The Whisper of Silenced Voices

by C. J. Archer

  Quentin edged his horse away.

  "You're not wearing armor," I said, patting his horse's nose. "That's a good sign."

  "There hasn't been any trouble in The Row for days," Quentin said. "Not since the governor abandoned his plans for clearing it out."

  "The Vytill faction is no longer trying to take over from the Glancians?"

  "Doesn't look like it. Captain says the injuries on both sides took their toll."

  That was probably because Doctor Ashmole wouldn't see them. It wouldn't surprise me if some of the men now had festering wounds thanks to the poor conditions in The Row and lack of medical attention.

  "I reckon the captain will withdraw all of us soon," Quentin went on. "There ain't no guards inside anymore, just us at the entrance."

  "Speaking of the captain, how is he?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

  "Annoying everyone, especially Max, Theodore and Balthazar. His list of orders is long, on account of he can't do most things himself. He rides into the village sometimes, though."

  "So he's keeping off the foot?"

  He chewed on his bottom lip. "I don't want to get him into trouble."

  "So that's a no."

  "He's on it less. Is that good enough?"

  "He should be off it completely."

  He leaned down and whispered, "Don't tell him I told you."

  "I have no reason to go to the palace, so your secret is safe."

  "He'll visit you, I'm sure of it."

  I didn't tell him he was wrong, that Dane wouldn't make up an excuse to call on me.

  "He's coming here soon, when the shift changes," he said. "Want me to tell him you asked after him?"

  I hesitated then nodded. What Dane did with the information would be up to him.

  I returned home, only to stop at the top of my street upon seeing a carriage outside my house. It must be Kitty and Miranda again.

  It wasn't until I got close that I saw the distinctive crest depicting a stag, its sharp antlers reaching to the corners of the shield. A Deerhorn footman jumped down from the back and caught my arm before I could run into my house. He hustled me to the carriage door and knocked.

  Lady Deerhorn peered at me through the window and gave a single nod. The footman opened the door and, before I knew what was happening, shoved me inside.

  The carriage sped off.

  I went to open the door, but Lady Deerhorn held it shut. She was a tall woman but no more solidly built that me. I might be able to force her to let go of the door handle, but then what? Jump out and risk an injury? Even if I managed to land on my feet, she'd send her footman to chase after me.

  "So you are smart enough to realize you can't get away," she said, letting go of the handle.

  "Where are you taking me?" I snapped.

  "That isn't the right question. A better question is, what do I want to do to you?"

  I swallowed.

  "My son has need of you," she went on.

  "Wh—what?"

  Her lips curved into a smile. On anyone else, it would have been a nice smile, but with her ice-blue eyes, it was chilling. "Xavier doesn't know it yet, but he's about to get what he wants. For some odd reason that I can't fathom, he wants you." Her gaze dipped to my breasts. "So I'm giving him to you. Let's call it an early birthday present."

  I stared at her.

  Then I lunged at the door.

  She grabbed me by the hair, jerking my head back hard.

  I cried out and my hands flew to my head. She let go as she shoved me into the seat again.

  I withdrew my hands even though my scalp felt as though it were on fire. "You're mad," I choked out.

  "Not mad. Furious."

  "Why? What have I done to you?"

  "You filthy little liar. You whore. What did you get for the information?"

  "I—I don't know what you're talking about."

  A small crease appeared between her brows. For the first time, she seemed to be uncertain, as if she stood on shifting sands.

  "Is this about The Row?" I asked. "Because I was forced into giving my opinion that night. I wasn't expecting anyone to agree with me, let alone for the governor to suddenly change his mind. I swear, that's not my doing."

  "This has nothing to do with that stinking hole."

  The carriage rolled over a dip, sending us both rocking violently. Lady Deerhorn grabbed at her hat before it slipped off. I glanced outside and my heart dove. We were on the road to the Deerhorn estate. Few village folk took this road. It led only to the Deerhorns' house. No one would pass us. Once we reached the family's stronghold, it would be easy to lock me up in a room where no one could find me.

  I had to jump out and get away before we reached the estate's gate.

  "The king heard a rumor," Lady Deerhorn went on. "One that you must have whispered in his ear."

  "Me? But I don't have access to the king."

  "You've been seen coming out of his rooms and riding off with him."

  "I have no influence over the king. What rumor am I supposed to have told him?" I realized the answer as soon as the question was out of my mouth.

  Merdu. No.

  "He heard a rumor that Morgrave didn't die of a weak heart," she said. "He heard he was poisoned, not stabbed or strangled or suffocated. Poisoned. That's very specific. The only person who could have told him that is you."

  "Doctor Clegg could have," I said weakly.

  She scoffed. "I paid him too well."

  "It wasn't me, my lady! Please, let me go."

  "Ever since he found out, the king has changed toward Violette. He treats her warily, as if he's afraid she'll kill him next. The distance between them grows by the hour. Soon, he'll have a new favorite."

  I understood her anger and frustration. She had been so close. She'd almost gained the throne through her daughter's marriage to the king. She didn't care about the situation in the village. The Row meant nothing to her compared to the power she could wield as the queen's mother. The magnitude of her daughter's fall matched the hatred she bore for the person she assumed orchestrated that fall.

  Me.

  I glanced out the window again. Hedgerows marking the edge of the Deerhorn estate followed alongside the road. Soon we would enter the gate.

  "What did he offer you to tell the king?" she asked. "Money?"

  "Who?" I muttered, trying to suppress my fear. If I was to get out, I had to watch her carefully, anticipate her moves, and choose my moment. I couldn't let fear freeze my mind or limbs.

  "Don't play the innocent," she spat. "It might work on the captain of the guards, but it doesn't work on me. What did Barborough offer you? Or was it one of the dukes?"

  I shook my head. "This is madness. My lady, please, I didn't say anything to the king." An idea gripped me, and wouldn't let go. It was a little mad, but it was better than jumping out of a moving carriage. "I can fix this problem for you. I can convince the king that Lord Morgrave did die of heart failure."

  Her eyes gleamed as she regarded me. She was assessing me, and perhaps assessing whether I could accomplish what I promised.

  "I'll say favorable things about Lady Morgrave to him," I added. "I'll tell him she's sweet and kind, that she'd make a wonderful wife and queen."

  I searched her face for signs of it softening, that she was willing to let me try. But her eyes only hardened and her lips thinned.

  "You've already told me you don't have his ear," she said. "How can you possibly turn the tide against Violette? It's too late. You've destroyed my family's chances of rising, so now I will destroy you."

  She lifted her hand to strike me, but I deflected the blow. A ripple of shock passed over her as she realized she had no power over me. No physical power. No doubt she was used to maids cowering before her.

  Then a slow smile stretched her lips, and her hard eyes turned cruel. She didn't have to be stronger than me. Her son was. And he would be waiting for me.

  I shrank into the corner. From there I could see the gate ahead
and the winding drive up to the Deerhorn castle, perched on the cliff overlooking Tovey Harbor. The antlers lining the top of the gate between the stone posts forked into the sky, a warning to the uninvited to venture no further.

  When the carriage slowed on the approach to the gates, I would make my move. I steadied my breathing and readied myself.

  But the carriage didn't slow. Up ahead, two men dressed in Deerhorn livery opened the gate. We would drive right through without stopping. Without slowing.

  I would not escape before reaching the castle. Not unless I wanted broken bones.

  Chapter 12

  Lady Deerhorn studied me with a cold gleam in her eyes and a sneer on her lips. "My son will be pleased with his gift. He always did have simple taste. I have to say, I'm not happy with his choice this time, but I have no doubt he'll grow tired of you once he's had you. The real question is, what do we do with you once he's finished?" Her mouth stretched into a thin smile. "Not that it matters. You have no one waiting for you at home. No one to care if you go missing."

  I didn't bother to respond. She was beyond listening to what I had to say.

  "You've learned from your mistake, I see, and are keeping your mouth shut. It seems the lower orders can be taught after all."

  Her smile suddenly vanished as the carriage slowed. Someone shouted as a rider rode past. I pressed my face to the window to get a better view, but the rider had disappeared. I reached for the door handle, but Lady Deerhorn caught my hand in a bruising grip.

  She thumped the carriage ceiling. "Why have we stopped? Move on, driver!"

  The carriage didn't move. The footman standing at the back strode past on his way to the front.

  "What's going on here?" he demanded. "Move away, at the command of Lady Deerhorn!"

  The footman suddenly stopped and the rider came into view. Dane! Thank Hailia and Merdu. He looked ferocious atop Lightning, his sword drawn, his features set hard.

  His gaze connected with mine through the window and his chest expanded with his deep breath.

  Lady Deerhorn's grasp loosened, and I pushed her off, only to be caught again. "I haven't given you permission to leave," she snapped.

  "Let her go," Dane demanded.

  "I don't take orders from you."

  "But you do take orders from the king, and my sword acts on his behalf."

  Her hesitation was all I needed to wrench free. I stumbled out of the carriage and ran to Dane. He let go of the reins to hoist me up, one handed, and settled me, side saddle, in front of him. I nestled against him, my shoulder to his chest. Safe.

  "The king will hear about this," Dane said. "You can't kidnap his subjects and not expect consequences."

  "I had just cause," Lady Deerhorn hissed. "Your whore is telling lies to His Majesty about my family, my daughter."

  Dane's body tensed. "You're referring to Lord Morgrave's death? That wasn't Mistress Cully. I told the king. I was there when she saw the body in the sedan chair. I overheard her diagnosis."

  Lady Deerhorn's lips parted with her gasp.

  "Drive on," Dane ordered.

  The carriage rolled forward. The footman jumped onto the back as it passed, and I got a final glimpse of Lady Deerhorn through the rear window, her face twisted with rage, before the gate closed behind the carriage.

  Dane sheathed his sword and both arms circled me. I tucked my head beneath his chin and clung to him, my fingers curled into his doublet. His heart beat strongly, its rhythm as erratic as mine. I felt it through every part of me and pressed myself against it, wanting to be as close to that heart as possible, wanting his arms to hold me tighter.

  I wanted to tell him how his presence was a comfort, but that might start something we couldn't stop, something he didn't want until he knew more about his past. Besides, I didn't trust my voice.

  "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice rumbling through his chest.

  I nodded.

  "Did she hurt you?"

  I shook my head.

  His arms tightened, and we rode slowly back to the village. I closed my eyes and listened to his breathing and heartbeat as they steadied, and mine responded in kind. I relished every second, every breath and beat, but it was over all too quickly. The village came into sight and he loosened his hold.

  "How did you know where to find me?" I asked.

  "Meg and Dora both saw you pushed into the carriage. They were running to The Row to alert one of the guards on duty, but I happened to be on my way and intercepted them. They told me which way you'd gone. Other witnesses pointed out the route along the way. It wasn't difficult to work out she was taking you to the estate."

  He spoke formally, the tenderness of earlier gone. I missed it.

  "Did you tell the king about the poisoning?" I asked.

  He suddenly looked at me. "No. Merdu, no. I said that so she wouldn't come after you again."

  "Then who did?"

  He shook his head, but I wondered if he had his suspicions. "She won't try that again," he said. "She knows it wasn't you who told the king, and she knows I'll come for her if anything happens to you."

  I peered up at him, but he kept his gaze focused straight ahead. I touched his hand, resting on his thigh. "Thank you, Dane. For everything." I heaved a sigh. "Thank you isn't enough."

  "It will have to do."

  Remy was sitting on the stoop out the front of my house. He leapt up upon seeing us and banged on the door. "She's back! He found her!"

  Dora and Meg rushed out, looking relieved. "What happened?" Meg asked. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine," I said. "We just went for a drive. Don't worry."

  Dane jumped down, landing on his uninjured foot. He reached up and assisted me to dismount, quickly releasing me when I was on the ground.

  "I must go," he said, watching Dora usher Remy back inside. "You have your friends to comfort you."

  "Thank you again," I said.

  "You don't need to thank me, Josie." He managed to leap onto Lightning without putting a foot in the stirrup. Between mounting and dismounting, he hadn't given any sign that he sported an injury. Only an extremely observant person would have noticed he didn't put weight on it.

  "I forgot to ask, how is your leg?" I said.

  "Fine."

  "Keep the wounds clean. See a doctor if it becomes red and hot."

  He gave a single nod then rode off. I tried not to let his cool manner affect me, but with the kidnapping fresh in my mind, and then the tenderness he showed after rescuing me, I felt raw. I watched him until he was out of sight, but he didn't look back.

  Meg hooked her arm through mine. "Come inside and have some soothing tea. You look like you need it."

  I didn't want to leave the house for the rest of that day—or the next. Every time I considered it, my heart started to pound and I felt cold. Even though I knew Dane was right, and Lady Deerhorn wouldn't attempt to kidnap me again, I couldn't bring myself to go out. Fear was an insidious thing. It managed to seep through the smallest cracks and spread.

  It was fortunate that neither of the expectant mothers called for me. Sooner or later I would have to leave, however, but not yet.

  My house didn't provide the complete sanctuary I hoped for, however. Mistress Ashmole may not be as terrifying as Lady Deerhorn or Lord Barborough, but she was an unwelcome visitor nevertheless. I invited her inside for tea but was grateful when she refused. Polite conversation with her would be painful.

  "Let's not pretend to be friends," she said, peering past my shoulder into the house.

  I blinked, somewhat stunned by her bluntness. "We have to live in this village together," I said. "Let's be civil."

  She plucked a coin purse from her basket. "How much for a bottle of Mother’s Milk?"

  "Oh. I'm glad you want to buy it. It really is a great pain reliever during surgery."

  "How much, Mistress Cully?"

  "Forty ells."

  "Forty!"

  "It's expensive to make and difficult to source
ingredients. I only have one bottle left."

  "You inflated the price just for me."

  "You cannot increase the price if there was never a price to begin with," I said. "This is the first time it has ever been sold."

  "So you simply made up an amount on the spot? This is unprofessional, Mistress Cully. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, charging the village's only doctor such a high amount for something that will bring comfort to his patients."

  "That's the price, Mistress Ashmole." I stepped aside. "Do come in while I fetch the bottle."

  She lifted her basket onto her hip and entered. "I'll buy one quarter of a bottle," she said, following me into the kitchen where Dora stood at the fire, stirring a pot. "For five ells."

  "Ten is a quarter of forty," I said, heading into the larder. "I prefer not to sell it all anyway as I still need some for my patients."

  "Patients?"

  "Expectant mothers."

  "You shouldn't call them patients if they're not ill."

  I paused, bottle in hand, and frowned at her. "Why not?"

  She sniffed. "People will confuse your service with that provided by a doctor."

  I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled inside me.

  "I wouldn't laugh if I were you, Mistress Cully. You wouldn't want that mistake to be made. The consequences will be severe."

  "It's just a fine, Mistress Ashmole."

  I measured out a quarter of the Mother’s Milk into a smaller bottle, being very particular so she couldn't complain. She inspected the contents of the larder shelves as I worked, removing lids of jars and bottles, smelling contents, and reading labels.

  "Is there something else I can help you with?" I asked, handing her the bottle.

  She placed it in her basket and opened the purse. "One more thing," she said, handing me ten ells. "Does your maid have a friend looking for work?"

  "Dora isn't my maid," I said. "I've never had a maid, but I'm sure you can find one if you ask around. There are many women in The Row who would be happy to—"

  "I don't want one of those godless creatures in my house! A respectable woman can't associate with one of them, not even as an employer."

  Dora tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot, hard. The clang reverberated around the kitchen. Mistress Ashmole hoisted her basket higher on her hip, and sniffed.