by RJ Metcalf
“Can we trust him?” Roney asked as he and Vincent joined Cole at the small table.
Cole shrugged. “With the whole truth? No. But he’s a family man, very protective of his sisters. If we can play off his protective streak, let him realize that Fire’s in danger?” Cole tapped a finger against his leg. “I think we could get him on board for taking out Richard. There’s enough turmoil, thanks to the”—his stomach clenched and he forced himself to finish his thought—“Reformers. After her poisoning, it shouldn’t take too much to convince Slate.”
Whales, it hadn’t taken much for him to make this decision, knowing her level of danger due to her temperamental brother-in-law. And then she’d have a clear road to becoming the queen she deserved to be. Well worth the price.
“That being said”—Cole held up a hand before Roney could speak—“we will need more evidence against Richard or the royal family, just to make sure that he’s sold on the idea. He won’t commit treason on a whim.”
Vincent nodded slowly. “I can cover that.” He tipped his drink to the side, watching the liquid slosh in his cup. “In my experience, when men like Richard get desperate to cover their tracks, they get sloppy. I’m sure more evidence will come to light soon enough.”
“How long until we go through with this?” Roney leaned his forearms on the table.
“After the discus tournament.” Vincent waved his hand to show off the room. “We’ll use the influx of visitors to Doldra as a cover to bring in more men for our strike, and we’ll hide them here.”
Roney jutted out his jaw and nodded. “That explains why you got such a classy house.” He grinned. “And here I was thinking you’d maybe follow up with that brunette from last week and get settled.”
Cole choked on his sip of water and sputtered a laugh.
Vincent wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Females like her are not worth any such consideration. Besides, I won’t entertain such a notion until we get this done.”
Cole’s smile slipped away. “Well, the tournament starts in two weeks.”
“Indeed.” Vincent’s eyes glittered. “Soon, this nation will have the ruler it deserves.”
Chapter Forty
Slate
A few guards and palace staff nodded as Slate passed by, but others took one look at his dark scowl and avoided eye contact. His shift had run late, he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, Samantha was still out of town, and the stress of the last few weeks was slowly killing him. This hadn’t been the best of days.
Three weeks had passed since the break-in at Finn’s, and there were no leads, let alone any idea of who killed Connor and Maria. Grief curled his hands into fists while he squinted, trying to keep the frustration and sorrow contained in his eyes. He stopped in the middle of the hall, a young assistant nearly running into him as he practically vibrated with tension. Two weeks since they’d been killed. How could he avenge them if he didn’t even know who to go after?
Unbidden, Cole’s words from their conversation over a month ago popped into mind. “Do you trust Richard?”
Yes, he did. Richard was still Richard. He’d made some horrible decisions with disastrous consequences, but that wasn’t true with his overall character. It was just the stress of loss, and the letter Finn found was likely just a red herring.
Right?
Nothing seemed as cut and dried as before.
“I can’t do it anymore!” The anguished cry broke through Slate’s brooding, and he looked up, trying to find the source of the gut-wrenching sobs.
Just between the kitchen doorway and the stairwell, a serving girl cried in the arms of another serving woman, the elder female rubbing the blonde girl’s back. A young man in palace servitor grays stood nearby, helpless misery written across his face. Slate slowly walked forward, his steps quiet, listening to see if there was anything he could do to help, compassion stirring in him.
Graying hair slipped from the older woman’s bun as she shushed the girl, concern and sympathy adding wrinkles to her lined face. “Emilee, what happened?” Emilee cried harder, and the older woman looked up at the server. “Were you there, Adam? What happened?”
“I—we—” Adam waved his hands vaguely toward the ceiling. “We were cleaning in Prince Richard’s room. You know, the usual. But he was upset because the flowers were slightly wilted—a few petals fell on the table.” Now his white server’s apron was getting twisted in his anxiety, strong hands wringing the fabric tightly. “It’s supposed to be Emilee’s job to make sure the flowers stay fresh for Princess Violet, and the fact that a few petals fell meant she wasn’t doing her job to his standard. Petals, Ana, petals!” He exclaimed, dropping the wrinkled apron to grab at his hair. “He yelled at her! Absolutely tore her apart. And because of flowers.”
Emilee backed out of Ana’s arms enough to wipe her eyes and blow her nose on an offered handkerchief. “He threatened to throw me out in the streets. That if I couldn’t do my job and keep the flowers fresh for Princess Violet, then I wasn’t needed here anymore.” She clutched the woman’s shoulders, her knuckles white with her grip. “What will I do if he throws me out? Where will I go?”
Ana removed Emilee’s hands from her shoulders and held them. She leaned forward, looking into the girl’s eyes earnestly. “If he were to throw you out, you’d find a job elsewhere, in the City Circle, where they appreciate talent, punctuality, and the way the real world works. But he won’t do that. If he’s going to be nit-picky over the flowers, we’ll find a way to be sure it won’t happen again.” She squeezed Emilee in a hug. “Prince Richard has changed, and the sooner we all accept that fact and remember it, the easier it will be for all of us.” She patted the young woman’s hands and looked over at Adam. “Do you remember when he came down to the kitchen a week ago?”
He nodded with a frown. “That was quite an experience as well.”
“Yes.” Ana smiled at Emilee with a small shake of her head. “He came down to the kitchen, raving mad because he was craving dragon tenderloin and we didn’t have any on hand. He stomped around the kitchen, yelling and screaming, acting like a petulant little child who needed to be spanked, he did. I’ve known that boy since he was a lad on his father’s knee, and he has changed. And not for the better. We’ll learn and we’ll adapt. We always do.” She pulled her arm around the girl and led her away.
Slate stood there for several long minutes, staring at the amber wall, his mind buzzing.
Something about what Ana had said sank deep into his mind, nestling there, ringing between his ears as he ate his evening meal, and as he finished his rounds. Her words echoed as he lay in bed that night, tossing and turning, sleep evading him until he finally got up and stretched, leaning against the barracks’ window, overlooking the sleeping city.
“Richard has changed. And not for the better.”
“Do you trust Richard?”
Slate pushed the window open and sat on the sill, sifting through his thoughts as he looked up at the twinkling night sky and the few city lights.
Samantha had mentioned how the towns under Richard’s jurisdiction feared his visits now, but that was only a sign of his volatile grief since Rose’s death. That would pass eventually.
The memory of Richard’s expression when they overheard King Rupert talking of the birth order arose. Richard’s face had turned white, then scarlet before he walked away. A few days later, Brandon and Sapphire informed Slate that Brandon would be on a mission to negotiate with Selvage, as a favor to Richard, as he didn’t feel like he could mediate a deal well enough. Even if it was his own domain to oversee.
Sapphire had fought hard for them to consider meeting with the rebels, but when the time had come, it wasn’t Richard who went. What if Richard had stirred things, sent Brandon, and used the failed mission as a murder attempt? It had been a genuine surprise that the rebels had reached out in the first place.
But why? Just because of something unkind Rupert had said? He was known for being tactless and forthrig
ht. Why would Rupert’s rudeness get under Richard’s skin now?
Slate shook his head, trying to clear it. There wasn’t much proof to back up this theory, and he didn’t want to let his frustration and passion get the better of him. If there was more evidence against Richard, or if something were to happen to further implicate him, then, and only then, would Slate talk to Cole about it.
Hopefully time would prove him wrong.
Chapter Forty-One
Brandon
“Seriously, I’m fine. You’re just as bad, if not worse, than Slate!” Sapphire laughed as she skipped out ahead into the crowd of tournament attendees, and she flashed her smile back at Brandon, her brown skirt swishing with the movement. “I was fine for the wedding, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, but the wedding was local, indoors, and not somewhere that you had to walk a fair distance to!” Brandon exclaimed as he hurried to catch up to his wife, not wanting to lose sight of her on the palace road. What had he been thinking, agreeing to walking there?
“And the wedding was also before you decided to return to sword fighting.” He glared at Sapphire. “When were you going to tell me that you started that up again, huh?”
She had the grace to look away sheepishly, biting her lip as she shrugged halfheartedly. “You and Slate can’t keep me sequestered away forever. I was going stir-crazy, Brandon! And Zane suggested I start practicing again.” Sapphire must have noticed the twitch in Brandon’s eye along with his expression of doom. “But he also stipulated that I notify Doctor Jaxton or one of his assistants before I go each time, just to be on the safe side. I’m training only when Corporal Matthias is there to watch and help, General Brigley knows, and Clara is there too!” she hastened to add on. “I’m being careful, really.”
The crowd of people broke up just enough that they could see the main road for a moment. Sapphire tugged Brandon’s hand and intertwined their fingers, squeezing tightly. “If it really was an assassination attempt, they’ll try again eventually, and it would be good if I wasn’t rusty on sword fighting.”
Brandon grunted in reply. “Still. Remind me to slug Zane later.”
A shadow appeared at Brandon’s shoulder at that moment, walking in step with him. “Whoa. What’s going on?” Zane asked, amusement evident in his tone. “Whatever you think I did to deserve getting hit, I’m sure I didn’t do it.”
Brandon threw a half-serious glare over his shoulder at his best friend. “If you suggested that Sapphire start sword fighting again, you deserve it.” He nodded a silent greeting to Zak while keeping his attention mostly on Zane.
“Ahh.” Zane winced and shrugged with a grin. “She was going crazy. I found her jogging through the gardens because, and I quote her,” He raised his voice in a poor impression of Sapphire’s. “‘I need to get back into shape and they won’t let me.’”
Sapphire made an indignant sound that Brandon’s snort mostly covered.
Zane’s grin suggested he caught Sapphire’s noise of vexation. “So I suggested she put her energy into a useful exercise, added rules I would have if it were one of my own sisters, and sent her off to find Corporal Matthias.” He switched topics when Brandon didn’t reply right away. “You two look different when you dress down.” He looked Brandon and Sapphire over. “Unless someone knows you two personally, I doubt anyone will realize who you are.”
“Well, that is the idea.” Sapphire twirled to show off her simple brown skirt, peasant blouse, and patterned blue vest. A shawl wrapped around her shoulders to ward against the autumn chill that was sure to come once the sun set.
Brandon’s frustration eased a bit at his wife’s pleased expression. No curls, high-end corset, or fancy gowns for her today. Today, she was just a normal citizen of Doldra, a lady without titles.
Just as he was simply Brandon, with no strings of royalty attached. No slick black pants, shiny boots, or layers of shirts, vest, and jackets. Simple pants and scuffed boots. An off-white shirt with the cuffs rolled to his forearms and a plain green vest. The only thing he risked carrying that could identify him was his sword, but he hoped no one would look close enough to see the royal crest.
Brandon laughed and swiped at Zane, catching him in the shoulder. “Don’t think changing the subject is going to save you.” Zane hopped forward to avoid stumbling. “But yes, this was the best we could come up with for a casual look. Here’s to hoping for a nice, easy evening with no craziness.”
Zane pointed to a line that started forming, and Brandon gently tugged Sapphire along while she continued talking with Zak, the two of them laughing aloud a moment later. Zane crossed his arms and looked over at Brandon. “How’s it been, in your opinion, since they’ve been married?”
Brandon snorted and shook his head at Zane. “Richard is readapting to married life pretty poorly. One moment he’s calm and almost happy, the next moment he’s upset and irrational. Poor Violet is doing all she can to help him, but her presence will set him off randomly.”
Zane shook his head, his expression unsurprised. “Sounds like fun. Glad I’m missing most of it.”
Brandon ran his fingers over the collar of his shirt, momentarily startling at the rougher feel of fabric, then remembering that he wore simple clothes today. He dropped his hand and gave Zane a small shrug. “At least Violet has found a friend in Sapphire.”
They stopped at the tall, arched entryway leading into the arena. The recently constructed brick building soared above their heads, but the shade still didn’t reach them.
At least he was happily married. Brandon slung an arm around Sapphire and pulled her in for a quick side hug so he could drop a kiss on her cheek. He saw Zak wrinkle his nose behind her, and he laughed at the boy’s disgust. “Someday you’ll find a girl you like, and we’ll see what you think of kissing then.”
“Nope. No thanks. Not going to happen.” Zak crossed his arms and shook his head, his hair swishing back and forth with the force of his motion. “Girls are yucky.”
Sapphire laughed while Brandon chuckled. “We’ll see what you think in a few years. I’m sure Zane—” He broke off when he looked over at his friend. “Zane? What’s wrong?
His friend ignored him just long enough that fear spiked through Brandon, and his hand fell to his sword hilt, scanning the hundreds of people surrounding them.
Zane stood still, his eyes focused on something in the crowd that Brandon couldn’t see. Though alert, he had the hint of a smile, so Brandon relaxed a tiny bit. “Um, Zane?”
“Didn’t you tell Andre to stay with Clara and Adeline? Gave him the day off and all that?” Zane asked abruptly.
“What? Yes.” Sapphire gave Zane a conspiratorial grin. “Brandon and I decided it was the easiest way to give them some time together, and then we can be less noticeable without our shadows. We convinced them that you would be bodyguard enough for the two of us.” She lifted a hand to shade her eyes and cocked her head. “Why?”
Zane’s earring glinted in the sunlight as he nodded without looking at them. “Makes sense. They need a break every now and then.” He flashed a quick smirk while still watching the crowd. “I’ll go send him back. Tell him to get her flowers or a whet stone for her dagger or something.”
“Wait, what? Is Andre here?” Brandon exclaimed. But Zane had already melted into the crowd, and Brandon couldn’t spot him amidst all the people.
A soft hand slid over his arm as Sapphire looped her arm through his, and she bumped her hip against his. “Knowing how they didn’t want to leave us for this, I’m sure it’s as much Clara’s idea as his. I’m glad Zane saw him.”
Brandon snorted and nodded to the ticket booth. “As long as Zane gets back before we get in. I have his ticket.” As he spoke, Zane appeared next to Zak with a nonchalant expression, as if he hadn’t even left in the first place.
The moment they entered the arena, Zak whooped and darted off, leaving the three adults behind. Zane rolled his eyes. “It’s a shame he isn’t excited about this at all.”
&
nbsp; Sapphire fell back to join the conversation. “Seriously. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he hated the sport!”
The men laughed as they followed her in the direction the ticketmaster waved them. “Oh, I see him!” Sapphire exclaimed, waving at the boy bouncing between four seats at the end of an aisle.
“Good going, bro,” Zane complimented Zak as they joined him.
Sapphire sat down in the chair at the end of the aisle and looked around with bright eyes. Brandon studied her color, pleased to see that she didn’t seem overexerted.
“No more talk of stressful things,” Zane declared. “It’s time to kick back and enjoy some good discus action! We have time. Should we grab some snacks?”
“Yes! Snacks!” Zak cheered as he turned to them, his dark eyes wide with excitement. “What should we get? What do you want to get?” Zak asked Sapphire, crawling over the chairs to avoid the still-standing Zane and Brandon.
Sapphire scanned the crowd behind them and pointed to a vendor walking toward them. “Let’s see what he has. If he has any jooj berries and chocolate, I’ll be happy.”
Brandon sat next to Sapphire and leaned forward at the same time as Zak, both of them studying the grassy playing field. Ramps to run up and mounds to jump off were scattered throughout the otherwise level playing field. On one side of the stadium, the Doldran home team stretched in their scarlet shirts, while the yellow-shirted Antian players worked through their warm-up routine on the other side of the field. End goals and a large wall just beyond capped each end of the stadium.
It was rare for Antius to be that involved with the other kingdoms, but they always sent at least one team for discus, and tonight was their first game against Doldra. Brandon was thrilled that they were able to get tickets.