The two bowmen raised their weapons.
Stay in character! Stay in character! “I was told to take this prisoner up-”
A wall of fire raged out of the right tunnel, swept through the junction, and disappeared down the left. Josephine shoved Lord Ian against the wall and hunched over him, shielding him as best as she could with her body. An intense blast of heat swept over her and she bit back a scream. This must be what hell felt like, if hell was of the fire and brimstone variety. Almost as quickly as the heat came, it disappeared again, and Josephine checked Lord Ian and herself. Only singed a little here and there, but miraculously neither of them was burned.
The same couldn’t be said for the three wardens.
Not one to waste a lucky break, or time staring at three charred husks, Josephine heaved Lord Ian over her shoulder and hurried toward the stairs. Just because someone had inadvertently helped her didn’t mean they were an ally.
“Hold up!” a voice called out.
Josephine didn’t stop. She surged up the stairs taking them two at a time. Her legs ached by the time she reached the top, but she pressed on without looking back. She didn’t need to see her pursuers to know they were gaining on her.
She rushed down dim corridors, frantically making her way back to the amphitheater. She burst through a door, leapt over the dead warden with the burns around his mouth and flew along the hall toward the courtroom. Once there, she didn’t know how she’d escape up the rope with Lord Ian draped across her shoulders, but she knew she didn’t want to be caught in the dungeons. She wanted to breathe fresh air at least one more time.
Josephine shoved through the final doors and raced across the empty amphitheater. Her legs were screaming for her to stop. She gasped for air. The rope was still there, but she knew it was a false promise of freedom. Lord Ian was in no shape to climb and her strength was about done.
She dropped Lord Ian into a chair and whirled around to face her pursuers. There were five of them. Two close on her heels and three back by the door. The nearest two were physical opposites, one small, wiry and pale and the other tall, dark and lean. By the door an ashen scarecrow was wedged between a massive mountain of flesh and a pleasant-looking woman.
Josephine grabbed her crossbow. Tall, dark and lean drew a sword. Small, wiry and pale stared at her with eyes burning orange.
“Stay back!” Josephine demanded.
The Mountain lumbered toward her, still huffing and puffing from the run. Josephine swung her aim over at him.
“I said, stay back!”
“We just want to know who you took out of the dungeon, warden.” Tall, dark and lean asked. He took another step toward her.
“Don’t come any closer!”
“Uh . . . uh, uh . . . uh . . .” The Mountain was pointing at her and looking excited.
Tall, dark and lean glanced over at the big man. “What is it, my friend?”
Relief washed over Josephine and she lowered her crossbow. “I know you two from the Prancing Piper.” She looked at the Mountain. “You’re the barkeep.” She glanced back at tall, dark and lean. “And you’re Kylpin Caleachey . . . Lord Ian’s friend.”
“You know us, warden.” Kylpin stepped closer. “But who are you?”
“She’s . . . uh, uh . . . Josephine Hewes,” the Mountain stammered. “The actress . . .”
Kylpin did a double take. “He’s a ‘she’?” His eyes widened when he finally looked past her disguise. “How the hell did you know that, Philson?”
“I saw her in . . . uh, uh . . . the musical, An Oasis in Time, at the Rose,” Philson said.
“You did?” Josephine found herself smiling. “That was my first big role. I played the Oasiskeeper.”
“Except for the show when you . . . uh, uh . . . performed as the Hermit.” Philson made a gesture toward his face. “You wore a similar beard and . . . uh, uh . . . mustache.”
“That’s how you recognized me?” She shook her head. “That was a couple of years ago.”
Philson’s round head bobbed.
“I’m impressed.” Josephine laughed. “And I can’t believe you saw that show! The lead actor failed to show up on time and I was the only one who knew his part so-”
“I remember you now!” Kylpin cut her off. He leaned in close and pointed a finger at her. “You caused a lot of problems for my friend with that wooden box and what was in it, lady!”
Josephine cheeks reddened. “I know, and I’m so sorry about that . . .”
“Sorry?” Kylpin looked her up and down. “If you weren’t a lady, lady, I’d beat the sorry out of you!”
“You don’t know the whole story.”
“And here is not a good place to tell it,” the pleasant-looking woman intervened. She had an arm around the scarecrow’s waist. “We may have escaped the dungeons, but we’re not exactly safe.”
“You’re right,” Kylpin agreed. “But I’m not going anywhere until we have Ian.” He patted the small, wiry, pale man on the back. “You and I are going back in-”
“No, wait. I have Lord Ian here,” Josephine said. She rushed back to where she’d left him. He’d slumped over sideways in his chair.
“You do?” Kylpin brushed past her and knelt in front of Ian. He grabbed his chin and turned his face toward the dim light. “Damn! Look at what those bastards did to his . . . wait . . .” His hand shot forward and he prodded Lord Ian’s left shoulder. “No . . . you’re wrong. This isn’t him . . .”
“Of course, it is. He was being questioned about the king’s murder when I stole him out of his cell.”
“Lord Ragget stabbed him in the shoulder. This man has no such injury.”
“I was watching Lord Ian’s trial from the roof.” Small, wiry and pale spoke up. “I saw him attack a score of men including Lord Ragget . . . he didn’t seem troubled by any injured shoulder.”
“He attacked Lord Ragget?” Kylpin said.
Small, wiry and pale nodded. “Bashed his face in and nearly choked him to death. Would have succeeded too if not for the damn Princess stopping him.”
“The blood must have taken him,” the scarecrow added in a soft rasp.
Josephine was familiar with that Gyunwarian phrase. She remembered once asking her mother if the blood had ever taken her father and her mother shook her head. “No dear, he just has his moods.”
The pleasant-looking woman muttered a few words and placed a hand on Lord Ian’s battered face. As soon as she touched him, she winced and jerked back, cradling her fingers as if she’d been burned. “Someone has cast strong healing magic on him recently, but nothing like I’ve ever used before . . .”
“Could it have healed his shoulder?” the scarecrow asked.
“Maybe,” the woman said. “But I have no way of knowing for sure what this unnatural magic is capable of. I don’t practice it.”
“Can you heal his face?” Kylpin said. He cocked his head to one side. “Looking at him like this . . . I just can’t tell for sure . . .”
“I can’t either,” the scarecrow said.
“I can try,” the woman said. “But not here, I’m sorry. Our escape will not go unnoticed for much long. We must be away.”
Kylpin grimaced. It was obvious he didn’t want to leave until he was sure the man she’d rescued was Lord Ian.
“Who else would the Yordicians heal so they could beat on him some more?” Josephine asked. “My guess . . . only the man they believe killed their king.”
“I hope you’re right.” Kylpin turned to small, wiry and pale. “How do we get out of here? And don’t tell me that rope because I doubt a few of us have the strength to use it.”
“Nonsense,” the scarecrow grumbled. “I’m starting to feel much better.”
“You’re not climbing!” the woman declared.
“I doubt that flimsy . . . uh, uh . . . rope would hold me,” Philson admitted, his bulbous cheeks reddening.
Small, wiry and pale held up a callused hand. “I’m sorry. No offense me
ant, but I didn’t know about the rest of you when I started this enterprise. I only came for Captain Caleachey. I figured he’d be able to climb a rope.”
“No one is blaming you, my dear,” the woman said. “And we’re grateful you saved us too, but now that we’re this far, how do we proceed?”
No one said a word for a moment. Josephine looked around the room and considered where they were. The courtroom had some strong similarities to the stage and that gave her an idea.
“With theatrics,” she suggested.
“Do you really think this will work?” Garett Navarro whispered.
Josephine gave the young man a sidelong glance as they walked through the courthouse toward the building’s front doors. She shrugged. “Do you have a better idea?”
Garett shook his head.
Introductions had been hastily exchanged in the back room behind the dais. According to the young fire mage, he was in the employ of Master Tu’olo and he had been asked to travel to Scylthia and inspect the volcano located in the heart of the jungle there. Since it was well known that only Captain Kylpin Caleachey knew the safe route through the Northern Reef, Master Tu’olo had suggested Garett contact him. When Garett had learned of the ship captain’s arrest, he decided to stage a rescue attempt.
“I had hoped perhaps in return for your freedom, you’d provide me passage there and back,” Garett had concluded.
Kylpin had agreed, though he admitted to being in the middle of a personal quest of his own and currently without a ship.
“Anything I can do to help, just ask,” Garett had offered.
“Perhaps there is one thing, my friend,” Kylpin had said. “A fire mage destroyed my ship. Perhaps you could ask around for me? Learn his identity . . .”
Garett nodded. “Of course. I’d be glad to do so. And I’m sorry to hear about your ship.”
“Not near as sorry as the bastard who did it will be when I catch up with him.”
“I’m sure you’re correct . . .”
Josephine nudged Garett’s elbow as they neared the doors. “Have you ever done any acting?”
Garett shrugged. “A little . . . here and there . . .”
“Just breathe, act natural and follow my lead,” she whispered. “You’ll do fine.”
Garett nodded.
Josephine curled her lips into a faint scowl and pushed through the courthouse’s double doors. Garett followed on her heels. Immediately, they were confronted by a pair of wardens standing outside.
“What the hell are you two doing out here?” a brawny guard demanded.
“Gods-dammed escort duty,” Josephine growled in a husky voice. She jogged down a couple of steps and glanced across the street at the Walpole. “Do ya know if the fire is out over there?”
“Water mages just left a little while ago,” Brawny glanced over at his partner. The second warden had blond bushy eyebrows and a hooked nose. “I ain’t heard of any escort duty for tonight, you?”
Eyebrows shrugged. “Who you escorting?”
“How are the roads west of here? Are they still safe?” Garett Navarro piped up. He strolled down the stairs wearing the dead warden’s uniform. It was a bad fit. The dead man had been taller and fatter, but there was nothing to be done about it.
“What’re you talking about?” Eyebrows and Brawny trailed after them all the way down to the street.
“Haven’t you been paying attention today?” Garett said. “There’s been rioting in Little Ryerton. Has the fighting spread outside of the district?”
“Why do you care?”
Josephine jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the courthouse. “We have some . . . prissy . . . judges here who insist on going home now.”
“Some are still here?” Brawny frowned. “I thought they’d all gone hours ago.”
As if on cue, Kylpin, Theodora, Sir Lumist, Lord Ian and Philson all emerged from the courthouse wearing black robes. Philson and Kylpin each had an arm around Lord Ian’s waist and were practically carrying him down the stairs. Lumist leaned heavily against Theodora.
“Yeah, imagine our surprise when we found them holed up in one of the back rooms,” Josephine said. She raised a hand and flagged down a passing coach.
“What’s the matter with them?” Brawny said.
Garett made a casual drinking gesture with his hand. “Guess they found fire-watching entertaining . . . Me?” He snorted. “I don’t get the . . . attraction . . .”
“They ain’t supposed to wear the robes home.” Eyebrow pointed out.
“You know that, and I know that . . .” Josephine said. She watched the five judges make their way down the stairs. “But I sure as hell ain’t going to tell THEM that. You go right ahead if you want to?”
Eyebrow and Brawny exchanged glances.
“Nah, fuck it,” Brawny muttered. “They ain’t my robes.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Josephine said.
The coach stopped. Garett opened the door and held it while the five judges piled inside. Josephine climbed up and sat next to the driver. Garett went around back and hopped onto the vacant footman’s perch.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
Josephine gave him Theodora’s address. The driver urged his horses on with a gentle snap of the reins. Josephine held her breath as the coach slowly rolled away from the courthouse. At any moment, she expected an alarm to be raised. Whistles to sound. Shouts to be heard.
Instead, the night remained quiet and the only sounds she heard were the steady clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves. She exhaled slowly. She’d done it. They’d done it. They’d all escaped the dungeons. She’d have to congratulate Garett later, he’d done a good job improvising on the spot. She tried to smile at their success but couldn’t. Something wasn’t right. The nagging buzzing was still there, right behind her eyes. She was missing something . . . but what?
Their escape had been . . . too easy.
She glanced back. The road behind them was empty. Dark. She didn’t see any followers, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. Overseen. Manipulated.
“Something wrong, warden?” the driver beside her asked.
Josephine stared into the darkness. “Nothing at all,” she lied.
Brawny and Eyebrows stood on the courthouse steps and watched the coach disappear into the night. Once it was gone, Brawny blinked . . . and Stephano Di Rygazzo turned to the shadowy figure beside him. “Why did we let them go?”
Neko Blood dropped the Eyebrows façade and smiled. “Because I have plans for them.”
“So did Lord Ragget.”
“But to be fair, most of his plans are still intact and you still owed me a small favor.”
Stephano Di Rygazzo considered Neko Blood’s words and finally nodded. “I believe we are square now, don’t you?”
“Indeed.”
Stephano Di Rygazzo gave a sharp nod and turned to go back inside. “Then I must bid you a good night, Neko. I still have much to do before dawn breaks.”
“As do I.” Neko Blood’s smile widened. “As do I.”
chapter 17
“Devin, wake up.” Cecily’s cheery voice roused him from sleep. “It’s almost time to leave.”
Devin eyes popped open. Sunlight spilled through the balcony door. He jumped out of bed and rushed toward the dressing room. “Did I oversleep?”
“Only a little. The carriage is waiting for us downstairs.”
Devin pulled on a regal black silk and brocade ensemble he had laid out only hours earlier. After returning from the tower and his attempts to seed number four, he had found Cecily in bed, naked, with her legs spread just as he had commanded. His orders must have excited her, she had been incredibly wet.
No doubt she had wanted him to think she was moist with anticipation.
He glanced over at Cecily. She was adorned entirely in white and gold.
“Do you think that is appropriate?” He pulled on his trousers.
Cecily’s gree
n eyes narrowed. “I love this dress.” She spun around in front of him. The gown hugged her body tightly, accentuating the firm curves of her hips and breasts and was cut so low in front that most of her voluptuous cleavage was showing.
“We are going to an execution not a ball.” Devin dragged his eyes away from all her exposed flesh. “I think perhaps you should wear something a little more somber.”
Cecily laughed merrily. “Why? Didn’t you hear my father? He was never my husband, and I do not intend to mourn his passing.”
Devin stared at her for a long moment, but she seemed determined not to change. Finally, with a dismissive shrug, he finished dressing. He wasn’t in the mood to argue with her anymore. They had argued enough after the trial about her impromptu performance.
“I had to get my father’s absolution out of the way first,” she had said after he had dragged her by the elbow out of the courtroom and into the back hallway.
“But I had carefully planned out everything . . .” he countered.
“What does it matter?” she argued. “It all worked out.”
He had tried to explain how her intrusion had forced him to abruptly change tactics, but she waved his rationalization away. “It doesn’t matter, Devin.”
“Then why did you confront him at the end?”
“I still had a few things I wanted to say to him.”
“But you could have ruined-”
“What’s done is done!” she snapped. “We won.”
“But-”
“I’m done with this conversation, Devin.”
He’d let the matter drop then only because he had wanted to watch Stephano Di Rygazzo work on Ian, but that didn’t mean she would escaped his anger and frustration.
And he had dished out her punishment while between her legs last night . . . though admittedly, the harder he had pounded into her, the more she had seemed to like it. Even after he had allowed himself to grow a bit larger, she didn’t seem to mind or even struggle to accommodate his greater girth. Finally, exhausted by his efforts, he released his seed and rolled over and slept for the first time in nearly two days. He had awakened an hour later to find Cecily asleep beside him. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful and so innocent just lying there. He rose carefully, laid out his clothes for the day, handled a bit of last-minute business with Amarias and had returned to bed without waking Cecily. The short nap had done him wonders. He felt completely refreshed again and ready to confront the world.
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