A Soul for Trouble

by Crista McHugh

  A scowl darkened his eldest brother’s face. “She still used magic in the realm. The witch should burn in accordance with the law.”

  “So you think one minor violation of the law negates all the lives she saved that night and her potential to save even more lives?”

  “The law is the law.” Gandor held his gaze. “If we bend it now, we’ll have all sorts of witches coming out of the woodwork and wrecking havoc.”

  “Might I get a word in?” Therrin stopped pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and rubbed his chin. “There’s more to this than just dealing with a witch who reportedly has powers strong enough to defeat the necromancer by herself. What about the other prisoner? He claims to be a representative from Empress Marist.”

  Heodis leaned back in his chair. “An interesting twist to your story, Kell. When were you going to tell me about him?”

  He didn’t miss the triumphant gleam in Gandor’s eyes. “I was coming to that. Her companion is an elf who calls himself Sir Devarius and claims to be a knight of Gravaria.”

  “An elf?” Therrin practically hopped up and down like an eager child. “I haven’t seen one of those since—”

  “Since the last so-called diplomatic envoy,” Gandor finished. “You remember how well that went, don’t you, Father?”

  The king’s face hardened, but he said nothing.

  “This isn’t a diplomatic envoy this time. Dev told me he came here to retrieve someone who had escaped from Gravaria. Unfortunately, this person was killed before he could capture him.”

  “And the witch? How did she become his whore?”

  Kell ground his teeth at Gandor’s question, not wanting to remember how he thought the same thing when he first met Arden. He took a deep, calming breath before answering, “She’s his apprentice. He’s determined to take her back to Gravaria for more formal magic training.”

  “So, we have a Gravarian knight coming into our kingdom without permission to sneak out a witch, and you want to treat them like ‘special guests?’” His hands curled into fists. If they were fifteen years younger, he might have punched his brother. The idea still tempted him. “He’s very tight-lipped about his real mission, but he mentioned something about being a servant of Loku. They both bear this mark.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out Bynn’s sketch. “He has it on his sword, and she has it on her lower back.”

  “Already got her naked, Kell? My, you do work quickly.”

  “Can you offer something other than sarcasm, Gandor?”

  Therrin peered over his father’s shoulder and studied the symbol. “Loku, you said?

  Hmm…”

  “You know something about this pagan god?” Heodis turned the symbol upside down, his grizzled brows furrowed together.

  “Just an old legend I stumbled across in a Gravarian text.”

  “There’s usually some truth in legends.” The king laid the sketch aside. “Tell me, do either one of them seem unbalanced?”

  Kell shook his head. If anyone seemed unbalanced, it was him every time he came near Arden. “Both are very sane and very intelligent.”

  “And what do you think they desire?”

  “Desire?” The word caught him off-guard. Did she desire him as much as he desired her?

  Or did her heart and body already belong to Dev?

  “Yes. You need to truly get inside your enemy’s mind if you want to defeat him. Find out what he desires, and you’ll know his weakness.”

  “I already know his weakness: her. He claims to be her Protector, and as long as we control Arden, he won’t give us too much trouble.”

  Heodis steepled his fingers under his chin. “Until he gets pushed to his limits.” Kell nodded, remembering the few times when Dev’s thinly veiled rage caused him to reach for his sword in case the knight attacked. “I’ve been trying to avoid that by working on Arden.”

  “The witch?”

  “Yes. I know she wants to help us—she’s a Ranellian—but Dev has somehow convinced her that she needs to go to Gravaria as soon as possible or something bad will happen.”

  “Do you think she’d be willing to help you hunt down Sulaino?”

  “I’m almost sure she would.”

  “Almost?”

  His father’s question tugged at every thread of doubt he had, threatening to unravel his plans. “I just need to get her away from Dev long enough to convince her to do what she knows is right.”

  “That should be simple enough. Kill the elf, and she’s all yours.” Gandor wiped his hands as if cleaning them from the problem. “Then, depending on how helpful she is, we can decide if she’ll live or not.”

  “Nothing is ever as simple as you expect it to be,” the king replied tightly. “It’s something you need to learn before you inherit my crown, boy.”

  “Exactly,” Kell added, somewhat giddy at seeing Gandor knocked down a few notches.

  “She’s very attached to Dev. If you kill him, I’m afraid of what she may do in retaliation.”

  “You bring me a very tangled knot to unravel, son. What would you do in my place?”

  “I would consider what’s best for my kingdom and my subjects. Sulaino is the real threat.

  I’ve seen the villages he’s desecrated, and who knows how many undead he has by now? We can’t defeat him without either a huge loss of life or the help of magic.” His father nodded. “Go on.”

  “I’ve found two individuals who know how to fight undead using magic. Although Arden knew the risk she took when she used it, she did it to save the lives of her fellow Ranellians.

  And if her behavior earlier is any indication of her conscience, she’d help us again if needed.” Kell crossed his arms, dreading his next few words. “Although I hate to admit it, Gandor did bring up a good point. She did break the law, and in order to maintain order, we need to show good reason to bend it in a particular instance. I suggest we offer Arden her freedom in exchange for her promise to help us with Sulaino.”

  He anxiously watched for his father’s reaction, but the king’s face remained unreadable.

  “Well thought out. You make some interesting points. I’ll need time to consider them, as well a few things you’ve neglected to consider.”

  “Such as?”

  Heodis chuckled. “There’s more to being king than just wearing a crown.” Jealousy over the king’s praise of Kell twisted Gandor’s mouth into a snarl. “The arrogant elf demanded a private audience with you, Father.”

  “Another thing to consider. I’m sure I might learn a few things from him that he’s refused to share with you.”

  Envy coiled in the pit of Kell’s stomach that his father might be able to glean information from the elf when he’d failed. “Will you grant him an audience?” Gandor jerked up in his chair. “Consider the consequences, Father. He could be an assassin sent by Marist to kill you.”

  Heodis threw his head back in laughter. “The young empress may be called many things, but vengeful wouldn’t be one of them. It would take more than one elf to kill me, anyway.” He turned to Kell. “If I agree to grant this knight a private audience, what will you do with the witch in the meantime?”

  The twinkle in the king’s eye almost made Kell laugh out loud. Among the many things he’d inherited from his father, his appetite for women was one of them. Members of the court still whispered about how quickly Heodis wooed and married his second wife, especially after Kell was born less than seven months after the first queen’s death. “I’m sure I can think of a few things.”

  The first thing that came to mind was how pretty Arden would look in a court gown. His breath hitched. Usually, his thoughts of women centered around how quickly he could he could get them out of their dresses, not into them.

  The king’s brows rose as though he noticed Kell’s confusion. “I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Come now, Father, this is ridiculous,” Gandor spat.

  “The only thing that’s ridiculous is your closed mind. Now, al
l of you, leave me alone for a few hours. I need to figure out exactly how to handle this situation, and I don’t need to hear any more of your bickering.” Heodis dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

  Once they closed the door to the king’s private chambers, Gandor whipped around to face Kell. “What exactly are you trying to do? Take over the crown for yourself?” He grinned, knowing his lack of anger would aggravate his older brother even more.

  “Why? Worried Father may name me his heir instead of you?” He laughed. “You shouldn’t feel intimidated by me. I’m just the Third Prince, remember? Perhaps if you listened to what Father has been trying to teach us over the years, you’d win his respect, too.” Gandor grabbed Kell’s tunic and bunched the material up in his fists. “Your cockiness will be your undoing. I’m watching you. One false move, and I’ll never let you live it down.” He released him with a shove and stormed down the hall.

  “Give him a few hours,” Therrin said, patting him on the shoulder. “He’ll calm down like he always does.”

  He smoothed out his tunic. “Nah, you know he’s always hated me for one reason or another. I dread the day he becomes king. I might have to run across the borders to save my head.”

  “Trust me, I fear the day he becomes king, too. He has no love for the people.” A small smile appeared on Therrin’s round face. “Perhaps we’ll flee together.”

  “And what does Winnie think of that plan?”

  His brother still blushed at the mention of his wife, even though they’d been married over three years. Their relationship was the one thing that made Kell believe in true love. “You know how easygoing she is. I think we’ll be happy wherever we are as long as we’re together.”

  “Yes, I’d believe that.”

  They turned down the corridor toward their own chambers. Arden’s suggestion of a hot bath sounded tempting now. Too bad she couldn’t join him in the tub.

  Kell ducked into his room. The corners of his mouth rose when he saw the steaming bath and fresh clothes already laid out for him. He’d deal with Arden later. First, he needed to soak all the dirt off his skin and dress like a prince again.

  Chapter 25

  Dev glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was spying on him. He folded the piece of paper and sealed it with wax. Satisfied that he was alone, he held the letter in his hands, murmuring a spell. The letter disappeared just before a fist pounded against his door.

  “Let’s go. You don’t want to keep the king waiting.” Captain Larenis burst into the room accompanied by two well-armed guards. “Maybe he’ll sentence you and your witch to a more merciful form of execution than being burned alive.”

  He stood and smoothed any imaginary wrinkles from his clothes. “Maybe he’ll listen to reason.”

  The captain’s jaw dropped when he saw Dev’s attire. “Where did you get that?” For once, carrying a spare set of clothes in his saddlebags paid off. The dark green tunic he wore tonight had slashed sleeves to reveal the immaculately white linen shirt underneath. A pair of fitted black trousers slid into boots that had been shined to a mirror reflection. He plucked a piece of lint off his sleeve. “A true knight is always prepared.” His fingers brushed against the small switchblade hidden between the folds of his tunic. Prepared and ready to fight, if needed.

  Larenis closed his mouth and narrowed his eyes. “I bet you stole those clothes.”

  “Weren’t you the one who said we shouldn’t keep the king waiting?” They escorted him to the next chamber. A girlish giggle greeted them when they knocked on the door. Dev’s gut clenched. Trouble never seemed like the giggling sort.

  A pink-cheeked maid opened the door. “She’ll be ready in a minute. I need to finish pinning her hair.” The maid turned around and went back to her client.

  “Dev, are you ready?” Trouble asked. Her back was turned to him, but she held up a hand mirror and angled it in his direction.

  “Just waiting on you.”

  “And we’re done.” The maid slid the last pin into Trouble’s hair, securing the ornate tangle of braids that adorned the rippling mass of gold that fell around her shoulders. It looked so soft, he wanted to run his fingers through it.

  She laid the mirror down and twirled around. “Do I look presentable?” A lump formed in his throat. She looked more than presentable. Delicious would be a better word to describe her. The sapphire blue dress made her eyes sparkle, and its tightly laced bodice transformed her small breasts into two tempting mounds of creamy flesh. “Where did you get that?”

  “Prince Kell sent her a few things to wear,” the maid answered. “Said I was to take good care of her while she was here.”

  Dev fought hard to keep his emotions under control. Even though he didn’t want to tear his eyes away from Trouble, he didn’t like the idea of the prince sending her gifts, especially when the flush in her cheeks told him she enjoyed the attention.

  “She seems a bit overdressed for a witch,” Larenis muttered.

  “She’s dressed appropriately for an evening at court.” Dev offered her his arm.

  A shy smile appeared on her lips as she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Is that a compliment?”

  The scent of flowers rose from her skin, and he fought the urge to bury his nose into the hollow of her neck and inhale deeper. “No, that was a statement of fact. If I had said, ‘You look very nice,’ that would have been a compliment.”

  “And do I look nice?” She tilted her head up, waiting for his response.

  His voice almost broke when he admitted, “Yes, you do.” The halo in her eyes flashed, and she giggled again.

  “His Majesty is waiting.”

  The captain’s coarse reminder pulled him away from drinking in her appearance. Business first. Then, maybe once they were safely in Gravaria, he could indulge in the pleasure of spending time alone with her.

  They filed out into the hallway, with Larenis in front and the two guards in the rear. When Trouble ordered Cinder to stay behind, the wolf’s ears wilted, and a sad whine rose from his throat. The damn wolf already liked her better than him.

  She leaned close to Dev. “So, what’s your plan?”

  His free hand pressed the heavy gold seal in his pocket against his thigh. The cold weight reassured him he’d at least get the king’s attention with that. “Patience, Trouble. Wait and see.”

  “You can’t keep me in the dark forever.”

  “Continue to think that if you want.”

  Her bottom lip jutted out in a pout. “Are you always going to be this stubborn?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  She started to withdraw her hand from his arm, but he caught it and held it in place. The warmth of her skin did little to smother the longing that flowed through his veins. It made him crave the silkiness of her naked body against his. I can’t afford any distractions tonight.

  “I understand.”

  His shoulders jerked to attention at her reply. Could she hear his thoughts? The more time he spent with her, the more that puzzled him. He glanced down and noticed the small gold pendant around her neck. “Still wearing your necklace?” She covered it. “I never take it off.”

  “Why?”

  “It reminds me not to make the same mistakes my mother did.” Her fingers parted to reveal writing on the flat square surface. He peered closer at it.

  “What does it say?”

  Her brows knitted together, and she balled her hand around it. “It doesn’t say anything.

  Just some odd scratches on one side and an engraving of a rose on the other.” They crossed the grand staircase and entered the west wing of the palace. He’d have plenty of time to examine her pendant closer once they left here. A whole lifetime, in fact. The problem was, how long would she have to live? Hours? Years? His spine stiffened. He’d rather be drawn and quartered alive than to see her burn.

  Her fingers dug into his bicep as they walked deeper into the royal living quarters. A set of guards stood at e
ach doorway along the long tunnel of rooms. If push came to shove, he’d have a bit of trouble getting out this way. He counted twelve guards before they finally came to the set of closed, gilded doors.

  The few times he’d suffered coming to the Gravarian court, he’d had a much different experience. His entrance into the Ranellian court seemed less welcoming. A servant slipped inside the room and reappeared a minute later, nodding his head. No introductions were made.

  The doors opened, and Larenis strode inside with a grim face.

  The crowd of overly dressed nobles parted like he and Trouble carried the plague. No one wanted to touch them, but that didn’t stop them from staring. He bet they made quite a show—

  the Gravarian elf and the yellow-haired witch. Laughter welled inside his mind, and if she didn’t keep trying to bury her face in his arm, he would’ve vocalized his amusement.

  “Appear confident and smile, Trouble. You’ve done nothing wrong.” His murmured words of reassurance worked. Her spine straightened, and she threw her shoulders back. The halo in her eyes burned bright. “We have a back-up plan,” she whispered.

  It was a statement, not a question, and his gut clenched. Her blind trust in Loku grew stronger every day. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”

  “But if it does—”

  “It won’t.”

  The captain halted and dropped into a low bow. “Your Majesty, I bring you the prisoners.” When he stepped aside, Dev bowed. Trouble dipped into a curtsey. He met the hard, dark eyes of the king.

  The king straightened on his throne and stroked his neatly trimmed grey beard. “The charges?”

  He expected Kell to answer, not Larenis. “Using magic within the realm.” The only movements in the room were the flicker of the king’s eyes between them and the rise and fall of Trouble’s chest.

  “Names?”

  Before the captain of the guard could reply, Dev said, “Sir Devarius Tel’brien, Imperial Knight of Gravaria, Sworn Protector of the Soulbearer, and son of Lord Arano Tel’brien. This is my apprentice, Arden.”