All this way. All this death. Yet he had failed in his given task, and all because those bastards hadn’t told him the house would be defended.
He slid his sword back into its sheath and headed out of the room.
He had revenge to seek back in Vaton. But first he needed to find and kill Lady Grant.
...
Jasmin woke with a start. Standing over her was Marcos Lambert.
“Wake up, Jasmin.”
Jasmin rubbed the night from her eyes. “Is it morning?” She pulled the sheets up to her chin, wondering why Marcos was in her room in the dead of night.
Marcos shook his head. “No. It is an attack. Get your travel clothing on. Wear the leathers your mother got you. Be quick.”
“You need to leave the room, it isn’t right—” Jasmin’s chaste speech was interrupted by the sound of fighting outside her room.
She flung off the covers and quickly stripped and changed, giving no thought to Marcos who gallantly looked the other way anyway, busy as he was tying the last of the sheets together and tossing the makeshift rope out of the window once he had tied the end to the heavy bedstead.
“Quickly, Jasmin! We need to get you out of here,” he yelled.
The lithe form of Alonso appeared through the door and headed in while Marcos headed toward him.
They crossed forearms where they met.
“Get Jasmin into town. Go to the Wretched Wench and find Yosef Rosa. He’s the king’s man. He will help you both escape.” Alonso looked at Marcos, then at Jasmin, and smiled.
Marcos nodded and clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder. Then Alonso stepped away and headed toward the sound of fighting.
Jasmin knew what was happening. She might be young, but she wasn’t completely naïve, as she often had to remind her mother until recently.
“Be safe, Alonso,” she said to his retreating form. Alonso slid his sword from its sheath, raised it in salute without looking back, and disappeared, pulling the door closed behind him.
“Where is my mother, Marcos?”
Marcos was tugging at the sheet-rope to make sure it would take their weight. At the question, he stopped and sighed deeply.
“I’m sorry, Jasmin. I’m not sure. There were too many of them. All we could do was protect you long enough to get you out of here. You are their target, I’m sure, so we need to get out of here and mourn our losses later. Do you understand?”
Jasmin couldn’t believe it. Her mother might be dead? Why? It made no sense. Who would do such a wicked thing to such a wonderful woman?
“Jasmin. We need to go.”
She looked around at Marcos’ soft, sad face, spattered with the blood of his fallen comrades, and understood what he had said. He had lost friends too that night and would lose more yet. The time for weeping was when they had made good their escape. After the weeping, the time for vengeance would come along.
The rope ended six feet off the ground and Jasmin watched as Marcos let go of the last section, landing easily on his feet.
“Come on,” he said. “There should be horses waiting outside.”
“How? How would you know?”
“It was part of the plan we had for the defense of your home. You always need an escape plan if things go wrong.”
Once they broke through the trees surrounding the house, a low whistle called them in to where one of the sentries guarded the horses.
“Good luck,” the man said to Marcos and clasped arms. Then he nodded to Jasmin and ran off into the night toward the sound of whirring arrows that was coming from the other side of the house.
They both quickly mounted their steeds, and with one final look back at her home, and at the shadowy figure standing in her bedroom window, they wheeled away into the night.
24
Jasmin
With their horses safely tied up out of sight around the back of the Wretched Wench, Marcos had spent a couple of minutes banging on the door, trying to rouse someone, before a head popped out of a window above the doorway.
“Who’s that down there disturbing my sleep? We’re closed, and if you don’t bugger off, the contents of my piss pot will be showering your heads, so help me if it won’t.”
“Sherry?” Jasmin said, taking a precautionary couple of steps backward. In the dark, it was hard to tell for sure, but it certainly sounded like her and her normal forthright speech.
“Good heavens. Jasmin, is that you? What are you doing skulking around my back alley with a strange man at this time of night? I ain’t got no rooms free if that’s what—”
“Sherry!” Jasmin said indignantly.
“Miss Sherry, if I may call you that, my name is Marcos. We have been guarding the Grant estate. There has been an attack there tonight. Can we please come in off the street before we get spotted? We need to speak to the king’s man who is staying here.”
“Yosef?”
“Yes, Yosef Rosa I believe his name is.”
Sherry’s head disappeared. They could both hear whispering upstairs, then Yosef’s head popped out, looking down on them.
“An attack, you say?”
Marcos huffed impatiently. “Yes, now could you get down here and let us in?”
“Miss Sherry is on her way. We were just having a nightcap before retiring.” In the distance the town clock struck three. In the morning. As Jasmin and Marcos looked up, Yosef looked back at them, then shrugged, shamefaced.
The rattling of keys and sliding of bolts preceded Sherry opening the door, then ushering the two of them in and closing, locking, and bolting the door behind them.
At the sound of rushing feet down the stairs, Marcos had his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready for action, until Jasmin saw the night-shirted form of Yosef Rosa come down the stairs.
He stepped forward to stand beside Sherry, who was running her hand through her hair trying to make herself presentable.
“Are you Yosef Rosa?” Marcos asked.
“I am indeed, sir. I don’t believe we have been introduced?” Yosef’s eyes slipped across to look at Jasmin.
“I am Marcos Lambert. I am part of the group who was guarding the Grant estate. Tonight, a group of men attacked the estate, killing everyone they laid eyes on. We managed to escape.”
“Lady Grant? Is she—”
“I don’t know in truth, sir. The confusion of battle.”
Yosef nodded as though it was something he was well aware of.
“You did well to rescue the princess. You will have the king’s gratitude for your bravery. Princess Jasmin?”
Jasmin looked up through teary eyes.
“I wish we had met under brighter circumstances, but I am glad to make your acquaintance.” He bowed formally to her.
“What are you going on about?” Sherry looked confused and Jasmin could understand why. “Jasmin? A princess? In Riverside? In my tavern? Lords, I need a drink,” she said, shaking her head.
“Sir, why do you address me in such a way? I’m not a princess,” Jasmin said.
“My lady, put simply, you are. The king is not in the best health and his direct heirs have all recently been murdered—”
“Oh, that’s enough for me. Anyone else want a gin?” Sherry said and wandered off toward the bar.
“This leaves you as the next in line to the throne through your blood connections to the royal family. That, I fear, was the purpose of the attack on your home tonight. Somebody is organizing the deaths of the king’s family. We don’t know who yet, but we can only assume their purpose is to usurp the crown in the absence of any blood claim. That would doubtless bring war and devastation to the kingdom. Installing a blood relative to the throne with the power of the king is the only way to avoid such a tragic sequence of events. That is why I am here, to escort you and your mother—”
Jasmin sniffed deeply.
“Sorry, my lady. To escort you to Evermeir to take up your rightful place as the next in line to the throne. I hoped to do so quietly and peacefully, but t
hat hope appears now to be doomed.”
“Will Jasmin be safe there?” Marcos asked.
“We can ensure her safety there better than anywhere else in the kingdom. None of the scoundrels who are coordinating this...this...outrage would dare attack in Evermeir.”
“Very well, then,” Jasmin said, “Evermeir is where I must go. When can we leave?”
“My lady, trying to ride away from here, even with the group of men I have camped on the outskirts of the village, would be to court disaster. My fellow representative, Magistrate Benton, is asleep upstairs, and I would suggest that is what you do. Tomorrow will, I fear, be a testing day until we get closer to Evermeir.”
“You can sleep in my room, my lovely,” Sherry said as she reentered the back room they were standing in. “Maybe just wait while I go and put fresh linens on, though. Me and old Yosef here were just in the middle—oh, well, just wait here a few moments,” she said, having seen the thunderous look on Yosef’s face.
Sherry blushed, then disappeared, clumping up the stairs.
“Miss Jasmin. Would it be in order if I were to sleep outside your door? My great wish is to go back to your estate to see how my companions have fared, but events seem to be pushing me in a different direction. I was tasked to protect you and will fulfill that role until we reach Evermeir, if that meets with your agreement?”
“It does, and please, everyone, can you just call me Jasmin, at least until all of this news is confirmed?”
Both men nodded, and Jasmin managed to force a smile to her face in thanks.
“Come on up, my lovely,” Sherry said down the stairs in a loud whisper.
Sherry took Jasmin’s hand and led her to a large, comfortably furnished room complete with a freshly made bed.
“Come in and settle yourself, Jasmin.”
“Thank you, Sherry. I appreciate your kindness.” Jasmin looked around the room. “I’m sorry to have disturbed your...business with Yosef.”
“Oh, never you mind about that. That was just a bit of fun. It was over pretty quick, and you’ve interrupted what looked to be a promising second round, but that is life.”
Jasmin clapped her hand over her mouth in shock at Sherry’s loose tongue but then, seeing the twinkle in Sherry’s eye, she couldn’t help but break out into a laugh. A laugh which slowly became more and more hysterical until she broke down into heart-rending sobs and fell into Sherry’s open arms and capacious bosom.
“There, there, don’t you worry, petal. Old Yosef down there might be a bit quick to the finish, but I saw him fight earlier and there are few men I have ever known who could beat him. You’ll be fine with him.”
“But my mother,” Jasmin said through sniffs and sniffles.
Sherry pulled a huge handkerchief out of a pocket of her nightgown, folded it, and used it to dab away the tears that were running down Jasmin’s face.
“We can only hope she found somewhere to hide away safe.”
Jasmin nodded, although she didn’t share Sherry’s confidence.
“Get some rest, my lovely. You’ve had a hard night with a long day to come. Sleep. I’ll bring some breakfast up for you in the morning.”
Sherry made sure Jasmin lay on the bed before she blew out the guttering candle on the dark wooden cabinet.
She pulled the door open. “Sleep well, my lovely, and—oh—excuse me a moment, miss.” She reached under the pillow Jasmin wasn’t using and pulled out what looked for all the world to Jasmin like a gentleman’s underclothes. She tucked it into her pocket. “Old Yosef’s hanging loose down there, better take this with me before he feels the draft. Goodnight.”
Jasmin couldn’t stop the giggle at Sherry’s guileless words and as the door closed, neither could she stop the tears that soaked the fresh pillowcase she lay her head on.
...
When the door opened with a click, Jasmin woke with a start and a quiet gasp of fear.
“’Tis only me, miss Jasmin. I have some hot tea, some freshly baked bread, and honey I got from my very own garden. You need to eat and drink because I think, from all the activity downstairs, you will be leaving soon enough, and a day’s travel needs preparing for.”
Jasmin gazed up at Sherry, her heart rate slowly returning to normal. The dream Sherry had disturbed was so vivid it had seemed real. The image of her dead mother lying bloody and pale on the floor of the house was one she wished she could whistle or sing away like she had as a child when she lay in the dark imagining things crawling and squirming on the floor.
She couldn’t, though. It was burned, seared onto her mind. She could only hope it wasn’t true and by some miracle she was alive.
Sherry left the tray on the cabinet next to the candle stub and Jasmin slowly sat up, still not entirely sure that the whole previous night wasn’t just some cruel dream she had just awoken from.
When she realized finally that she was in Sherry’s room and not her own, reality hit, and she had to fight back the tears that threatened again. That was no good, she thought. Tears won’t get me safe or find out who tried to kill me.
She shut those feelings of hurt and fear away. She needed to be strong if she was to survive, and if what Yosef Rosa said was true, she needed to be strong to rule a kingdom.
Her? A princess? It barely seemed plausible, but she could see no reason why the king would send someone to escort her back to Evermeir if it were not true.
She drank her tea, ate a slice of bread with lashings of the sweetest honey she had ever tasted, and pulled open the door to her room to find Marcos on his haunches outside.
“Have you been there all night, Marcos?”
He stood up and stretched. “I slept on the floor, or rather, I didn’t sleep.”
She could hear murmuring and hubbub downstairs. “What’s going on down there?”
“Preparations to leave. Come on, I’ll escort you down.”
Although only the dullest early light from the outside illuminated the room, it was a positive hive of activity.
As soon as she entered the room, Lilly rushed over and gathered her up in her arms.
“I am so sorry for what happened and for poor Lady Grant!”
“Have we heard news?”
“Only that she is missing still, miss.”
“So what are you doing here, Lilly? How did you hear?”
“I only heard when Sherry came knocking at my door, near frightening the life out of me.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think that old man over there suggested you might need some company and Sherry suggested me, then came to get me.”
“You’re coming with me, to Evermeir?”
“I know,” Lilly giggled. “It’s exciting, isn’t it, Your Highness?” She tried to curtsy but messed it up and nearly stumbled over. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll soon get used to doing it.”
“Please, please, just call me Jasmin.”
“Very well, your gracefulness, but only when we’re alone,” she whispered, giggling again.
Jasmin rolled her eyes at her friend, then turned at the sound of a voice calling her. Despite the hurt she was feeling, she appreciated Lilly’s attempts to lighten the mood.
Yosef looked much more comfortable in tunic and trousers than he had in a nightshirt the previous night. Jasmin had to suppress a smile at what Sherry had told her the night before.
“My lady, this,” he said as he stepped to one side and indicated the old man that Lilly had been talking about, “is Magistrate Benton. He is the highest authority on the law of this kingdom.”
“Your Majesty,” the old man managed to say with a mouthful of bread. Jasmin assumed he had been caught by surprise as he struggled to get out of his seat.
“Please.” Jasmin held up her hand. The old man sank back down into his seat. “And please don’t call me that. I am Jasmin Grant until someone can prove otherwise. I am willing to go to Evermeir to see what all the fuss is about, but right now, I am just Jasmin.”
“Whatever pleases Your Maj—” Th
e old man stopped when he saw Jasmin’s cocked eyebrow. “Jasmin.”
“Thank you. Now, tell me, Yosef, what happens next?”
“Well, Jasmin. Once Magistrate Benton here finishes his breakfast, we have horses outside that have been fed and watered, and our men at the edge of town are preparing to leave.”
“Have they been fed and watered, Yosef?”
“More than adequately, thanks to Sherry, who seems to have been up all night baking.”
Sherry muttered something that sounded like, “Better than what I normally end up doing all night.”
Jasmin forced down a smile. She liked Sherry and could imagine the spit and feathers she would kick up if she went to the royal court.
“So we are all set to go?”
“Indeed, Jasmin, and I would be honored if you would allow me to escort you to your horse.”
“No need for that,” Marcos said quickly. “I’m looking after her. She is my charge and I will not leave her side.”
Jasmin looked at Yosef, shrugged, then took the hand proffered by Marcos.
25
Rogue
Having had a good night’s sleep and a chance to apply more magical salve to his wounds, which were already starting to heal, Rogue headed to the Grant estate after saying his final goodbyes to Zeke.
Saying goodbye to Zeke had been tough. The man had been with him for years, and while he was a grumpy old codger, Zeke was family, and Rogue was going to miss him. But he had more family that he hadn’t seen in a long time. He needed to go home. But before he could do that he had to finish what he’d started. He needed to protect the Grant family from their attackers.
He made it almost to the Grant estate before he felt it. Something in the air was bothering him. He had been out in the wilds for long enough to know that everything had its own distinctive smell, and the smell of death was no different.
It was a smell that seemed to infect everything around it for a long time after whatever was dead had wizened away and been disposed of by the wild creatures that seemed to be able to smell death from miles away.
Rogue Page 15