The Deceit of Tongues (In the Eye of the Dragon Book 2)

by N M Zoltack

  42

  Prisoner Ulric Copper

  The morning after Ulric spoke with the queen, the prisoner was greatly unnerved. He had heard her whisper to the guard, but he had not been able to make out what they had been discussing. He feared that Rosalynne was playing a dangerous game. They all were, but while he was willing to lay down his life for the sake of the good of Tenoch, he did not wish for her to do the same. Tenoch needed a good and kind ruler. Sabine was not that and never could be. At all costs, she must be removed from the throne, her crown stripped. That task would not be easy, Ulric knew, but the ruling queen came to see him. If he could learn anything at all that might help Rosalynne, then he would gladly suffer imprisonment.

  Footsteps approached, and the guard handed Ulric his stale bread. The guard turned to leave. This man hardly ever said a word to Ulric, however this morning, he hesitated and faced Ulric.

  “I am certain the queen hates you for what you did to her brother,” the guard started.

  Ulric clenched his teeth and lowered his gaze. This was the part he hated most of all. That anyone could believe him capable of murder disgusted him. Although Ulric had been training to try to use a sword properly, he had not truly considered what it would be like to take another’s life. The act of killing someone when both were actively fighting was one matter. To throw someone out a window to fall to their death was quite another.

  “But she is a kind woman,” the guard continued. “Queen Rosalynne, I do not know if you wish to harm her as well, but I pray to the Fates that you change your wicked ways, that you never have the chance to hurt her. She is seeing to it that my sick daughter is going to be cared for. How could you possibly wish to do her harm?”

  Ulric smirked.

  The guard’s eyes flashed dangerously, and his hand fell to the hilt of his sword at his side.

  “My quarrel is with the other queen,” Ulric remarked. Although he might be saying too much, he added, “It is because of her that I am imprisoned.”

  “You killed the prince!” The guard’s fury altered his complexion from slightly tanned to a light purple.

  Ulric scoffed. “If they had proof, would they keep me locked away? Would they not parade me before the people and execute me? Rosalynne herself has executed—”

  “Queen Rosalynne,” the guard corrected, but he was blinking, considering Ulric’s words.

  “Strange, isn’t it?” Ulric continued. “Why not tell everyone? The people will begin to wonder why the crown is doing nothing to find the royal rebel killer, yet supposedly, they found one in me.”

  “I do not believe—”

  “It does not matter to me what you believe,” Ulric said. “I do know Queen Rosalynne is the queen Tenoch needs. On that, we are in agreement.”

  The guard eyed Ulric suspiciously but said nothing.

  Seeing that he might have an ally, Ulric merely lowered his head. “I hope that your daughter recovers.”

  The guard flared his nostrils and stalked away.

  Hours later, Sabine paid Ulric a visit. Although he knew that she wished to seek out an intelligence she could from him, he longed to do the same to her.

  “Your own fellow servants turned you in.” Sabine clucked with her tongue. “How foolish could you be that you would return after you fled. Why would you do such an idiotic act?”

  “The idiotic act is that you locked me up,” Ulric said dryly.

  The queen’s lips curled into a sarcastic smile. “If you think I will not have you killed, you think wrong.”

  “No? Because I do think you won’t.”

  She lifted her arm and waved her hand, her long bell-shaped sleeves falling away to reveal her ivory skin. “You are nothing more than a cockroach beneath my heel. I could smash you to the ground.”

  The ruling queen began to pace back and forth in front of his cell.

  “You left for a reason. That much is plan. Supposedly, according to you, not because of your guilt over killing the prince. For another reason.”

  Suddenly, the queen halted and stared at him, her eyes piercing and sharp.

  “Someone else disappeared during that time,” she said slowly. “The princess.”

  “You care about them?” Ulric asked.

  “Rosalynne and Vivian? Of course! Noll as well but you killed him.” Sabine shook her head. “What a pity. You should be thanking me, truly you should. If not for me, you would have been executed already. If Rosalynne only knew… And she will know, so if you know where the princess is, I suggest you tell me. Perhaps then… arrangements can be made.”

  “You’ll give me my freedom if I tell you were the princess is?” Ulric asked eagerly.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know. Now, have the guard open the cell.”

  “I don’t believe you, and even if I did, you would not be free.”

  “But you said—”

  “I lied.” The queen stalked closer and gripped the bars of his cell. “Maybe you don’t know where Vivian is. Maybe you are telling the truth, but you are a prince killer. Do you honestly think you’ll ever see the light of the sun again?”

  Ulric gulped. Unless Sabine was removed from power, Ulric might never see the dawn again.

  With a satisfied smirk, the ruling queen pivoted away and abandoned the dungeon. She must be so pleased to have found a culprit to pin the prince’s death on. Did it bother her at all that the true killer was loose? He was most indignant on that count, but he must be more careful with his tongue. Otherwise, he might needle Sabine and make a remark pertaining her own life being threatened by the true killer. Without a doubt, she would not take kindly to such a suggestion.

  That night, another guard gave him his evening meal, but the first returned that night. He was whistling as he gave Ulric his stew.

  Ulric did not take a bite although he was famished. He had trained as hard as he could throughout this day. What else could he do but exercise as much as possible with both his body and mind.

  “Your daughter?” Ulric asked.

  “She is doing much better already.”

  The guard smiled warmly and clasped Ulric’s free hand, shoving a slip of parchment into it. Then, he whistled as he walked away.

  The flickering light of the nearest torch hardly provided enough illumination, but Ulric strained enough to read the note.

  He is a collaborator. Learn anything, send through him. R.

  Ulric grinned. Sabine would come around again soon, and again, he would try to learn from her. Perhaps if he spoke less, she would speak more.

  Finally, perhaps now, his being imprisoned could truly have meaning.

  43

  Rase Ainsley

  Nobles. Rase didn’t know any of them personally. Yes, he had been to the Snell manor several times, but he had only spoke to Maxene, not the earl or his son.

  But Rase had done all he could think of to try to find a job for himself, and he had failed. There had to be something more, and if it required begging at the feet of a noble, then so be it.

  Maxene had made a good point. The noble in charge of the area that included where the Ainsleys lived was not the earl but rather Baron Godric Ackles.

  Rase had only seen the baron a few times. The baron tended to stay within his manor, sending his servants out to do his bidding, whatever that might be. The day was bright and sunny as Rase made his way to the lord’s manor.

  This house was much smaller than the earl’s, which was no surprise. A baron was the lowest ranked of the nobles. Still, the manor had a stained glass window of a rose that mesmerized Rase.

  The door opened, and a servant popped his head out. “Why are you here?” the man asked sternly. “Sneaking about looking for something to steal?”

  “That is precisely why I am not here,” Rase said, trying to stand tall. Given that he was so short and the servant so tall, he failed miserably.

  “You are not here to steal,” the servant said slowly. “Then why are you?”

  “To see the l
ord.”

  “He is busy.”

  “I can wait.”

  “He will be busy for days.”

  Rase clasped his hands behind his back. “I will wait.”

  “For weeks,” the servant challenged.

  “Then I will go to the castle and talk to the queen instead,” Rase snapped.

  The servant did not react in the slightest, or perhaps the corners of his lips curled ever so slightly upward. He nodded. “Very well. Come back in three hours’ time—”

  “I will wait,” Rase repeated.

  The man scrunched up his face. His hair was cut short, almost too short, and his nose looked as if he had pinched it too often as a child. He pursed his thin lips to the point of making them disappear and then nodded before shutting the door.

  The servant, the bastard, did make Rase wait by the door for those three long hours. When it opened again, Rase didn’t even bother to try to smile.

  “The baron will see you now.”

  “How generous,” Rase muttered under his breath as he followed the servant to the parlor.

  Baron Godric Ackles stood before his lit fireplace. Despite the roaring fire, the room was not uncomfortably warm.

  “The young boy who wishes to see you,” the servant said softly, as if he did not wish to disturb his lord.

  The baron nodded and waved his hand. The servant bowed even though the baron could not see and departed.

  “Why is a young boy coming to see me?” the baron asked.

  “The young boy is not that young,” Rase blurted.

  “Oh?” The baron turned and eyed Rase. “You may sit.”

  Rase remained standing. “Only if you do.”

  The baron moved to stand behind a high-backed chair, tapping his fingers against the top before sitting. “Please.”

  Feeling rather awkward, Rase sat in another plush chair. He almost jerked back to his feet again. The cushion was so very soft that he had sunken in slightly, and the feeling of falling had not been pleasant. After a moment, he adjusted to the softness. This chair was unlike any other he had ever sat upon.

  “You are here because…”

  Rase hesitated. The baron looked to be only a few years older than Leanne. At the most, he was twenty. For him to be the baron, his father must have died. What of his ma? Was he married? Not that any of that mattered, or maybe it did. If the baron had a family, he would understand the plight of trying to work hard and do everything for your loved ones.

  “I wish to find a job,” Rase said, forcing himself to talk slowly. “I want to be able to help—”

  “You’ve come to me to ask for work,” the baron said.

  “Yes. I—”

  “How old are you?”

  “Thirteen,” Rase couldn’t help saying in a tone that suggested the baron dare to think Rase was lying.

  The baron’s eyes widened.

  “Yes, I know I’m small for my age,” Rase said. “It’s because for too many years, we didn’t have enough to eat, and I guess it might have stopped me from growing, but I’m thirteen, and I want to find a job.”

  “So you’ll have a means to get food,” the baron said.

  Rase nodded. “For me and my family.”

  “What does your father do?”

  The boy scowled. “What does that matter?”

  “Most peasants have a trade,” the baron said.

  “That is the problem,” Rase said bitterly. “Only most.”

  “Yes, I know there are urchin children, thieves, and the like… Bandits…”

  “Only because they have no choice.”

  “Not all of them can claim that, and even those who supposedly could try to get away with that claim are still lying.”

  Rase bristled. “All I want—”

  “Is a job. You said. I suppose you’re only here because no one would take you on as an apprentice.”

  Rase scowled and glanced away.

  “Ah, I figured that to be the case. And you want what from me exactly? To force one of the masters to take you in?”

  “I’ll be your gongfarmer,” Rase blurted.

  The baron smiled sadly. “I already have someone to clean the outhouse.”

  Rase hung his head. “You won’t help me.”

  “I cannot.” The baron shrugged, holding out his hands as if he were to suffer no blame. “If you want to stay for a meal—”

  “A meal today will not help tomorrow or the next day or the next,” Rase muttered angrily. “If it’s all the same to you, I will be off.”

  Rase stomped all the way back home. What could he do now? Did he dare go to the castle and petition the queen for a position? Why would she help him any when the baron hadn’t even considered it?

  Why, oh, why did life have to be so terribly cruel?

  44

  Sir Edmund Hill

  An entire fortnight had passed since Edmund had received the vial from Tatum. While he read the letter every night before he went to sleep and again when he woke in the morning, he ignored the vial.

  That night, Edmund had just retrieved the parchment to read it when Jurian stumbled into the bunker. He knocked against Edmund’s bed as the ale-smelling guard made his way to his bed.

  “Fun night at the tavern?” Edmund asked.

  Jurian only grunted.

  Edmund returned his attention to the letter until Jurian yanked it free from Edmund’s grasp.

  “What are you doing?” Edmund demanded, jumping to his feet.

  “I’ve seen you read this so many times now, but you refuse to tell anyone what it’s… Tatum? Isn’t that the name of the female alchemist?”

  Worried about someone overhearing the conversation, Edmund glanced around wildly. Thankfully, it seemed that most of the other guards were sleeping already.

  “Keep your voice down,” Edmund snapped.

  Jurian waved the letter around, keeping it away from Edmund. “First she came here. You left for a long bit afterward. Now you have this. Methinks—”

  “I don’t care what you think.” Edmund towered over the sitting Jurian and snatched the parchment free.

  “Why is she writing to you?” Jurian asked.

  “You don’t care about her,” Edmund said stiffly.

  “You left because of her, didn’t you?” Jurian accused, jabbing his finger toward Edmund.

  The knight sat down on the edge of his bed, glaring at the guard who wasn’t quite a friend. “It is none of your business.”

  “You didn’t even talk to me about it,” Jurian complained.

  “Because you tend to tell others everything you know once you’ve had too much to drink.”

  Jurian’s nostrils flared. “At times, perhaps, but I don’t talk about her.”

  “Because female alchemists frighten you.”

  “Nothing frighten me,” Jurian boasted. He belched and beat his fist to his chest. “Ugh. That tasted better going down versus coming back up.”

  “Disgusting.”

  “Exactly.” Jurian lay down and rubbed his head. “My head is splitting already.”

  “You’re the one who drank too much. I have no sympathy for you.”

  “Yes, well, I was spending some time with a lovely lady.” Jurian smiled before groaning, now rubbing his stomach.

  “I’m sure you made such a wonderful impression on her with your drinking skills.”

  “She drank more than me.”

  “A lady?”

  “Indeed. The daughter of a baron. Not the highest or noblest of ladies to be sure, but she was fun, and we had a good time.”

  “Yet you returned to the bunker.”

  Jurian wrinkled his nose. “I could hardly bring her back here, and do not think that you can make me forget our previous conversation so easily. Ah, what were we talking about?”

  Edmund grinned. “About how you should be sleeping.”

  “No, no…” Jurian glanced away and then back, snapping his fingers. “That woman your brother is to marry! Why would she
write you?”

  “Because I am to be her brother,” Edmund said dryly.

  “And you helped her for weeks.”

  “Not even a fortnight.”

  “Days and days! Does her brother know? I mean your brother?”

  “You do not need to worry—”

  “Female alchemists are terrible, vindictive beings. They aren’t humans. They aren’t persons. The dragons—”

  “The dragons are no longer here, and they would not have bothered her any,” Edmund said through gritted teeth.

  Jurian smirked. “So you believe, but how could you not? She has you and your brother under her sway, doesn’t she?”

  “Not at all,” Edmund retorted. “She is like a sister to me. Nothing more.”

  Jurian’s answer was a loud snore.

  Edmund grimaced. He would not be sleeping well that night.

  And he did not. His mind would not shut up, and he could not stop thinking and wondering what he should do about everything—his life, his job, his brother, his future sister.

  In the end, Edmund knew what he must do. All of his life, he had taken it upon himself to do whatever he must to achieve his goals. Aside from the duke’s aid in granting Edmund access to the castle so that he could be trained as a knight, Edmund had not accepted or needed help from anyone.

  Today and every day, he did not want any help from a female alchemist or anyone for that matter. He would do what he wanted and make his own dreams come true. Edmund did not need a potion to help with that.

  The only issue? What exactly was it that he wanted most?

  45

  Queen Rosalynne Rivera

  A guard with a close-cropped black goatee approached Rosalynne. The last of the people from the assembly were trickling out now, and she eyed the guard with both wonder and suspicion. In all of her sessions, never had a guard sought her out. Few nobles had.

  “My Queen,” he said, bowing low.

  Rosalynne waited impatiently for him to stand. “How can I serve you?”