“My people are at peace. If you have come to sow discord, I insist that you leave at once.”
“I have heard rumors that cities have begun to reject your right to rule.” Mother glances at the princess. “Rumor also says the King of Emberfall has perished in Disi, is that correct?”
“That is correct,” says Prince Rhen. “Have you traveled all this way to offer your condolences?”
“No. It was the work of assassins, I understand.” Mother’s voice is full of skepticism.
“Our people did our best to protect King Broderick,” says the princess. Her voice does not carry the same authority as Prince Rhen’s. Close, but not the same. Anyone else might not notice a difference, but I have been raised among royalty, and eighteen years at court has taught me the difference between people who are born to royalty and those who merely hope to imitate it.
“Your people.” Mother looks at her, and her tone confirms that she has noticed the same thing. “Is that so, Princess Harper?”
“That is so.” Her voice gains a backing of steel. Prince Rhen’s fingers press over her hand on his elbow, almost as if to hold her back.
“And what of your coronation, boy?” says my mother. “Is there a celebration planned?”
The prince hesitates.
That is telling. I hold my breath.
“What of your ascension to the throne?” my mother continues. “What of your people, who demand the true heir?”
“There is no other heir,” says Prince Rhen, his voice clipped. “No claim has been made. No man has appeared. I am the crown prince, and I stand ready to take the throne and lead my people.”
“I have heard you offer a bounty for a man possessing the blood of a magesmith. Is that somehow related?”
His jaw tightens. “Magic wreaked havoc in my country for years, as you know. I will not allow harm to come to my people again.”
“Then we have similar goals. I believe I can provide a measure of security for your people.”
The prince’s expression is dark. “Explain.”
She holds out a hand, and Nolla Verin steps forward. “I have come to propose peace between our peoples. I have come to offer my daughter’s hand to you.”
Prince Rhen’s expression doesn’t change, but at his side, Princess Harper looks like she swallowed a live fish.
“You attempted to destroy my country and you failed,” says Prince Rhen. “I will not now ally Emberfall with Syhl Shallow.”
“You stopped my army with magic and trickery,” my mother says. “Now you have no monstrous creature waiting to do your bidding. You have people who are growing increasingly divided. You have nothing aside from my offer to protect your subjects.”
He sets his jaw. “I will not ally with Syhl Shallow.”
“I am offering my daughter, my heir, to rule side by side with you. Surely even you must know how rare an offer that is from my people. You will not even entertain a meeting with me?”
“I have no interest in what you can offer.” His hand tightens on Harper’s, and I wonder if she is now holding him back. “I have no interest in an alliance with your country. I can grant you safe passage back to the mountain pass, so you can return to rule Syhl Shallow and I will continue to rule Emberfall.”
Nolla Verin steps forward, her black hair gleaming in the sunlight. The green and black stripes on her robes are shot through with silver stitching that glints with each movement. “I heard you were a just and fair ruler,” she says. “Yet you will not offer your people the consideration of an alliance with my own?”
The prince looks down at her from where he stands on the marble steps. “I have seen the destruction wrought by your people, girl.”
The word is a barb meant to equate with my mother so rudely calling him boy, but my sister reacts as if he slapped her. Each word out of her mouth carries an edge. “I am to rule Syhl Shallow, and if you will not entertain an alliance, you would do well to consider respect for my position.”
I wish I could catch her hand and squeeze it tightly, the way Harper seems to keep the prince’s temper in check. This is not a man who will respond well to haughty threats.
Indeed, his eyes turn flinty. “Forgive me if I do not bear much respect for those who would slaughter my people.”
I think of that trapper and his daughter again, and I have to swallow the lump of emotion that forms in my throat.
My sister raises her chin. “We are here to stop the needless slaughter of your people.”
“We are at an impasse,” says Prince Rhen. “For I do not trust you.”
“What if we were to offer you information on Emberfall’s missing heir?” says Nolla Verin.
Prince Rhen goes very still. Every ear in the courtyard seems to lean in. Even his own guards are curious.
“Where is your guard commander?” says my mother.
“Commander Dustan is traveling with Jacob, brother to Princess Harper and heir to the throne of Disi, along with his talented healer, Noah of Alexandria.” He pauses, and his voice tightens. “They are visiting my cities to see if they can provide assistance to the people injured by your soldiers.”
“No,” says my mother. “Where is Commander Grey? The man who stood with you during my last visit.”
“Commander Grey is dead. He died in the final battle with the enchantress.”
At his side, Princess Harper flinches.
My mother doesn’t miss it. “When we last met, I told you of your father’s first marriage. I told you how it was consummated in Syhl Shallow. I told you that a halfling child was born. Do you remember?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “I told you of the tithe your father paid to keep this secret. If you think your people cannot see through your efforts to find a magesmith—to find your brother—then either you are a great fool or you think each of your subjects is.”
His face has paled a shade, but his voice is strong. “My people know I will do whatever it takes to keep them safe.”
Nolla Verin stares up at him. “If a magesmith lives, if a magesmith is heir to your throne, I would expect we would be well-suited to help each other.”
“There is nothing you can offer me. Guards, escort them off the grounds.”
A jolt goes through me. We’ve failed.
This will mean war. More death. More destruction.
“Wait,” says Harper. Her voice is full of emotion. “Wait.” She swallows. “Why did you ask about Grey?”
Mother stares up at her and smiles. “You do not think he is dead, do you, Princess?”
Prince Rhen turns his head and says something softly, but Harper clenches her eyes closed. A tear slips down her cheek. “We don’t know.”
“A pity,” Mother says. “Come, Daughters. We will leave the prince to his choice.”
“Wait,” Harper calls. Her red skirts flare as she hurries down the palace steps. “What do you know about Grey?”
Our guards step forward to prevent her from getting anywhere close to Mother.
Prince Rhen’s guards do the exact same thing.
They stare at each other across a barrier of protection. Mother’s expression is carefully neutral, but Harper’s is flushed, her eyes pleading.
“You should hope he is dead,” says Mother. “For the sake of your prince. For the sake of his kingdom.”
Harper’s breath catches. “Why?”
“According to the enchantress, Grey is the only man who knows the true identity of the heir.”
Harper goes white. Prince Rhen has reached her side, and his face is full of fury. “This is not the first time you have attempted to undermine my rule with trickery and lies. You will not get another chance. Leave. Now.”
Mother turns for her carriage.
Nolla Verin climbs into ours. I follow, my heart thudding at a rapid pace. A guard slams the door.
“He is a fool,” Nolla Verin says to me before the horses begin to pull away. Her voice is loud enough that I’m certain the prince will hear it.
I
think of the damage we caused to this country already.
I think of that trapper in the woods, his daughter cowering beneath him.
This should have gone so differently. Nolla Verin implied I would have sought an alliance with nuts and honey—but I know I wouldn’t have sought one with callous arrogance and disregard.
The prince is not a fool, I want to say.
But I am not the heir, so I don’t.
CHAPTER SIX
GREY
Jodi’s tavern is packed. The heat wave has men thirsty for ale and women looking for any excuse to get out of the sun. The heady scent of shellfish and baked vegetables mixes with the slightly sweet tang of liquor for those with a few more coins to pay. Tycho and I take a table near the back just to get away from the noise.
Days have passed, and our shared secret seems to have bonded him to my side like a brother. We’ve been sparring in the early-morning hours when the sky is barely pink and the tourney is deserted. After only a matter of days, his skill with a blade has improved exponentially. It’s more than the swordplay, though. It’s the trust. A wall has come down between us that I didn’t even know was there.
Jodi brings a pitcher of water to replace the one we’ve emptied, along with a basket of steaming bread and a thick slab of cheese. She casually bumps my shoulder with her hip, then leans down close, so the feathers in her hair tickle my forearm. “I wish I could hide back here with you two.”
She smells like strawberries. She must have been slicing them for the wine. “You’re welcome to try.” I nod at the packed front of the tavern. “I think they’d seek you out before long, though.”
She pouts. “You’d protect me from them all, wouldn’t you, Hawk?”
I pull a hunk of bread from the loaf. “You’d do better to ask Tycho. He’s braver than I am.”
She swats me on the back of the head and moves away.
I use the knife to slice a piece of cheese to add to the bread, then realize Tycho is staring at me. “What?”
His voice is low. “I think Jodi might fancy you.”
Jodi couldn’t be more obvious if she climbed into my lap and began unlacing my shirt. “I’ve noticed.”
“You don’t fancy her?”
I glance across the tavern, where Jodi is sashaying between tables. She flirts with all her customers, but she never lingers like she does with me.
We’re far from other patrons, but I drop my voice anyway. “To be a guardsman, you had to forswear family.”
“Forswear?”
“Pretend they don’t exist.” I hesitate. “Family is a liability. If a guardsman can be manipulated by a threat to those he cares for, he can be used against the Crown.”
He frowns. “So … what? You’re to care for no one?”
I think of my mother—or the woman I thought to be my mother—watching me leave with panicked eyes. I think of my nine brothers and sisters, slaughtered one by one as Lilith attempted to manipulate me into betraying Prince Rhen.
Her efforts did not work. My training was too thorough, my loyalty too steadfast. There was no one she could have used against me.
Unbidden, my thoughts conjure Harper, her fierce bravery countered only by her gentle kindness. I remember the day she convinced a cadre of Syhl Shallow soldiers that she was the princess of another nation. How after they left, spitting threats and promises of revenge, she didn’t choose to run and hide. She asked me to show her how to throw knives.
When Lilith threatened to kill Harper, I yielded. I got down on my knees and offered to swear myself to her.
I refuse to allow these thoughts to hold any power over me. “I’ve forgotten how to care for anyone, Tycho.”
He studies me for the longest moment. “I don’t think that’s true.”
I consider how I almost tossed him from the hayloft, and I’m not sure what to say. I tear another piece of bread from the loaf.
“You can’t train mercy out of someone,” he says.
“You surely can.”
He’s frowning again. I tear another piece of bread and hold it out. “Eat. I don’t want to have to run back.”
Dutifully, he eats. We lapse into silence, and the space around us fills with the braying laughter and heady conversation that packs the tavern. Near the door, an older man with a heavy paunch is draining what must be his third tankard of ale. His name is Riley, and he’s telling a story about a blind woman who was sold a donkey instead of a draft horse, and he couldn’t convince her otherwise. He’s one of the few blacksmiths in Rillisk, but he and Worwick share an old grudge, so he doesn’t shoe our horses. He probably charged Worwick a fair price, which to Worwick would be too much.
Jodi passes our table again, her hand brushing against my arm. I entertain the thought of catching her fingers and drawing her back. It would be simple. Uncomplicated. I could lose myself further into the persona of Hawk, leaving Grey behind.
When she turns, I meet her eyes, and she smiles.
I offer one of my own, and she blushes.
This should feel easy. It doesn’t. It feels like manipulation.
I break eye contact and look back at my bread. “Nearly done?” I say to Tycho, and my voice is rough.
He nods and pulls coppers from the pouch at his waist.
The door at the front of the tavern swings open, and a group of men enter slowly. The tavern is too loud and crowded for them to garner much attention, but light glints on steel, and I catch a flash of red.
I go still. My hand finds the knife.
But it’s not a Royal Guard uniform. It’s the Grand Marshal’s enforcers. The leading man is older, with graying hair and a thick beard, a patch covering one eye. He’s trailed by three others.
“Where is the blacksmith called Riley?” he announces, and there’s enough weight in his voice that conversation dulls to a murmur. Every head in the tavern turns to look at the corner where Riley sits.
Riley shoves back his chair and stands. He’s an honest man, so he looks more confused than concerned. “I am Riley.”
“You are accused of using magic to better your trade. You will come with us.”
Riley falls back a step. “I don’t— I’ve never— I know no magic.”
The guards have already begun surrounding him. The other men at the table have drawn away. All conversation has stopped.
Riley continues to backpedal. Men get out of his way as if he’s diseased. One of the enforcers has a sword drawn.
“I know no magic!” he cries. “I am a blacksmith!”
The lead man gives a signal to the others, and the men move through the tables as if to cut off escape.
“Hawk,” whispers Tycho. “Hawk—we have to—”
I silence him with a look, but his eyes still plead. I don’t know if he wants me to intervene or surrender myself or something I can’t fathom, but I can do nothing. I cannot draw attention to myself. Not now.
The one-eyed man seizes Riley’s forearm. “You are to come with us.”
Riley jerks back. His face is red, from shame or fury or both. “I have done nothing wrong! You can’t seize peaceful citizens—”
“We have our orders.” Another enforcer grabs his other arm.
Riley looks around desperately, but the other patrons have cleared a wide path. “Will no one speak for me?”
With a ruffle of skirts and defiance, Jodi sweeps past me. She’s inhaling to protest.
I catch her arm and tug her back against me. We’re far enough in the corner that we haven’t drawn attention away from Riley, but if she keeps struggling, we will. “Jodi,” I whisper against her hair. “Let them take him peacefully.”
She strains against my arm, but she has the good sense to keep her voice down. “He’s a good man.”
“Then they’ll question him and let him go. He’ll lose a day of wages and earn a good story to tell over the next round of ale.”
Across the table, Tycho’s eyes are wide. I must sound sure, because Jodi relaxes.
&nb
sp; Riley is struggling against the enforcers. He’s strong, and he gets an arm free.
The one-eyed man drives a fist into his belly. Riley doubles over with a grunt and nearly falls to a knee. They get a grip on him again and half drag him to the doorway.
“You can’t do this,” he wheezes. “I heard about the tailor in Lackey’s Keep. You can’t accuse good people.”
The enforcers ignore Riley, yanking him forward impassively. When they reach the door, one of the men releases his arm to grab the handle.
Riley whirls and grabs one of their weapons. I don’t know his motive, whether he thinks he’ll be able to fight his way free or defend himself or buy more time, but I’ll never get the chance to ask him. One of the other enforcers puts a sword through his chest. A choked sound breaks from Riley’s lips, and he goes down.
A collective gasp goes through the tavern.
Jodi slips free of my hold. “You monster!” she cries. She throws herself at the enforcer who stabbed Riley, shoving him away. “How could you?”
He catches her arm and gives her a little shake. The one-eyed man lifts his sword.
Without thought, I shove my way in front of her. His sword point finds my chest, a weight of steel against my shirtfront.
“Enough,” I say. His one eye narrows.
Jodi is shaking against me.
I think of my last words to her. They’ll question him and let him go.
I should have known better. I did know better.
Glances are exchanged throughout the tavern. People shift nervously. Chairs scrape against the wood floor. Shaking breath comes from all directions.
A man’s voice speaks up uncertainly from near the front. “I always thought there was something unnatural about the way he could unlame a horse.”
“His forge always seemed to run hotter than the others,” another man agrees.
“Did you see that nag brought down from Hutchins Forge?” says a woman. “Riley said he had something special that would make its gait straight—and sure enough, he did.”
That sword is still sitting against my chest. “She attacked an enforcer,” says the one-eyed man.
A Heart So Fierce and Broken Page 6