by Linda Kage
“As long as they need to last,” Olivander answered. “Now shut up and be good.”
I drew in a short breath and ground my teeth. It had been years since I’d been a regular foot soldier. Playing one now made me itchy under the collar.
But if it helped speed this process along, I’d behave. Quilla was out there somewhere—at least, I hoped she was—and I had no idea what was happening to her. These unnecessary stops might drive me crazy, but I also refused to do anything that might stretch them out even longer, like start an annoying war with a neighboring kingdom.
A handful of our guards met with the first few guards leading the king’s caravan, then one of their men rode back to the carriage where Gill was no doubt riding. The curtain opened, and I watched the rider report to his king about the presence of another royal on the road, requesting a face-to-face.
I didn’t hear the king’s answer, but he snapped something impatient back to the knight, and the carriage moved into action, only to stop again a short moment later before Olivander’s hastily assembled campsite.
“Bjorn,” King Tomrick clipped out as he shoved the curtain open again. “It’s been a while.”
Olivander nodded regally as he approached. “It has, Your Majesty.” Then he swept out a hand, motioning to the table and food he had waiting. “It would be my great honor if you’d break from your travels with me and take a spot of refreshment while the rest of your crew stretches their legs before getting on the road again.”
The king’s mouth pinched thin, and his eyes narrowed with irritation. “I’m actually running a bit short on time,” he started hesitantly.
My eyebrows shot up into my hairline. Well. I guess the King of Lowden didn’t care so much about following the protocol for polite conduct between royals. Olivander glanced my way as if he could read my mind, and his gaze narrowed as if silently telling me to shut up. Then he turned back to the king.
“Certainly you could spare a minute, Your Majesty. We have the finest wine already set out for you.”
The king drew out a long sigh. “Fine. But I really must be on the road again soon.”
“Of course,” Olivander allowed gallantly as he bent a knee to kneel when the carriage door came open. “We wouldn’t think to delay you from your journey.”
I noticed he wasn’t the only one inside the small compartment as he descended the steps. But I barely caught a peek of a metal armored knee before the door slammed shut behind the king.
“Rise,” Tomrick told Olivander as he strode by, heading directly toward the table of refreshments. He seated himself and immediately reached for the jug of wine. “I am parched beyond reasoning,” he announced after taking a long swig directly from the container. “It’s been quite a week.”
“Then I’m pleased we were able to provide you with drink.” Olivander shook his head and lifted a hand to decline when the king offered him the jug next for a sip. “Have you been traveling long?”
“Just returning home from Tyler,” the king answered distractedly, his gaze returning to the carriage.
“Tyler?” Olivander repeated in surprise, his gaze meeting mine. “What was your reason to visit Tyler?”
Tomrick sent him an annoyed glance before snapping, “It was a private matter.”
“Indeed.” Sufficiently put in his place, Olivander sat back. “Apologies, Your Majesty,” he added. “I didn’t mean to meddle.”
The king lifted a forgiving hand, even as he said, “Just see that you don’t do it again.”
“Of course.” Olivander followed Tomrick’s intent gaze back to his carriage before discreetly clearing his throat. “Did you wish to invite your guest to join us?” he finally asked.
“What?” The king zipped him a startled glance, his eyes flashing with worry. Then he shook his head and quickly answered, “No! Definitely not. It’s not my guest anyway. Just my, er, personal bodyguard.”
Olivander blinked in confusion and slid his gaze questioningly my way. Because if the soldier who had remained inside the carriage was truly the king’s personal bodyguard, then why the hell wasn’t he out here, personally guarding his ruler’s body?
I gave a slight shake of my head to the prince, agreeing that the situation felt beyond odd to me too. Then I scrutinized the man sitting across from him at the table. I’d never met him before, but he resembled every other Gill family member I’d ever crossed paths with before, short of frame, slight of stature, thinner, feminine shoulders and pale blond hair that spiked up around his squared face. My attention drifted over his clothing, only to stop cold when it landed on the pendant he wore on a leather string around his neck.
Motherfucker. I knew that pendant.
“Nice amulet you have there,” I said, unable to help myself. But seriously, how the hell had the King of Lowden gotten his hands on one of the transference amulets?
My mind began to spin. I needed that jewel. Whenever I found Quilla and got her to safety, I’d need it for myself to go to Earth with her.
Because I was going to find her, and then I was going to get her to claim me as her mate, and after that, I was going to follow her wherever she went.
The king shot me a surprised glance. “Thank you,” he answered, lifting his hand to the amber pendant before glancing at Olivander and asking, “Who is this soldier, and why is he talking to me?”
The warning glare Vander launched my way told me he was probably going to strangle me the first moment we were alone.
“Your Majesty,” he started, his voice strained. “This is a close, personal friend of mine. May I introduce Indigo of House Moast?”
“Moast?” King Tomrick quirked up a curious eyebrow. “Any relation to the married couple who served as dignitaries in Lowden during the—what was it—” Frowning, he tapped his chin thoughtfully. “The tenth reaping, I think it was.”
My jaw tightened as my teeth clenched. “My parents,” I managed to answer.
Both eyebrows lifted at this. The king ran his gaze over me. I had no idea what thoughts ran through his head, but they didn’t seem very complimentary.
“So sorry to hear about their deaths,” he finally murmured.
I nodded, not feeling his sincerity at all. “Thank you.”
From the carriage, a racket of scuffling and moaning and some kind of slurred, indecipherable words rose. Olivander and I both straightened, frowning that way.
“Uh…” Vander slid a curious glance toward Tomrick. “Do you need to check on that?”
“No.” The king stared stonily ahead, not even bothering to glance back at the carriage. “My bodyguard lost his tongue in the Great Lowden War. Sliced out by a filthy Graykey.” He spat on the ground when he said that part before adding, “He hasn’t been quite right in the head since.”
“Yet you continue to keep him on as a guard?” Olivander asked, his dismay more than evident.
The king twitched his lips in a tense smile. “In name only. Wasn’t like I could just put him down, now could I? He was always such a loyal servant before his unfortunate fate befell him.”
“I suppose,” the prince allowed, still glancing uneasily at the carriage.
I didn’t blame him. It sounded as if someone was struggling to break free, as if they’d been bound and gagged and were desperately attempting to escape.
“Well…” The king slapped his hands onto his knees and let out a satisfied sigh. “My thanks for the food and drink and pleasant respite, but I must be on my way now.”
He stood and turned toward the carriage, in a rush to escape.
As he opened the door, however, his bodyguard who was supposedly soft in the head began to hum. His voice was raspy and chopped as if he didn’t use his vocal cords often, but the tune was unmistakably “Singin’ in the Rain.”
“What the hell?” I exploded, leaping forward to grab the king’s shoulder and yank him back out of the way from the carriage’s open doorway.
“Indy!” Olivander shouted in horror, while the King of Lowden tr
ipped backward, over his stumbling feet, and landed on his ass in the dirt with an angry shout.
A scuffle ensued behind me, but I was too busy peering across the seat at the tongue-less bodyguard. He was doing nothing to exit the carriage, just sitting on the cushion with his hands placidly in his lap, shifting around as if in urgent need to get more comfortable. Or maybe he had to relieve his bladder.
Jesus. The man really was soft in the head.
His humming picked up volume though. I shook my head, confused. Why was he humming that song? My song.
“How do you know that song?” I demanded. But the guard paid no attention to me. He didn’t even look my way.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the king demanded from behind me to someone else. “Unhand me.”
I glanced back to find that half of his soldiers had rushed forward to protect him, so all of Olivander’s men hurried forward to intercede. As the High Cliff soldiers pinned down the Lowden soldiers with ease, a slew of blades at their necks, Olivander grabbed Tomrick to hold him back when he tried to charge me.
“I certainly hope you know what you’re doing, Indy?” He grunted when the king struggled against him and elbowed him in the gut to break free. “Because my father will have my head—literally—if this turns out badly.”
“Something’s wrong,” I announced, frowning around at the scene.
“No shit’s something’s wrong!” Vander shouted. “We just accosted the King of fucking Lowden. And I have no idea why.”
“You’ll both hang for this,” Tomrick growled, glaring at me as he struggled fruitlessly against Olivander. “Starting with you, you damned High Clifter piece of shit. Step away from my carriage.”
Ignoring him, I settled my gaze on the king’s remaining horsemen who hadn’t moved or even dismounted when the short skirmish had started. I pointed and commanded the High Cliff soldiers who weren’t restraining any Lowden guards to apprehend the rest.
Three surged forward, but when they went to grab the reins away from the Lowden riders, their hands went right through their horses.
“Son of a bitch!” Olivander hissed. “They’re just illusions.”
“Illusions,” I breathed in understanding as I turned back to the mute bodyguard still inside the carriage. “Oh my God.”
I reached in across the seat. The King of Lowden shouted foul warnings for me to stop, but I kept going, steadily crawling forward until I had my hand wrapped around the guard’s bicep. The fit was all wrong; that was definitely not metal armor I was gripping.
“It’s a glamour,” I realized, and I tugged him out of the carriage, none too gently.
He did nothing to catch himself, just plopped to the ground in a heap and a very feminine cry of pain.
“Holy fuck,” I breathed, my heart rate thumping hard in my chest. Who the hell was this?
Kneeling next to the bodyguard, I grabbed a handful of dirt and began smearing it over him, cutting away the glamour with one of the elements.
“What in the world?” Olivander breathed as I began to reveal a small woman one handful of dirt at a time. “Who is she?”
She was wrapped up in a damn rug, her arms trapped inside so she was incapable of moving. Not that she would’ve moved much anyway. Her face, neck, and bare shoulders were covered in bruises and cuts galore. And her head had been shaved bald. When she looked up at me with brown, tear-stained eyes, however, I knew exactly who she was.
“Quilla,” I choked out, sobbing in relief.
Chapter 40
Quilla
Indigo was alive. I could barely believe it.
I thought I had heard his voice inside the carriage, but I’d told myself I was crazy. King Ignatius had said he was dead. Or at least he’d heavily implied it.
But then someone introduced him by name just outside the door, and I knew I had to let him know I was trapped in here somehow.
With my tongue ruined, I doubt I’d ever be able to enunciate a recognizable word again. But I could still hum. Thank God I could still hum.
And thank God he was still alive. He looked even more amazing than I remembered him. Except a fresh, square-shaped wound now sat where his love mark had been.
“My empress,” he rasped, tears pricking his eyes as his gaze moved over me. “My God. What did they do to you?” His fingers trembled as they gently cupped my face, though I still winced when they brushed over the sore bruises on my bald scalp.
He winced too. “Sorry. But don’t fret. I’ll make it all better. I swear.” His lips pressed sweetly to mine, and I closed my eyes, crying because he could still stomach to touch me after the mess I’d become.
How could anyone love such a monster?
When I began to feel better from the inside out, my eyes shot open. Broken bones in my wrists and ankles healed, and my cracked ribs knitted themselves back together so I could immediately breathe better.
After weeks of torture, I’d completely forgotten how easily he could correct everything with a single kiss. Eyes fluttering open as he slowly pulled away, I opened my mouth and tried using my tongue first.
“Thank you,” I said, relieved I could finally talk again.
Grinning his famous Indigo-grin, he stroked my cheek with his knuckles. “Trust me, it was my pleasure.”
A sob of pure joy caught in my chest. “Oh my God, Indy. You’re still alive! I can’t—” It was more joy than I could express. Surging forward, I burrowed close and kissed him again.
“So are you,” he managed to answer between small breaks of air. “I could only hope, but I had no idea.”
Laughing through tears of delight and bone-weary relief, I asked, “Did my hair grow back too?” If my hands weren’t still pinned to my sides inside this damn rug, I would’ve lifted one to check for myself.
The sympathy in his gaze told me the answer before he spoke. “No, my love,” he murmured, only to smile sadly and stroke his fingers over the stubble there. “But the good news is you look just as beautiful bald as you do with a long golden mane down to your knees. Here.” When he realized I was struggling to get my arms free, he produced a dagger to cut me out, only to stop hacking through it when he realized I was naked underneath.
“Where the hell are your clothes?” he asked, stunned, as I wiggled my arms free and clutched the rug to my chest with one hand before I pushed into a sitting position with the other. Damn, but it felt good to move on my own again.
To speak again. To be free. And to be with Indigo.
For a moment, I wondered if any of this was real because it certainly didn’t seem possible after the nightmare I’d just survived.
“But—that’s not—” Qualmer tried to articulate his shock from behind us. “How did you—?” He shook his head confused. “She was at death’s door just a moment ago.”
He lay, pinned chest-first, in the dirt with some regal-looking fellow holding him down as he twisted his neck around so he could gawk at my bruise-free face.
Mouth falling open, he finally realized the truth. “Holy shit. You’re the true love of a fucking High Clifter?”
“Okay, who is that guy?” Indigo demanded, pointing and scowling at Qualmer’s glamoured face. “Please tell me he’s not the true King of Lowden.”
“He’s not,” I said, staring the fake king in the eye. “That is my cousin, Qualmer. He confessed to me that he killed Tomrick Gill and has been impersonating him for the past eight years.”
“Say what now?” the man sitting on Qualmer screeched, sending me an incredulous glance. “So ever since Tomrick’s been on the throne, it’s been a Graykey in disguise?”
“Surprise,” Qualmer answered cockily and let himself transform back into his true form, his blond hair growing down to his shoulders and turning red, then his frame lengthening and face stretching before the eyepatch came into view. “You never could tell, could you?”
“Son of a bitch,” Olivander hissed, jumping off him in surprise. “But, you—we invited you into our home and broke b
read with you.”
Qualmer winked at him as he pushed to his feet to dust dirt and pebbles from his front. “Your daddy was even generous enough to send some of his harem girls to my rooms when I stayed over.” With a chuckle, he tossed his long hair over his shoulder and repositioned his eyepatch into place. “Think the old bastard would have a literal heart attack if he learned he’d put his arm around a Graykey and called him son?” He laughed maliciously. “I think he likes me better than he does you, Olivander.”
Olivander drew his sword. “Show it to me,” he demanded.
“What?” Qualmer asked in confusion before shaking his head. “Oh, you want to see this, do you?” Pushing up his sleeve, he flipped his arm over and showed off his Graykey mark.
Olivander swore under his breath and shuddered in revulsion.
“I wonder what your daddy’s going to do when he learns a Graykey killed his middle son.” Then he produced a blade from his tunic, and he roared as he launched himself at Olivander.
Except Indigo caught him from behind, wrapping an arm around his head and slicing a dagger across his throat.
“This was how you killed my mother; do you remember that?” he murmured into Qualmer’s ear as Qualmer gasped for air and began to die in his arms. “She hugged you in sympathy, and you wrapped your arms around her before sinking a blade into her body.”
My cousin met my eyes, his wide and begging as they glazed with fear and pain. I looked away, deciding he deserved what he got.
When I heard the thump of his body hitting the ground, I turned back to watch my true love bend down to snag the amulet from around his neck before he stepped over his corpse to return to me, his seeking gaze intent on mine as if to make sure he hadn’t just done something wrong.
“I couldn’t let him live,” he said. “After seeing you in that condition…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t.”
“I know.” I nodded. “It’s fine. It wouldn’t have been safe to keep him alive, anyway.”
He came to me and fell to his knees. Then he cupped my face in his hands and shook his head as tears filled his eyes.
