and I looked back at you—”
“I honestly thought I was going to go blind,” Zachary chuckled.
“Red eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks—I swear your entire face had swelled.” Sverrin cackled. “You looked so ill. And I remember—I couldn’t believe it—and I said ‘Healing Septus, what’s wrong with you’, and you said—”
“I have an itch in my throat.” Zachary pinched his nose, mimicking his congested voice. Sverrin exploded with laughter again.
“By the might of Penthar, who knew such an abled warrior could be felled by flowers?”
“I wasn’t felled—I kept riding, didn’t I?” Zachary said, with false indignation. “I simply couldn’t breathe.”
“You poor man.” Sverrin wiped his eyes, his smile wide. “I caused you so much trouble. Do you recall the first time I convinced you to take me to a tavern?”
“Athea, another disastrous day.”
“You got me a tankard of ale and then bought something for yourself. It was very strong, what was it?”
“Poitín.”
“Yes, that’s right. Except, I ended up drinking it instead.”
“Yes, you did,” Zachary said, feigning disapproval. “And then proceeded to break into the farmer’s field next door and attempt to ride his cow.”
Sverrin slapped his hand on his thigh, laughing.
“I did, didn’t I?”
“And then I had to explain why the Crown Prince of Harmatia was almost kicked to death by a cow under my watch.”
“Such a fond memory…” Sverrin sighed. “And then life became dull.”
“Did it?” Zachary asked softly. Dull wasn’t the word he would choose. Chaotic, perhaps. Turbulent, exciting, terrible—but never dull.
“It did,” Sverrin huffed. “Politics bore me.”
“I should rather hope they don’t.”
“Do they interest you?”
Zachary pouted. “Not particularly. But I’m not the King.”
“No,” Sverrin said, “and give thanks for that, you’d hate it.”
Zachary glanced back at his King as they both drew to a halt at the top of a knoll.
“Your Majesty?”
“Please—Sverrin. I don’t want to be King up here.”
“Sverrin,” Zachary corrected, his expression torn. The Magi realised he wasn’t speaking with his King at all, but with his Prince—the boy he’d known and loved. Zachary had been riding with him all along, and it was so strangely familiar, so sweet-tasting, he was filled with a surge of loyalty that made him pause. He raised a hand quickly to his mouth.
“Are you alright?” Sverrin noted the sudden movement.
“Sorry,” Zachary said, a little breathlessly. “You were right. It’s been so long. I forgot how peaceful it was out here. It’s rather moving.”
Sverrin hummed in agreement and then grumbled, “They’ll probably be running around in a panic by now.”
“Excuse me?”
“My court.” Sverrin smiled sleepily. “They’ll have been expecting me for near a half hour now.”
“You mean,” Zachary’s mouth fell open, “you didn’t tell anyone you were leaving?”
“Hmm…” Sverrin gave him a mischievous smile. “How long until they send soldiers out looking for me, do you think?”
“How long until my father writes, telling me to seize the throne before your other cousins arrive?” Zachary retorted.
Sverrin pulled a face of mock-horror.
“Gods, yes. We’d best return before they announce me dead. Again.”
“Or accuse me of kidnap,” Zachary agreed, turning his horse around.
“Help, help,” Sverrin cried dryly. “I’m being held against my will.”
Zachary glanced over his shoulder slyly, then with a smirk, spurred his horse into a canter. Sverrin shouted after him as he shot forward, and then with a laugh, followed his example, charging after. Zachary howled out a hunting call to the wind, mindless of the danger of snow or unseen ice. In an instant he was a young man again, free of troubles and invincible.
In his youth, after a tiring mission away, he would ride upon Harmatia always to find the Prince waiting for him. Sverrin would spot him in the distance and wave excitedly, as if seeing Zachary was the best part of his day. And then they would race back to the city together, regardless of how injured or exhausted Zachary might have been. Those were times of pure happiness, with a family on whom Zachary could rely. Marcel with his monotone and unwavering loyalty, Emeric ever fretting but always brave, Rufus mostly fearful but unequivocally brilliant. And Sverrin…Energetic, plain-spoken, full of wonder and adventure—these things were home to Zachary. But that was almost fifteen years ago.
Sverrin applauded as they came to a halt, the pair slumped in their saddles, breathing hard. The King drew up beside Zachary, cackling faintly.
“Aren’t you supposed to let me win?” he asked and Zachary shrugged.
The boy he’d known was a thirty-five year old man, still young to be a King but old enough to have ruled for a decade already. A decade longer than he naturally should have.
“Alas, I am not so courteous,” Zachary responded.
Sverrin dismounted, whistling to the stable boys who hurried up to reclaim the horses. It hadn’t been a long ride but darkness had descended quic
kly and, clear as it was, a chill was beginning to blow through the city, harrowing its stone walls.
“We should do this again.” Sverrin clasped Zachary’s hand and clapped him on the back fondly, “I forgot what good company feels like.”
Zachary blinked and realised that, for the entirety of the ride, he’d forgotten that he was terrified of his King.
“As had I.” He forced a brief smile, fighting his sudden unease.
Sverrin beamed back. Zachary cleared his throat.
“The night is encroaching, Your Majesty. As I would rather not hang upon the gallows tomorrow for high treason, might I suggest you go and reassure your court I haven’t murdered you.”
“Gracious, yes, before they build me another grave.” Sverrin winced and started off toward the castle. Halfway up the stairs, he turned back. “Zachary,” he called, “send my best wishes to Lord Fold, if you see him. Tell him I hope he is more revived at our next meeting. And the same for you. Be wary of sickness or old wounds.” He paused and something flashed in his bronze eyes. “They can fester.”
And with that he was gone, marching back up to the castle. Zachary stood below, a streak of terror passing through him, before he too turned and moved swiftly toward his own home. His instincts told him to run, but mindful that people in the low light might see him hurrying, he calmed his stride and forced himself to walk with purpose, rather than scurry. He was a lord, a soldier and a Magi, and despite what he’d said, he played the political game every day. Why would Sverrin have asked him out on a ride? To remember old times? Doubtful—that was merely a pleasant outcome, but within the city walls all that mattered was the present. And the present was cruel and demanding.
Zachary threw open his doors, instantly aware that something was wrong. He strode into the darkened hall and listened intently. From the back of the house, he heard a noise. He reached for the sword at his side as he strode toward the sound.
“Heather,” he called and there was a soft clatter from the kitchen. He opened the door and blinked into the darkness. At the back of the room, Daniel and Heather were hidden in the corner with the rest of the servants. Daniel had put himself in front of them all and was guarding them fiercely. He relaxed a little when he saw it was Zachary in the doorway. Heather gasped.
“Thank heavens, Arlen, you’re back.”
Zachary stepped into the kitchen, lighting the fire with a flick of his hand. “What’s going on?” he asked, looking at Daniel.
“They came with a warrant to search the house and forced us all in here out of the way,” Daniel told him quietly. “They’re members of the Royal Guard, I think.”
“Right.” Zachary exhaled. He turned on his heel and strode from the room, fury in his every step.
“Arlen, you mustn’t! Please,” Heather begged. Zachary ignored her, going out into the entrance hall.
“Where are they?” he demanded.
Heather and Daniel were at his back. The housekeeper didn’t speak, so Zachary locked eyes with his brother.
“Where are they?”
Daniel opened his mouth to reply but a soft thump from the salle above told Zachary all he needed. He started up the stairs two at a time.
Moving around the landing, he threw open the salle door and stepped inside.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” He opened his arms wide in welcome. “Can I offer any of you refreshments?”
The guards immediately pulled back from the business. There were six of them, some tearing through the cupboards along the walls, whilst a couple tried to negotiate their way through a door on the far left. Zachary nodded at it.
“I wouldn’t bother with that. It leads to my bedroom—I always keep it bolted.”
“Lord Zachary.” The captain of the Royal Guard approached. “We have a warrant to search these premises.”
“May I see it?” Zachary held out his hand and the warrant was begrudgingly handed to him. Zachary studied it closely, squinting as he tried to make out the words. “Ah yes, this is filed under the third law of the Book. Do you know what that means, Captain?”
“I do.”
“It means,” Zachary continued, “that a generalised search may be issued into a private household. But unlike a search filed under the fourth law, which requires evidence of suspicious behaviour or previous felony, this search can only be done with the upstanding owner’s permission. Permission is to be presumed, of course, in the owner’s absence.” He folded the warrant back up. “I see you took advantage of that clause.”
“You are well acquainted with the Book of Law,” the Captain sniffed.
“My sister had me memorise it as a child,” Zachary said, “lest I get caught out by men who would abuse the less learned.”
“Wise indeed.” The Captain snatched the warrant back. “As a law-abiding citizen, member of the Magi and lord of the King’s court, we expect your full cooperation with our search.”
“And what exactly are you searching for?” Zachary circled the room. Daniel and Heather remained in the doorway, watching the proceedings nervously.
“The Merle family are reported to have absconded from their home a few hours ago. They are important figures in our on-going investigation into Rufus Merle.”
“Rufus Merle?”
“Correct.”
“The traitor Rufus Merle?” Zachary rearticulated.
“As stated.”
“The traitor Rufus Merle who was put to death?” Zachary snorted. “The tale seems rather complete to me. What exactly is the nature of the investigation? Has he necromanced himself back to life again?”
The guard remained unamused.
“As a law-abiding member of the Magi, we expect your full cooperation.”
“And as a law-abiding member of the Guard, I heavily suggest you escort your men from my premises before I have you all arrested for unlawful entry. Your warrant is void without my permission.”
“Think carefully on that request.” The Captain drew himself up. “It will reflect very gravely upon you.”
“And your disrespect will reflect gravely on you in turn, Captain.” Zachary wasn’t deterred. “Had you conducted yourself with a modicum of respect when you entered my house, you may have found me to be a more hospitable host. And yet you abuse my staff and my brother, take advantage of the law and then make comments on my allegiance? My loyalty to the King goes beyond your comprehension. I have littered Harmatia with the corpses of those who opposed him. And yet you question me, Captain? I don’t appreciate it. If you wish to continue this search, I suggest you return when you’ve learned some common courtesy. In the meantime, get out of my house.”
The Captain’s jaw clenched. “And if I disobey your request?” he asked, acid in his voice.
“Two words.” Zachary’s mouth curled into a smile. “Night Patrol.”
The reaction was instantaneous. The Captain’s face drained of colour. He was of a generation that had known the terror of the Night Patrol, a generation that still dreamt of them on stormy nights and saw them in the shadows of a dangerous street. The identities of the Night Patrol had been kept relatively private, so the Captain had no way of knowing if Zachary was telling the truth or lying. The Magi allowed his eyes to fill with enough blood-thirst to convince him. It had been some time now since Zachary had sunk his jaws into someone’s throat but it wasn’t beyond him.
“Is that a threat?” the Captain barely managed to breathe, his men gathered around him.
“As you wish.” Zachary grinned, his teeth sharp.
“We will go,” the Captain said, raising his hands slightly in surrender. “I am sorry, we will go.”
Zachary stepped back to allow them through, then stood at the window to watch them all exit out into the courtyard below. When the last had finally disappeared, he allowed himself to wilt, anger and fear filling him.
“That was unwise.” Heather took his elbow. “Arlen, you’ll lose your head if you’re not careful.”
“I know.” Zachary lea
nt against the wall. His fear wasn’t directed to the men who’d broken into his house but rather at the King who’d conspired with them. Sverrin had given them time to get in, Sverrin had tricked him. And regardless of how much truth there was in the joy of their ride, it had at its heart been nothing but a shallow scheme.
Zachary thought back to the surge of loyalty he’d felt. It made him sick.
“There’s only one thing worse than a madman in power,” he breathed. “A madman in power who knows exactly what he’s doing.”
Rufus missed the journey. Having slipped into a blissful sleep, he only woke on impact as they landed, and was surprised to find that it was dark and late. Fae deposited them both on the hard, icy ground, and then transformed with an exhausted sigh, rolling her shoulders. She must have flown the entire day, carefully and slow, so as not to disturb her precious cargo. Rufus marvelled at her.
In the darkness, he couldn’t see much except the tall, looming shape of a castle carved out of the mountain they’d settled on. The front was opened by elegant white pillars which emerged from the rock and swirled up like stone columns of cloud. It was so big, it made him nervous but Fae took him by the shoulder and, hoisting Joshua onto her hip, guided them toward a humongous open doorway.
They walked for what seemed like hours, Rufus bow-backed, bent over Fae so she took the majority of his weight. In her human form, she seemed so much smaller than him, yet so much stronger.
Finally, after sneaking through several long, wide corridors, bathed only in the moonlight which spilled through tall windows high above them, they slipped down into a small passageway to the left. It was dark down here and there was a door, almost hidden around the corner. Fae stopped at it and knocked.
“Boyd,” she called softly. “Boyd!”
The door clicked open and a slender young man with a lean, pale face and a shock of pure white hair leant out. Behind him, the orange light of a fire spilled out, casting shadows. He blinked at the group and raised an eyebrow.
“Fae? What in Titania’s name—”
“I need your help.” Her gaze darted down the corridor conspiratorially.
The young man, presumably 'Boyd', drew back, then nodded faintly, pulling the door open wide. He took Rufus by the other arm, helping Fae carry him in. Rufus could see he was a small man—no taller than Fae herself.
Blood of the Delphi (The Harmatia Cycle Book 2) Page 15
