by Dawn Cook
There was a thunderous boom as the bolt on my door gave way. My head jerked up. The door slammed into the wall. Jeck stood in the doorframe. His face was wrathful, and his jaw was set. Bodies lay beyond him, shifting in pained surges of motion. As I watched, a guard slumped against the wall and slid down to a crumpled heap atop his companions. Jeck had been using them as a battering ram.
Fear gave me strength. I lunged to the window. Jeck couldn’t catch me! I’d risk the fall.
“I told you to stay out!” Garrett snarled.
“No!” Jeck shouted. “Prince Garrett! Get away from her!”
A hand gripped my shoulder and spun me around. Garrett crushed my back to his front, his arm wrapped around my neck. I grasped his wrist, trying to pull it away so I could breathe. He backed to the wall, dragging me. His breath filled my ear in heavy pants. His sword was pressed into my side. I closed my eyes, remembering the sound of the guard’s clothing tearing. The memory of the knife across my mother’s throat pulled tears from my eyes.
“I’m going to kill her, Captain,” Garrett shouted, and my eyes opened. “Get out so I don’t have to kill you as well.”
Jeck stopped in apparent indecision. Beyond him in the hall, the moans became calls for help. My pulse hammered. Panting, I shifted my fingers to show Jeck the dart I had pressed against Prince Garrett’s arm wrapped about my neck. A smile came over me when Jeck saw it and his face went still in understanding.
“Close the door, if you would?” I asked, seeming to be Garrett’s prisoner, but in reality it was the other way around. “Or he dies. Right here.”
Garrett laughed, squeezing my neck until it hurt. I gritted my teeth, and my fingers trembled, threatening to stab him.
“Wait,” Jeck said, putting a hand up. “I have an idea.”
Still not seeing his danger, Garrett snickered. “I don’t pay you to think, Captain,” he said. “She’s worth nothing now but to my pride, and my pride will see her dead.”
“The door?” I asked calmly though I was shaking inside.
Not taking his eyes from mine, Jeck nudged a guard’s foot clear and shut the door.
“Bar it with your sword,” I said, “and move away from it.” And he did.
Garrett’s grip on me faltered. “What the devil are you doing?” he asked Jeck. “Get out! Get out, or I’ll have you strung up for sedition. The princess is on the grounds. Go find her, if you think you can manage it.”
Jeck frowned, sending a leather-gloved hand over his beard. “You’re making it very difficult for me to justify keeping you alive, Prince Garrett.”
“Kill me?” he exclaimed, his breath shifting my hair. “I’m the one with the sword!”
Jeck’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re the one with the poisoned dart to your pulse—fool.”
Garrett’s breath was a quick intake of fear. He tensed to pull away, and I gripped his arm until my knuckles turned white.
“Don’t move,” I whispered, and the smell of his fear rose over the scent of lilac and bile from the dead guard. “Drop your sword.”
“Drop your needle, sea whore,” Garrett said. “Or I’ll run you through right now.”
Jeck shook his head. “That’s my blade, Prince Garrett. It’s a bone crusher. It doesn’t have a fine enough edge to cut without a full swing behind it, and she knows it.”
“Damn you all to hell!” Garrett shouted. “Get her off of me, Captain!”
I pushed my fingernail into him, and his breath quickened in fear. My back, pressed against his front, felt damp from his sweat. If he tried, he might get away, but I didn’t think he would risk it. He’d already tasted the poison once. “Drop it,” I said, and the blade hit the floor with a thunk. I took a shallow breath. “Let go of my neck.” He did.
Easing myself away from his stink of fear, I shifted until I was behind him and had my dart to his neck. He held himself stiffly. His blood beat hard and fast. Striking him here would go right to his brain. He would drop in seconds, die almost as quick. “I’m listening, Captain Jeck,” I said. “Though as you said, it’s getting harder to put this off.”
Jeck stood in the center of my sitting room, his toes edging the dead guard. “I’d just as soon see him dead, but there’s no reason to kill him now and several to let him live.”
Garrett took a shuddering breath. “You traitorous dog!” he exclaimed. “I’ll have you before my father, and his wolves will rip your insides out!”
“Shut your mouth,” I said, then softer to Jeck, “I promised to kill him, and I will.”
Jeck smiled. It was an honest smile, very much like the first one I had seen from that very spot. “Let him live with the memory you beat him.”
“Nothing I’ve done means anything,” I said bitterly. “Not until I kill him.”
Jeck shook his head. “You’ve convinced me you can keep what you hold,” he said. “The rest will follow my lead.”
I bit my lip, wondering if I could trust him. It sounded too easy. “The royals, then,” I insisted, knowing Garrett was hearing too much, but he was going to die, so it didn’t matter. “They’ll tear Costenopolie apart if I let Garrett get away with killing my parents.”
Jeck’s face went grim. “It’s always a risk, but—ah—no one of import will be actively plotting against you. If you kill Garrett, though, it will be impossible for me to keep King Edmund where he belongs. Thinking you can convince him you were justified in killing his son is a delusion. No matter how stupid Garrett is, he is still his son. It will start the war you wanted to prevent. You know it. That’s why you didn’t kill him the first time.”
“But he murdered them,” I protested. My grip shifted as I remembered he had buried them in the garden like animals. Garrett caught his breath, and the point pricked his skin, not breaking it. “They’re gone,” I said, hearing a plaintive, hurt tone in my voice and wishing I could keep it from me.
Jeck’s eyes went cold behind his black beard. “Yes. They’re dead when they could have lived for years more. But to make a kingdom suffer for your want for revenge? You’ve won, Tess. Don’t make the next game take place on the battlefield.”
Anger filled me, and Garrett gasped as I gripped him tighter. “You’re telling me that revenge is wrong,” I said. “That I should be above it, to let him live. Well I can’t! I can’t let him live, Jeck. I can’t!”
Jeck raised his hands in placation. “Easy, Tess. You aren’t listening. I’m the last person to tell you revenge is a wasted emotion. It’s sweet and warm, and for a time, it was the only thing that kept me going. But there’s quick revenge that’s fast and ultimately unsatisfying, or there’s the lasting, sticky-sweet honey revenge.” He cocked his eyebrows, and Garrett’s breath shuddered. “There are ways to wreak revenge other than death, and some can serve a purpose.”
I hesitated, surprised he seemed to understand. My thoughts went back to our night together before his fire and him telling me of his past. “What do you suggest?” I said, hearing my voice as if it wasn’t my own.
“Don’t kill him. He’s worthless.”
“I am a prince!” Garrett shouted. “If you harm me, my father will descend upon you. Your homes will be burned. Your ships sunk. Your—”
“Shut your mouth,” I said. I could smell his sweat and knew he was afraid.
Jeck clasped his hands behind his back. A faint smile hovered on him. “There are worse fates than death,” he said. “And Garrett has made a very large, embarrassing mistake. If you let him live, he will be sent home in disgrace like a boy pilfering apples from a neighbor’s grove.” I felt Garrett stiffen. “Beaten by Costenopolie’s false princess? A child from the gutter? I’ve walked King Edmund’s halls, and Tess, it will be a living hell.”
I hesitated, hearing the truth in what he said, but my soul begged me to not listen, to just kill him and deal with the consequences later.
“King Edmund has a third son,” Jeck said. “He isn’t a man of action but a son nonetheless. If your princess will cons
ider him—”
“Alexander!” Garrett exploded. “You can’t call Alexander a man. He’s a worthless—”
“Shut your mouth!” I shouted. I tossed a curl of red hair from my eyes as my topknot slowly fell apart. “I wouldn’t have one Misdev dog in my palace. Why would I trust another?”
Jeck shifted eagerly. “The union between Misdev and Costenopolie—”
My eyes widened. “This is to save your hide!” I interrupted. “If you go back to King Edmund with a dead prince, he will demote you to where you can’t effectively play.”
“Play . . .” Garrett whispered.
Jeck straightened, glancing uncomfortably at Garrett. “Tess . . .” he warned.
“That’s if he doesn’t outright kill you,” I continued hotly, not caring that Garrett was hearing more than he should. “Here’s my idea. I kill Garrett, and the princess won’t wed at all. The Red Moon Princess will stay unwed, and that damned prophesy won’t mean anything!”
Jeck’s expression was open and honest. “You’re right. I’m looking out for myself, and that could work, but Tess . . .” His words took on a conspiratorial tone, and I met his sly gaze. “Consider how strong we could be together. Misdev and Costenopolie can still make an official alliance by marriage as Kavenlow intended through King Edmund’s youngest son. I’ve studied your master’s past games. He does nothing without a reason. He sees farther ahead then I am used to. Just look what he saw in you. But now?” His smile went devious. “I see what he intended here. I wish he could have approached me openly, but I never would have trusted him. Killing Garrett will limit you to one option, and you don’t want war. I’ve seen it, Tess. It will kill you slowly.”
Garrett shifted under my fingers. “You think you rule us,” he said in wonder. “The captain of the guard and a changeling think they rule us!”
I frowned, wishing there was another way to do this. Jeck took a small step forward, and I tightened my grip on Garrett, my fingers going slippery with his sweat.
“Your ships and harbors?” Jeck said. “My fields and men? No one would dare raise a finger to either of us. Your people would be free to extend their reach by commerce, and my people could devote themselves to working the land as they want instead of sending their young men to die in constant battle. And if the need ever arose for a force on the land, you would have a group of very easily trained men only a few weeks away. But for even a chance of it working, you can’t kill Garrett.”
Garrett trembled in his desire to move, knowing it would mean his death. “Players,” he whispered. “I’ve heard of you,” he said, his voice rising. “We will ferret you out and crush you as we did five hundred years ago!”
That didn’t sound good, and I tightened my grip. “He knows too much. I have to kill him.”
“Tess,” Jeck protested. “Killing a pawn doesn’t make you strong. Forging a peaceful union does. And that’s what Garrett has made himself into. He has gone from a knight to a pawn in his failure. It’s your decision, your move, but the way you win this game decides how the next will be set up.”
Hands clasped behind himself, Jeck took a symbolic step backward. I hesitated, thinking. The pain in my soul demanded vengeance, that Garrett shouldn’t be able to feel the sun when my parents no longer could. But knowing he had been beaten by a woman, one not of royal birth but a guttersnipe, would prey upon him. Having everything taken from him by a child from the streets might . . . be enough.
An unexpected relief came over me. My breath whispered out, and my shoulders eased. Jeck saw my decision to let Garrett live, and the tension slipped from him. “Alexander?” I asked.
“No,” Garrett said, panic staining his beautiful voice. “You can’t do that to me.”
I smiled. He would be remembered as the pathetic son who tried to start a war and escaped with his life. The one who could have had everything but was beaten by a beggar’s child. Jeck was right. Revenge made a warm spot that couldn’t be put out.
“There will have to be a long courtship,” I said. “I’ll not rush her.”
“Of course. I expect nothing else.”
“And there will be the understanding I can back out at any time, right up to the I dos,” I continued, not moving my dart from Garrett. “And if you are lying to me, I’ll see you dead.”
“As is always a woman’s right,” Jeck acknowledged, inclining his head.
His brown eyes glinted in the shine from the lamps, and I wasn’t sure if he was commenting on backing out of a marriage or a woman’s right to kill the one who wronged her. “So, how do we end this?” I asked. “You still have the palace.”
Clearly pleased, Jeck raised a finger like a lecturing nobleman. We froze at the sudden cries in the hall. “Get the door open!” someone shouted.
Garrett twisted, gripping my hand with the dart and forcing it away from him. I cried out when bones ground together and pain flamed. “Stop!” I shrieked. He pushed me from him as my hand opened and the dart dropped to the floor. I hunched over my wrist and backed away, terrified, as he scooped up his sword.
“I’ll kill you both,” he snarled. “I will be king!”
Jeck pulled his sword from the door in a beautiful arc of motion, leaping to stand between Prince Garrett and me. It was all for nothing, I thought miserably as I held my numbed hand to me. All for nothing.
But it was Kavenlow who burst in, trailing a handful of dirty, smelly, unshaven, barefoot Costenopolie guards.
“No!” Garrett cried, diving at me.
“Stop him!” I cried, seeing the shimmer of my dart in his hand. Feinting with the sword, Garrett drove the fire-hardened needle through Jeck’s jerkin. Jeck stumbled back. He fell to the floor, clutching his chest. Garrett shouted and leapt at me. His bloodied sword gleamed red.
I stood, horrified, as Jeck lay still on the floor. I couldn’t move, couldn’t take my eyes from Jeck, though Garrett was coming at me. The guards dove for Garrett, bringing him down three feet before me by sheer weight of numbers.
Terrified, I ran to Jeck. He wasn’t moving. Had he put himself at the edge of his tolerance to best me, making this a killing dose? He has to be all right, I thought frantically. He had to be. “Jeck!” I cried, falling to my knees before him. “Jeck! Look at me!”
His eyes cracked open, and I slumped. He swallowed and waved his fingers weakly. “I’m all right. Give me a minute. Damn, you pack a punch, woman.”
Immeasurably relieved, I pulled my gaze up from his, finding Kavenlow watching me with an amazed surprise. I opened my mouth to explain, then shut it, shocked to realize I cared if Captain Jeck lived or died. Confused, I got to my feet and left him on the floor. Two guards descended upon him, pulling him roughly to his feet. I reached out in protest, then forced my hands to my side.
Duncan’s low voice drifted into the room. “. . . and then he slammed the one with the pike into the wall headfirst. It made a dent the size of my fist.” His lanky frame came to a halt in the doorframe, and he stared in at the chaos. Behind him was Resh, the captain of my father’s guard. “Angel’s Spit!” Duncan swore. Then his eyes rose to mine. “Tess!” Surging in, he moved through the guards as if unseen. He took my hand to pull me toward him, and I yelped.
“No, I’m all right,” I protested as he leaned close, holding my arm carefully to look at my hand. His fingers were stained with rust and dirt. “Ow. Let it go,” I insisted as I glanced at his bruised face. “It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right,” Duncan said, his breath warm on my hand. “I think it’s broken.” His gaze went hard and he looked at Jeck hanging in the guards’ grip. “Did he do this to you?”
“No,” I said. “Prince Garrett did. And it’s all right. See?” Steeling myself, I tried to close my fingers. Nausea and relief swept me as they moved as they should. I looked up, my eyes probing his. “You’re a thief,” I whispered. “Only a thief could have done that.”
He stiffened, then relaxed. A flash of hidden promise flickered behind his eyes
. “Only if you’re an assassin,” he said.
Flustered, I pulled my hand from him.
“Get off me!” Garrett shouted, his voice muffled. “Give me my sword. They’re traitors to the crown. Both of them. They rule, not the kings! It’s a sham! A conspiracy! Get off!”
I glanced at Kavenlow with a sick look. He was grim, accepting Garrett’s sword when someone brought it to him. “Let him up,” Kavenlow said, his tired gaze going over the room. I watched his lips move as he counted the number of people. There were a lot, and all would need their memories clouded. He gave Jeck an angry grimace as if he should have known better. I got an exasperated sigh.
My face went cold at the princess’s lyrical voice in the hall. She above all shouldn’t hear what Garrett was saying. Kavenlow leaned toward a guard. “Keep her out of here,” he said, his eyes falling to the dead guard on my rug. “She ought not see this.”
The guard nodded and left. There was a murmur, and the princess’s voice rang out, “My sister is in there. You said the room was secure; let me through.”
Eyes wide, I looked at Kavenlow. “Get out,” he mouthed. But I wasn’t fast enough, and before I had pulled from Duncan, the princess entered with Thadd tight behind her. Her eyes went wide at the guard dead upon my floor, then filled with relief as she found me.
“She’s a fraud!” Garrett said, spittle flying as he struggled to free himself from the two guards restraining him. “A fraud!” He started laughing. The high-pitched sound made my skin crawl. “The farmer,” he gasped, “and the dock whore. They rule. Not you.” He pointed a finger at the princess and laughed hysterically. “She doesn’t rule. The whore does. You’re a fraud. My father is a fraud. We’re all frauds. The farmer rules. The farmer rules us all!”
I stared in dismay at Garrett laughing, held up only by the guards supporting him. Kavenlow couldn’t cloud so firm a thought. I glanced at Jeck and read the truth of it. If we couldn’t shut him up, he would have to die or risk us all being exposed.