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

by Gemma Perfect

  Della nods and gathers Addyson to her. Finn and the teacher surround her and I can only hope they will be safe. “Quickly,” I tell them, who knows how many other hooded men are wandering around.

  I pull Ginata and Will close to me. “We need to see what happened in the courtyard, if there’s any more danger. Then we need to go back to Ceryn and Archer, check that they’re safe.” We grab axes from the stable floor and troop out to the courtyard.

  It’s empty and quiet, but we can see what made the noise that drew us all to the window. “A diversion,” Will says as we walk towards the horse and cart. The cart is filled with a load of Cook’s pans and they are all upturned on to the floor.

  “The kitchen.” I run and the others follow me. Cook is fine, red faced with fury and tied up so she cannot move, her back against her oven. Will grabs a knife and unties her. He helps her to her feet. Her wrists are bright red and she’s crying as she rubs at them. I embrace her, and pat her back. “You’re alright, you’re safe. It’s all fine.”

  “It’s bloody not. Cheeky beggars coming in here and tying me up. Stealing all my pans. What did they do with them? I heard a crash?”

  “They just wanted a diversion, a noise to get attention. They came to my room to attack me.”

  Cook clutches at her chest. “The Realm has gone mad, mad.”

  Will finds a drink and holds it while Cook slowly takes sips. She’s shaking a little less. “Better?”

  She nods and then shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m too old for all of this. It’s all gone to pot since your father died.”

  “You’re right. I’ve got to fix it, make it right. Everyone should feel safe. Did you recognise any of them?”

  “No, they all had hoods on, cowards. If you believe in your cause, show your face, I say.”

  “You’re right. I don’t know if they even have a cause. If they’re working for my brother or just hooligans, looking for trouble.”

  “We may never know.”

  “Are you fine if we go? We want to see if Ceryn and Archer are alright.”

  “Yes. I’m made of tough stuff.”

  “Go to Addyson’s room. At least you won’t be on your own.”

  “I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind. I won’t be driven out of my kitchen.”

  “Keep a knife close by you.”

  “Oh, I will.” She looks quite formidable and I feel a rush of affection for her. Cook has been feeding me since I was a baby, never asking for anything, always there, quietly getting on with things. I hate that she’s been brought into this. But she’s not the first and she won’t be the last. Damn my brother!

  “Ready?” Ginata and Will nod, though Ginata looks quite pale. “Ginata? Ginata?” As I step towards her she swoons and Will manages to catch her and lay her softly on the floor. She’s out cold. Fainted.

  “Leave her here. You two go do what you need to. Just be careful. I’d much rather be cooking for a Queen than a King. No offence to your brother.”

  “I think you’re allowed to offend him, Cook. Not to worry.”

  We step quietly across the courtyard and I reach for Will’s hand. I need to feel less alone. What if we head up to my room and Ceryn and Archer are dead? I couldn’t stand losing either of them.

  We are slow and silent as we move through the castle, checking around each corner before we step out and show ourselves. An attack could come from anywhere. My home just doesn’t feel like mine anymore.

  We wait around the corner from my room, listening, but there is only silence, thick and tense. I look at Will and he nods. We raise our axes, probably looking as foolish as I certainly feel.

  The door is ajar and Will steps in front of me, ignoring my protests.

  The three hooded men are all dead, heaped on the floor, blood puddling under them. Ceryn is injured, I can see the blood pouring from a gash on her arm. Archer looks fine, if a little white.

  I rush towards them and they both step towards me so we end up in a sort of huddle. Will awkwardly joins us, wrapping his arms around the three of us.

  I lose it then; I can’t help it. These men came so close to me, to my sister, to my friends. They could have easily killed any one of us.

  “Well, they reckon they’re not working for your brother, they have no idea where he is; they’re just vigilantes.”

  “Dead vigilantes.” Ceryn winces as Archer ties a strip of material tightly over her wound. “That hurts.”

  “It’ll stop it bleeding. We’ll get Ginata to look at it.”

  “She fainted so we left her in the kitchen. But the teacher will do it.”

  “Where is everyone?”

  “Gone to Addyson’s room. We left Ginata in the kitchen with Cook. They’d tied Cook up, stole her pots and pans to make that racket. Clever, I suppose.”

  “The door was unlocked,” Ceryn says suddenly. “When they got here. Wasn’t I the last one to open it? I came in with all the little maids. With the food.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not having any of us blame ourselves or each other.”

  And I mean it. None of us are perfect and we’re all just trying our best. We can’t turn on each other now. “If they couldn’t get in they would have waited for one of us to go out and then they would have killed someone. Come on, let’s get you to the teacher. We can’t stay here with these, anyway.” I gesture to the dead bodies, their hoods pulled back off their faces. I don’t recognise any of them and I’m a bit relieved.

  I can’t imagine wanting to sleep in this room again, though. Room by room this castle is becoming uninhabitable for me.

  We look in on Cook on our way past, she’s placed a blanket over Ginata and the fire is roaring. She’s sitting in a rocking chair, sipping on a drink. “How are you?”

  “Right as rain.” She lifts her cup in a cheers motion and I can’t help but smile at her gutsiness.

  We troop to Addyson’s room, wait while they open the door and then pour in. “Ceryn’s hurt but Ginata fainted.”

  The teacher assesses Ceryn. “I need to go to Ginata’s rooms. I can’t do anything here.”

  “We’ll all go.”

  Will and Finn lay Ceryn on the bench in Ginata’s room, while the teacher goes through the drawers looking for what he needs. “Is the door locked?” Ceryn asks, her voice tight with pain.

  “Yes.” I’m sure Archer did it when we came in, but I turn to him. He nods but goes to check anyway.

  And drops to the floor.

  I scream his name and fall to my knees beside him. The teacher comes to his side and feels his forehead. “He’s burning up.”

  “Archer, Archer.” I shake him as I call his name, but he’s not conscious. He’s breathing though. “What’s wrong with him?”

  The teacher shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s the exertion of the fight. He’s too fit for that.”

  He pulls at Archer’s top, to look at his wounds from when Millard almost killed him. Even I can see that the wound on his left, just above his hip bone, is wrong. It’s red and swollen looking, tinged with green.

  “What is it?”

  “I think he’s got an infection, in his wound. Everleigh, it’s not good. Everyone in the other room.”

  “Why? What do you need to do? I won’t leave him.”

  I cannot have Archer die again.

  16

  THE TEACHER LOOKS AT Everleigh, while Della leads the others away, closing the door behind her. Ceryn sits quietly on the bench, watching Archer for signs of life.

  “You can stay if you are able to help. If your mind is calm enough. If not, go.”

  Everleigh shakes her head. “I’ll help.”

  “I think he’s done too much. It’s my fault. He was still recovering but he’s been fighting as though there’s nothing wrong with him. I need to open the wound, drain whatever’s in there making him ill. See if that helps.”

  “What shall I do?”

  “Put this jug of water on the fire, wait till it heats up. I need to clean this
knife before cutting him open.” He dips a finger in the jug and tastes it. “Wait, this isn’t water, it’s...look we need water. Check the other jugs.”

  Everleigh finds one with water and does as the teacher told her.

  She holds Archer’s hand while the teacher gathers different lotions and potions from around Ginata’s work room. He’s muttering to himself but neither Everleigh or Ceryn interrupt him, just watch Archer and occasionally look at each other before looking away when too many tears fill their eyes.

  The teacher dips the knife in the boiling water and then brings it to Archer’s side. He tucks material into Archer’s trousers and lays more on the floor under his wound. “This won’t be pretty,” he says, but neither girl looks away.

  He tears into Archer’s flesh, opening the already painful looking wound, slicing through his skin with the knife.

  The smell is disgusting, like the putrefying flesh of animals in the butchery. Green ooze, blood and yellow pus spill out, soaking the material. “Get more material, Everleigh. Push it under him.”

  Everleigh nods and refuses to wince or flinch at the smell or the feel of the festering fluids on her skin.

  The teacher’s frowning in concentration, pushing against Archer’s skin, draining as much fluid out as he can. “I don’t want to stitch him up again until all of this muck is out of his body.”

  Everleigh keeps piling more strips of cloth under Archer, soaking everything up.

  Eventually the teacher sits back, feels Archer’s forehead, touches his hand to his chest, nods.

  “Will he live?”

  “I think so. I need to stitch him up, give him some tonics. He won’t wake up tonight. He may in the morning. Help me get fluid in him.”

  He chooses two bottles off Ginata’s shelf and opens them. “Lift his head, and gently pour these into his mouth. Get as much in as you can. I’ll fix Ceryn and then I’ll stitch him up.”

  Everleigh does as she’s told, cradling Archer’s head, whispering to him. “Be fine, be fine, be fine.” She says it over and over and over and looks up when she realises that Ceryn is saying the same words at the same time.

  Ceryn keeps her eyes on Archer as the teacher stitches her up. She refuses to cry out despite the sting of the needle. Once he’s done, she takes a place on the floor next to Everleigh, holding her free hand, the three of them linked in a circle.

  “He may not recover. I have done my best, he’s a fighter and he’s survived worse than this. There is hope.”

  Hope. It’s something Everleigh understands, something she can cling on to. When she was told that she would live she had hope; it’s a precious, special thing. She has hope that Archer will live.

  She squeezes Ceryn’s hand and keeps her other hand on Archer’s chest, feeling the beat of life through his skin. Eventually they both drop uncomfortably to the floor and sleep.

  The teacher informs the others of the situation and eventually they all sleep too. Della and Addyson share Ginata’s bed. The teacher takes one of the sofas and Will and Finn choose a chair each.

  GINATA OPENS HER EYES and waits, to get accustomed to the gloom of the kitchen. Cook is snoring in the chair and the fire is crackling merrily away. She feels sick to her stomach but knows the steps she has to take.

  Rescue Wolf, take provisions to Millard, leave this corner of the Realm.

  She sits up, feeling the stiffness in her bones from laying on the floor for so long. She did a good job of pretending to faint and she almost wants to laugh at the person she’s become. Duplicitous, self-serving, dishonest, all the things she’s always despised in others.

  It’s the hardest thing in the world to hate yourself. The internal battles are leaving her exhausted.

  She slips out of the kitchen leaving the delicious warmth for the chilly pre-dawn bite of the courtyard. There’s no one to witness her, but she still moves quietly and carefully, her head down, hood up. She takes an axe from the stable and heads to the tower.

  She knocks gently. “Wolf. It’s Ginata.”

  There’s silence for a few beats then a gruff whisper. “You here to let me out?”

  “Of course. I’ve got an axe. What do I do?”

  “Aim for the side of the lock closest to the door frame but underneath. If you can hit it enough, and loosen the door I’ll be able to push out from my side.”

  She knows she must be quick, because it will be loud. She braces her feet, swings the axe and hits the door, splintering the wood and making a louder thud than she’d thought.

  Fear spurring her on, she hits the door three, four, five times in quick succession. “Move!” Wolf shouts.

  She moves out of the way as he takes a run at the door. It shifts a fair bit and he does it again.

  In three runs he has moved the door enough to make a gap wide enough for him to climb through. He grins at her. “Where is he? What’s next?”

  “He’s at my cottage. I need to go to his rooms, get clean clothes, weapons.”

  “Brilliant. You know I might have underestimated you.”

  High praise indeed, she smiles and follows him over to the castle door. This is the scariest bit. She cannot back out of helping Wolf now, or he’d have questions she doesn’t want to answer, but if anyone sees her with him, then she will have no plausible excuse.

  They don’t hang around, they run quickly to Millard’s rooms. She finds clothes and shoes, a cloak, while Wolf gets weapons from the chest at the end of his bed.

  “I need to go to my room, just quickly.”

  “You can’t. We don’t have time.”

  “But there are things I need. If I’m going to stay with you.”

  “You can get them all when Millard’s back on the throne.”

  “But-”

  “No buts. Let’s go.”

  Ginata

  I HAVE NO CHOICE BUT to follow Wolf out of the castle and although I feel a sadness, a pull – a physical wrench – at leaving my things behind, it’s fitting as well. I can leave my things behind, my past behind, my poor decisions behind and start again. A fresh start.

  Where no one knows my sins.

  We each carry a sack of wares for Millard and we troop out of the courtyard together like two thieves in the night.

  Too much has changed in such a short space of time. I despise this man and all he stands for, all that he does for Millard, and yet I am the same as him.

  Not the same, I continue the internal, infernal battle with myself. I am choosing to leave Millard because of what he has made me, what he has turned me into.

  I do not even know what he has done, or how he has done it, but I don’t recognise myself. I was a smart, self-contained little witch and now I am a monster.

  There must be something left of my true self, some core of goodness, I tell myself, or I wouldn’t be thinking about leaving.

  If this King was so bewitching that he had made a pure monster of me, I would want to remain by his side, like Wolf. A loyal and trusted henchman, regardless of the acts I would stoop to carry out in his name.

  I repeat to myself, I haven’t hurt anyone, I haven’t killed anyone. I know Wolf would maim and kill for his master. I am not so far under his thrall that I am completely unrecognisable to myself, then.

  There is still some good in there, some of the old Ginata.

  I have betrayed Everleigh and her cause, I have aided Millard on two occasions, but now I will wash my hands of them both.

  It is a long walk with only Wolf for company. I sneak looks at him as we go. He’s a hulking beast of a man. Taller than most, wider than most, he’s not handsome. Strangely, considering all the dirty work he does for Millard, I don’t feel a bad vibe coming from him. I wonder if it’s something he cultivates, a gentle giant persona.

  Millard is sitting in the chair when we go inside my cottage, the fire is still blazing which means he’s mobile enough to keep adding wood to the flames. He stands up and claps Wolf on the back, more pleased to see him than me, which leaves me feeling,
ridiculously, offended.

  I’m the one who rescued Millard and I’m the one who rescued Wolf. Without me they wouldn’t even be having this cosy little reunion.

  I throw a disc on the fire, the snapping sound making both men jump. Millard finally notices me and sweeps me into his arms. “The lovely Ginata. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I can’t be rude, he’d have my head, but I’m a little stiffer than usual. Wolf turns away from us and I can see it aggravates him. They may be the best of friends, master and servant, soul mates in evil matters, but I am the romantic interest. Millard likes me in a way he will never like Wolf. And though I don’t think Wolf likes him in that way, either, it’s the one thing he cannot be to Millard, when he strives to do everything for him, be everything to him.

  I flaunt my femininity then, even though I have started to close off my heart to Millard and I find a little thrill in this. I let him kiss me, and allow his lips to linger longer than they have yet. I press my body against his, and enjoy the way his kiss quickens. Take that, Wolf!

  “We’ve brought you everything you asked for,” I say, pitching my voice an octave lower than usual, trying to sound sultry, seductive. I catch myself and clear my throat, talking normally after that. “Clothes and weapons.”

  “Thank you, Ginny. And you rescued Wolf. Clever thing...”

  He smiles at me and I almost don’t catch the nod he gives to Wolf. Wolf heads for the front door, trying to be nonchalant but I feel a coil of fear wrap around my heart.

  “I do need one more thing from you, Ginny. You’ve done so much but I need one more thing that only you can do.”

  He smiles, and I feel two conflicting emotions at the same time. A beat of attraction and tenderness for this young foolish King who gets caught up in his emotions and acts so rashly, and a stab of piercing terror and a real sense of aversion for all that he is and all that he does.

  “Ginny, I need you to make me a death draught.”

  I am catapulted back to his brother standing inside my little cottage, this very room, asking the same thing. Full circle, I almost smile.