Valiant (The Blood Trail Chronicles Book 3)

by AE Watson

  Keeping my head low, tucked in the hood of a dark cloak, I hurried along the snowy streets of the core of the small city of Norstad. Here in the north, I no longer wore my red cloak, though I missed it dearly. This new cloak was thinner than my red one and let the cold air blow right through. But the further north I went, the more people recognized the red cloak. And it wasn’t only the rumors that followed me up here. There seemed to be increased numbers of halflings such as myself and my brothers. Something I attributed to being so close to Lupinton.

  I turned a corner, noticing the breeze pick up as I left the cover of the old inn I’d searched. It smelled of wood fires, pipe tobacco, and meat pies. A mixture of scents that reminded me of home at the Black Keep. But this was no time to be homesick. I’d been on the road for weeks, searching for him. Flying from one spot to the next and always just missing him.

  Norstad was my last chance at finding Maddox before I’d have to move on with other matters. I avoided notice, hoping my cousin, Prince Egar Morgentstein, the ruler of Norstad, wouldn't hear of my unannounced visit. I adored him, but I was on a mission, searching for someone who didn't want to be noticed. Which was harder here in the north than anywhere else. People came up here to remain unnoticed, to blend in. So that was what most of the occupants of the cold city did, blended in with one another to the point that I struggled to make them all out.

  My one saving grace was I didn’t have to hide my swords. Women of the North wore swords and fought alongside the men. I imagined I blended perfectly in the shabby dark cloak.

  I held myself and quickened my pace, excited for some lunch and the possibility Maddox might be at the last place I would look, the inn I was staying at. I’d combed every inn and pub in the city, which hadn’t been easy. The streets of the small industrial city bustled with more shops and people than I’d ever seen here. Not that I had visited often as a child, but from the few trips we’d taken I recalled a much smaller city. A city I loved visiting as a girl. My uncle and father were not only brothers but the best of friends, and the feasts and hunting parties were legendary.

  Before.

  Before when we were as happy as we could have been. As happy as a family filled with liars had any right to be.

  A cold smile attempted to cross my lips as I thought of the lies, we all told and the secrets we hid flitted about my mind. I struggled to find reason in the madness of my childhood but found only bitter irony. Too many lives had been taken as a cost of the dishonesty, and I suspected the death toll was nowhere near complete. Particularly after what Clarabelle had said about sacrifice.

  Missing my parents and home—not the home I had now, but the one that existed in my memory—I pushed my way into the Lonely Prince, my boots thudding along the dirty planked floor of the inn where I hoped to find him.

  The warmth of the fireplaces hit as I scanned the occupied seats of the dimly lit pub, checking faces for anyone I might know, or worse, might know me. But there were none. And the one I sought wasn’t here either.

  I sat in one of the corner booths and kept my hood up and my eyes low.

  “What’ll it be, sir?” a lady asked as she hurried over, wiping empty tables and knocking the crumbs to the wooden floor.

  “A pint of ale and a mutton pie, please.”

  “Sorry, miss. I didn't see you,” she offered the apology quickly and turned away. Not being seen had been my hope, the reason I stayed in a place such as this. A lowly inn where travelers and weary souls rested their heads, filled their stomachs, and kept to themselves. I’d never find Maddox staying at the castle. He would hear one whisper of my name and leave the city. I was sure of that. He hated me.

  “That’s rubbish,” a man at the table near me said with a hearty laugh. “The way I heard it is the king’s sons weren’t his anyway. Prince Herrick was trying to stop the lies, and King Roland shut his gob before he could spill those secrets.”

  “Prince Herrick put King Roland on the throne, ya half-wit,” another man said between mouthfuls of bread and stew. “I heard Roland and Herrick was brothers. The queen was the one trying to save us from King Henry’s line. She was the one trying to stop the bastards from taking over. And now we got them, don't we? A bastard for a king.”

  My fists balled as I listened to what I wished were entirely lies.

  “That whore of a queen? You cannot possibly be stupid enough to believe she did anything besides lie back and take it up the old jacksy—”

  I exhaled sharply as my sword stopped just short of the stranger’s neck, slicing the tiniest of cuts into his skin, before I realized I had moved from my seat. A small trickle of blood crept down his neck. Though he winced suggesting I might have cut him deeply, he didn't speak.

  “Say another word against the royal family and I will slit you open and feed you to the ravens,” the whispered words spilled out, as his guts would if he so much as breathed the wrong way.

  “You bitch!” The man sitting across from him stood, drawing his blade, a fat and stumpy sword, matching his body well. “You think you can come—”

  “Shut up,” I snarled at him, drawing my second blade. “If I hear either of you speak on anything beyond the weather for the remainder of my meal, I will kill you both where you sit.”

  “Please, we don't want no trouble in here, your—miss,” one of the ladies working the pub came hurrying over. “Don't mind these old fools. They mean no harm. Just flapping their gums to pass the time.” The way she spoke and maybe contemplated a bow suggested she knew me. Not merely that I was someone of nobility, but the specific someone the rumors were flying about.

  I pulled my sword away from the man, wiping his blood on my cloak and sliding it back into the sheath. I said nothing else but took my seat again, praying my eyes weren’t glowing green with rage. It was a telltale sign of the princess with the dragon.

  The men at the table didn't glance my way again. They leaned closer and spoke in hushed tones, and while I could nearly hear them, I pretended they didn't exist. My food and drink were rushed over. The girl swallowed hard, fighting the urge to bow again. She knew me.

  She wasn't alone. Other whispers joined the pub babel, voices accidentally saying things too loudly.

  “Lost princess.”

  “Last of the true Morgentsteins.”

  “Assassin.”

  The words danced about the much quieter pub, bringing with it a measure of regret for my actions. My mother, her savage treatment and her death, had remained a sore spot in my heart. A wound I couldn’t heal. One that took almost no effort to trigger. And once triggered, my fury seemed to glisten with dragon magic. I wondered if Katy and Mani, my witchy aunts, had a bloody trinket for that.

  Though I had sworn off their trinkets. I now wore the bracelet with the locket to show me the face of my next kill and the necklace Clarabelle had given me. A charm to stop magic from having an effect on me. It seemed like a wise choice considering the company I kept on occasion. Witches and vulkodlaks. Men who drank blood and shifted into wild creatures. I nearly laughed thinking on how absurd my life had become and how the dragon was the most normal being in it. But sitting alone and laughing after everything I’d done seemed like a poor choice.

  As I finished eating the last bite of the perfectly baked pie, the doors burst open and in he came, not the man I sought but the one I ought to have visited already. The one I was avoiding.

  “Cousin!” Prince Egar erupted, opening his thick arms and smiling wide in my direction. He was thicker than the last time I saw him and his beard was coming in nicely. Almost as bushy as Michael’s, though my brother had an unfair advantage when it came to body hair. Wolves were furrier.

  Every face in the Lonely Prince turned, mouths parting and eyes widening. A few heads nodded, confirming their suspicions of who I was.

  “I didn't believe it.” Egar rushed forward, a deep chuckle leaving his plump lips. “One of my men swore he saw you in the streets! I called him a liar. Said my dear cousin, Princess Amillia, w
ouldn't dare come here and not grace me with a visit.” His massive arms wrapped around me as I stood. “I wagered handsomely that there was no way it was you. But here you are! Calling me a liar and a bad host all at once. And you’ve cost me a pretty penny.”

  “Hello, Cousin.” I hugged back, laughing at the public tongue-lashing I was receiving. He could guilt exactly as his mother was once famous for.

  “You must come and dine with me. Though it won't be as tasty as one of Colleen’s pies.” He winked at the server girl as he steered me to the door, chuckling and jovial in a way that suggested perhaps this was an act. My cousin, Prince Egar, was a funny man, but he wasn't this jolly.

  As we stepped out into the cold air, he squeezed tighter, offering a hand at his carriage.

  “I think we can walk, Cousin.” I scowled, certain we didn't need a ride to cross the small city to his palace, and that perhaps the walk might do his waistline some good.

  “Not today.” He pulled me into the carriage. As he sat, the mood shifted and he lost the jovial act. “What the blazes, Millia? What are you doing here?—and don't think to tell me lies. I’ve heard enough to piece together an idea of whom you’ve become and what you’re doing.” His eyes danced with emotion.

  “I’m looking for a friend.”

  “A friend? A bloody friend? You can’t come here unexpected and unannounced and stay at the local inns, skulking about. Makes it seem as if we’re on the outs. As if I don't support your brother’s claims. There’s enough tension in this part of the world, over what happened to Roland, that support for Michael is in short supply. Your father must have told you about how this all works.” He looked like he might slap me upside the head but after a couple of deep breaths, he softened. “Are you here for me then? Did I offend ya in some way?”

  “I’m sorry, Egar. Of course not.”

  “I want answers, none of that batting your lashes and smiling sweetly. I know you, don't try to trick me.” He put a fat finger in my face.

  “Honestly, I came to find a friend who doesn't want to see me. And I was hoping I might sneak in, search around, and then sneak back out. If he heard I was here visiting you, he would leave. And I don’t want tongues wagging about me being here either. I’m meant to be in Midland. That's where Michael thinks I am.” I winced. “I didn't want to cause a problem.”

  “Well, you have. But don’t worry, it’s not something a couple of public outings and a ball won't fix. Bloody hell, woman, I nearly died of shock when my men said they saw you here, lurking. I thought I’d managed to end up on that list of yours.”

  “List?” I asked.

  “Surely, there’s a list. Your kills are somewhat calculated.” His words were careful.

  My eyes flickered to the locket on my wrist. “I suppose there is a list. But your face—name has never crossed it.”

  “Good to know. Now, who are you searching for?”

  “A man named Maddox. I grew up with him, not sure if you recall. He’s—”

  “I am well aware of who he is. The question is are you aware that he’s a wolf lord?” He lifted his dark eyebrows.

  “I am. How do you know that? I had been led to believe the wolves were a great secret.”

  “This far north, you hear and see enough that some things require a full explanation. The wolves of Lupinton were one of those things. Dad took me up there when I was sixteen, explained it all to me.”

  “Of course he did. Your father was a good man.” It wasn’t meant as a shot at my father, but rather my parents and their secrets. Something I would suffer the effects of the rest of my life. “Maddox, the wolf lord, was my guardian. I’ve offended him”—I paused—“multiple times. And he left. And I need him back.”

  “Offended—him? You?” Egar’s eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t hide the humor on his face. “He’s delicate, is he? Never came across that way to me.”

  “I m-might have murdered his—mother,” I confessed, hoping that sharing this small detail wouldn't come back to bite me later on.

  He inhaled sharply. “Lads do tend to get sensitive when you go and kill one of their parents. Even the wolves. If you don't mind my asking, why would you murder someone’s mum?”

  “I guess you could say her name ended up on the list.” I tried a half-answer.

  “Do better.” He lowered his tone, not in the mood for my secrets.

  “She planned to overthrow Michael and let the wolves take over the kingdom. She was plotting against the throne.”

  “Then the two of you should have gotten along famously. Isn’t that all you’ve done—plot against that cursed throne?” He scoffed and slapped the side of the carriage, setting us in motion. “Though I suppose I’ve heard you only kill plotters against Michael.” The words left his lips carefully as if he was suddenly nervous around me. “I tried to say there was no way you were out murdering random men, women, and children—”

  “There’s nothing random about it and I spare the children.”

  “Gracious of ya.” He chuckled bitterly and his gaze now overflowed with concern. He cleared his throat as we rumbled along the cobbled streets. “Could I ask you another question?”

  “You’re my favorite cousin.” I attempted a bit of charm. “Of course you can.”

  “I think I might be one of the last of your cousins, not much to choose from.” He lifted his eyebrows again. “Did you really cook a pie made of a man’s heart and feed it to his family?”

  I parted my lips to deny it but my expression gave me away.

  “Gods, Millia! Is that what you’re planning to do with this wolf lord?”

  “No! I want to offer him anything and everything to make him forgive me.”

  “Ah, it’s love, is it?” He settled back into the chair more and sighed deeply. “Scared me that you were here, sneaking about. I won’t lie. Everywhere you go bad things happen. And everyone is calling you an assassin.”

  “Well—I won’t deny it. I am one.” I confessed nervously. “But only to bad people, Egar. People who helped murder our family. My father was your uncle. Your kin. He was betrayed. Don't you want vengeance?” I couldn't believe his lackadaisical attitude over the whole affair.

  “The way I heard it, you’ve gotten more than your fair share of revenge, Amillia. When is it going to be enough? How many lives must you take to make the world even again?” He leaned forward slowly, though seeming cautious. “And more importantly, what will be left of you when this is over?” He knew me too well.

  “I hope just enough. Just enough to appreciate the quiet life I will have earned.” I sat back, staring out the small window of the carriage. “When I started this, I wanted the world to make sense. I wanted my brother to take the throne and for Roland and Herrick to die painfully.” I turned back to the worried face of my cousin. “I didn't know who was involved, how deep the betrayal ran.”

  “It ran deep, Cousin. As deep as it could. They came to us, did you know that?” He spoke softly, “Herrick and his father, Barrel. They came to my father many years ago, before he died. Told him that Michael and Edward weren’t your father’s sons. Said they had proof.”

  “You’re joking.” I gasped. My uncle had died many years earlier.

  “No. I’m not.”

  “What did your father say?” My insides twisted and my gaze flickered to the locket.

  “That they should be on their way. They rode the northern road from Montagne across Ettelbruck to get here and then departed on a ship to Lupinton. I thought it odd at the time, but the rumors about your brothers begin to make that little trip seem logical.”

  “Whatever you heard about Michael, it’s false.” My tone changed slightly.

  “I always liked Michael the best, you know that, and not just because we’re the same age. I wanted him on the throne as much as your father did.” He lifted his hands in the air. “I have no problems with him being king. My father agreed too; always said Michael would be a better king than Roland. Your eldest brother was a real bastard.
”

  “In more ways than one. Roland wasn't his son,” I blurted. “Not my father’s. Not the rightful king.”

  “What?” Egar gasped, this news shocked him.

  “He was Herrick’s brother. Barrel, their father, forced himself on my mother, impregnating her. He lied about Michael and Ed. The only one who wasn't Father’s son was Roland.” The story still made me ill.

  “That monster,” Egar growled but the look of disbelief lingered. He had a soft spot for my mother when he was a boy. “Your poor mother.”

  “She was devastated. She never wanted Roland to rule. She always made certain Father favored Michael, just in case.”

  “Assassins run in the family then?” He lifted an eyebrow. “On your mother’s side.”

  “You could say that.” I scoffed, fighting a grin.

  “And you murdered Herrick and Roland and their father?”

  “I did. And I took Firth and gave it to Ed.”

  “Firth.” He choked. “I hadn’t heard that. Though Firth is of no consequence to Norstad.”

  “Ed will be the steward of Firth. And I’m hoping you will be the steward of Ettelbruck,” I added quietly.

  “You mean to do what the rumors say you will, align the seven kingdoms back to one?” His eyes widened again. “With Michael as the ruler?”

  “I do. No more battling amongst the kingdoms. No more wars. No more border disputes. No one starving while someone else lives high on the hog. One kingdom, one ruler, seven stewards, all equal men and women.”

  “I never fear anything like I do a lady with a plan.” He smiled. “But I don't want to be steward of all of Ettelbruck, Amillia.”