Could I blame Alanzo for feeling left out? Maybe even a little jealous?
I just didn’t know what to do. I didn’t feel like I had the energy for it right now. Other things had to come first.
At the top of the priority list was getting out of this damned dress. I dug out a pair of cuticle scissors from the medicine cabinet and used them to cut my way out of the primrose gown’s remains. Lady Behnaz would not have been pleased. But I had no de-gowning assistants, and the garment had already been pretty well shredded.
By the time I was done, my fingers ached and the knuckles of my bruised hand oozed red. I did my best to ignore it and limped into the shower. Then I proceeded to parboil my body and shampoo my hair under the hottest water I could stand.
Hair repair and medical attention came next. I had to use both brush and comb to work through my sodden mass of curls. Behnaz’s mystery concoction had held my curls together all throughout the day, but under water it turned tacky. In the end, I brushed the tackiness out so that the curl loosened into a mass of gentle black waves. There was a price, though. My arms now joined in my body’s chorus of aches and pains.
I popped some painkiller, chased it with caffeine, and spent some time cleaning and bandaging my knuckles. My knee was giving me painful twinges when I put weight on it, so I found a compression sleeve and wrapped it around the worst area. It wouldn’t do my bruises any good, but it helped me walk without a pronounced limp.
Clothes should have come next, but my stomach gurgled and reminded me who was boss. Still clad in nothing but a fresh pair of undergarments, I went into Shelly’s kitchen and plundered her stash of leftovers as if I were a starving griffin warrior.
A hard-boiled egg went down my gullet without much chewing. It never had time to get lonely, as it was soon joined by a slice of bacon-wrapped tenderloin. That in turn was followed by freshly microwaved Texas caviar and washed down with Shelly’s sugar-laced version of sun tea.
Now that I had some ballast for my insides, I felt at least halfway decent. The painkiller and caffeine had finally shown up and reported for duty as well, which helped to no end. So, I went back to my bedroom to find some clothes to fit over my now-full belly.
The soft pillows and mattress beckoned, but I ignored their siren song and got into some blessedly comfortable pants and an even more comfortable modern top. Then I paired the top with one of my silvery Andeluvian fur-trimmed cloaks.
One more step to go.
I found my key fob and went back outside, where the sky was rapidly purpling into evening. My car sat under one of the shade trees at the curb. A quick press of a button, and I pulled my spare gun and holster out of the trunk. I went inside and put it on under the cloak. Then I grabbed anything else I thought I’d need upon my return.
I’d have liked nothing more than to crash on the bed for the next twelve hours, but that wasn’t an option. I’d taken care of my needs, and an entire world was waiting on me. Waiting to find out whether their King was alive or ready for a fresh grave next to his father’s.
My silver medallion felt so cold in my hand that it almost burned. I focused on my Dame’s Tower room and closed my eyes as the white flash of transport burned its way through my eyelids. A bump, and I landed with a slight jounce on one of my Andeluvian office’s surplus carpets. I swayed on my feet, but my stomach only burbled slightly in protest.
Grimshaw’s voice was the first to greet me.
“Dayna! Thou hast returned!”
The big drake rushed up and threw his paws around me in a king-sized kitty hug. Liam trotted up close behind in a clatter of hooves. I rubbed the fayleene’s throat with one hand as I tried not to get smothered under a purring weight of feathers and lion fur.
“In case you can’t tell, we’re both glad that you’re back in one piece,” Liam added. “There’s been altogether too much death in this kingdom today.”
“Goodness,” Galen remarked as he arrived, Lord of the Pursuivant in tow. “I hope our drake leaves enough of Dayna for us to welcome.”
“I’m fine, guys,” I said, as Shaw released me. Despite everything, this greeting couldn’t help but brighten my mood. “And I have good news! King Fitzwilliam is alive.”
“Thank the Gods!” breathed the Lord of the Pursuivant. “But if he is alive, then why hasn’t he accompanied you back? Rumors are running rampant!”
“I said he was alive, not on his feet,” I clarified. “I brought him to a group of physicians in my world. They were just able to save him from that poison the wyvern put into his system. But he’ll be out of it for at least a few days. Maybe weeks. It’s unclear if any of the damage is permanent.”
“Perhaps the Gods are not so generous after all,” Herald said, looking downcast.
His reaction, when added to Liam’s comment, made me uneasy. “Come on, guys. Fill me in on what’s been going on here.”
“The wyverns killed several dozen people, and not a few knights, before being slain themselves,” Galen said grimly. “The butcher’s tally might have been higher had it not been for the four champions on the field. Sir Tostig helped stop the attacks on the commoner’s area, even though he had been wounded by Sir Ivor. It cost him his life.”
The news chilled me. Rikka had been one of the four champions as well.
“What about your sister? And the other two champions?”
“Sir Ivor and Kagin weren’t injured. Neither was Rikka.” The wizard held his hand up to forestall my next question. “Her absence is my doing. I used an enchantment to send her back to the Centaur Realm. If the wyverns attacked here, then they might do the same to my people. Additionally, given the chaos and strife in the palace, I felt it would be safer for her to be elsewhere.”
“That was probably a good call. But what ‘chaos and strife’ are you talking about?”
“The Royal Guards have already broken up three attempts to charge the throne room by various groups of allied knights,” Herald explained. “At least I hope that the third attempt has been broken up. I asked your page to check up on the matter.”
On cue, the tower door cracked open and Percival slipped inside. He brightened as he saw me, and then delivered his report.
“Lord Herald,” he said. “The knights you asked me to watch are now lying about the hallway. Most are unconscious, or wish they were. Commander Yervan and his men are holding fast.”
Herald used one of his sleeves to dab at his sweaty forehead. “Oh, my, oh my. Well, that is good news, at least.”
“What is going on?” I demanded.
“It appears that the kingdom is ready to fracture into civil war if an agreement cannot be reached,” Galen informed me. “Each attempt has been made by a different lord’s men to gain access to the throne room. I believe that the purpose is to ‘pressure’ the others into accepting their lord’s will.”
“Wait a minute,” I protested. “This is crazy! Who exactly are we talking about here?”
“Thou art familiar with these particular miscreants,” Shaw said, with an agitated twitch of his tail. “Lords Behnaz, Alvey, Ivor, and Ghaznavi.”
“This has always been the way Andeluvia has been run,” Herald put in. “If the King of Andeluvia dies without leaving male offspring, then Heads of the Orders must decide who rules next. Whomever wins a majority of their votes ascends the throne.”
“Fitzwilliam is alive,” I insisted. “Surely they’ll see reason when I tell them that.”
“But he is still incapacitated,” Liam pointed out. He made a delicate stamp of one hoof. “And from what you say, he shall not be able to return to the throne for some time. To these four men, it is much the same. Instead of a king, they must agree to select someone to rule as regent.”
“This happened right before you first arrived in this land,” Galen said quietly. “After the Good King Benedict was murdered, these same four lords deadlocked, two votes to two, between Lords Ivor and Behnaz. Duke Kajari stepped in only when Ivor and his men left in frustration and barrica
ded themselves in their castles.”
“And Behnaz went along with Kajari ruling in name only,” I remembered, “because he knew who the Duke really was. And he was ready to revolt at the slightest opportunity.”
“Which almost led to war with the centaurs,” Herald moaned. “Now things are in an even worse state, Dame Chrissie. There is no one to step in as a strong ruler, even as a regent. This kingdom has been paralyzed. One blow by the forces of the Dark will shatter the realm once and for all.”
Each of my friend’s words hit me like body blows. I groped for the table, gripping it with my undamaged hand to keep steady. Fitzwilliam had known, many months ago, how weak his hold was on the kingdom. He’d confided this in me shortly after he had raised me ‘above the salt’.
I do not yet command the love, fear, or respect of my most powerful lords, he had said. This kingdom is perilously weak. If we are soon to be under siege by forces of the dark, then we shall surely fall.
I’d done as much as I could to keep the realm safe against the Creatures of the Dark. But now I was out of options.
Yet I recalled Fitzwilliam’s catlike grin on the day of my investiture.
Wheels run within wheels, Dame Chrissie.
The wheels of power, that’s what the King had been talking about. And yet I had none to offer, at least not so far as the court was concerned. I was a lowly knight, one with no say in governance. I had no way to affect what was happening, did I?
Did I?
“Wait a minute,” I said suddenly. I felt my heart start to beat faster, like a locomotive picking up steam. “Herald, what was that you said about the ‘Heads of the Orders’? That they must decide who rules next?”
Herald nodded. “That is correct. Only the leaders of a Knightly Order may vote on the transfer of power.”
My mind flashed back to a few hours ago. To when the King lay wounded, with the wyvern’s poison coursing through his veins.
Without me, only you can decide, Dayna. I put you in there so that only you could decide.
I thought Fitzwilliam had meant that only I could decide whether to transport him out of there. That only I could decide if my world’s physicians had a hope of saving him.
What if that wasn’t what he meant?
My head spun with realization after realization. I remembered Percival’s eavesdropping on a conversation between the King and his Court Wizard.
What do we do if there’s a ‘crisis’ and the King can’t handle it? His Majesty said, ‘Then I need Dame Chrissie’.
And I recalled Galen telling me what Fitzwilliam had said that very night.
I have placed Dame Chrissie where she can influence events at the right time, should anything ever happen to me.
Suddenly, my brain connected everything in one huge click.
“Of course,” I whispered. “Why didn’t I see it before?”
“What in the world are you talking about?” Herald asked, but Galen quickly hushed the man. The Wizard had seen me work things out before in my own style, and he knew when to let me be.
I went over to the high shelf where I’d put Grand Master Mothball. I stood tiptoe to shove him off to one side and grab the book that had sat underneath the badly stuffed weasel. I blew the latest coating of dust off the tome and flipped through a few pages.
Of course, I found what I was looking for in no time.
“So that’s what the King was up to,” I breathed. “Galen, I need you to come with me.”
“I shall, gladly,” the Wizard said. He fell into step at my side as I rushed for the door. “Where exactly are we heading?”
“To the throne room,” I said, to the amazed stares of both griffin and fayleene.
“But…what for?” the Lord of the Pursuivant asked plaintively.
“What for?” I smiled and held up the book in my hand. “Why, I’m going to put a stop to this madness, once and for all.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Moans and groans rose from the fallen knights Galen and I passed as we entered the antechamber to the throne room. While it didn’t look like anyone had been killed outright, several had alarmingly large dents on their chest plates or helmets. The hallway, which normally smelled of fruit-scented candle wax, now reeked of blood and urine.
I did my best to ignore that as Galen and I came up to the members of the Royal Guard. A half-dozen gold trimmed knights blocked my way, and they came to attention as the Court Wizard and I approached. Behind these six, several more lay against the walls while the palace physicians attended to them.
“Approach no closer,” their leader, a burly knight with a badly chipped sword, warned me. “We do not wish to harm you, Dame Chrissie. Nor the Court Wizard. But we are under orders not to let anyone into the throne room until a new king is selected.”
“Well, you’ll only need a regent,” I replied. “I’ve just returned from my world. King Fitzwilliam is alive.”
My words electrified the guardsmen. Whispers passed between them, and even the wounded sat up straighter.
“The King lives!”
“He’s alive, we did not fail!”
“There is hope yet!”
The leader of the Royal Guard chewed my news over. “We are hungry for good news as of late, Dame Chrissie. Yet, if your word is true, then where is His Majesty?”
“Fitzwilliam’s alive,” I clarified, “but he was poisoned. It will take days, or even weeks before he is well enough to sit on the throne. And that is why you need to let me in, before the nobles in that room make a further hash of things.”
The man still hesitated. “Commander Yervan ordered me to let no one pass without his leave. If I allow you passage and he objects, then I shall be dishonored and stripped of my rank.”
I fumed a bit at that, but I forced myself to remain calm. Knowing how Andeluvian knights abhorred disobedience and dishonor, I couldn’t help but feel for the man.
“Yervan knows my word is good,” I insisted. “And as I said, the King shall be coming back in good time. I think that he would look favorably on those who helped his return – and less charitably on those who hindered it.”
A couple seconds went by as my words sank in. Finally, the leader of the guard stepped aside. So did the rest of his men.
Galen and I pushed through the doors. Up ahead, the din of arguing echoed down the length of the room. The golden-armored form of Commander Yervan strode forward and spoke in a gruff voice.
“By the Gods!” he swore, as he drew his sword. “I told Captain Murren to admit no one! Dame Chrissie, I warn you, go no further. Weapons shall be drawn, blood is about to flow, and I am sworn to let none in but those of the Orders–”
“Yervan, wait!” I demanded. “Who are you loyal to?”
He paused, not expecting a challenge in the form of a question. He drew himself up proudly as he answered.
“I serve the realm of Andeluvia.”
“Good,” I said, as I motioned for him to lower his sword. “Then if you have ever trusted my judgement at all, stay at my side.”
Yervan stared at me as I pushed by him. But he turned and walked at my side as Galen brought up the rear. I drew closer to the empty throne and the adjoining tables while I sized up the opposition.
To the left, Lords Behnaz and Ghaznavi stood behind their table, red-faced and shouting across the way. Both had an armored knight at their side, silent but grim. Opposite them, the older Lord Ivor and much older Lord Alvey remained seated, but no less fierce in their opposition. Sir Ivor hovered over his father. Sir Kagin mirrored the aggressive pose of the knights across from him.
The elder Ivor was the first to spot me. He tried to say something, but ended up coughing into his cloth handkerchief. He nudged his son and then pointed to me.
“What are you doing here, Dame Chrissie?” Sir Ivor demanded. “We are choosing a new king. If Commander Yervan is unable to throw you out, then I shall!”
“And I will be glad to help,” Sir Kagin added, with a broad sneer. “Pe
rhaps I can give her pet centaur the lesson I taught his sister.”
Lord Behnaz laughed evilly at those words. It was nice that my presence provoked some kind of unity, I guess.
“As I recall,” Galen said in a chill tone, “my sister had knocked you down into the weeds. Had the wyverns not attacked, even now you would be wearing Dame Chrissie’s sigil upon your backside!”
“Enough!” I shouted. “Yervan allowed me in because I have news. You won’t need to coronate anyone new, because the King lives!”
That got everyone’s attention, at least.
“He lives, but he needs time to shake off the effects of the wyvern’s poison. It could be days or weeks before he is well enough to sit on the throne.”
Then Lord Behnaz made a sneer that easily eclipsed Sir Kagin’s earlier attempt.
“Ha!” he barked. “Let me guess, he appointed you as the Regent in his stead? That’s not the way our law works. If a king is incapacitated, he can only appoint a ruler for the duration of a battle!”
“In that I must agree,” Lord Ivor said, as he cleared his throat and spoke in a gravelly voice. “While we may be at war with the Creatures of the Dark, the battle at the tournament grounds has been well and truly won. And you are not an Andeluvian born. You cannot rule us.”
I let out a centaur-worthy snort. “Rule you? I don’t want to rule anybody! But I do know who can do the job.”
“And why should we listen to you?” Behnaz shot back.
I walked up to the Western Reach’s table and slammed the tome I’d brought along down on the wooden surface. The bang it generated rattled off the rafters like an explosion.
“Because of what’s between these pages. This book contains the membership list and bylaws of the Order of the Weasel,” I said. “Or as all of you like to call it, the ‘Order of the Welchers’. But it is a legitimate Knightly Order, as it never had its charter revoked by the Good King Benedict.”
“That much is for sure,” Lord Alvey said, with a cackle. “That is why you ended up there. You had to be put somewhere, and none of us wanted an upstart like you in ours!”
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