The Princess Knight

by Aiken G. A.

“All the time. You forget her all the time. I don’t know why. She’s a lovely girl with incredible bow skills. And if you’re not careful, Ragna is going to take advantage of the way you ignore her.”

  “Would it be so bad if she joined the brotherhood?”

  “Only you can answer that. But there’s the brotherhood and there’s Ragna’s loyal monk-knights. I’m not sure you want her joining them.”

  He had a point.

  “Speaking of which... what does that mean for us?” Quinn asked.

  “What does what mean for us?”

  “What does your precious membership in the brotherhood mean for us? Will we have to sneak around? Will you ever be able to show your adoration of me to others? Will you always have to pretend you loathe me even though it’s not true?”

  “I feel like this is one-sided, but we’ll focus on that later. I won’t say that relationships aren’t complicated in the Order of Righteous Valor, because they can be, but not as complicated as they are in other orders. For instance, Joshua had a wife. She lived near the monastery and they loved each other and were loyal to each other until her death about a decade ago. Brother Thomassin, however, was much happier on his own. And that’s how he stayed. Things were a little more complicated for Brother Bartholemew and Brother Brín because relationships were not allowed with fellow brothers. You know, because of the complications.”

  “Understandable. Who did they love?”

  “Each other.”

  “Oh. Oh! Okay. Awww. So they died together in battle. That’s nice.”

  “The brotherhood does not involve itself with who is doing what to whom as long as it doesn’t disrupt the workings of the brotherhood.”

  “So, in other words, your love for me will never die.”

  Gemma started to say something but realized it wouldn’t really make much of a difference and walked on instead.

  Moving past two castle guards whose stumbling she ignored, knowing Quinn would catch them in his arms, she continued to follow the man they were protecting. Quinn kept the two guards walking until he could move them off to the side, sitting them under a tree so they looked as if they’d fallen asleep there and had not been poisoned at a distance by the divine assassins.

  Gemma put her arm around the small man the castle guards had been shadowing and pressed her fingers against his throat.

  “You’re going to be calm and quiet,” she told him as they kept walking while Quinn came up on the man’s other side. “You’re not going to cry out or call any attention to yourself. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you do what I tell you, I won’t kill you. If you don’t, you’ll be begging me to kill you.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Aubin and Léandre met the divine assassins outside the castle walls.

  “They’re in,” Faraji said, referring to the war monk and the centaur.

  “All right,” Aubin replied. “We’ll get inside from below. Keep the way clear for them and hopefully make sure they don’t get caught. And you?”

  “The war monk wants us to kill the queen,” Tadesse said plainly.

  Aubin rubbed his eye. “She is not letting that go.”

  “She sort of promised the other sister she wouldn’t do it herself unless she had a clear shot.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to do it.”

  “No. But I did say I’d at least try.”

  “Remember we promised her sister we wouldn’t get killed either.”

  “We’ll keep it in mind. Good luck to you.”

  “You too.”

  The two once mortal enemies amiably separated.

  Aubin and Léandre made their way around to the east side of the castle and another secret entrance, this one built into the ground. Aubin approached the guards at the entrance and kindly asked, “Excuse me, good sirs. I was wondering if you could show my brother priest and me where the religious sects are congregating.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” One of the guards stepped forward to point out the way and Aubin cut his throat with his dagger.

  When the second guard turned, pulling his sword, Léandre stabbed him in the back of the neck.

  Together, they quickly opened the grate built into the ground, threw the dead bodies in, and scrambled down after them. They secured the grate once they were inside and pulled the bodies along for a bit so that they weren’t the first thing anyone would see if someone happened to look inside.

  Once they’d gone a few feet, they dropped the bodies and kept walking until they eventually arrived at a split in the tunnel.

  “Which way should we go?” Léandre asked.

  “Let our god tell us.” Aubin threw his black steel spear into the air and waited until it fell. The point landed aiming to the left.

  “Left.”

  Léandre nodded. “I love the simplicity of our religion. Don’t you?”

  “I do, old friend. I do.”

  * * *

  Hurik walked beside the vicar. She didn’t mind being stuck with Ferdinand. Not as much as the others would, anyway. Besides, it made sense that a nun and a truce vicar would be together. There were many more questions asked here about the religious refugees than in Queen Keeley’s realm. The sight of her wandering around with witches or divine assassins would definitely raise alarms among the castle guards that roamed the streets questioning anyone they felt looked “out of place.”

  No. This wasn’t like Queen Keeley’s realm at all. Not that Keeley’s territory didn’t have its own sets of problems and concerns. For one thing, it was definitely a smaller principality. But that wasn’t the only issue that bothered Hurik about this kingdom. There was something different in the air here. In the way the people looked. The energy of those around her.

  Hurik had been here before when the Old King lived. He was like most who’d been born and raised knowing he would one day be king and then, when he was king, knew he would always be king. An arrogant fool of a man who believed everyone had been put in his path to be of use to him and nothing more.

  Yet . . . nothing felt the same here. Nothing felt right.

  “Stand back!” guards called out, pushing merchants and townspeople out of the way. “The queen comes!”

  And she did come. A rather plain, small woman who would look more comfortable in a nun’s habit than she did in the pink silk dress with gold trim that she currently wore. Her pale brown hair was piled high on her head and she had an entourage of royals following her, though Hurik had a feeling she had absolutely no interest in them beyond the fact that she was making them follow her. It was hard to believe that this woman was related in any way to Queen Keeley or Brother Gemma. She seemed so small and insignificant compared to them. Not in physical size—though there was truth to that—but in energy and vitality. The young sister that ran around with the tiny steel hammer seemed to be more interesting than this Beatrix, who focused on scrolls as she walked toward the castle.

  The vicar began to raise his hand to catch the queen’s attention. They were supposed to be a distraction to the queen while the war monk and centaur searched for information. But Hurik grabbed his arm, halting him.

  “What?” Ferdinand asked. “What is it?”

  Before she could answer the vicar, the queen’s head snapped up and she was looking right at them with those eyes. Those eyes that didn’t seem to have anything behind them. Yes, there was intelligence. Great intelligence. But no sympathy, no empathy.

  Even worse, she continued staring at them. At the two of them specifically.

  Hurik lowered her head and led the vicar into a crowd of merchants.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded. “What did you see?”

  “Nothing good,” she told him.

  * * *

  Gemma led her captive to the secret door she’d spotted on the map and was happy to find it still there. Quinn eased it open and took a quick look around.

  “It’s clear,” he said, pulling the man inside. Gemma followed, closing the door
behind them.

  Once inside, Gemma stood in front of the man and said, “I’m here for information and I’ve been told you’re the one to see about it. They say you’re very close to Queen Beatrix.”

  “You want me to lead you to her?”

  “Well—”

  “This is a test, isn’t it?” he suddenly accused, bursting into tears. “Why is she doing this to me? Why is she testing me? I don’t know how else to prove my loyalty. I don’t know what else to do! What does she want from me?”

  Gemma wasn’t sure what was happening. Was this all just a performance? Was the man trying to catch her off guard, slice her with an unseen knife when she stepped in to comfort him? She didn’t know. But there were so many tears! And his entire body was shaking.

  She looked at Quinn but he just shrugged. This wasn’t exactly going according to plan. A knife to the throat, a few threats. That’s how it was supposed to go.

  “I’m not testing you,” Gemma told him. “I don’t work for your queen. I’m really threatening you for information. I promise.”

  He’d buried his face in his hands and now lifted a bit so he could look up at her.

  “You . . . you’re not?” he asked.

  “No. You are truly in danger from me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Really.”

  “Then kill me.”

  What was happening now?

  “Pardon?”

  He dropped to his knees. “Kill me. Now. Please. If you have any kindness in your heart at all. Kill me!”

  “You know, when I said you would beg me to kill you . . . that was just a threat. You don’t actually have to beg me to kill you. It’s not required.”

  “But you could do it. You’re a war monk. It’ll be easy for you. Just do it!”

  Gemma grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “Get ahold of yourself! I’m not killing you. You haven’t done anything to warrant such a thing.”

  “But a war monk kills for his god all the time.”

  “That’s not the point. Calm down. Look, lad, I really just want information. If you can provide it, I’ll be on my way. No need to kill you or test you. I get the information and I’m out of your life.”

  “What information?”

  “I need to know what building project your queen is hiding from the king.”

  The man looked away. “You mean the tunnel.”

  “See? Already we’re helping each other and without any bloodshed. Isn’t that nice?” Gemma couldn’t believe this. She was supposed to be threatening the man not soothing him or making him feel better about his life with Beatrix. “Now . . . what can you tell me about this tunnel she’s having built?”

  “Very little. She knows I fear her husband. Knows that if he asks me anything, I’ll tell him because I’m terrified of him.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, no. No need to apologize. Or cry. Please don’t cry. Just breathe. Just breathe through it.” Gemma briefly wondered if she should kill him out of mercy, but instead asked, “Does she keep all the information in her head or does she still hide things in plain sight?”

  His eyes narrowed in distrust while he began to breathe heavily in fear. “How do you know she does that unless you’re testing me?”

  Gemma sighed. “Are we back here again?”

  “Yes. Because how else would you know that unless she told you?”

  “Because I am her sister.”

  “Prove it.”

  Gemma let out a long sigh. “Fine. She’s got a scar behind her ear. That’s where I once slammed her head into the dining table, but my sister Keeley caught me, and the next thing I knew, we were in a fistfight on the kitchen floor. Anyway, if anyone happened to ask Beatrix about the scar, her response was always to stare at that person until they became so frightened, they never asked about it again. Although the reason I slammed her head on that table . . . she knows what she did.”

  The man wiped his tears. “Yes. You are her sister.”

  “Yes. I am. Now that we know the truth of my words, what’s your name?”

  “Agathon.”

  “But you have an official title. At least that’s what I was told.”

  “I am the Queen’s Follower of Her Word. I used to be the Old King’s but now I am the queen’s. And you’re right. She still hides things in plain sight.”

  “Do you think you can help me find out about that tunnel?”

  “I’ll do my best. Then will you kill me?”

  “Or,” Gemma said, putting her arm around his shoulders, “we will come up with another option that doesn’t involve your untimely death.”

  * * *

  Ima climbed to the top of the hill that looked down onto the Old King’s castle. She rested her hands on her hips and tried to get her breath back.

  “Is your whole body so weak?” Balla asked.

  She wanted to make a rude reply to the temple virgin, but she was still trying to catch her breath, so Ima let it go. At least they weren’t trapped inside the castle along with everyone else. She hadn’t been in there herself, but she’d never heard anything good happening to the witches who ended up in that place.

  She and Balla weren’t merely waiting for everyone to come out. When the time was right, the witches and temple virgins had tasks and they were the only ones who could perform them. And if they hoped to be ready then, they would have to start their work now.

  Wassa opened her ingredient bag and took out what they would need to begin. The temple virgins, not too far away, did the same. All four women would be using nature, but it was strange to be doing such work with a temple virgin so close. Unlike the war monks, the temple virgins had never attempted to burn her coven-sisters at the stake. Of course, Ima couldn’t say that her sect had never used temple virgins as sacrifices back when they did that sort of thing more openly.

  Yet here they were. Not exactly working together, but combining their powers to help other onetime enemies.

  Ima had to stop for a moment.

  “What’s wrong?” Wassa asked.

  “This is strange, isn’t it? What we’re doing?”

  “Not as strange as that,” Wassa replied, nodding toward the bottom of the hill, where they’d left all the horses.

  Thankfully, the team’s horses were just fine. All of them safe. But the war monk’s half-dead horse had taken hold of a grazing elk by the neck and was swinging it around and slapping it against the ground like a dog playing with a dead cat it had found. It beat the poor elk against the ground until it stopped trying to fight and then the horse began to feed. Tearing flesh from the animal’s neck and stomach, tearing out the ribs so it could devour the organs.

  Ima, now sitting on the ground and preparing to create a power circle, nodded at Wassa. “No, no. You’re right. That’s definitely stranger.”

  * * *

  Tadesse eased his way behind merchant stalls, doing his best to avoid the castle guards. He waited until they’d passed, then moved on until he caught up with Faraji. They slid into a group of religious travelers making their way into a section of the castle. He had no idea where this line led and wasn’t too worried until he realized there was some kind of entrance process, which seemed strange. In Queen Keeley’s queendom, the religious sects simply had to show up and she took them in. They didn’t have to sign anything or give anyone their name or information.

  The last thing two divine assassins wanted to do was put their names on any list. Unlike assassin guild members, divine assassins didn’t become grand masters of disguise. They blended into their surroundings and hid their physical identities, but they didn’t hide their religious affiliation.

  That meant they had to get out of this line before they reached the front of it and caught the attention of the castle guards.

  Tadesse touched the tips of his fingers to his silk robe and unleashed his magick. He felt it slither down his clothing and slip into the ground, separating out into sev
eral tendrils.

  When he heard the first screamed “Snake!” he and Faraji stepped out of line and quickly moved away. They made their way around the castle walls and attempted to get to one of the hidden doorways they’d seen on the maps. But when they were only a few feet away, they were surrounded by castle guards and a guard captain, all aiming spears at them.

  “Halt, monsters!” the captain ordered. “And raise those hands.”

  Tadesse gritted his teeth but did as ordered. The divine assassins were tethered to the ground. They needed their fingers and palms to touch inanimate objects. Dirt, wood, even steel. With a touch of his fingers, Tadesse could send his poisons or his “pets” to do his bidding. But with his hands in the air . . . he could do nothing but wait until they speared him and Faraji through like meat on a spit.

  “Hold, good gentlemen!” Tadesse heard behind him, shocked how relieved he was to hear that particular voice.

  The truce vicar and the Abbess came to the captain’s side.

  “What’s happening?” the vicar demanded. “These men are with us!”

  “They are divine assassins. We cannot allow them on royal lands to put our king and queen at risk.”

  “But they’re our protectors.” The vicar stepped in front of the spears aimed at Tadesse and Faraji.

  “Assassins are protecting you? You expect us to believe that?”

  “How do you think we made it this far, good lord? Without their help, we would have met our tragic ends on the sword tips of Cyrus’s men.”

  “Sister?” The captain focused on the Abbess. “Is this true?”

  Slowly, the Abbess lifted her head, dark eyes filled with such pain and fear that Tadesse wanted nothing more than to push all these men away and take her somewhere safe, where she could never be harmed again. By anyone. Which was, of course, ridiculous, because he’d seen this woman fight. He’d seen her strip the flesh off her victims as if she was skinning a chicken for dinner. She needed no one really.

  “If it had not been for these men,” the Abbess said in the softest voice humanly possible, “I would not be alive at this moment. They saved me from Cyrus’s men. Those villains had me trapped in a valley many leagues from here and these honorable men not only rescued me, but gave me their protection all the way here. I never had to worry about my safety or my . . .” She gently cleared her throat. “Purity,” she whispered. “Something I can assure you I would have lost had Cyrus’s soldiers had their way.”