Prince Ryo licked his dry lips, but he didn’t speak right away. I’d nicked his cheek with my knife, but with the blindfold on, he’d never see it. One of the king’s guards shoved him onto his hands and knees, and pressed his throat onto the blackened stone. Ryo’s jaw trembled, but he made no plea for forgiveness. No demand of innocence.
“My father has a plan,” he said instead. The crowd silenced, hanging on every quiet word, as I was. “The council of five did not betray us. They’ve saved us.”
I leaned in, wanting desperately to believe him.
The vein on King Edvarg’s forehead throbbed. He gestured to the crowd and raised his voice. “So we should allow the queen of the Savak to reach into our hard-earned borders? Should we give away who we are because of some contract?”
Prince Ryo broke through the crowd’s roar. “I didn’t sign it. I’m only suggesting we trust our king—”
“I am the king now.”
“Not my king. My father lives, and I do not relinquish my claim to the throne.”
The Everstriders stepped closer to the platform.
Edvarg’s hand rose, then he gestured at the king’s guards. “Hold him down.”
They pulled the prince’s arms back so high, my own shoulders ached in sympathy. And for what? The rumors were rampant, but he hadn’t signed the contract the way our fathers had. For all I knew, Ryo could have done nothing wrong except stay loyal to his own father.
The crowd roared now, some moving to stand behind the Everstriders, their eyes uncomfortable at this scene, some shouting about blasphemy and treason, whipping up to a frenzy, led by the Devout.
But I was the one holding the axe.
Father had struggled to bear the weight of it, but it was too much responsibility for me to carry. I should be reading my books, or drawing my bow at a Whirligig target, not killing someone.
But I gripped the axe with both hands and inched forward. I could do this. I had to. Only it wasn’t just killing my brother’s best friend. As the King’s Executioner I was choosing which king to follow.
King Vinton left. My father had abandoned me at his royal command. As foul as he was, at least King Edvarg had stayed.
There was no choice here. I had to do it. Our people needed to be united under our new king if we were going to survive the onslaught of the Savak. And I’d tested the new king by allowing Ryo to speak. If I did not do this, I’d make a powerful enemy. If I didn’t do this, there was no way I could stay here and find my brother.
The weight of the axe would do the work for me. All I’d have to do was lift the axe and let the blade fall. It wouldn’t be murder. I was following orders. That was all.
But it was Prince Ryo. He deserved a slap across the mouth, not death.
My guilt and his ghost would haunt me forever.
The crowd roared out for blood, but I couldn’t hear them over the sound of my pulse drumming in my ears. The prince muttered feverishly, “This is wrong. This is wrong. Please don’t let me die.”
Father wouldn’t want me to do this. So many nights Father would stay awake speaking with Grigfen about the influence he could have on Ryo. The prince had the potential to be a great king and a great man, if we guided him. But Father had left me with nothing. Not a word of goodbye, not a coin for food. What he wanted me to do didn’t matter when he’d left us to starve.
I lifted the axe high. The prince gasped for air, his frenzied pleas clear as starlight as the mob silenced. Strange the stars still shone, even on such a night as this.
King Edvarg was the only one not grieving. His slimy tongue slipped over his lips, curved in celebration so sharp it could only be lust. For all his pious words, he was glad to see his rival killed, even though it was his own nephew.
The idea of Edvarg as my king made my stomach roll. My heartbeat stilled. There was only one opinion I could trust now.
My own.
The weight of the axe made my arms quake, but I could do this. I arched my wrists and swung the axe.
Deep into King Edvarg’s stomach. His blood sputtered out around the axe blade, dripping down the handle and staining his fine robes.
“You are not my king,” I roared into the shocked silence. “And I’ll have no hand in this execution.”
Then the night caught fire.
4
DAGNEY
Torchlight blinded the stars, and the heavy gloves lightened as if I’d gained strength by that act of violence. Ryo’s shallow panicked breathing was the only noise audible, until King Edvarg’s body collapsed to the straw and the crowd erupted in screams. I stepped back, my hands held close to my chest. The axe. I need the axe.
The Devout priests rushed to the king’s side, whispering incantations, their hands quickly becoming blood-covered as they tapped prayer dots down his nose. The axe was surrounded. Not worth it.
The lowborn scattered with voices ragged with coarse laughter and bitter terror. The Everstriders split ranks, half the guards rushing to the king while the rest turned their swords to me.
I may have broken out in hives.
An inner compass behind my eyes pointed like an arrow toward safety. I jerked the prince by the rope stringing his arms together, trying desperately to breathe through the thick black hood covering my face and mudding my vision. We had to get out of here.
I shoved through the line of Historians. The crowd scattered away from me like I was diseased. What was I thinking? I saved Ryo. RYO. I axed the Undergod’s appointed king, and my father was missing, and I couldn’t find my brother, and WHAT WAS I EVEN DOING?
Running toward the Executioner’s wall. That’s what I was doing.
I pushed through the crowd, pulling the bound and blindfolded prince behind me.
We were surrounded.
Breathe, Dagney. Breathe.
“King Edvarg is dead!” a priest cried out.
Ryo let out a breath. “Long live King Vinton!”
The crowd pushed forward. “That traitor.”
“Blasphemy!”
Sharp hands ripped at us, pulling at Ryo’s tattered clothes, as if trying to find something to sell. Everstriders fought to keep the crowd under control, pushing back, while the king’s guards advanced on us.
“Go!” an Everstrider hollered. “We’ll hold them back!”
I cut the ropes keeping Ryo bound. He ripped his blinder off and shoved a lowborn back.
“This way!” I grabbed the prince’s arm and led him toward the tunnel.
I’d never fought anyone except my father or my brother, but I held tight to Ryo’s arm and shoved the crowd out of our way. I was no weak lamb. I was thick and strong.
We ran like a hole in a stocking.
A king’s guard blocked our path. He raised a crossbow at us.
“For King Edvarg,” he shouted. The guard pulled the trigger and the shaft ripped through the air. I yanked Prince Ryo toward me as the arrow’s sharp edge sliced my hood.
And lodged into Prince Ryo’s shoulder.
He fumbled into my arms and grunted in pain. Royal blood stained through his shirt.
I swore.
The arrow breached any semblance of order in my mind. I fought a wave of panic and shoved Ryo toward the Executioner’s wall. The guard lowered his crossbow and reloaded with a new shaft.
The crowd surged closer.
Forward. Move forward. The rough wall pressed solid against my arms, no handle on this side of the massive stone doors, the witch-made gloves the only key. I shoved my palm against the door, and it slid backward.
Ryo fell inside the dark tunnel, and I yanked the glove from the wall, and the bricks slammed back into place behind us.
Muffled shouts echoed inside the tunnel. The crowd and the guards struck the other side of the Executioner’s wall, cheering for the end of the royal line, vowing death when they caught us.
But no one could enter without the golden gloves.
I slipped the black mask off my face and gasped like I’d surfaced for a
ir. I pried off the heavy gloves and they clattered against the ground.
Holy night, holy excrement, holy lamb’s stomach ground to stew.
I knelt by the prince’s side. The ground was damp with what I assumed was his blood. Ryo cursed and moaned in the dark. I leaned over his body, my arms outstretched toward the wall where I’d left the lantern. My fingers scraped the wall and the ground, until finally they brushed the cold glass.
I struck the sparker and lit the wick.
Blood had turned my father’s tunnel red.
I couldn’t force myself to check the wound on Ryo’s shoulder. I should. I should make a list, make a plan, but instead the searing island of light burned my eyes and I focused on the storage in my father’s tunnel—broken cupboards and wardrobes, some with doors half-hung or missing shelves. A rug we no longer used was rolled across glazed chests full of my mother’s things. A dusty bed frame with rotting hay sticking through the padding rested under a tattered map nailed into the carved dirt wall.
We’d be safe here. There were tunnels like this one all under this city, either made to commune with the Undergod or to escape the notice of his Devout.
Could we use these tunnels?
Edvarg was dead, I knew it, but without a king the factions would turn on one another. Devani magic against the Devout. The Savak would find us easy pickings divided as we were.
The chaos in the street above sent a rainfall of dirt on us. Ryo moaned.
I turned away. At the end of the long tunnel, a rickety door led out into the streets. No one but my family had that key. No one knew that cobbled door led to the Executioner’s wall.
I twisted my mother’s ring around my smallest finger. I had to find Grig.
But I couldn’t leave Ryo to die.
A splatter of blood lined Ryo’s profile in the flickering lantern light. He sprawled against the wall, his face pressed against the stones. Tears painted missing lines on his blood-covered cheeks. The arrow sprouted from his shoulder.
His glossy eyes widened as I leaned over him. “Do your worst,” he said, his voice quiet. “I won’t tell you anything.”
I pulled back the hood that had shadowed my face. “Try not to speak.” I removed the hood and pressed the fabric over the wound to stop the bleeding.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You’re a girl?”
I rolled my eyes. I’d literally just saved his life, and now he was complaining that I did it as a female. “Why not? Anyone could be anything in this city. Hold this tight against your shoulder.” I stood. I raked through a cupboard. “Father has to have something for—”
I opened a drawer hiding a slew of knives, took one, and moved on. The next drawer held maps, and the one after that clothing. I opened a cabinet door. Bandages. Yes. Maybe I could bind his mouth closed.
There wasn’t time for my anger. I carried the bandages back and moved the soaked fabric to inspect his shoulder. The blood seeped around the shaft. When I took out the arrow, more blood would burst through his wound. I needed to move quickly.
He held his neck tight. “So the Tomlinson family is a line of Executioners. I’m surprised Grig didn’t let that secret slip.” He drew a deep breath. “I always thought your father had too much influence for a farmer.”
I pressed his wound with my thumb and he winced. It wasn’t the insult to my father’s position that chafed my nerves, it was the word had. I knew my father would never leave me unless he was trying to protect me from something.
But who was going to protect him?
“I’m going to have to remove the arrow,” I said quickly. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to use your shoulder or your arm ever again.”
I didn’t know what I was doing. I fell against my heels, the moment he was struck echoing in my mind. “Perhaps I should go get help…”
Grigfen would be the best at this. He was more healer than executioner. I’d only started Father’s lessons. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” Do not cry, Dagney. He already thought me weak.
I stood and rummaged through my father’s things. I opened a cabinet and found my father’s alcohol.
His voice softened as I knelt by him. “It’s all right, Lady Tomlinson. I’ve faced worse.”
Ryo’s open expression hid no lies. But how could he have faced worse than this?
His bloody hand was warm on my arm.
“Sit up for me.” I leaned in and inspected the injury again. The filthy shirt was in the way, so I ripped the tattered fabric, careful not to move his shoulder as I removed deteriorating cloth.
The arrow was lodged just below the shoulder joint. I set my jaw. “The arrow has torn through the muscle, but it may have missed your ribs. If we’re lucky. Here, hold still.”
I poured the liquor over his shoulder. He flinched and wrenched the bottle from my grasp, throwing back a drink.
“Who taught you healing, a torturer?” He shook his head, his hair falling over his clenched eyes. He folded a rag and placed it between his teeth.
“Yes,” I growled.
His eyes widened.
I bit my lip and stared at the shaft of the arrow protruding from his back. I could handle this. I could. I axed a king and fought a crowd. This was almost simple in comparison. I reached and snapped the head of the arrow off in one quick motion. He tensed and his jaw trembled in pain.
I clenched my teeth. “That was the easy part.”
Ryo swallowed hard.
I twisted my palm around the shaft. “Keep the arrow straight. Quick as lightning,” I muttered to myself. You can do this. I ripped the shaft out of his flesh.
He let out a gasping groan. I applied pressure to his shoulder and wrapped the bandage around tight to his skin. Father had me take care of Grigfen when he broke his arm in training. I’d have to treat this wound the same way.
Only there wasn’t as much blood when I’d helped my brother. I needed more fabric to hold the bandage in place. Blood was already seeping through.
“Press this against your shoulder.” I placed his hand over the bandage. His grip seemed weak, like he could barely hold his hand up.
I touched his forehead with the back of my fingers, and his skin burned. He had a fever. Could be an infection. It was too soon for it to have come from the arrow, so the infection must have come with him from King Edvarg’s dungeons.
One problem at a time. I needed more bandages. I could do that. I would have to take the bedding off the bed and pull strips of the sheets into thin slits. No saying how clean it was, but there weren’t many options.
“Can you stand?” I asked.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. My head is swimming.”
“Oh.” I rubbed my forehead. “Lean on me. Let’s get you to the bed.”
He raised his eyebrows twice before he started giggling.
Was he drunk? “Imbecile,” I muttered under my breath.
His good arm wrapped around my shoulder, clutching tight. His sharp chin leaned into my neck, and I tried to carry as much of his weight as I could. He radiated heat and let out a string of curses at each step, his muscles tight like they were made of iron.
When we reached the bed, he more fell than sat. He kept his grip on my shoulder to hold himself steady.
I tore the sheet into makeshift bandages, wrapped them around his shoulder, and tied them tight. “There we go.”
He leaned forward, his breath hot against my damp skin. I’d never had any man this close to me before. I bit my lip but didn’t move.
His pulse was too slow. He fell forward against my shoulder, his body heavy against me.
“Ryo,” I breathed, my voice affected by his proximity. “I’ve done everything I can; now it’s up to you. Don’t die.”
I pushed him backward, and he collapsed back onto the bed, his eyes dim and unblinking.
I wrung my fingers. “It would be just like you to die, when I’ve gone through all the trouble of not killing you.”
His dry lips opened. Water. He ne
eded water.
He reached in my direction as I moved toward the pump.
“Thank you,” he said. “For not killing me.”
I cocked a shoulder. “It’s still an option.”
I put the jug to his lips. The slow stream wasn’t enough, judging from the eagerness of his swallows, so I tipped the rest of the jug into his mouth and he drank the whole of it.
Then he slowed his swallows so I lowered the jug. His eyes drifted closed, his eyelashes fluttered, but he’d lost too much blood to stay awake. Which was fine. His body needed the rest. My stomach twisted into tangles.
I refilled the jug with the iron pump, returned to his bedside, and left it where he could reach it when he woke. I balled my father’s robes in my hands. He’d wake. He had to.
His breathing was slow and ragged. I watched the rise and fall of his chest and studied the filth from his neck and his hair. Here was the most recognizable face in the kingdom, wanted for treason.
The most handsome too. Not that that mattered.
No one had known where he’d been. Rumors speculated he’d left with the council, or even married the Savak queen. From the crusted dirt and blood along his hairline, it was clear neither of those rumors were true.
“What happened to you?” I asked. “How were you captured?”
He didn’t answer. His eyes didn’t even flutter. He was completely asleep.
Blood covered the floor. Undergod knows it covered me as well. The Executioner robes were soaked through. How much could he lose and still live?
In the flickering light, Prince Ryo lay too still, too silent, his skin almost gray. I tiptoed out of the light and pulled the soaked robes from my shoulders. They slid to the ground. I’d stand out on the street covered in blood. If I was going to find my brother, I had to do it as a lady.
And that meant I should probably change my clothes.
I glanced his way, but Ryo still slept.
Part of me had not healed from the time last Summernight picnic when the changing tent I was in accidentally attached itself to a rogue horse’s leash, and accidentally left me standing in mid-change. When my fury brought me to my brother’s side, his best friend, Ryo, asked, “What’s wrong, pink cheeks?” That name followed me for a whole season, and I think if he woke and saw me changing I would die or I would kill him.
Glitch Kingdom Page 5