Leaves of Revolution

by Puttroff, Breeana

  “I’ve never lied to you, Zander. Just left out details.”

  “Well, leave them in this time.”

  “I am…” She looked down at the baby in her arms and then at the one asleep beside her. “Amazing. I’m thrilled, and shocked, and ecstatic, and in love with these two already… and also incredibly scared, and sad, and angry.”

  He bit the inside of his cheek.

  “I mean…” Linnea sighed. “What kind of jerk fathers twins and then goes off and dies without even meeting them?” She brushed angrily at a tear that had dripped down onto her cheek.

  Zander reached into his pockets, searching for a handkerchief, but she shook her head at him. “Don’t. I can’t actually start crying, or I’ll never be able to stop. And this is supposed to be a happy day.”

  It wasn’t a conscious decision; he didn’t even know he was going to do it until he already had, but he scooted up next to her against the pillows and put his arm around her shoulder. She nearly gave him a heart attack when she didn’t push him away, but leaned against him, instead.

  “That was a jerk thing for him to do,” he agreed, pretending everything was normal, though inside he couldn’t help but wonder what the heck he was thinking.

  Despite their talking, the baby girl was getting sleepy. Her eyes, which were a shocking shade of blue, were closing for longer and longer blinks. Although the boy already had traces of Linnea’s dark curls, the gorgeous little girl’s lighter brown fluff was her father’s in every way.

  “Maybe not as bad as dying even after I got myself stuck in another universe to save him.”

  Linnea threw her head back against the pillows. “Meech! I did marry a total chok, didn’t I?”

  “You said it. Not me…. Of course, I have no idea what you just said.”

  “People don’t get married in your world?”

  “If you hadn’t given birth today, I would jab you with my elbow for that.”

  She giggled; the sound did interesting things to his insides.

  “Seriously, what is up with the weird words? I’ve never heard William talk like that.”

  “William is used to the differences between our worlds – also, he has a cleaner mouth than I do.”

  He dropped his jaw, feigning shock. “So I have a princess cursing at me?”

  “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “No. Actually, I’m kind of impressed.”

  Her laugh was more than a giggle now, it was strong and musical, and the baby girl fell asleep to the sound of it, looking comforted.

  The boy, on the other hand, woke up, his eyes searching out the noise and locking in on his mother’s face like he didn’t want to miss a moment of it.

  “And so it begins,” Linnea sighed.

  “Give her to me,” he said, reaching for the girl, tucking her against his chest as Linnea picked up the boy.

  This baby was just slightly sturdier than her brother, though she still was the second-tiniest human he’d ever held. As small as she was, though, she was perfect. He couldn’t help thinking of how amazed Ben would have been at the intricately detailed little fingers, and the way her lips pursed into a rosebud shape after she sighed in her sleep.

  Ben. He should not be here curled up next to Ben’s wife and their babies.

  Of course, Ben was the jerk who had told him to take care of Linnea before he went and died. What did he expect?

  Wherever I am, when I look at her, I want to see her smile. The words came unbidden into his mind. Ben had spoken them to him that night, shortly before…

  “What are you going to name them?” he asked.

  “We don’t do that yet in my world, remember?”

  “Oh, whatever. You at least have some idea.”

  She chuckled again, running her finger over her son’s eyebrows. “Benjamin, of course, for him. Benjamin Thomas, maybe.”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s a good name for a twin older brother, I think.”

  Did she even know how amazing she was? “It’s just right. What about this one? You’ve had longer to plan for a girl.”

  She nodded. “Ben’s mother was named Adeline… Maybe Adeline Charlotte?”

  It took everything he had not to lean over and kiss her. He’d never, ever, wanted anything more in his life.

  But this was not the right time. He wasn’t sure if there would ever be a right time, but he knew this was the wrong one. This day was confusing and emotional and life-changing for her as it was. Even if she returned the gesture now, she might pay the price of regretting it later, and he couldn’t do that to her.

  It was better that he didn’t, anyway, because just at that moment, Mia came into the tent looking panic stricken.

  He stood in one fluid motion, still cradling the baby. “Mia, what’s wrong?”

  “We’ve just heard a disturbing rumor from the castle. Tolliver is planning to publicly execute his captives.”

  ~ Forty-Four ~

  Thomas

  THOMAS HAD A BLACK eye. That was the first thing she’d noticed back on the stairs. Although the sight of it at first had made her a little dizzy and weak, now she was just angry.

  “Tell me the other guy looks worse,” she mumbled under her breath to him, hoping the words would carry over the noise of the crowd.

  He gave a single nod.

  At that moment, the noise grew louder, all of the jeers and hisses drowned out by applause. Tolliver was coming up on the stage from the other side, surrounded by four guards.

  Now that she was looking in that direction, Quinn could see Sophia, on a separate platform just to the side – a platform which also contained a large, plush throne.

  Suddenly, she understood exactly what Tolliver had planned.

  It didn’t matter now how she’d gotten the dagger, or why her hands were loose, she couldn’t make this situation worse if she tried.

  As the guards and Tolliver marched across the stage to stand in front of her, she slipped one hand out of the ropes and reached up her sleeve.

  Tolliver was grinning and waving, exuding a kind of charm that might have made her understand how he managed to gain so many followers – if the mere sight of him hadn’t made her skin crawl.

  There was something wrong with his neck, though. He’d tried to disguise it with the high collar of his cloak, but the raw, red mark extended up close to his ear. And unless she was mistaken, the dark purple shadow across his cheek was the beginnings of a bruise.

  She sneaked a look up at Thomas, trying to ask the question with her eyes.

  He nodded once again.

  She wished she could give him a high five for that right now; regardless of how it had happened.

  All of her panic was gone, replaced by anger and concentration. The dagger was in her hand, and she watched for her move.

  Tolliver stood in the middle of the stage, directly in front of Max, flanked by two guards on either side of him.

  He’d put Quinn in an odd place, all the way at the end of the line, as if she was the smallest of his concerns as a political prisoner. She didn’t know if that was because he was stupid, or if that was his game – but she did know she wouldn’t be able to reach him from here without drawing the attention of his guards.

  Tolliver began some grand speech – she was sure she’d figure out more about his exact plans if she listened to it, but she didn’t care.

  Once the dagger was out of her sleeve and hidden behind her in the folds of her dress, she scooted as close to Thomas as she could get, sidling up almost under his arm.

  “It’s okay,” Thomas whispered without moving his mouth, clearly thinking she was seeking comfort – until she slipped the blade through the middle of the rope that bound his hands.

  She saw his eyes widen, but he caught on immediately and didn’t react otherwise.

  Perhaps she should have been listening to Tolliver, though, because whatever he said at that moment made two of the guards turn to face her.

  She slipped t
he weapon into Thomas’ hand just before one of the guards grabbed her shoulder and jerked her forward, showing her to the crowd.

  Even now, she didn’t know what Tolliver was saying about her, she was too focused on the guards and the crowd.

  The dagger wasn’t any more helpful to Thomas than it would have been to her. It was the only weapon they had against four fully armed guards. He would be crazy to use it on one of them right now in front of the entire crowd.

  Which is why she gasped out loud when the guard on the left side of her dropped to the ground.

  Screams and utter chaos broke out before she could even look down at the guard. The one who’d been on the right grabbed her and pushed her body in front of his. That was when she saw the arrow protruding from the first man’s chest.

  Fighting the urge to look and see where it had come from, she focused on the fact that both the guard’s arms were in front of her – which meant his sword was still in its sheath. She picked up her foot and stomped, hard, with her heel on his leather boot while at the same time jabbing both elbows and her head backwards into him.

  It was enough; he loosened his grip just barely, but she let her whole body go limp and slid out from under him.

  Unfortunately, then she was on the ground in front of him, and his hand went immediately to his side. She threw her arm in front of her face and chest, bracing herself, but the weapon never rose into the air.

  The man’s sheath was empty.

  The next arrow came out of nowhere, hitting his shoulder. It wasn’t enough to take him down, but he spun to the side, revealing the silhouette of another man behind him. This one had a raised sword. Her heart jumped into her throat until she realized the sword belonged to the guard, but the man holding it was Marcus. In one swift motion, Marcus separated the guard from his head.

  More guards were rushing the stage now. Marcus stepped past the man and reached down, lifting Quinn up off the ground and tucking her behind his arm, still holding the guard’s sword out.

  Just as two more guards ran toward them, someone in the crowd screamed – and another one cheered. More cheers followed.

  Both guards turned to see the source of the noise, and at that instant, Quinn saw it, too.

  Thomas was at the other end of the stage, standing behind Tolliver. His hand was wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, and the blade was planted solidly through Tolliver’s back, all the way so the tip protruded from his chest, a dark bloodstain spread down the front of his green silk shirt.

  Nobody stopped him. All the guards were frozen, or at least it seemed that way. It took until Tolliver fell forward and Thomas pulled out the knife and then stabbed him again before the guards nearest Quinn even reacted.

  For that long moment, they were just standing there. One held his sword down to his side with only a loose grip on the hilt as he watched Thomas stab Tolliver. She reached for it without even thinking. As soon as she touched it, the guard turned to look at her, raising the sword.

  Marcus’ arm closed tightly around her, pinning her against his chest. She couldn’t move as he slashed at the man with the sword he was holding, getting in a good strike across the guard’s arm and forcing him to drop his weapon.

  The next second she felt like she was falling; she couldn’t make sense of anything around her, the world spun, and her head tipped toward the sky as she felt the velvet of the green curtains twisting around her. The side of her head slammed against something, lighting painful sparks behind her eyelids. Then someone shoved her roughly, and everything went dark.

  For a moment she was so disoriented nothing made sense at all. Briefly, she wondered if she was dead, but then she realized she could still hear loud voices and shouting, and the odd sound of feet pounding and metal clashing over her head.

  Each loud metallic clang and heavy wooden thump resonated through her head, all the way to the back of her skull.

  There was another sound, too. It was softer, and it took her awhile to force her brain to register it over the other noises and understand what it was.

  “Your Majesty! Quinn! Quinn! Are you all right?”

  It was Marcus’ voice, moving closer and closer to her face.

  By the time his eyes appeared in her line of vision, she understood where they were.

  He’d pulled her off the stage and then pushed her under it. Now his body was between her and the gap, blocking the light, but also keeping her safe, though it didn’t seem like anyone was after them right this second.

  “I’m fine, Marcus. I think, anyway.”

  “You’re bleeding.” He touched the side of her forehead gently with his thumb, making her suck a breath between her teeth.

  “Are you all right? And Thomas! Max!” She struggled to sit up, nearly managing to bump her head on the underside of the stage again before Marcus pushed her back down.

  Nausea twisted her insides into a wicked swirl; she couldn’t even move her head before she was sick right there on the ground between them.

  Marcus’ eyes went wide with alarm. He used his elbows to pull himself closer to her, ignoring the mess on the ground.

  “Quinn…”

  “I’m okay.” It was mostly true. She was conscious, anyway, which had to be a good sign. Although she wasn’t sure she wanted to be conscious right then.

  Suddenly, Marcus rolled over and scooted back, blocking her body completely just as the noise of boots on concrete came close to their hiding spot.

  She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it – she knew that someone was crouching down, looking under the stage. She bit the insides of her cheeks and breathed through her nose, trying desperately not to throw up in Marcus’ hair.

  “Queen Quinn? Sir Marcus?”

  Just enough of the heavy tension flowed out of the taut lines in Marcus’ neck to ease her panic.

  “They’re from Eirentheos,” he whispered.

  * * *

  The condition of the castle would have alarmed William if he’d been able to concentrate on anything except following Marcus through the corridors as quickly as possible.

  Entire hallways had been burned out, stones were missing, and none of the carpets seemed to be left. They finally ended up in a guest wing that, to William’s knowledge, hadn’t seen much use in decades.

  There were guards everywhere, most of them in the purple of his father’s kingdom, but a few in green whom he knew and trusted.

  Many more guards roamed the other parts of the castle, methodically arresting and removing every single person who’d been here when they entered. This section had already been thoroughly cleared.

  Marcus stopped in front of the door to an apartment near the end of the hallway.

  William gave him a last questioning look.

  “Just go see her,” his father said quietly in his ear. Then he handed Samuel to William as Marcus opened the door.

  Maxwell stood up from one of the couches as William entered, and after a second, Thomas stood from the floor where he’d been sitting next to… “Quinn!” William couldn’t keep himself from shouting and running over to her.

  “Oh, Will…” she breathed, struggling to sit up at the end of the couch.

  “Don’t love,” he said, pressing gently on her shoulder.

  A second later, she couldn’t have gotten up anyway, because Samuel screeched and launched himself toward her, nearly falling out of William’s arms.

  “Are you okay if he…?” William asked, over their son’s insistent fussing.

  “Yes. I need him.” She held out her arms, starting to pull herself up again.

  Quickly, before Samuel or Quinn took it upon themselves to hasten the reunion, he settled the baby in next to her, and then sat down right there on the floor where he could be with them both.

  “Oh, that’s better,” she said, cradling her arms around Samuel. “Hi, baby.” She kissed his head and his hands and his cheeks. “I missed you so much. Thank you for taking care of your daddy for me.”

  They were alo
ne in the room. Everyone had apparently decided to give them time.

  “Wish I’d been there to take care of you.” He lifted his fingers carefully toward the bandage on the side of Quinn’s forehead. Even at his light touch, her whole face tightened.

  “It was an accident,” she whispered. “Marcus was just trying to get me out of there.”

  “I know. He feels terrible. Has a healer looked at it yet?”

  She shook her head. “Thomas cleaned it up a little and put the bandage on, but he wanted to leave it for you or Nathaniel. There are enough injured guards out there to keep all of our healers busy.”

  He kissed the back of her hand. “I was so worried.”

  “Me too. Where were you?”

  He told her about the trap door in the back of the safe house, and about the tunnel and the cave.

  “Wow. How many secret passages do you think there are in this kingdom?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Probably a lot, but I would prefer to never go in one, ever again. Especially with a pregnant woman.”

  Her eyes widened and he realized she didn’t know. “Linnea’s in labor?”

  “She was.”

  “What? How is she? Where is she? How’s the baby?”

  “Linnea is good. She wasn’t up for racing here on horseback like me, but she’s fine. She’ll be here soon. Nathaniel and Mia and Zander stayed with her to bring her in a carriage – with the babies.”

  “Babies?”

  “Twins. A little boy and a little girl. They’re perfect. Well,” he leaned forward and kissed Samuel’s dirty, sweaty hair, “maybe not as perfect as him, but, I think we’ll keep them here and love them anyway.”

  “I think we can manage that.” Her grin was huge, despite the fact that it obviously hurt to move the muscles in her face.

  He smiled and leaned forward to kiss her softly on the lips. When he was finished, he kept his face close to hers, tucking a loose strand of auburn hair back behind her ear, breathing her in.

  “I’m a disaster,” she whispered.

  “Not to me.”

  “Even if I bleed all over you?”