Guardian of the Crown

by Melissa McShane

  “Felix!” Willow shouted, and threw herself at the men just as one shoved the other hard, making him fall in a heap. The one still standing turned on Willow, and she ducked under the shining silver of his knife and slashed at him, making him stumble backward. “Stay down!” she said, hoping Felix would understand.

  She crouched, knife at the ready, caught the man’s blade on hers when he struck and swept it out of the way. She thrust at his midsection and forced him back again. The man snarled something in Eskandelic and made a grab for her with his free hand.

  She stepped to the side, ducked under his hand, and made another thrust at his belly. This time she connected solidly. He made a pained grunt and moved back out of the reach of her next slash, toward the doorway. “Don’t even think about it,” Willow said, moving to intercept him.

  She realized she’d put herself within his reach when he grabbed her arm, drew her close and brought his knife around to slash at her throat. She went limp, sagging in his arms, and his strike missed. When he fumbled with her unexpected weight, she ducked away from his knife and aimed another blow at his stomach.

  He turned at the last minute and her knife caught in his dark, loose clothes, pulling it out of her hand. She swore and punched him in the stomach. It was like punching a wall, sending a sharp pain shooting up her arm and making her assailant cry out. He shoved her away, sending her sprawling to the floor, and took off running down the hall.

  “Stay down!” she shouted again. She jumped up and tore after the man in time to see him hoist himself awkwardly over the nearest windowsill and drop. Willow ran and took a brief look down before climbing out herself, gathering her skirts out of the way. They were near the top of the house, and he’d made a wild leap to the next window down and was dangling by his hands, reaching for a foothold.

  Willow felt around the wall for something to hold onto. The walls of the Serjian Residence were smooth, too smooth for free climbing, and there was no way she could replicate that leap of his in this dress. She cursed again and made for the stairs. If she could get down and outside before he did—

  She dashed out of the front door and around to the side of the Residence. The assassin was gone.

  She stood, slightly bent over with her hand pressed to the stitch in her side, and looked around. One of her fists was bloody. She’d definitely wounded him with the knife, and maybe he’d left a blood trail she could follow.

  There were a few drops by the base of the wall, and more about ten feet on. She tracked him to the wall surrounding the Residence, lined with hedges on this side. A smear of blood marred the top half of the wall where the assassin had dragged himself up and over.

  Willow climbed to the top and dropped lightly down on the other side. The skirt snagged and tore, but she barely noticed. There was a matching smear on the street side of the wall, but no more blood spatters, and Willow ran a few dozen yards before concluding she’d lost him. She cursed. Someone had attacked Felix, and she needed to know who.

  Felix.

  She ran back, scrambled up and over the wall, then raced as fast as she could back to their room, her heart pounding faster than exertion would warrant. She shouldn’t have left him. What if he was dead? Who had been fighting the assassin when she entered? She skidded around a corner in her bare feet. She’d heard him scream. That meant he was alive. Everything was fine. She clung to that thought.

  The lights were back on in the stairwell and the hallway when she pelted up them, hearing the noise of a dozen people all talking at once coming from her room. She came to a stop in the doorway, breathing heavily. Felix was sitting on his bed with Rafferty next to him. He was hugging Ernest so tightly the puppy was whimpering and struggling. Willow crossed the room and went to her knees in front of him, holding him close.

  “He’s all right, Willow,” Rafferty said. “Just scared.”

  “That’s more than bad enough,” Willow said. “Felix, take a deep breath. Try to calm down. You’re safe.”

  “He killed Fedrani, Willow,” Felix sobbed. “Fedrani fought him, but he had a big knife and, and Willow, he was going to kill me, where were you?”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I’m sorry. I tried to catch him, but he got away.”

  “He’s going to come back!”

  “That is not a thing that will happen,” Janida said grimly. “We will place a better guard on this house, and you will have bodyguards, young King. I blame myself for not imagining this would happen.”

  “How should we know?” Giara said. “No one knows of the King’s presence yet except our allies.”

  “There many were who saw him at the Conclave,” said Catrela. She was kneeling over Fedrani’s body and examining it, though Willow couldn’t tell for what. “We do not know how many know the truth behind Terence Valant’s lies. Anyone might have drawn the right conclusion.” But she didn’t look convinced. Willow was certain she was thinking what Willow, fellow sneak, was thinking: which of our allies is a traitor? The vojentas had come with escorts, and with so many extra men milling around, anyone could have slipped away, sneaked through the Residence, silently climbed the stairs…

  A heavy tread in the hallway became Serjian Salveri, imposing in an embroidered dressing gown, followed by Kerish. “We have learned how he entered, and have taken steps to see it cannot happen again,” the Prince said. “I apologize, young King. We have failed to protect you.”

  “Two more retainers are dead,” Kerish said. “Felix, I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.” He came to kneel by Felix’s side and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  “So what you’re all saying,” Willow said, freeing Ernest from Felix’s grip, “is that someone knows who Felix is and wants him dead. But why? Don’t they just have to make sure his question doesn’t get approved by the Conclave?”

  “There are likely those who do not wish that risk to take, that the Conclave votes to return the Crown of Tremontane to King Felix,” Janida said. “And some of those would not blink at killing a child that to prevent.”

  “We will find the truth, Willow,” Catrela said.

  “With my help.” Willow smoothed Felix’s hair. “He’s my responsibility.”

  “You will have much to do. Better to let the eskarnas take this burden.”

  “I’m eskarna too, right? And you and the others will have enough to do making sure the vote goes our way. I’ve done this sort of thing for years, finding things that don’t want to be found. You tell me which of the principalities might be behind this, and I’ll figure out who it is. And you’d better not say I don’t have the right.”

  Catrela shook her head. “I will not say that.” She stood back as a couple of Serjian servants, big and well-muscled, brought a sheet to wrap Fedrani’s body in and carry him away. Felix burst into noisy sobs and Willow drew him closer and rocked him in her arms. “We will move you to another room now. Tomorrow is soon enough to begin your lessons. All of your lessons.”

  “I’ll show them the new room, Mother,” Kerish said. “Why don’t you let me carry you, Felix?”

  The new room was also on the highest floor of the Residence, but the stairs led directly to the door instead of to a hallway and rose from the floor where Janida and Catrela’s suites were. “There will be a guard inside and out,” Kerish said. “Tomorrow there will be guards for you, Felix.”

  “All right,” Felix said in a small voice.

  “Are you hurt at all, Willow?” Kerish said. “Your dress—”

  “It’s the wrong kind of clothing for climbing walls, that’s all,” Willow said. “I’m fine.”

  “Good. I don’t—if that man had hurt either of you—”

  “I know. Everything’s all right now.” His dark eyes were fixed on Felix, but she knew his attention was on her, and suddenly she wanted to put her arms around him and let him hold her. She chased the impulse away. That couldn’t lead anywhere good. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

  Finally, he looked at her, and she r
egretted her words, how dismissive they’d sounded, because he looked hurt. But he said, “Good night,” and disappeared down the stairs.

  Felix let Willow lead him to his bed and tuck him in, then welcomed Ernest into the crook of his arm. “Willow?” he said when she would have moved away.

  “Yes?”

  “Is it all right if I don’t want to be King?”

  Willow came back to sit on the floor near his head. “I think only crazy people want to be King, because it’s very hard work. I wish…” She decided not to say I wish I could take that burden away from you, because there was no sense encouraging him in thinking that way. He was the King, and nothing could change that. “Right now, you’re scared, and I don’t blame you. What was Fedrani doing there?”

  “He brought me something to eat before bed. It was just a little thing. He wouldn’t have been killed if—”

  “Stop that right now,” Willow commanded, and Felix wiped the beginnings of tears from his eyes. “I wish Fedrani was alive, too, but he cared about you and he didn’t want you to die. Sometimes people have to choose what’s more important, their own lives or someone else’s. I’m pretty sure Fedrani would have hated himself if he’d run away and let you be killed. So don’t blame yourself. Blame the bastard who killed him.”

  “Hilarion says profanity shows a lack of imagination and is the last resort of the half-wit.”

  “Hilarion never heard Rufus Black in full flower of obscenity. It’s a thing of beauty, unless he’s directing it at you.” She patted Felix’s cheek. “Try to sleep. Don’t worry, no one’s getting in here tonight.”

  “I know. Good night, Willow.”

  Willow turned off the light and awkwardly stripped out of the golden gown, wishing she hadn’t sent Caira to bed. She’d forgotten how she was dressed. She’d destroyed it anyway, what with climbing the Residence wall twice and going through the hedge both times. She threw it into a corner and got into bed in just her underwear, since they hadn’t had time to bring her wardrobe to the new suite.

  Felix was already asleep, breathing through his nose with a quiet whistling sound. If she hadn’t come back when she had, he’d be dead. Willow shivered, not from cold. She’d gotten so complacent, surrounded by the Serjian Principality. She’d forgotten that Terence still needed Felix dead, that he had all sorts of resources available to him to make that happen. She had to be lucky all the time. He only had to be lucky once. Well, starting tomorrow, she was going to track that assassin down. And pray there’s only one principality behind it, she thought, and ruthlessly chased the thought away.

  Chapter Two

  “Let me go over this again,” Willow said. She rubbed her temples, vainly trying to make her headache disappear. “Most of the principalities are allied with more powerful ones. But those more powerful ones may give their votes to an even more powerful principality. So the goal is to identify those…I don’t remember what to call them.”

  “Our word is parjeni,” Alondra said. “It means, to rule by proxy. The parjeni are all those who command the votes of others. Parjenisur is the ones who themselves control the votes of others, but give that control to someone above them in power.”

  “The parjeni are the ones we want to sway, but we also want to encourage the ones who haven’t given allegiance to choose one of our allies. Or us.”

  “That is so. Best still if a strong parjeni attracts more principalities and then brings those votes to our cause.”

  “And we do this by promising our support for their interests and convincing them that our enemies—sorry, our opponents—can’t help them.” She still called them enemies in the privacy of her own mind. This was Felix’s future, the future of Tremontane, at stake, and anyone who stood in the way of that couldn’t be considered a friend. Not to mention that at least one of them was an actual, potentially deadly enemy. “Which means knowing what those interests, those questions, are.”

  “It is much to remember. But you understand much already.”

  “Only because I took notes.” Willow tapped her pen against the sheet of paper, which was whiter and thicker than what she was used to in Aurilien. She’d never had more than the most basic education in reading and writing, so her handwriting looked like that of a child, but at least she was literate, which was more than most of her acquaintances could say.

  “This list is our primary allies, the ones who will vote with us when they see Serjian is sponsoring the question no matter what it is. Then there’s the enemy parjeni—I mean, the opponents, and their parjenisur. And the long list is the ones who don’t know about our question and who won’t automatically be for either side. That’s the confusing one. All those principalities, even after we eliminate the ones whose side we know already.”

  “It is complex even to us. We must court the parjeni and parjenisur, but we cannot neglect those who give their allegiance to them, who might give allegiance instead to us. There it is we must understand the most.”

  “Treat them as if they matter as much as the most powerful parjeni.”

  “You understand it.” Alondra stretched and shifted Caderina to her other breast. “I think this child draining me is.”

  “I’m surprised you don’t have someone else nurse her. The nobles in Aurilien all have wet nurses for that.”

  Alondra cuddled her baby more closely. “That is not a thing we do, except when the mother cannot. It is…complicated, to bring an outsider into the harem even for such a thing. Giara could not feed Jauman, so we took Berena among us for a time. She much loved was and we still her friends are.”

  “I guess it doesn’t seem to slow you down at all.”

  “It is another way the harem cares for its own.”

  Willow decided not to follow that conversational trail. She wanted to know how the wives managed not to feel jealousy over Salveri, or maybe they did and just hid it really well, but it felt like an awkward subject, as if she were judging them for being so well-adjusted. Instead, she said, “Are you all sure you want me to concentrate on wooing these four? Wouldn’t it be better if I talked to some of these, um, less powerful principalities?”

  “You may also do so,” Alondra said, “but these four are not only parjeni, they are among those who will control the decision of the vojenta mahaut. They must be convinced that Serjian Principality the best for Eskandel is. If you speak well for Felix, and if Serjian Principality recognizes his claim, then logic it is that Serjian Principality best knows how to resolve the Tremontane question.”

  Willow drew a box around a set of four names:

  Jamighian Issobela

  Hajimhi Fariola

  Sarhafian Jennea

  Takjashi Lucea

  “Jamighian Issobela is logical and cautious, maybe overly so,” she recited. “She will want facts and information. Be honest with her, because if she thinks I’m lying, she’ll turn on us completely. Hajimhi Fariola wants Gessala to join her harem—Alondra, I don’t think I should make that promise. Isn’t it up to Gessala?”

  “You will not promise, and she would not believe you if you did,” Alondra said. “She will try information to gain from you and will not respect you if you give it. Her respect is of the most importance. Hajimhi prides itself on its honor.”

  “I can understand that.” The dukes of Lower Town had a system of dealing with each other that depended heavily on their complicated sense of honor, hundreds of rules and nuances of behavior that could literally mean the difference between life or death. Probably it wasn’t that dire in the Conclave—though it might be a bad idea to assume that. At any rate, honor was something Willow understood.

  “Tell me about Sarhafian Jennea.”

  “She’ll want an exchange of favors and will want more from us than she gives. Pushing too hard will make her withdraw and look for another alliance.” Willow drew a line under the last name on her list. “And Catrela doesn’t know anything about Takjashi Lucea.”

  “She was a scholar, not one of much consequence but not th
e least of her scholia. It was a surprise when she became vojenta. She and Abakian Raena suorenas are, and Lucea may follow where Raena leads, but we have no certainty in that. Catrela will continue her responsibility to pursue, and you must observe her closely.”

  “I will.” Willow dropped the pen on the table, making a little ink splatter, and stretched. “I think I understand how this works. Now, what about the assassination attempt?”

  “That a thing Catrela should tell you is. I eskarna am not.”

  “But you know who’s powerful enough to try assassination, and who would want to.”

  “There obvious choices are, yes.” Alondra sighed. “Mahnouki. Abakian. Gharibi. Sahaki. Hovanesian might do it at Gharibi’s urging, and might believe it their idea to be, but it unlikely is that Gharibi Ciera would risk discovery by revealing such a plan to another principality. But none of them know of Felix’s existence.”

  “That we know of. Terence Valant was in communication with Sahaki when they were still vojenta mahaut. He might have told them about Felix if he thought they were true allies. Who knows what he might have promised in exchange for them killing his nephew? And you said Sahaki was a puppet of Mahnouki, so Sahaki might have told them. Once that sort of secret gets spread…you know the saying, two can keep a secret if one of them is dead?”

  “That is an Eskandelic saying, too. But I think we would have heard rumors…though perhaps Catrela has learned more. I think—” Her voice became quieter, making Willow lean in to hear her clearly. “I think she worried is that one of our allies is not as honorable as they seem.”

  “I don’t blame her. I’d suspect them over your enemies, since they for sure know about Felix.”

  “But these are women we have trusted for many years. Some of those principalities have been Serjian allies for over two centuries. I am unhappy at the thought.”

  “Well, I intend to find out the truth. And speaking of finding things out, I’m going into the city now.”