Allies & Assassins

by Justin Somper

  Logan seemed to interpret the Prince’s scant words as a question. His hazel eyes met Jared’s. “Whoever is responsible for Prince Anders’s death must pay the debt with his, or indeed her, own blood.” He cleared his throat, before resuming. “It’s a central tenet of how we do things here in Archenfield.”

  Jared nodded. Did the Poet really think he didn’t know this? He had grown up at the heart of the court and, as such, knew the customs of the Princedom as well as anyone.

  “I agree with you, Logan. We should send word announcing Anders’s assassination ahead of my address. It makes things…” He was frustrated not to be able to readily locate the right word.

  “Cleaner?” Logan offered, his eyes bright with purpose.

  Prince Jared nodded. He realized that he had just given the Poet a command. Maybe there was a chance—albeit a slim one—that he really could hack it as Prince.

  Glancing up, he saw they were now walking together along a galleried landing, the door to Anders’s chamber in sight up ahead. Once more, Jared felt a chill and knew it had nothing to do with the temperature of the long room.

  “The Prince’s quarters have been secured by the Captain of the Guard,” Logan informed him. “Elias Peck, the Physician, is currently examining your brother’s body. Once his initial work is complete, the body will be taken to Elias’s surgery for a fuller… examination.”

  “Not before I have seen Anders myself,” Jared asserted again.

  Logan nodded, though it seemed more an acknowledgment of Jared’s wishes rather than an agreement to honor them.

  Given that he was supposed to be Prince, Jared was starting to form the impression that he was not the one in control here. He still had many unanswered questions about his brother’s death but somehow Logan Wilde had managed to steer their conversation away from the investigation into his brother’s murder, toward the ceremonial necessities of the next day.

  The door to Prince Anders’s chamber was closed and guarded by the Chief Bodyguard, Hal Harness. Harness nodded cordially at Logan Wilde, then turned to Jared himself.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss, your highness,” he said.

  “And I for yours,” Jared found himself saying. “Prince Anders’s death is a loss for each and every one of us.”

  “Indeed,” Hal said with a nod. He remained standing in front of the chamber door.

  “Step aside, Hal,” Logan told him now. “Prince Jared wishes to see his brother.”

  There was an awkward moment of silence. Hal’s eyes met Logan’s but he did not move.

  “I said, step aside,” Logan persisted.

  “I’m afraid I’m under orders not to let anyone inside while the Physician is conducting his investigation.”

  Jared felt fresh tension rising in his chest. He was aware of his eyes narrowing in anger. “I’m not anyone…” he began.

  “Let me deal with this,” Logan told him. Before Jared could contribute anything further, Logan pressed on. “Hal, we understand that Elias Peck must be granted peace and quiet and solitude while he makes his initial examination, but Prince Jared must be allowed to see his brother’s body without further delay.”

  Hal seemed to be considering the matter but still he did not move from his post.

  “Stand aside!” Jared cried out, angrily. “Or, so help me, I will make you!” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth—well aware that saying them, and backing them up with physical action, were two very different things. Jared might be Archenfield’s new Prince but, in any kind of a fight with Hal Harness, he would certainly be defeated. The Chief Bodyguard had the critical advantage of a few more years of age, several more pounds of significantly tauter muscle and—as if these alone were not enough—proficiency in forms of combat that Jared hadn’t even heard of. All things considered, Harness was pretty much the last man in court with whom to pick a fight.

  The stalemate was finally broken from within the chamber. The door opened a fraction and Axel Blaxland, Jared’s cousin and Archenfield’s Captain of the Guard, appeared in the doorway. Seeing Jared, he moved Hal Harness aside and extended a hand to the shoulder of his younger cousin. “Cousin Jared, there are no words to adequately express my emotions or with which to comfort you at a time like this.” Axel’s dark eyes met Jared’s own.

  As Axel withdrew his hand, Jared saw over his shoulder into the room. The door was only open a fraction, but it was enough to see his brother’s prone body, and the Physician, Elias Peck, leaning over it, then standing back and saying something, talking to someone else in the room.

  Jared was aware of Axel still talking to him and then Logan and Hal Harness, but his own attention was fully focused on the chamber beyond. Now he saw a second person come into view.

  He recognized the girl, though he couldn’t remember her name. She was the Physician’s niece and apprentice. Her hair was the most extraordinary color—a deep coppery red, which made him think of the trees in the palace gardens, dressed now in their autumn finery. The girl was making studious notes as her uncle made his observations. Elias Peck had been too engrossed in his work to acknowledge those at the threshold of the chamber, but now the girl looked up from her notebook and her lively gray eyes met Jared’s. She smiled at him. It was an encouraging but sad smile, as full of warmth as the morning sun.

  He nodded to her. She returned the gesture then lifted her pen again and resumed noting her uncle’s comments.

  “So we’re agreed, then?” Jared now heard Axel saying.

  “I’m sorry,” Jared said, realizing his attention had drifted. “What exactly did we agree?”

  Axel’s dark eyes returned to his cousin. “That the messengers will also send word of when to come to the palace for your speech tomorrow. That Logan will confirm Prince Anders’s death and then hand over to you for a few well-chosen words. I believe that the Poet has written the speech for you?”

  “I’ve simply jotted down some ideas,” Logan quickly interjected, but Jared had other, more pressing concerns.

  He turned squarely toward Axel. “I’ll see my brother’s body now,” he said.

  “Absolutely,” Axel said. “As soon as Elias has concluded his initial examination, I’ll send someone to find you.”

  “I’d prefer to see him now,” Jared said.

  Logan smiled widely at him. Jared was starting to notice that the Poet was given to smiling warmly—especially when he wanted something.

  “Your highness,” Logan said, “your mother asked me to bring you to her.”

  “My mother?” Jared said, his thoughts now turning to her.

  Logan nodded. “I believe I mentioned that she and Edvin are with Silva. I think it would be most comforting for each of them to see you now. We are, after all, not only confronting the assassination of a prince but the death of a husband, brother and son.” The Poet closed his eyes for a moment. “I apologize,” he said. “I hardly need to say such things to you, your highness.”

  Jared hesitated. There was undoubtedly truth in the Poet’s words. “I’ll go to my mother in a moment. It’s important to me to see her and Edvin, and Silva too.”

  As Logan nodded, gently, Jared turned his head. “But first, I will talk to the Captain of the Guard. Alone.” Against all his own expectations, there was authority within his voice. He sensed it and he could tell the others did too. He wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised.

  “Of course,” Axel said, as if it had never been up for debate. “Logan, I suggest you wait here with Hal. Prince Jared, shall we step into the library? We can talk privately there.” He gestured to a door farther along the corridor.

  Nodding decisively, Jared walked past Hal Harness and Logan Wilde to the doorway. He sensed he had won his first battle. It was a small victory but a victory nonetheless.

  FOUR

  The Prince’s Library, the Palace

  “I DON’T WANT TO SEEM CONDESCENDING, cousin,” axel said, as he ushered jared into the library, “but you’re handling
everything remarkably well so far.”

  “Thank you,” Jared said, simultaneously comforted and disconcerted by his cousin’s kind words.

  “All our lives have been turned upside down by the shocking events that occurred before sunrise,” Axel said. “But your life, your world, most of all.”

  It was an adjustment for Jared to find himself alone in Axel’s company. They had never been enemies as such but Axel had never seemed to take Jared seriously—in spite of, or perhaps because of, his position as Anders’s Edling. It was no secret that it was a role Axel had wanted for himself. But now, at last, his cousin seemed to be talking to him as an equal.

  “Can you tell me,” Jared asked him now, “how did my brother die?”

  Axel nodded. “The Physician’s first reaction, when he saw the body, was that Prince Anders has been poisoned,” he informed him.

  “Was there anything particular that made him say that?” Jared pressed his cousin.

  Axel’s jaw was suddenly tight. “Let’s just say there were certain physical signs that indicated deadly toxins.” He paused. “But he still needs to carry out a full examination of the Prince’s body.”

  Jared’s eyes sought out Axel’s. “But you’re certain my brother was assassinated? This couldn’t, for instance, have been a terrible accident?”

  Axel took a breath. “Your brother was the ruler of a Princedom—a Princedom gaining in power over its neighbors. Neighbors who have, in the recent past, made no effort to disguise their intent to bring death and chaos to the very heart of Archenfield. As you know, we have spies in all key neighbor states—Eronesia, Paddenburg, even Woodlark. Based on the intelligence they have been sending, it seems very unlikely indeed that Prince Anders might have died an accidental death. Your brother delivered peace to Archenfield but perhaps it was not a lasting peace.” He shrugged. “But I am sure Elias will consider every possibility.”

  Jared shook his head. “I still can’t believe that he’s dead, let alone that someone could have killed him.”

  Axel nodded. “I feel the same way, Prince Jared. But, as popular as Prince Anders was here in Archenfield—and as strong the alliance was achieved with Woodlark by virtue of your brother’s marriage—still we should not delude ourselves into thinking that the Prince did not have enemies.” He paused, adding in a soft but nonetheless ominous tone. “And now that you are Prince of Archenfield, you inherit those enemies, just as you inherit his robes and the crown of state.”

  “But who specifically could have killed my brother?” Jared asked. “And why?”

  “It’s too soon to answer that question conclusively,” Axel said. “But I’m convinced of one thing. The Prince’s assassination was planned from outside Archenfield.”

  This statement, made with extreme confidence, opened up many other questions in Jared’s mind. But before he could ask them, Axel had resumed speaking.

  “This is all being investigated, as we speak,” Axel reassured him. “My teams will work night and day and they won’t rest until we have an answer—for you and our family and for all of Archenfield. We will find Anders’s killer. The Blood Price will be paid.” His eyes bore into Jared’s. “I promise you now, as your Captain of the Guard, this threat will be swiftly lifted from the Princedom and you will be free to commence your rule in peace. If, as I suspect, further plots are to be hatched in foreign courts, they will be stillborn. History will not repeat itself.” His hand came to rest on Jared’s shoulder. “I promise I will keep you safe.”

  Jared was touched by his cousin’s words and reassured by the sentiment underpinning them. Nonetheless, he felt suddenly vulnerable.

  “As I’m sure is blindingly obvious to you,” he confided in Axel, “I feel totally unprepared for all this. It’s stupid, isn’t it? I’ve been Anders’s Edling for two years. On some level, I must have known this was a possibility.”

  His older relative’s face did not show shock or even surprise. “I can quite believe that,” Axel said. “Speaking personally, I imagined that Prince Anders’s rule would be as long and successful as Prince Goran’s. And I expected a child of Anders to succeed him, not one of our own generation.”

  Jared smiled, ruefully. “In so many ways, you’d have been a better choice of Edling than I. I hope the fact my brother chose me won’t come between us now.”

  Axel shook his head, his eyes making direct contact with Jared’s once more. “It was Prince Anders’s decision to make, just as now it must be you who decides the right Edling to secure the future of the Princedom.”

  There was a poorly disguised note of coercion in Axel’s words, and also of unbridled desire and Jared felt keenly just how much Axel must now want to be made his Edling. He waited, curious to see if his cousin might push the case further. He did not.

  “I need you, Cousin Axel,” Jared told him now. “I don’t know how either the Twelve, or the people of Archenfield, will react to having a sixteen-year-old on the throne. You’ve so much more experience than I of how the Princedom works.”

  “All my experience is at your disposal,” Axel assured him. “Like the rest of the Twelve, my first duty is to help you rule. But I have double the bond to you than any of the others. We belong to the same family. My family name is Blaxland and yours Wynyard, but we are two closely twining branches of the same ancient tree. You are my Prince but you are also my brother. If you are under attack, I am under attack. If you bleed, I bleed.”

  “Thank you,” Jared said, feeling a small release of tension, “for these words and kindnesses and for everything you are doing.” His eyes met Axel’s. “The very moment you have news of my brother’s assassin, I want to know. Whatever the hour, come and find me.”

  Axel nodded his assent. “One small piece of advice for you, Cousin Jared. Seize whatever space this day allows you to gather yourself together, for much will be asked of you in the coming hours and days. I will give you all the support you require, but try to summon up what strength you can from within.” He put his hand once again on Jared’s shoulder. “If your brother or father were still here, I think that’s what they would want to say to you. Since they cannot address you now, these words, of necessity, come from me but, I assure you, are nonetheless heartfelt.”

  FIVE

  The Low Corridor, the Palace

  HAL HARNESS, CHIEF BODYGUARD TO THE PRINCE, strode down the gloomy corridor. the sun had long since made its ascent but it remained dark in the deeper recesses of the palace. It was eerily quiet, as if it were the middle of the night when in fact it was the middle of the morning.

  The torches on either side of the passageway had been lit and the crackle of their flames cut through the silence. Their flickering light cast shifting shadows on the stone floor as Hal continued on his way toward the corridor’s end. His eyes were fixed on a heavy wooden door, reinforced with iron, up ahead.

  Had anyone seem him, they would have formed the impression of a creature of utter confidence and unwavering conviction; a creature used to danger, in both confronting it and imparting it. People often made that assumption about Hal Harness, on account of his position within the Princedom but also more so on account of his obvious physical strength. It was an understandable mistake to make, but a mistake nonetheless.

  As Hal’s eyes zeroed in on the door, he felt his heart beating just a little too fast. “Calm yourself,” said the voice inside his head. He took a deep breath accordingly, then reached out to try the door.

  It was unlocked and, checking once more to reassure himself that he had not been followed, he pushed the door open and stepped inside the palace armory.

  The light was as scant in here as out in the corridor, with no windows but only row upon row of metal to reflect the glow of the central iron chandelier. Hal closed the door behind him. As he did so, he heard the sound of footsteps from deeper within the room. His eyes searched through the darkness and found Axel Blaxland, turning toward him, the handle of a double-headed axe gripped between the fingers of his left hand.


  They stood there for a moment: Axel in attack pose, the whites of his eyes reflecting the sharpened steel in his hands. Hal stepped forward, weaponless, until he was standing directly before the other man. Smiling, Axel lifted the blade of the axe to Hal’s neck. “It would be easy enough,” he said, with a laugh, then stepped back and dropped the axe down through his hand, letting its twin heads rest on the stone floor.

  Hal nodded. “It would be easy enough,” he repeated. His eyes met Axel’s. “I’m glad to have found you, sir. I’ve searched for you all over the palace.”

  “Should have started your search here,” Axel said. “I often come here to think. There’s something tremendously calming about all this cold, sharp metal.”

  Some of the tension in Hal’s face dissolved. He found himself smiling. It said plenty about Axel Blaxland that he found sanctuary in a room devoted to instruments of bloodshed.

  “So,” Axel said now. “What can I do for you, Hal?”

  Hal stepped closer still. “We need to talk,” he said. “I didn’t feel I could bring it up earlier.”

  Axel’s eyes were like hot coals—intensely dark with sparks of light. “Bring up what?” he asked. “Be specific, Hal.”

  “About Prince Anders’s murder,” Hal continued.

  Axel nodded. He turned and walked a short distance away, returning the axe to its place on a wooden rack. Then he walked along the racks, his hand brushing the hilts of other weapons, pausing as a particular sword seemed to draw his interest. Hal waited patiently for Axel’s attention to return to him. At last, Axel’s eyes turned to his once more. “Well?” he said, as if it were Hal and not he himself who had slowed their conversation.

  “I didn’t kill him,” Hal said.

  His words seemed, to him at least, to echo around the room, the sound bouncing from the face of one weapon to the next.

  It was Axel’s turn to smile. “I know you didn’t,” he said. “Anders was most likely poisoned, as I’m sure you know. And poison was never part of our plan, was it?”