The Kingmaker Complete Trilogy (The Kingmaker Trilogy #1-3)

by Gemma Perfect

  EVERLEIGH IS SIPPING ale, nibbling on cheese and watching Della with her sister. It makes her happier than anything, to see Addyson so taken with someone and someone being so kind to her; and not because they have to, because they want to. She is blossoming under Della’s watchful eye and care. Della loves playing mother and Addyson has never had one. They are finding real joy in each other. Everleigh is happy to watch from the side-lines and Finn is pleased that Della is off his back.

  “I can go to the inn and have an ale now without her worrying where I am,” he whispers to Everleigh, taking a seat beside her. Everleigh grins. “She’s wonderful, your sister.”

  “Thank you. I like her. I just don’t like her nagging.”

  “I’m sure. Addyson loves her.”

  “All Della wants is a load of family around her, and with only me, she’s been left short.”

  “Do you think she’s sad?”

  “She would never tell me. But I think so.”

  They are both quiet, watching Della show Addyson how to lay the fire properly.

  “She’s good for her,” Everleigh says.

  “She’s good for her,” Finn says, and they smile.

  “If I survive this week and I get my crown, do you think your sister would be happy to keep spending time with my sister?”

  “Do you think we could stop her?”

  “Hopefully not. My poor sister, she’s been lonely her whole life. There’s only so much I’ve been able to do...you know about her curse?”

  “Yes, of course. Everyone around here knows everything about you lot. Royal watching is a big hobby.”

  Everleigh laughs. “Really?”

  “Absolutely. My sister has been obsessed with your brothers for years. If she’d only known...”

  “That’s madness. I miss my brothers. Who they were, before, I mean.”

  “I can’t imagine. Your family has always been happy and close.”

  “And all of the villagers watch us?”

  “The whole of the Realm.” Finn is quiet for a second. “I’m glad you didn’t die. I’ve never seen a Kingmaker killed before.”

  “I can’t imagine it’s pretty.”

  “I can’t imagine it, full stop.”

  “I know you thought I was brave.”

  “I did. I’d be carrying some dead animal, helping my dad, and I just thought you were amazing.”

  “Is that what you still do? Farm?”

  “Yes, and hunt. I help down the road. I do a bit of everything but hunting and fishing are the main things I’m good at.”

  “I’m not good at anything.”

  “What do you mean? You’re going to be Queen.”

  “Being Queen isn’t being good at anything. I was born to die as the Kingmaker, now a prophecy says I’m born to live, to rule, but that doesn’t mean a thing.”

  “What about your magic stuff?”

  “That helped save the people I love; you mean?”

  “Well maybe you’ll get better at it? Work at it? I know I would, if I was magic. I’d be magicking all day long.”

  “Magicking?”

  “Doing magic, I don’t know. But you can’t say you’re not good at anything.”

  “Maybe...”

  “We’ll try it later, when everyone’s together. We’ll help you. Then you’ll get better.”

  Everleigh smiles. “Deal.”

  Ginata

  THE WALK TO MY LOVELY little cottage is full of awkward silences and tension. No matter how hard I try to chat and smile and engage these two, I can’t.

  I do understand why, of course, but I am struggling with everything these last few days.

  Everleigh has had her meltdown, Will is stuck in the confines of the castle and I feel like I am shouldering it all.

  Weaver is lovely, though sad and quiet. Ceryn is hard work. Her anger doesn’t just stem from Archer and that’s why she’s so difficult. Her life has been full of anger and sadness, disappointment, hurt, shame.

  Even with the fear of Millard finding out I’m involved in helping Everleigh I don’t feel the way this woman feels. She is filled with stresses, with darkness. I imagine peace is a feeling she has never once felt. I know Weaver brings her happiness and I am sure Archer did the same, but the demons inside her fill her with blackness.

  Archer. So, she was in love with him too. I wonder what these two girls will think of each other. They are both so young and they’ve both had difficult times. I am sure they will clash; Ceryn looks ready for a fight, more than ready.

  As we approach my cottage I do warn her.

  “Ceryn, I don’t know you but I can see that you are angry and unhappy. I will not allow you to physically harm Everleigh. She is ready to be the Queen of this Realm – the place you call home. By Saturday, if all goes to plan, she will be your ruler. Don’t do anything rash.”

  “Physically harm? So, what? I’m allowed to call her names?”

  Weaver swats her arm and she gives him an innocent look.

  “I don’t know why you’re so sure that you will hate her.”

  “Because I have nothing in common with her. And she killed Archer.”

  “You are similar enough that you both loved the same man. And she didn’t kill Archer, her brother did.”

  Ceryn stands up a little straighter. “You’re right. I should just kill the King.”

  “Ceryn!” Weaver pulls at her arm this time, turning her to face him. “Ceryn. You sound mad now. You cannot kill a King; it’s treason. His guards would kill you as soon as you tried.”

  “I wouldn’t try. I would succeed.”

  “And then you’d be dead.”

  Ceryn shrugs and I am sure she has imagined ending it all before now.

  Weaver’s voice is quiet, hurt. “You’d leave me all alone?”

  Ceryn looks at him and shakes her head. “I won’t leave you. But I could kill him.”

  “Something else you and Everleigh have in common. She wants to see her brother dead. She wants his crown.”

  I lead the way down the path to my cottage. The door is open, Della and Addyson are looking at the different flowers that grow along the pathway. Della is, no doubt, teaching her everything she knows.

  They both look happy and I smile. I had a feeling Della would enjoy looking after Addyson. She has spoken to me so many times about her fear that she has left her own love life too late, because she’s been looking after her brother. I know she worries that she may never be a mother.

  Everleigh and Finn come out of the cottage and Everleigh waves when she spots me, frowning, only slightly, when she sees Ceryn and Weaver.

  I take a deep breath; this may be unpleasant, and I feel badly for surprising her in this way.

  I go ahead so that I can tell her who they are and why they are here, but Ceryn pushes past me and runs down the path. She stops in front of Everleigh, her eyes flashing above her mask; she looks quite mad and I imagine it is taking every ounce of will power she has to stop herself knocking Everleigh out.

  She does contain herself, like I asked her to, and she doesn’t hurt Everleigh, but she screams in her face. “I HATE YOU!”

  Everleigh stumbles backwards slightly, and Finn puts a hand on her back to steady her. Her face turns white and tears spring to her eyes. We are all living under such tension and stress now, it only takes those three words for her to fall apart. She stifles a sob with her hand but then she shakes her head. Instead of crumbling into sorrow like she did the day after the coronation she quickly works herself into a fury.

  17

  THROUGH A HAZE OF TEARS Everleigh shouts at the masked woman. “Who are you? What have I ever done to you? How dare you come here and shout at me?”

  “You killed Archer.”

  “What? I loved Archer. I would never have hurt him.”

  “But you did. He died for you.”

  “That was his choice.”

  “You shouldn’t have let him.”

  “I couldn’t have stopped him.”


  “You weren’t worth it. He’s dead because of you.”

  “How do you know I’m not worth it? Who are you? Who are you to tell me anything?”

  “His friend.” Ceryn points at herself.

  “His Queen.” Everleigh points at herself.

  “I loved him.”

  “So did I. And I would never have asked him to die. I would never ask anyone. I don’t ask for subjects. I don’t ask to be Queen. Or Kingmaker. I was ready to die before all of this.”

  “I wish you had!”

  “I wish I had too!”

  The two girls stand opposite each other, faces angry, fists curled, tears coursing down their cheeks, breathing laboured.

  “Everleigh!” Addyson has moved from Della and the flowers to her sister’s side, a pained look on her face. “You’re all I’ve got left. You can’t wish for death. Not ever.”

  “I just can’t stand being blamed for this.” She faces Ceryn again. “I would never have hurt Archer. I didn’t know him anywhere near as long as you, but I loved him.”

  “I miss him.”

  “I miss him, too.” Everleigh reaches out a hand towards her.

  “I...can’t-” Ceryn turns abruptly and runs away from them all. She reaches the end of the pathway and turns towards the river. Weaver puts his hands up, an apology, and turns to follow her.

  “Wait!” It’s Addyson. “Let me talk to her, please?”

  Weaver hesitates, but then nods slowly. He looks at Everleigh, “I’m sorry. When you are Queen, please don’t punish her. She’s just hot headed. She was in love with Archer. Not that he ever knew it. And we rode this whole way to see him; we had no idea he was dead.”

  “I’m so sorry. It must have been an awful shock. I won’t punish her; I’d never do that.”

  “You’re too nice.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll get some ale,” Della says, smoothing her hands on her apron, rubbing away the awkward atmosphere. “Maybe you’ll join us for a cup?”

  Weaver nods and they troop inside the cottage.

  Ceryn runs until it hurts and then stops, dropping to her knees and then onto her side, curled up like a baby. She’s crying again. Will she ever stop? Will she ever get over this hurt? She can feel Archer’s absence and it’s a physical split, a rip, a tear through her heart.

  Maybe she doesn’t want it to stop. Maybe she can wallow in this hurt, this pain. Maybe she can make it worse, make it more, add to it.

  Maybe she will just slit her wrists right here and let the blood and the upset drain from her body.

  Someone walks softly towards her; she hopes it’s not Everleigh. She cannot bear to see her face.

  “Hey.”

  Ceryn looks up. It’s not Everleigh, it’s her sister, Addyson.

  “Hey.”

  “I’m sorry about Archer.”

  “Me too.” They are silent and Ceryn cries.

  “What’s your name?”

  She sniffs. “Ceryn.”

  “That’s pretty.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What’s up with the mask?”

  Ceryn sits up, looks at Addyson and shakes her head. “Why would you ask? No one ever asks.”

  “I’m young. Adults are polite. Children aren’t.”

  “You’re a curious one.”

  “I am. I’ve been stared at my whole life. People whisper about me. Talk about me. Draw back from me. You can’t see my curse, though.”

  “Well, you can see mine.”

  “It’s covered though. Show me?”

  Ceryn laughs, shaking her head. Why is she even having a conversation with this princess? Why isn’t she far away on her horse, crying over Archer’s death with Weaver?

  “I’m not scared of you.”

  “You would be if you saw it.”

  “Why?”

  “You just would. My whole life people have been afraid of me because of it. Hurt me. Ridiculed me. Hated me. You might think you want to see but you would hate it. Hate me for showing you.”

  “My whole life – not that I’m as old as you – people have done the same to me. And I have no visible mark to speak of. They hate me because someone else told them to. They are frightened because of stories and rumours. Please.”

  Ceryn shakes her head and sits with her knees pulled up to her chest. She ignores Addyson and cries quietly.

  Addyson touches her arm. “Please.”

  Ceryn looks at her. Just a little princess with no fear on her face, just curiosity. She reaches up and touches the leather swatch. She closes her eyes. Then she pulls at the ties and slips it off.

  Addyson takes care not to gasp. She hasn’t ever seen anyone with a mark like it. It’s like blood has been spilled all over the left side of Ceryn’s face, across her forehead, her cheek, her nose and down her neck. It looks angry and sore. “Does it hurt?”

  Ceryn shakes her head and opens her eyes.

  Addyson reaches out a hand, but Ceryn takes hold of her wrist. “Don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’ve nothing to prove.”

  “I’ve everything to prove. People hate me because of my curse. People hate you because of this...mark.”

  “The devil’s mark. That’s what they call it.”

  “It’s just colour. Like you’ve been painted.”

  Ceryn snorts. “Badly.”

  Addyson reaches out and runs her fingers across the mark before Ceryn can stop her. “I’m not scared. I don’t hate it or hate you.”

  Ceryn can’t help but sob. She sniffs it back. “Really?”

  Addyson nods.

  “Thank you.”

  “Come back to the cottage?”

  Ceryn nods and stands up slowly, pulling Addyson up with her. She ties her mask back on and they walk back together in a strange, companionable sort of silence and when they come through the cottage door Everleigh jumps up and offers Ceryn her seat.

  “You’re too nice.” She takes the seat though, and the ale that she’s offered. “I can’t kill the King, but I can do something. Let me do something to help your cause, before we head home.”

  “There’s no need. I know you need to grieve.”

  “Stay tonight,” Della says. “Then go home tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. But only if you give me something to do. Weaver and I are handy with swords. Let us help. For Archer.”

  Addyson sits on the floor at Ceryn’s feet, smiling at Della and smiling at Everleigh. “I’ve got an idea...”

  Ceryn

  THE CURSED PRINCESS has a cheeky look on her face and I find myself grinning back at her. When I heard that Archer was dead I was sure I’d never smile again. She’s got to me. Quickly.

  So like me, but so different. People might hate her but they’d never hurt her. Never physically attack her. She’s been lucky. And yet I like her.

  She’s got fight in her.

  Like me.

  I feel like fighting now. I can’t kill a King, even I’m not that reckless, but I can do something. Hurt someone.

  There’s a stubborn bit of me that wants to storm away again, make them all pay, sulk and whinge for a bit longer, but I can’t do it. I could, but I look at this little group and I don’t want to. I want to be good.

  “They could rescue Lanorie.”

  “Who’s Lanorie?” Weaver butts in, nodding at me, quietly checking that I’m alright. I was surprised he let the princess come after me, instead of coming himself, but now I am sitting here grinning and I realise why. He knows me best.

  “My handmaiden. She swapped places with Addyson, when she took her food. She rescued her.”

  “But now she’s stuck in the tower,” Ginata says.

  “If we swap someone else with her and my brother finds out, he’ll kill them”

  “Who guards her?” I ask. My brain, always battle-ready, trying to figure something out.

  “A guard at the bottom, outside, and one outside her room.”

  “Do you
mind if they die?” I don’t mind a bit of blood shed but if this girl will be Queen, maybe she won’t like it.

  Everyone is silent but Everleigh looks up at me. “We tried to do it peacefully, but Millard was expecting it. I can’t see any other way.”

  “There’s probably not,” Weaver says. “If she’s locked up and you can’t swap her with anyone, we’ll have to kill them.”

  “But Millard told me that if the guard upstairs hears any problem downstairs he will kill Addyson, well, Lanorie.”

  I am trying to think this through, my eyes closed. One girl rescued from the tower, on the sly, another one left in her place. A mad King who will kill whoever is in the room if he goes there and it’s not his sister. Two guards.

  What would Archer do? The question comes unbidden. He was my moral compass, both him and Weaver, really. I choke back a sob. Am I grief stricken? Should we go home while we can? Back to our little village, to the people who need our help?

  I look around the room: my little friend, cursed like me, marked like me; an older woman who seems motherly to Addyson. The wise woman, Ginata. I like her a bit better now, but not massively. Weaver. And another man, no one has introduced us to, but he looks about our age, handsome and friendly, but quiet.

  And Everleigh. I should want to hurt her, cause her harm, rally against her for getting Archer killed, but I can’t.

  I don’t like a lot of women. Or a lot of people. A lot of people don’t like me. But I like this woman and I like her sister.

  I think she could be Queen. She has a way about her, something about her that makes me like her, trust her, want to help her.

  Is that what Archer saw in her? Why he wanted to help her?

  She’s not helpless or damsel in distress-ish, but she is vulnerable somehow. But strong. I wanted to hate her. But I find myself warming to her. I want to be on her team.

  We will do something here, something to help, like a legacy to Archer, and then we’ll go home.

  And if she gets her crown and her throne, we’ll raise a cup of ale, me and Weaver and remember how we helped her get there.

  I speak up. I feel a little bit sick at what I’m about to suggest but I do it anyway.

  “I’ve got an idea. What if I dress up as a handmaiden and take her some food? Once inside I’ll be able to kill or injure the door guard and, on the way out, I’ll be able to kill or injure the outside guard. Lanorie can follow me out. She’s not lame or anything?”