Allies & Assassins

by Justin Somper

  “It’s of little consequence that you have betrayed me,” Jared said now. “We hardly know each other. And, though I have gained valuable insights from you these past six days, I’m sure I’ll do just fine without your help.”

  Logan rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t lay money on that. You show every indication of being as inept a prince as your older brother.”

  Jared glowered. “Your betrayal of Anders is so much worse. You were his closest companion during the two years of his reign. He trusted you implicitly. And, all the time, you were plotting his downfall.”

  Logan laughed. “First, I assure you I was not his closest companion. I think we can safely award that title to the Falconer. If you only knew the number of times that your brother raced down to the bathing house to while away the afternoon with her. But, of course, you wouldn’t know that. Because I covered it up. Like I covered up so much else.” He was getting into his stride now. “Your brother was something of a simpleton, if truth be known—if he hadn’t been born into your family, he’d have been fortunate to make the grade of assistant groom. Oh, he was a extraordinarily handsome, no one can deny that. But he was not a natural prince, any more than you are, my friend. It was only thanks to the talents of those around him—your ambitious cousin, your scheming shrew of a mother and, most of all, yours truly—that he was able to dazzle as he did.”

  Jared shook his head. “That’s what I don’t understand. If that is the truth, why would you even bother to go to that effort when all you wanted to do was to destroy him?”

  Logan smiled nastily at Jared. “Of course you don’t understand. Because you’re blessed with only a few more brain cells than he had. It was never my mission to destroy him. My mission was far bigger than that—to bring Archenfield to its knees. And, by the way, I think we can agree that I’ve been extremely successful at that.” He paused, looking at Jared and shaking his head in exasperation. “Do you know how tedious it becomes watching the cogs turn in your head? I had to make Prince Anders seem like a demigod in order to achieve maximum devastation. Believe you me, I was working with base material—but somehow I got there, bringing in Woodlark’s prize princess to complete the happy picture.”

  “Is everything all right?” Jared whipped around to see Edvin at his shoulder. He had walked up soundlessly beside them.

  “Everything is fine,” Jared told his brother.

  Edvin shrugged and stepped away again. Jared returned his attention to Logan.

  “So tell me, Logan, why did you do this? Who are you working for? Besides yourself, I mean.”

  Logan considered the question, then shook his head. “I don’t think I’m going to answer that,” he said. “But Prince Jared, I believe I will do you and Archenfield one final favor.”

  One final favor? What did he mean by that?

  The forest path now veered to the north and, as it did so, the sun shone directly onto their faces. Temporarily blinded, Prince Jared instinctively turned away. As he did so, he saw Axel racing toward him, dagger drawn. He felt a cold shiver run through him, as everything seemed to slow down in an instant. Was Cousin Axel in league with Logan Wilde? Had they been in this together from the beginning? He could see Kai Jagger and Jonas Drummond were pursuing Axel, daggers visible in their own hands. But they weren’t fast enough. They wouldn’t catch Axel.

  Jared started to turn away, just as the dagger cut into his chest. Cold fear was replaced by a burning pain that tore through his chest like a hot poker. He fell to his knees, feeling blood pumping out onto his shirt and his hands.

  It was only as he crashed to the ground that he saw Logan Wilde with a bloody dagger in his hand and Axel restraining the Poet, with his own knife, until reinforcements arrived in the shape of the Huntsman and the Woodsman.

  Jared no looked away, becoming aware of Edvin crouched at his side, tearing madly at his own clothes to find cloth with which to stanch Jared’s wound.

  Behind him, Jared heard voices—his mother, the other members of the Twelve. He could hear the confused commotion but it sounded strangely distant.

  Then he felt a sharp slap across his cheek. He looked up to see Cousin Axel crouching before him. “Sorry,” Axel said, his eyes wide with concern. “But you have to stay with us, Prince Jared. That traitorous bastard cut you deep but I’m pretty sure he missed a major artery. It looks worse than it is and believe me, it looks pretty damn awful.”

  “Where is he?” Jared asked faintly. “Did he run?”

  “Fat chance,” Axel said. “No, Kai and Jonas have taken him away. Tempting as it was to kill him on the spot, it seemed more prudent to throw him in the Dungeons—for the time being.”

  “He wouldn’t tell me why he did all this… the killing,” Jared said.

  Axel nodded. “He didn’t need to,” he said. “This very morning, I received word from my spies that Logan Wilde has a sister who, not long ago, crossed the border to Paddenburg and is poised to marry Prince Henning of Paddenburg.” He frowned. “It seems clear that Wilde was anticipating that day and was already taking his orders from within the court of Paddenburg.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what precisely Wilde or his sister have been promised by the two princes of Paddenburg, but I’m going to make it my mission to find out.”

  Jared felt short of breath. “But that’s it now. It’s over?”

  Axel frowned. “I wish I could say yes, especially with you dripping blood over my nice new boots, but I can’t. Someone in the court of Paddenburg issued an order to Logan Wilde to assassinate Prince Anders. Did that order emanate from Prince Ven or Prince Henning or is someone else out to create enmity between their court and ours? We need to find out fast and, even though we’ve now taken Wilde out of commission, we must still continue to be on our mettle against further attacks.”

  It wasn’t the answer he had wanted, but Jared was nonetheless grateful for the truth. He nodded ruefully. “So, what you’re saying is that I need to recover from this attack because I’ll almost certainly be facing another before long.”

  Axel’s tone and words were measured. “I’m saying that we need to get you back to the palace and into the Physician’s care. You must focus all your energies on a full recovery at this point.”

  “But what about my brother’s remaining funeral rites?” Jared asked. “We can’t exactly pause the proceedings here.” He looked up, seeing that the other side of the forest was in view. Through the gaps in the trees, he could glimpse the purple waters of the fjord and, in front of them, a wooden structure as terrible as it was beautiful. The funeral pyre.

  “We have no alternative but to halt the funeral,” Axel said. “You are the Prince of Archenfield now. You have to be our main priority.”

  “You’re right,” Jared said. “I am Prince, so I suppose I have the last word in this.” He turned to Edvin. “Help me to my feet brother!”

  He saw Edvin exchange a glance with Cousin Axel.

  “I said help me to my feet, Edvin!”

  “We’ll both help you,” Axel said, moving swiftly to Jared’s other side. “All right, Edvin? On the count of three, we lift, yes? One, two, three…”

  Jared was lifted to his feet. The pain was excruciating and he had to grit his teeth not to cry out. But now that he had a better view of the fjord and the pyre—and his brother’s bier, at a standstill between them and him—it was enough to renew his determination.

  “We’re almost there,” Jared told his companions. “This is something I want to do, for Anders’s sake. I think I can make it, if you’ll just lend me an arm.”

  Edvin nodded, reaching over to support Jared’s back. “I’ve got you,” he said.

  Jared turned to Axel. “Don’t bother to argue with me. We are going to complete my brother’s funeral rites.”

  “Yes, Prince Jared,” Axel said, nodding, a new respect in his eyes. “If I have to carry you to the fjord myself, that’s exactly what we are going to do.”

  SEVEN DAYS LATER…

  FORTY-ONE


  The Fjord

  THE PYRE WAS NO MORE. IT HAD TAKEN A DAY to burn but it was gone now and only the scorched earth was testament to it ever having been there. Still, this would always be a sacred place to Prince Jared. The place where he had said goodbye to his older brother and felt the mantle of power being passed onto his own shoulders.

  Standing there now, he thought back to that day a week before, when Edvin and Axel had supported him on his painful walk. The three of them had journeyed right inside the pyre to visit Anders one last time. Axel and Edvin had each said their goodbyes, then left Jared to say his. The words he had used were still fresh in his head.

  “Grant me the strength to continue your work. I don’t know where you are now but, wherever it is, watch me and guide me if you can. Whatever your faults, you were born to be Prince of Archenfield. I am second best. But I will do what I can to honor your name, and our father’s, and all who came before us.”

  Stepping out from the pyre, Lucas Curzon had closed the gap in the structure behind him. Then, as Edvin had continued to support him, he had seen Cousin Axel walking toward him, a lit torch in his hands.

  Jared had taken it into his own hands, immediately feeling both its surprising weight and the intensity of the heat emanating from it. There had been nothing to be gained by drawing the occasion out. He had nodded at Edvin, who stepped aside. Staggering slightly, he had walked backed toward the pyre and, before the painful thoughts could take hold or his strength simply give out, had hurled the torch at the structure as high as he could, turning away as flames began to lick their way hungrily over its dome.

  Slowly, now, he came back to his senses, relieved that there was no more fire. He heard the lapping waters of the fjord and walked down the short way to them, leaving Lucas behind him to tend to the horses. Jared knew that his wound had started to heal within the week; even so, he still felt some discomfort as he walked to the water’s edge. But at least this time, unlike seven days earlier, he was able to make this short journey alone.

  As he stood there, gazing out over the purple-blue waters before him, he became aware of footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder—immediately regretting it. But the small twist of pain was worth it for the sight of Asta Peck, making her way through the glade and down to join him at the edge of the water.

  He smiled as she drew level with him. “Are you following me again, Asta?”

  “Of course,” she said. “I have nothing better to do with my time.” Though her words were ironic, he saw she was smiling—not only with her pretty lips but also with her arresting gray eyes.

  “Well, it’s good to see you,” he said. “It’s always good to see you.”

  She didn’t meet his eyes, but she continued to smile, gazing out at the water.

  “Are you better?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, Uncle Elias has given me the all clear,” she said. “And strict instructions not to immerse myself in the river again until well after the May celebrations.”

  Jared laughed. “That seems like sound advice.”

  She turned now to face him. “You’ll be the Prince by then. I mean, I know you are already, but, after tomorrow, it will all be official.” She paused. “How are you feeling about it all?”

  He shrugged. “Happy. Anxious. Excited. Confused.”

  She nodded. “You’re going to be a pretty spectacular Prince, you know,” she said.

  “Is that so?” He felt the warmth of her words, even through the chill of the wind. “You know that, do you?”

  “Yes,” she said. “You know me, Jared… sorry, sorry, Prince Jared. I’m always right!” She smiled once more. This time, her eyes met his.

  “I don’t think I have ever said thank you,” he said now, gazing into her eyes. “Thank you for being such a maverick. For not trusting the official version of events. For throwing yourself in the river and for, generally, watching my back.”

  She shrugged, seeming uneasy in the face of so many compliments.

  “I meant what I said before,” he continued. “You knew that the truth was important to me and you refused to rest until you uncovered it and brought it to me.”

  “I’m glad I could help with the investigation,” she said. “If it doesn’t sound crass under the circumstances, I enjoyed spending time in your company. I know we’re from incredibly different worlds but it was nice being around someone my own age for a change.”

  He nodded. “That goes for me too!”

  She suddenly turned her face from him and he thought he knew why. “Asta. Asta! You need to know—nothing has to change after tomorrow.”

  “Of course it does,” she said, turning her face back to him so that he could now see the tears welling in her eyes. “You’ll be Prince of All Archenfield. And I’ll be… well, I’ll just be the Physician’s apprentice.”

  “No,” he said, opening his arms to draw her into a hug. “I will be Prince and you will be my friend. Even princes need friends, you know.”

  She shook her head, blotting away her tears, then—after only the briefest hesitation—stepped into his hug, reaching her arms around his shoulders.

  As she did so, he cried out in pain. “Oh no!” she said. “I’m so sorry. I put pressure on your wound, didn’t I?”

  She tried to pull away but he refused to let her. “You did,” he said. “You’re a horrible person, Asta Peck. A really bad and horrible person. But, in spite of this, I can’t help being inordinately proud and grateful to call you my friend.” He kept his arms wrapped tightly around her as the waters of the fjord broke gently on the shore in front of them and a breeze circled around them.

  In the distance, they heard the chiming of a bell. Six chimes.

  “The Poet’s Bell,” Asta observed.

  Prince Jared nodded. “Come on,” he said, releasing her from his arms but reaching out and taking her hand. “It’s getting cold out here and I have to get back to the palace. Will you ride back with me?”

  She nodded, daring to squeeze his hand tightly this time.

  Morgan Booth turned to find an unexpected guest in his subterranean domain.

  “Prince Jared,” he said, his face breaking into a smile. “No one told me to expect you. How is that wound of yours?”

  Jared nodded. “Getting better every day, thank you,” he said, tapping the bandage gently. “Although you wouldn’t believe how itchy it gets.”

  “Well, you’re on the mend,” Morgan said. “That’s what matters.” He paused. “So we’re all set for tomorrow?”

  Jared nodded. “Everything will proceed according to plan.”

  “That’s what we like,” Morgan said. “Everything running like clockwork again.” His eyes met Prince Jared’s. “I suppose I can guess what brings you down to my lair.”

  “I’d like to speak to the prisoner,” Jared said.

  “Be my guest!” Booth said. “Want me to make myself scarce?”

  “No need to leave on my account,” Jared replied. “I’m sure you have things to sharpen.”

  Booth grinned, his teeth snow white in the candlelight. “I always have things to sharpen, Prince Jared.” He nodded and turned back to his desk, as the Prince continued on his way.

  Logan Wilde rose to his feet as Jared approached his cell.

  “Well, well. To what do I owe this pleasure?” It seemed the former Poet was in fine spirits that morning.

  “I wanted to see you,” Jared said. “Before my coronation tomorrow.”

  “Still going ahead with that?”

  Jared smiled. “Did you think the business of Archenfield would grind to a standstill with you out of the picture?” He leaned closer toward the bars that separated them. “Turns out you’re not quite as indispensable as you think.”

  Logan smiled back, shaking his head. “Anyone can plan a procession,” he said. “I’m sure you and Axel have been poring over my notebooks. My point is this—how can your coronation happen when the Blood Price for your brother’s murder has not been pai
d? The people still have no sense of catharsis.” His voice grew colder. “Your reign will be tainted in death and confusion from the very beginning. You’ll never be able to break free from those shackles.”

  Jared stared at the prisoner. Logan spoke as if he were still making a valid contribution to the running of the Princedom. Had he forgotten that he had, by his own admission, attempted to wreak “maximum devastation” upon Archenfield? Jared wondered at the extent of the prisoner’s delusions.

  He could see Logan, arms folded, was still waiting for an answer.“You’re wrong,” Prince Jared told him. “As far as the people know, the Blood Price has been paid. Prince Anders was assassinated by a renegade steward, Michael Reeves. It was a terrible crime, striking unexpectedly at the heart of our Princedom. There was no way it could have been anticipated but the threat was swiftly addressed and swiftly eliminated. Our security is second to none.”

  “Hah!” Logan shook his head. “I see that I underestimated you—it seems like a week in my company did rub off on you.”

  “I hate to disappoint your superiority complex,” Jared replied. “But we managed to work this out without your help.”

  Logan shrugged. “I wouldn’t call it a ‘complex.’ ” He paused. “All right, so you have successfully pulled the wool over the people’s eyes regarding your brother. But what about poor Silva and the Prince’s unborn child? That’s not so easily explained away.”

  Jared’s eyes met Logan’s once more. “The death of the Prince’s Consort is another tragedy, no one has any doubt about that. But she was terribly distressed by her husband’s murder and it drove her to take her own life. As for the baby, well, she wasn’t yet showing. No one outside the court need ever know.”