The huntress reluctantly gave control back to the care-giver and Josephine put an arm around her father’s shoulders. She wanted to have him hold her close and to have him tell her everything was going to be all right, but deep down, she knew everything was not going to be all right. Not for a very long time.
If ever.
“You can end it now though, right?” she said softly. “The glass is broken. All you need to do is negate the rest of the magic and the discs are useless. We can go to Bel’yowlye together. We’ll leave immediately. We’ll find a ship. I have gems . . .”
He was already shaking his head.
“I can’t stop the magic.” He held up his bloody stumps. “That spell requires the use of my hands. It was one contingency I didn’t prepare for.”
“There must be something we can do . . .”
She trailed off as the cold realization of what her father expected of her struck her like a giant fist to the stomach. Her throat constricted, and her eyes went wide.
“No . . . I can’t . . .”
“Jo, there’s no other way.”
“I can’t.”
“You must. Lord Ragget already knows something is wrong. He is sending Lipscombe and some other men here . . .”
“I’ll kill them!”
“Lord Ragget has thousands of men awaiting his orders. You can’t . . .” He went still for a moment, apparently listening to an internal conversation. “He just told his men to make sure I stay alive. Jo, Lord Ragget knows I am the key. With me alive, he can still speak with his men directly, he can still orchestrate his-”
“You could tell the king everything!”
Joseph shook his head. “Only I can hear the voices. It would be my word against a lord’s and he’s also the Chief Inquisitor. The king would never believe me.” He nodded toward her pack. “But the metal discs in the leather case, they have both the images and the words from all his communications contained within them. I know that sounds confusing, but they have the proof of Lord Ragget’s schemes.”
“Show the king those!”
“I can’t create the magic to activate them anymore either. Only your grandfather can do that now. Perhaps someday you could trigger the magic yourself-”
“Teach me!” Josephine pleaded with him. “I will learn.”
“Someday, perhaps, but over months of training, maybe even years . . . not hours, minutes . . .” Joseph bowed his head. “I would take my own life, but I have no magic left and I cannot wield a dagger . . .” His voice broke. “Jo. You must do it for me. I’m sorry. Do this one last thing for me and then go to Bel’yowlye.”
“No. Don’t ask me to do that!”
“I will not allow the communiqués to continue.” Joseph lurched to his feet. “I will leap from the rooftop if I must!”
“No!” Josephine shouted. The low buzz droned in her ear. “Don’t!”
“Then you must do as I say, and you must do it now!” he growled, all kindness suddenly gone from his voice. “If you had listened to me before and stayed in your room, none of this would have happened. But you disobeyed me. And because of your disobedience, your mother and sister are dead!”
“Father . . .”
“And you were raped!”
“Father!”
“And you’re helping to ruin an innocent man!” He continued to berate her. “You are such a disappointment, Jo!”
“I did it all to save you!” The buzzing burrowed into her brain.
Joseph tried to push his way around her, to reach the door and the stairs beyond. She blocked his way.
“Move aside, Jo!”
“No.”
“Then take up your crossbow and shoot me!”
“No!”
“Don’t you dare disobey me again!” His voice was full of rage.
“Father, please!”
“I was always too soft on you!” His gray eyes narrowed with contempt. “Lipscombe is coming now, and he’s going to kill you! Then, he will torture me every day to within an inch of my life.”
“Don’t say any more . . .” Josephine cried. The bitter taste of bile soured her mouth and she gasped for air. She knew he was only trying to draw out her rage, to make her lose control. The buzzing in her head was rattling her teeth. She had to choose. She couldn’t be both at once. “I can’t bear to lose you too!”
“They will keep me alive, in constant pain and suffering, forever! Is that what you want? Is that what you want for me?!”
“NO!” Josephine raised the crossbow. “Don’t make me do this!”
“Do it, Jo!” Joseph begged, his face twisting in pain. “Please, do it now! Do it and run to your grandfather in Bel’yowlye!”
“Come with me. Don’t leave me here alone.” The words spilled out of her as fast as her tears. Her entire body shook. She felt on the verge of splitting in two.
“You must be strong for both of us.” Joseph stretched his mutilated arms out, exposing his chest to the trembling crossbow in her hands. “Do it now!”
“I love you,” Josephine whimpered. She closed her eyes. Something was tearing inside her. She was losing control. “I will always love you.”
“And I you, Jo . . .” He sighed. “Now choose!”
She did, and the buzzing stopped.
Chapter 48
“Darling, is there something wrong?”
Devin palmed the darkened disc and turned to face Cecily. He flashed a brilliant smile and gently shook his head. “No,” he answered merrily hiding his fury. “I was just enjoying the view of the garden while I waited for you.”
Cecily curtsied. “I’m sorry for my tardiness.”
“No apology is necessary,” Devin said. “In fact, I should apologize to you for interrupting your first day here with business. You look stunning.”
“Thank you. And your apology is accepted.” Cecily blushed. She glanced over at the table set beneath the willow tree. Devin followed her gaze. The trailing edges of the white table cloth flapped limply in the hot, languid breeze. “Are we eating out here?” The corners of her luscious mouth turned down.
Devin detected the hint of displeasure in her voice. “I thought you might enjoy a picnic outside. Was I mistaken?”
“No,” Cecily said with a dramatic sigh. “Outside is fine . . .” She withdrew a colorful fan from her bag and began fanning herself. “I’m sure the heat will pass . . .”
“If you’d rather eat inside, I-”
“Oh, yes! Very much. That’s a fine idea.” Her frown instantly disappeared, as did her fan.
“Excuse me, M’lord.” Amarias appeared at the edge of the clearing. He offered Cecily a slight bow. “Pardon this intrusion, M’lady.”
“It’s quite alright,” One of her eyebrows danced up. “It’s pleasant to see you again, Amarias, though I must say, are you feeling well? You look tired. Didn’t you sleep at all last night?”
“I tossed and turned,” Amarias admitted. “I had a lot on my mind.”
Cecily smiled. “I’m quite sure you did.”
Devin stepped forward. “Was there some reason you came out to find me?”
“Yes, M’lord, Lord Ian Weatherall and Captain Kylpin Caleachey are at the front door requesting an audience.”
Cecily chewed on her bottom lip. “He must know I’m here!”
Devin took her hands in his and patted them reassuringly. “I doubt that very much, my dear.” He chuckled to himself. He had made certain Ian would not suspect him of stealing Cecily. Rather, he had taken great pains to make it appear as if Lord Orrington was the thief: the perfectly timed exit from Ian’s estate in Orrington’s stolen coach, the forged letter to Orrington meant to elicit a violent response. These few measures had no doubt stirred rumors and had set in motion events he now hoped would pit the two men against each other, leaving him the opportunity to reap his just rewards. And unless he guessed wrong, Lord Orrington would eventually demand a duel to satisfy his injured pride and Ian, a proud man himself, would be forced to
oblige.
“Why else would he be here?” Cecily insisted.
Devin smoothed the lines on her furrowed brow with his finger. “I will find out shortly.” He hooked her arm with his and led her up the path toward the estate. “Why don’t you go upstairs and wait for me in my sitting room? We can dine alone once I’m finished out here.”
Cecily nodded and tried to put on a brave face, but Devin could tell she was still troubled by Ian’s unexpected visit. Honestly, he was a bit surprised himself. Ian was usually predictable, and therefore harmless. Kylpin on the other hand was the mercurial one. Twice already the men assigned to follow him had lost him. Those men had been permanently replaced.
“Amarias, a word,” Devin said once Cecily had disappeared indoors.
“Yes, Lord Ragget?” the giant appeared again at his side.
The two walked back to the willow tree. “Is your magical disc working?”
Amarias fished out his small oval mirror and held it out in front of him. “Lord Devin Ragget,” he tried.
Ragget glanced at his disc. Both mirrors remained dark and silent.
“Captain Wolfe Straegar,” Amarias said. He rubbed the dead mirror between his palms as if he were warming it. “Natham Lipscombe . . . Gylfalen . . . Pervis . . .?”
“Dammit!” Ragget swore vehemently. “That fool Lipscombe!”
Amarias’s heavy brow pinched together. “What happened?”
“Joseph Hewes is dead,” Ragget growled. He hefted the dark disc in his hand and angrily threw it into the river. The mirror struck the water and skipped a couple of times before sinking below the surface. “How could he let a handless man kill himself?”
Amarias remained silent.
“I’m asking you a question.” Ragget wheeled around and glared up at his giant.
“I thought you were being rhetorical, M’lord.”
Ragget scowled and turned back to face the river. Although he would have ordered the Gyunwarian tinkerer killed eventually, the timing of his death put a tremendous strain on his plans. Immediate communications between him and his men had allowed him to push his plans forward faster than he had initially predicted, but now, he would have to rely on Gylfalen’s ‘wind speech’ once again.
“Do you wish Lipscombe eliminated?”
Ragget sighed. He would love to give that order, but the crusty, one-eyed sailor was still important to him. Of all his henchmen, only Lipscombe knew the safe route through the vast Northern Reef. Without him, his ships could not reach the Scylthian outpost.
“No,” Ragget grumbled. “But make sure a few of our men join his sailing crew.”
“And what shall I do about Lord Weatherall and Captain Caleachey?”
“Invite Lord Weatherall out here. Take the long route just to be sure he doesn’t see the princess,” Ragget commanded. “I have nothing to say to Caleachey. Send him away.”
“Yes, M’lord.” Amarias bowed and left.
Ragget paced around the table. He checked his sword to make sure it was clear in its sheath. It would be so easy to end it all here and now. His grip tightened around the familiar hilt. Tempting. According to Gylfalen’s reports, Ian was not adept with the sword. In fact, he rarely carried a weapon and there had been no signs of him using any sort of magic. A simple attack, a direct thrust straight through his heart, or perhaps a vicious slice across the throat . . . Ragget’s full lips pulled into a smile . . . and Ian would be dead. It was so tempting . . .
Ragget drew his sword and relished the ringing sound it made as it cleared the sheath. He spun the weapon lazily in his hand, twisting and rolling his wrist as the cold steel parted the heated air with a low whine. For just a moment, he allowed himself to daydream, to imagine the look of surprise on Ian’s face as his pathetic life blood drained out of him. He would fall. Ragget’s eyes dropped to the cobblestone patio. And his blood would stain the stones; he picked a spot by the table, right there. The maids would want to wash the blood away. He would not allow it.
He would leave the blood behind as a delicious reminder of his fallen rival.
Amarias could dispose of the body. He could take it out west and toss it off a cliff into one of the deep, dark valleys beyond. The wild animals would pick the body clean long before anyone had a chance to find him.
Or miss him. Ragget smiled at his malicious thoughts.
He stopped spinning the sword and stared at his own handsome reflection in the polished steel. What would he gain from killing Ian now? Momentary satisfaction at best. His knuckles whitened. Better to stick with the original plan and see it through to the end. There was so much more to be gained by keeping Ian alive.
For now.
He sheathed his sword and returned to his chair, mindful that it was the only one sitting in the shade of the giant weeping willow. Even though he was choosing to temporarily spare Ian’s life, it didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun at the other’s expense.
Besides, Ian’s downfall was quickly approaching, and his death would happen soon after. In a few short days, the Gyunwarian Ambassador would die, of that, he was certain. With perfect planning came perfect results.
And he was nothing less than perfect.
Chapter 49
Outside Lord Ragget’s estate, Ian and Kylpin waited for the massive guard to return. The two remaining guards stood quietly on either side of the arched mahogany doors, their broad backs resting lightly against the heavy stone wall. Despite their heavy chain and leather armor, they seemed impervious to the sweltering heat and humidity. Ian mopped at his brow and searched the entryway for a shady spot to stand.
“We’re in for a storm tonight, my friend.” Kylpin gestured toward the western horizon with a wave of his bronze hand. “Look at all those dark clouds.”
Ian stepped away from the door and joined Kylpin on the circular drive. A growing line of black clouds obscured the tops of the distant snow-capped Uldran Mountains. “An ominous sign,” Ian muttered under his breath.
The dreadful clouds reflected his mood. Sparring against Ragget in court was one thing, facing him here, without the benefit of the king’s watchful eye was something else entirely. His stomach churned. At least he had Kylpin with him.
He glanced over at the stalwart sea captain and managed a brief smile. Kylpin was tall, and fit, and capable with a sword. Ian reached down to check his own weapon . . . and blanched.
“I didn’t bring my sword.”
Kylpin shrugged. “I don’t think it will matter, my friend.” He nodded toward the guards. “They would not have allowed you to enter with it anyway.”
“What about yours?”
“I’ll have to leave it behind.” Kylpin returned his attention to the sky and took a deep breath. “But I thought we came here to talk, my friend.”
“We did.”
Kylpin nodded. “There is a time for words and a time for war.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Despite what Glavinas and Lumist say, I suggest you start with words first.” A wry smile creased his bronzed face. “I know I advised you to send an army to the jungle outpost, but that was my emotions getting the better of me yesterday. Your strength lies in words, my friend. We can always return later with men and swords . . . if we must.”
“And a battering ram,” Ian added, eyeing the solid looking doors.
“And perhaps a catapult or two . . .” Kylpin said. “And did you see the size of that big guard, my friend? Maybe we should consider getting a few giants of our own . . .”
Ian laughed despite his growing anxiety. The thought of laying siege to Ragget’s estate was an interesting distraction. He imagined Ragget’s huge central tower toppling over and crushing-
“You!”
Ian looked up. The giant had returned and was pointing a very large finger at him.
“Follow me.”
“And my companion?”
“Lord Ragget has generously agreed to meet with you, and only you. Your companion is free to leave.”
Ian opened hi
s mouth to protest, but Kylpin spoke up first. “I will wait here for his return, if it’s all the same to you.”
The giant shrugged. Ian closed his mouth. Ragget was already dictating conditions for the meeting: come alone, if you dare, or don’t come at all. Very well, he thought, he would show Ragget he was unafraid!
The giant stopped him at the threshold. “No weapons are allowed inside.”
Ian forced a thin smile. “I didn’t think weapons were needed for conversing.” He raised his hands to show he was unarmed.
The giant looked him over. “This way.” He pushed through the mahogany doors and moved across the grand foyer to a discreet door on the other side. The door opened to a dank hallway beyond. Ian hesitated.
“Are you sure this is the right way?”
The giant didn’t answer. He just kept moving further into the hazy darkness. Ian swallowed the lump in his throat and trailed after him. An echoing scream bounded up from somewhere far below and the hairs on his arms rose. Was he being led to Ragget’s infamous dungeon? The giant didn’t react to the noise. Ian took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. This was probably just another of Ragget’s tests. Well, he wasn’t going to be intimidated by a few screams nor was he going to turn back now!
And yet, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was walking straight toward his doom.
Chapter 50
The familiar coppery stench of blood filled Straegar’s aquiline nose as he strode through the Hewes’s main hall and stopped beside the dead body. Behind him, a squad of eight men, Ragget Loyalists, fanned out and systematically searched the remainder of the keep. Lipscombe trailed in behind them all, carrying a large sack slung over his shoulder.
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