Seize the Crown

by Gemma Perfect

  “She did what? Why did you let her do something so stupid?”

  “I didn’t let her. I didn’t even know. Which is lucky, because when Millard questioned me, I looked like I didn’t know anything. We need to go to her, tell her that she’s in more danger than she obviously thinks she is. He’s furious. He’s got Wolf and Brett out looking for her.”

  “He’s having me followed.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a guard in the corridor now, pretending that he’s not following me. I came here to get something for my headache, which I really do have.”

  “You can’t go to her, then, we can’t risk that.”

  “I know.”

  “Did he tell you that she tried to kill him?”

  “No. But he doesn’t trust me.”

  “Huh, so that means he trusts me...”

  “True.”

  “That’s good. I’ll go to see her, while the guards follow you. I saw Lanorie.”

  “Where? In the tower?”

  “Yes. She’s so scared.”

  “I don’t know how we can get her out.”

  “Only by leaving someone in her place. He wanted to visit her, but I went instead. We can’t let him find her. But...”

  “What if we just kill the guards?”

  “Just?”

  “Well...”

  “Will, we can’t.”

  “Why not? Millard will kill her, if he finds her in there.”

  “I don’t want to become that type of person.”

  “So, let her die?”

  “Let me keep Millard away. I will tell him that Addyson’s fragile and that I will visit her daily until she’s better. If he finds out she’s not there, he’ll kill me too for lying to him. In the meantime, we try to think of another way. Once Everleigh is Queen she’ll be safe. If I can keep him away that long.”

  “That might work. And Everleigh? How do we get her on the throne?”

  “Millard is having another coronation on Saturday, we can interrupt it properly this time. Make her Queen.”

  “Plans sound so easy, when you say them just like that. We thought yesterday would be easy.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  They are both silent, remembering the death, the blood, the violence of the coronation. The horror, the shock, how frightened they had all been, unsure if they would live or die.

  “Right, you distract the guards, I’ll go to my cottage, see if I can talk some sense into our Queen.”

  They both smile.

  “I’ll just mooch around outside, turn some cartwheels, juggle some balls, try out a few jokes.”

  “Sorry you can’t come.”

  “Tell her I love her. Tell her. And it’s only because I might be followed that I’m keeping away.”

  Will leaves Ginata’s room with three potions that will clear his head and calm his mind. He drinks one down as he passes the guard, shouting, “Cheers,” as he goes.

  Ceryn

  WHEN I WAKE UP, I AM snuggled into Weaver, his arm across my chest. We are warm and comfortable and I wish we weren’t on this mission. The more the time passes the surer I am that something is up with Archer. He could be injured or captured; the King’s men aren’t fans of ours and one of them might have recognised him. His hair makes him pretty recognisable. Of course, he mostly covers it with a hat, and when he jousts he’s always in disguise.

  I wish we weren’t on the way to the castle. I wish Weaver had my heart instead of Archer. I wish I looked normal. How simple would life be?

  Weaver rolls over and smiles at me, without flinching. “Shall I see what there is to eat before we set off?”

  “Yes.” He has a much friendlier nature than me, and without arrangement he tends to do most of the talking when we are out and about. Unless we are out and about trying to upset people; in which case I manage perfectly well.

  There is a jug of water in the corner, next to the bucket we’ve used to pee in. I splash some water on my face, cleaning away the fog of sleep and the dust of yesterday’s journey.

  I am ready to go.

  Almost.

  I pick up my leather swatch off the table. I love the rough feel of the leather, the dirt, the sweaty smell. It sums me up. Practical. Worn. Smelly.

  The door opens without a knock and I look up expecting Weaver with more stale bread.

  Instead there’s a crash of pottery and a high-pitched scream, as someone – all I see is a flash of blonde hair – runs from the room.

  I quickly try to do up my mask, but I’m fumbling. Unusual for me.

  There’s a rush of feet to the door, Weaver’s voice calling, “Ceryn. Are you alright?”

  The inn keeper bursts in before I can cover my face.

  “You!”

  I say nothing, just stare defiantly at him, my mark uncovered, my eyes hard.

  Weaver comes behind him and pushes past him. “We’re leaving.” He places a hand on my arm. “It’s fine. Let’s go.”

  “How dare you come here. This is a fine establishment. A nice place. You! You!” He runs out of words and I start to laugh. I will not cry in front of him.

  A group of people join the inn keeper, shouting and jostling.

  I tune them all out, but one woman pushes through to stand in front of me. Her voice is loud and rises higher. “The devil’s mark!” She spits on the floor, right at my feet, before fainting into her own phlegm, which starts me laughing again.

  Weaver recognises that I am hysterical and grabbing our bags, my mask and me, pushes through the angry throng and out into the sunshine.

  He whistles for the horses who are already untethered ready for us to go. He helps me onto Pitch and jumps onto his horse, Sweet Mabel.

  The crowd hiss and boo and shout at us as we ride away.

  We gallop for ten minutes, until we are well clear of anyone and then Weaver slows to a stop. I copy him.

  He jumps off Sweet Mabel and pulls me off Pitch.

  I sink into his arms, crying and crying and crying.

  Only Weaver could see me like this. Weaver or Archer. I feel vulnerable and I hate it.

  It is at times like this when I am glad I do not have a mirror. I haven’t seen my face since I was about ten or eleven. After I was thrown out of my home but before I found my band of brothers.

  My parents had told me what was wrong with me before they chucked me out. The fear on their faces made it clear. They tried their best, I suppose. Put up with me for ten years. Fed me, clothed me, ignored me. I cannot remember either of them hugging me or kissing me. I think they were too afraid of me to throw me out but too afraid to love me.

  One day they cracked. The strain was too much I guess. I was ten when they threw me out, old enough to remember them and old enough to hate them.

  My life had been no life at all up until that point. I had never been out of our house, my parents had obviously been too ashamed of me to let me be seen, and it was only after they threw me out and told me never to come back, that I realised what they had saved me from.

  As I walked along I could see for the first time what was wrong with me reflected in a hundred faces instead of only two.

  I stopped hating them and felt sorry for them, for what I had made their lives in to.

  People shrank back from me, ran away from me, screamed in fear, clutched their hearts.

  Men hit out at me, threw things at me.

  Children pointed at me, cried when they saw me, threw stones at me.

  Was I really that bad?

  Apparently.

  The first night of my newfound and unwanted freedom ended up with a beating so severe I don’t know how I survived. I have tried to push away all my old memories; they are too painful, but while Weaver rocks me and hot tears scar my face, they all come flooding back.

  That night I was aware of being followed, which seemed crazy as I had no clue where I was even going. I was heading away from the life I knew but didn’t like where I was
going.

  How was I going to survive alone with so much open hostility aimed at me?

  I almost didn’t.

  A voice called out to me and when I turned, three grown men started laying into me. Kicks and punches. Spit and swear words.

  I curled up into the smallest ball I could and went completely limp – something that’s worked in fights since then too, though I hold my own better now. I can kick and punch and swear now. I try not to spit. Much.

  But I couldn’t then.

  Eventually one of them called a halt. Called the other two off. “I reckon you’ve killed it.”

  It. That’s what he referred to me as.

  I survived. Though I’m not sure how. I crawled to a bush, hid underneath it and the next morning when I opened my one eye, the other was crusted shut, there was a hunk of bread in front of me. I ate it greedily and poked my head warily out from under the bush.

  Stood a few feet back was a beardy, old, fat man who looked like he smelled.

  He did.

  But that beardy, old, fat man saved my life.

  His name was Carter and he took me with him. He was only passing through the village which helped; he took me with him on his travels and eventually when he was too old and ill to travel anymore, we settled in the little cottage that I now call my own.

  He also made me my first mask. He showed me my face in a piece of mirror and then he helped me hide it away.

  Carter was a hunter; we would travel from village to village. He would hunt rabbits or ducks or sometimes he’d fish. Then he’d sell his wares, we’d eat the rest and then when he’d had enough, or he’d annoyed some village husband by being too friendly with his wife, we’d move on again.

  He was never afraid of me.

  I asked him why one day.

  “Are you afraid of me?” was his answer. It wasn’t much of an answer and yet in a way it was. I had nothing to fear from him and I knew it. He had nothing to fear from me and he knew it.

  He reached for the mark on my skin one day, towards the end of his life, and I shrunk back from his touch. “Let me.”

  I leaned forwards and he smoothed the mark as though he could rub it away. “People are only afraid of things they don’t understand. Because they don’t understand it, they try to call it a name, to make it something, so they can understand their fear of it. Blame someone else for their lack of understanding, knowledge, empathy. The devil didn’t mark you, my sweet child. Why would he? He’s got more troubles to cause than colouring in someone’s skin. The men who hurt you the night I found you – they were the devil’s work. Hurting a little defenceless girl because she has a mark on her skin. Have they never seen a freckle? You are nothing to do with the devil, let me tell you, Ceryn.”

  He died not long after and I cried the whole night long, holding on to his old, spotted hand. The one person who had loved me.

  By then I could fight and hunt and fish and swear and hold my own – he gave me those gifts. I was defiant about my mark, though I still hid it. I wasn’t stupid.

  After I had known Archer and Weaver for three months I unveiled myself to them. Neither of them said a word; they would have guessed that I was hiding something. They both kissed me on my marked cheek, one after the other, and nothing was ever said.

  12

  GINATA LEAVES HER ROOMS not long after Will, and takes a long meandering walk through the castle and the grounds. She has a basket which she puts flowers in for good measure, but really, she just wants to be sure that no one is following her.

  She must risk it. She must see Everleigh and warn her, but also there has to be some communication between the people at the castle and the people at her cottage. If Will is being followed and there’s no reason not to think he is – he’s not one for being overdramatic – he will have to stay away. Lanorie is locked up. It has fallen on her to be that person.

  And she is petrified.

  She wants Everleigh to be Queen and she wants the end of Millard’s insane reign but she also wants to live. More than anything.

  She walks to her cottage, following the familiar paths and waving at familiar people. How many people she has helped over the years she cannot count. Endless love potions, endless charms. She knows the secrets and the foibles of most of the villagers around the castle. She would never tell.

  She isn’t followed and she’s glad. She slips into her cottage and finds only Della and Addyson. “Where’s Everleigh?” Her voice is sharper than she intended and Della looks up, hurt evident on her face. They have never had cross words in all the years that they’ve been neighbours.

  “I swear I didn’t know. I would have done my best to talk her out of it.”

  “Sorry, Dell, I know you didn’t know. I just don’t think she realises how unsafe things are now.”

  “She’s with Finn. At the river. Shall I fetch them back?”

  “Maybe. No. They are probably safe. Millard is searching the castle and the grounds for her. He wants her locked up. Or dead.”

  Della’s face turns white. “He truly is a mad King?”

  “Completely. She never should have gone there last night. How he let her get away I’ll never know.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Keep her safe. Keep her here. It’s impossible really. She has her own mind. And if it had worked, if she had killed him, we’d be so pleased with her. Instead it’s reminded him of how unsafe it is having her roaming free. And he’s convinced someone is helping her. He’s questioned me and the fool, so far, I think I’m safe. But he’s not stupid.”

  “Were you followed?”

  “No. I made sure of it. But I’m uneasy now. I thought it was perfect bringing her here, but because she tried to kill him, he won’t rest. Once he’s searched the castle and grounds again today I have no doubt that he will start searching the villages. He means to find her.”

  They hear Everleigh laughing before they see her and when she follows Finn into the cottage, her face changes. She is contrite but defiant. “I had to try, Ginny. I’m sorry but I had to try.”

  “He wants you dead. He’s talking about you joining Addyson in the tower, but it’s a lie. He wants you dead. Addyson’s no threat to his crown, but you are.”

  “I know it seems stupid. But everyone is rallying around me, people have died for me, and I just didn’t want to be a useless, helpless little princess anymore. I wanted to be in charge, to act. To be a Queen. To show I was worth backing.”

  “You are. Even without the heroics. We all see that in you.”

  “If only Lanorie was safe, I’m thinking I’d leave Millard to it. I failed in killing him. He is stronger than me, quicker than me, maybe smarter than me. I don’t want anyone else to die.”

  “And the prophecy?”

  “I still have a choice, don’t I?”

  Ginata shrugs. She could do with the teacher here to help advise them all. With Halfreda gone there is a chasm where all the wisdom was. “I don’t know. But whether you choose to rule or not, if you can even make that choice, Millard is going to kill you if he finds you.”

  “He better not find her then,” Finn says, plonking himself in the seat next to Addyson.

  “We all want to keep her safe. But I know he will start searching the villages tomorrow if he doesn’t find her today.”

  “We cannot hide her if they come here, into the cottage. There is nowhere.”

  “I am going to speak to him tonight, see if I can counsel him out of it. I’ve seen Lanorie.”

  “How is she? Does she know how proud I am of her?”

  “Yes. But she’s petrified. How do we get her out?”

  “Kill the guards?”

  “Everleigh. You are on the verge of choosing the exact same path your brother would. It’s worrying. You cannot kill every person who gets in your way.”

  “Why not?”

  It’s Finn who replies to her. “If you kill everyone who disagrees with you or gets in your way, soon everyone would be dead. It’s n
ot the answer.”

  “Maybe not.” Everleigh sounds sulky to her own ears. “But I need her to be safe.”

  “We need everyone to be safe. I just have no idea how to achieve it.”

  “How did you get past the guards last night?” Addyson asks.

  “What?”

  “When you got into Millard’s room last night. You didn’t kill the guards then.”

  “Oh, you’re so clever! I drugged them. We can do the same to the guards at the tower. We can do it tonight. Get Lanorie out.” Everleigh grabs Addyson and hugs her.

  “Brilliant idea,” Ginata says, pacing the floor, trying to work it all out in her head. “I’ll make up some more sleeping draughts. I’ve got all the stuff to do it at the castle.”

  “I’ll come and meet you at the island.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Finn offers.

  Ginata nods. “I’d rather that. I don’t think you can underestimate your brother, Everleigh.”

  “I don’t. But maybe he underestimates me. We’ll get a little maid to give them the drinks. I’ll be happy once she’s free.”

  “Right, let’s get your strength up,” Della says. “Finn, did you catch any fish?”

  “Yes. They’re on the table outside.”

  “Light the fire then, we’ll cook and eat outside. While we can.”

  Addyson helps gather some wood for the fire, glad to be useful. Everleigh hugs Ginata tightly. “Thank you for visiting Lanorie and I’m sorry about last night.”

  “You don’t need to apologise to me. But I need you safe. I need you alive.”

  “Well hopefully after tonight, everyone will be safe. And then I promise I’ll keep my head down until Saturday.”

  Ginata grins and hugs her close.

  Della fetches bread from her cottage and some ale. Finn cooks the fish and the five of them sit to eat, the silence thick with unspoken fear and apprehension, but also hope.

  Lanorie

  SO, I AM GLAD THAT Ginata came to visit me and sad at the same time.

  Glad, because she kept Millard away from me. He would have killed me in a heartbeat if he’d walked in here this morning. No doubt in my mind.