“She won’t be lost. There’s nowhere around that river to be lost. If she fell in the river, she’d have climbed back out. It’s not deep or strong there. The shoe means she’s been taken.”
“Right, so who else would take her?”
“If not the King’s men? I have no idea. She’s a harmless young girl alone by the river. Any men with unpleasant thoughts would have attacked her there and then and left her behind. We’d have found her. She’s been taken. She’s got nothing worth stealing.”
“So, someone’s seen her and recognised her from the castle?”
“Any of the King’s men would know her. If she’s been with Everleigh since they were both little. All his men would be on the lookout for Everleigh and Addyson. It’s got to be killing him that they’ve gotten away.”
“So, what do we do? We can’t go and ask for her back.”
“We’ll ride around, see if we hear anything, see if we see anything. We’ll go back to the river and take the path to the castle. It’s all we can do.”
“Do you wish we’d just gone home? After we found out about Archer?”
“No. I’m enjoying myself. I never thought I’d say that, with Archer gone. But I think he’d want us to help her. If he loved her like they say.”
“He would have wanted us to help, even if he didn’t love her.”
“True. So, let’s help.”
WILL AND GINATA ARE standing in the middle of her room, white faced and silent. They have no idea what to do or what to say or what’s going to happen next.
No one is guarding Will because all the King’s men have gone with Millard, and yet he has no idea what to do with his freedom. “Shall we go to the cottage?”
“We can’t. If Lanorie leads them there, then they’ll find us too.”
“He’s baying for blood.”
“He is.” They are both silent remembering the rush of men and hounds that left the castle, in a swarm of promised violence. The dogs were literally salivating, probably left hungry. The men were laughing, calling out and whooping. Millard was silent as was Wolf, but the menace was tangible.
Lanorie, thrown on a horse, with Wolf riding behind her looked like a prisoner in some sick war game. She hadn’t said a word to either of them before she was taken away and Will and Ginata had trooped straight to Ginata’s rooms.
Ginata holds her stomach. “I feel sick.”
“We need to think.”
“I can’t. All I can see is Everleigh being captured and killed.”
“He will kill her, won’t he?”
Ginata nods. She is sure, if Millard gets his hands on his sister, she will die.
“We cannot do anything. Even with horses we won’t catch them up.”
“I hate not being able to help her. I hate that I haven’t seen her. If Lanorie tells Millard where she is, I will kill her. I will.”
“Will. If Lanorie tells Millard where Everleigh is, he will probably kill her himself.”
Will wipes away furious tears. Ginata is right. They have no way of helping and no way of knowing what’s happening. All they can do is sit and wait and wonder.
Ceryn
WHAT I SAID TO WEAVER is right. I am enjoying myself. I like being useful. I hate being idle. I hate being girly, helpless and waiting for things to happen. Riding through the woods now, heading for the castle, I feel happy.
Though if I see Lanorie and she’s not dead, I’ll happily wring her neck.
Why she had to fuss and sulk off to the river, I’ll never know. I hate girls like her. Pathetic and whiny and looking for attention all the time.
Weaver whistles a low note and I fall in beside him. We both stop. With our horses quiet, we can both hear the thundering of hooves, the calls of men. We pull the horses back into the trees. They are near but I can’t see anything yet.
“Can you see anything?”
Weaver shakes his head. I jump down off Pitch, patting her flank as I do. She snorts softly and I pat her again.
I look for a tree I can climb, and see one straight away. If we are down low and the other riders are down low, we’ll sit here all day not knowing anything about them. It might not be anything to do with Lanorie, just the King’s men hunting deer.
I’m a quick climber. I am surefooted and fast, up a tree or otherwise. I pride myself on being good at physical things. It has always made up for my face.
I am pretty high up when I see them, a snake of hounds and horses threading through the trees. The men are wearing the King’s livery and two of them hold banners, like they are heading off to a great battle. The King’s banners mean the King is riding out, and, right enough, one of the horse riders is wearing a crown. And next to him is another horse with Lanorie on, being ridden by a right scary looking man.
Lanorie looks miserable – though she always has since I rescued her – and she’s not trussed up. Does this mean she’s helping the King willingly? Though how many people would refuse the King? He’ll kill anyone who won’t help him.
So, she’s helping him.
But the direction they are going is not the direction of the cottages.
Is she leading them the wrong way? If she is, then he’ll kill her.
I bound back down the tree, easily hopping from branch to branch.
“It’s the King and his men. About thirty of them on horseback, about thirty hounds running ahead. Lanorie’s on a horse with some big fellow holding onto her.”
“Tied up?”
“No.”
“So willingly helping?”
“Probably not. In fairness, she’ll have no choice.”
“What shall we do? We need to warn Everleigh.”
“That’s the thing. She’s leading them the wrong way.”
“But he’ll kill her.”
“I know. But with thirty men, I don’t know what we can do.”
“Let’s follow anyway. See what happens.”
It’s exactly what I was going to say and as we quietly ride along in the same direction, but far enough away that they won’t see us, I try to think of how we can help.
Thirty men, all on horseback and me and Weaver the same. I have my bow and arrows, my dagger, Weaver has his dagger. What can we do against all those armed men, hell bent on protecting their King?
Will he kill her? All I know of this King is what I’ve been told. I’ve seen him from a distance a few times but never been in his company. We’ve been told he’s mad. And he wants his sister, dead or alive.
If Lanorie has told him that she’ll help him find Everleigh, and I can’t think of another reason they’d all be out in the woods together, then he’ll be furious when he realises she’s not.
He will want her dead.
“Any thoughts?” I whisper to Weaver. I don’t think we’ll be heard but I’m not stupid. We are well outnumbered here.
“He’ll kill her, if she doesn’t take him to Everleigh. And she’s obviously not, given the direction we’re going in. Good on her, though.”
“Yes, I suppose.” My agreement is grudging. I don’t think much of this handmaiden of Everleigh’s. I think she’s sulky and whingy, helpless and stupid. She might have been brave when she swapped places with Addyson, but I reckon she was just too dumb to think through what she was doing.
If she is leading the King the wrong way though, I suppose she is brave.
But she’ll die for it.
“There’s too many of them.” Weaver’s voice is strained. “I don’t see what we can do.”
“Try?”
“Yes, we’ll try.”
“What if we get hurt? Or killed?”
Weaver shrugs. “We said we’d help. If we serve the Queen, we do so at our own risk.”
“I think so.”
We are moving quickly and start closing the gap between them and us, riding forwards and slightly to the left as we go. We don’t want them to see us, but we need to see them.
They ride into a huge clearing, the woods behind them, and flat
land ahead. The King calls out and they all come to a halt.
Lanorie raises her head and says something. It’s so frustrating not being able to hear.
The King bellows something at her, again we cannot hear the words, but he doesn’t look happy.
He jumps off his horse and the man behind her does the same. He pulls her down and she drops to her knees. The King pulls her up by her arm and she staggers.
We both ride forward; I don’t feel good about this.
We are still too far away to be helpful. We cannot make out what is being said or done. The dogs are sniffing around the grass, some of them peeing, some of them laying down and resting. The men stay on their horses, where they are harmless enough for now.
Lanorie is gesturing as she talks to the King. I wish we knew what she was saying.
Is she begging for her life? Apologising for duping him? Crumpling with fear and telling him the truth?
I canter forwards a little, Weaver beside me, and cry out when I see Millard reach for his sword.
In less time than it takes me to squeeze my thighs against Pitch’s sides, ready to spur her forwards, he has sliced Lanorie’s head clean off.
He just kills her.
Despite what I thought about her, I am sobbing, and sliding off Pitch. Weaver has come off his horse and catches me, turning my head to the side to hold me.
I pull at my mask, ripping it off in time to vomit all over the grass.
Spent, I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and stand up, pulling an arrow from my quiver.
“Ceryn.” Weaver’s voice holds a warning and I know he is right and I know I cannot inflict anything like what the man deserves but I cannot let Lanorie die without at least answering his violence with some of my own.
I am one hell of a good shot but I jump back up on Pitch so my arrow can fly higher and farther.
Weaver is on his horse. “One shot then we ride away.”
I nod.
“Don’t even stop to check if it hits him.”
“I won’t need to check.”
I trust my skill, aim and fire and seconds later as we hammer in the other direction I hear a cry and I know I have hit the King.
I vow, not for Lanorie, or Everleigh, really, but for Archer, that it won’t be the last time he feels pain because of me.
24
MILLARD IS SCREAMING. An arrow, flying out of thin air, has hit him right in the top of his arm and there is blood, swearing and threats as Wolf rushes to help him. He rips the bottom half of his shirt off and wraps it around the King’s arm.
“Get me back to Ginata.” Millard’s voice is rough and he has already forgotten that he just killed someone, in the sadness he is feeling for himself and the pretty minor injury he’s received. “Men, find out who did that. Search the woods.”
The men take their order but Wolf stays with Millard. After helping his King on to his horse, he holds the two sets of reins and leads them back to the castle.
Neither of them looks back at Lanorie’s body on the floor.
“Who did that to me?”
Wolf shakes his head. “No idea, my King. You have no enemies other than your sister.”
“She can shoot an arrow. I’ve seen her.”
“She wouldn’t have known we were here, my King.”
“I hate this. Why won’t she just let me reign in peace?”
They are silent the rest of the way, Millard brooding about his injury – the murder he just carried out completely forgotten and Wolf waiting to do as he’s told.
CERYN AND WEAVER RIDE faster than they ever have and when they get near to the cottages they walk the two horses to a copse of trees and tether them. They don’t want them visible if any of the King’s men ride by.
They are both crying by the time they get to the front door. Weaver wipes his eyes. “I’ll go first?”
“Let me.”
She pushes open the door and four faces look up at them, hope and worry etched on soft skin. Everleigh shakes her head when she sees Ceryn’s face, how her eyes flood over with tears, her mouth tries to speak, her shoulders shake.
“No!”
Ceryn is nodding now, Weaver standing behind her with his arms around her. “I’m so sorry. We found her, but we were too far away.”
“Your brother killed her.”
Everleigh drops to her knees, crying and muttering the word no, over and over.
Addyson buries her head in Della’s clothes and cries quietly.
Finn looks at them. “What happened?”
Della sits Addyson in front of the fire and eases Ceryn into a seat. Weaver sits on the arm. Everleigh stays on the floor, and Finn sits next to her, patting her back and trying to think of any way he can be helpful.
Everleigh raises her head as Ceryn starts talking, tears streaming, though she makes no attempt to wipe them or stem them.
“We rode through the woods from the river to the castle. Weaver heard a noise so we stopped. We could hear horses, men, dogs...but we couldn’t see anything. I climbed a tree. I could see them. About thirty of the King’s men on horses and about the same number of dogs. Lanorie was on one horse with a man and the King was riding next to them.”
Weaver rubs her arm and takes over. Ceryn is crying too much to talk. “We kept up with them, narrowing the gap between us and them.”
“Was she bringing them here?” Addyson’s tone is accusing and Weaver is quick to shake his head. “No, they were going in the wrong direction. When they got through the woods and there was only clear land ahead, I suppose the King realised it. He called the horses to a stop and we got a bit closer.”
Everleigh sobs louder and Addyson drops next to her, holding onto her, crying with her.
“Millard got off his horse, then the other man did as well – he pulled Lanorie off.”
“It happened too quickly, we couldn’t help.”
“What did he do to her?” Everleigh’s voice is so quiet they all strain to hear her.
“He...” Ceryn can’t make herself say it.
“Within a second he got his sword and he-”
“Beheaded her?”
Weaver and Ceryn nod and Everleigh screams. “I hate him. I hate him. I want to kill him!”
“You will,” Ceryn says, her voice steely. “I’ll help you.”
“We were too far away, it happened so fast. We were ready to try...”
Everleigh’s smile is faint. “Really?”
“Yes. We agreed we would try. For you. Die for you.”
“I did shoot an arrow at him, though.”
“She hit him too if his scream was anything to go by.”
Everleigh’s laugh turns to a cry and they are all crying, too shocked by the turn of events to speak.
GINATA HEARS THE FUSS from the corridor before Will. Will is sitting on the window seat in a daze, knees drawn up to his chest, cheeks wet with tears.
As the door slams open, Ginata is already on her feet, anxious to know what’s happened. Will jumps up too.
Wolf is holding on to Millard, who is injured, and leaning on Wolf heavily. Blood is dripping from a wound in his arm and on to the floor.
“He needs help. He’s been shot at.”
Ginata takes Millard’s hand and leads him towards her work room, instinct to help and heal taking over. “What happened?”
Millard is groggy from the pain and comes quietly.
“Someone shot him.” Wolf’s voice is tinged with anger.
“Did you find Everleigh?”
“No. That little witch was lying to us. She had no intention of taking us to Everleigh.”
“Where is she?” Ginata keeps her voice light, like she’s not too bothered. She can see Will behind Wolf and quickly shuts the door on him. Whatever has happened to Lanorie – and it is likely she is dead – Wolf does not need to see Will’s reaction. She knows he will be listening at the door but she cannot stop that.
“I need to lay him up here.”
Wolf helps her get M
illard on the table, where he passes out from the pain and shock.
“She’s dead.” Wolf sounds pleased.
Ginata turns away from him, reaches to the back of a shelf for some cloth to tie around Millard’s arm. She is glad that Wolf cannot see her. She hopes that she looks briskly efficient and not at all upset. She turns back to face him. “Did you do his dirty work for him again?”
Wolf shakes his head. “No, he was that furious, he did it himself. Sliced her head right off.”
Ginata bites the inside of her cheek, hard, tasting blood. “Leave me alone. I need to help the King.”
“I’ll be out there.” Wolf opens the door and Ginata is glad to see no sign of Will. He hasn’t fainted on to the floor with the news of his sweetheart’s death. She doesn’t know where he is but she cannot be seen to care.
She must do her job now, with Wolf outside. She must help the King.
Ginata
WOLF IS PACING IN THE other room, worrying about his King.
I am standing stock still in front of Millard, worrying about Will. Everleigh. Myself. How simple was life just a few short weeks ago? I wish with all my heart that Halfreda was here, to hold my hand, and help me out.
Looking down at the King, unconscious and vulnerable, a wicked thought passes through my head. Wolf is in the other room; he isn’t watching me.
Millard is laying in front of me, the cause of all our problems.
How simple would it be to kill him?
My eyes spill over with tears. What has happened to me? Heal not harm, help not hinder. Until the damn death draught I have only ever used my powers for good. Where have I gone wrong? My moral compass is so skewed that I am standing in front of a King and wishing him dead, actively plotting in my head as to how I could hurt him.
Shame on me.
I close my eyes, tears staining my face, branding me. I am changing from myself to someone I don’t recognise and don’t like. I reach over to the shelf and take a swig from the flagon of ale. I never need to look for food or drink since I have moved into the castle and I must say I like it. But the good things are being outweighed by the bad; like my brain thinking wicked things, like wondering if I should kill Kings.
Seize the Crown Page 17
