I nodded. I had told Rafe and his men that I wanted as little blood spilled as possible. While there were Vendans among the citadelle guards, some of them were still Morrighese and surely believed they were only following orders.
He still didn’t move forward, a scowl pulling between his brows. “You don’t have to go in, Lia. We can go first, and once the hall is secure, we can send for you.” He and Kaden exchanged a glance. A knowing glance.
“If either of you try to stop me, you will die. Do you understand?”
“You’re injured, Lia,” Kaden said.
“One hand is injured,” I answered. “My strengths are not your strengths.”
We reached the plaza, and the men disguised as citadelle guards walked up the steps to the string of guards stationed at the entrance. Jeb, his Morrighese pitch-perfect, told them his squad was there to relieve them. The center guard looked confused, not recognizing Jeb or the others, and balked, but it was too late for them to act. Rafe’s men were quick and assured and their short swords cut the air with a single united shing, just as quickly pressing them to the guards’ chests. They pushed them back into the dark recess of the portal, taking their weapons while the rest of us flooded up the steps, shedding cloaks and unfurling more weapons from wagons and sacks.
Taking the next line of guards wasn’t as bloodless. They spotted us from the end of the passageway. Two of them moved to close the heavy hallway doors while the rest charged shoulder to shoulder toward us bearing halberds that far outreached our swords. Rafe’s archers stepped forward, shouting a warning order to stop. They didn’t, and multiple arrows flew beneath the guard’s shields and into their legs. When they stumbled, they were overtaken, and we charged the doors before the other guards were able to bar it. As one of them began to shout a warning, Sven knocked him unconscious.
The last two guards, posted outside the closed doors to Aldrid Hall, were ceremonial at best. Their purpose was to turn away uninvited visitors, not defend against attackers. Their hair was silver, their stomachs paunchy, and their armor consisted only of a leather helmet and breastplate. They drew their swords uncertainly.
I stepped forward, and they recognized me.
“Your Highness—” The guard caught himself, unsure what to call me.
“Lay down your weapons and step aside,” I ordered. “We don’t want to hurt you, but we will. The kingdom and my brothers’ lives are at stake.”
Their eyes bulged with fear, but they stood their ground. “We have our orders.”
“As do I,” I answered. “Move. Now. Every second you delay puts lives at risk.”
They didn’t budge.
I looked at the archers who stood to my right. “Shoot them,” I commanded.
When the guards shifted their attention to the archers, Rafe and Kaden moved in from the left, striking the swords from their grasps and slamming both men against the wall.
Before the doors were opened, we implemented the last of our plans. Other than myself, only Pauline knew the layout of the citadelle, and I sent her off with precise instructions about what she was to bring back to me. Jeb and Captain Azia went with her. “The guard posted at the door is Vendan,” I said. “You may have to kill him.”
Kaden left with two of the soldiers dressed as citadelle guards. His quest was more uncertain, though I told him exactly what to look for. Gwyneth was sent in yet another direction with the rest of the soldiers dressed as guards. With the whole cabinet convened in Aldrid Hall, I prayed the passageways would be mostly empty.
My head pounded with the sound of their receding footsteps, a lifetime of voices awakening within me.
Hold your tongue, Arabella!
Quiet!
This matter is finished!
Go to your chamber!
Rafe and Tavish looked at me waiting for the signal that I was ready.
Other voices sounded in my head.
Don’t tarry, Miz.
Trust the strength within you.
Nurse the rage. Use it.
That was easy to do. I drew my sword and nodded. The doors were opened, and I went in with Rafe on one side, Tavish on the other, Orrin and his best archers flanking us, Sven leading the lines of shield bearers before us, and more soldiers pulling up the rear, soldiers willing to lay their lives down for another kingdom and an uncertain cause.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
RAFE
Up until this point, everything had been planned with precision. From here forward, Sven said it was another half-assed plan, but he also noted that he was becoming more comfortable with military strategies that were half-assed. Tavish had snorted at the word strategy. As we stormed the hall, we had skill and surprise on our side, and little else. What the next minutes and hours would bring were uncertain, but I knew we were running out of time. I knew it the minute Lia had walked into the armory. There was already a war going on—the traitors against Lia—and right now it looked like the traitors were winning.
Tavish muttered under his breath as we rushed in, eyeing the long upper gallery and balcony that overlooked the hall. Lia had said it was accessible only from the royal wing, but if archers flooded it before we could secure it, we would be like fish in a barrel waiting to be speared one at a time. We guarded Lia’s back and one another’s. Lords and ministers gasped, too startled to grasp what was happening, as my men filled out the perimeter. Guards posted at the dais stayed their hands when our archers targeted them in their sights. Tavish and I kept close to Lia, our shields raised, watching, turning, scanning the room. Orrin flanked us with his men, their arrows already aimed at the two towers ready to return attacks.
Lia stopped in the center of the room and yelled that no one should move, promising they wouldn’t be hurt. She lied. There would be blood spilled. I saw it in her eyes, her face, her lips, the hungry rage. I thought it might be all that kept her standing. Her eyes were circled with shadows, her lips pale. I knew she had lied to me back at the armory. She’d lost a lot of blood. But I also understood the rush of battle and the surge of strength that kept dead men on their feet. Along with her desperate fury, it kept her going now.
I ordered the doors barred and the guards relieved of their weapons.
A lord who had been addressing the cabinet remained frozen on the large semicircular step at the front of the hall, unable to speak or move. I motioned to him with my sword. “Sit down.”
He scrambled back to his seat, and Lia walked up the steps, taking his place.
Her scrutiny passed over the cabinet, and she addressed each one, nodding her head as if in greeting, but I saw the fear in their eyes. They knew it was no greeting. Every one of them saw the thin line she walked, and the multiple weapons strapped to her side.
The Chancellor jumped to his feet. “This is preposterous!”
An echo of agreement rumbled around him, chairs scraping back as if to escort the insolent princess to her chamber.
Before I could say anything, Lia threw her dagger. “I told you not to move!” she yelled. The blade nicked the Chancellor’s sleeve and lodged in a carved wooden wall behind him.
A hush returned to the hall. The Chancellor held his arm, blood seeping between his fingers. His head shook with rage, but he returned to his seat.
“That’s better,” she said. “I don’t want you dead yet, Lord Chancellor. You’ll hear me out first.”
He may have sat, but he wasn’t silenced. “So you throw knives to muzzle the cabinet and have a ragtag collection of sword-wielding rebels whom you’ve compelled to follow you,” he said. “What are you going to do? Hold off the entire Morrighese army?”
I stepped forward. “As a matter of fact, yes, we are.”
The Chancellor skimmed the length of me, taking in my rough-spun clothes. His lip lifted in disgust. “And you would be?”
For someone in his precarious position, he showed no signs of backing down. His arrogance made mine blaze.
“I would be the king of Dalbreck,” I answered. “And I c
an assure you, my ragtag collection can hold off your army for an amazingly extended period of time—at least long enough to see you dead.”
The Watch Captain snickered. “Fool! We’ve met the king of Dalbreck, and you are not him!”
I closed the space between us and reached across the table, grabbing him by the front of his tunic. I jerked him to his feet. “Are you willing to bet your life on that, Captain? Because even though you’ve never seen me, I saw you from the cloister of the abbey on the day of my thwarted wedding. You nervously paced with the Timekeeper, cursing as I recall.”
I let go of his tunic, shoving him back in his seat. “My father has passed. I’m king now—and I’ve yet to behead anyone in my new capacity, though I’m eager to see what it’s like.”
I stared, pinning him to his seat, then looked at the rest of the cabinet, scanning as Lia had done, wondering which hand had struck her, which had torn the shirt from her back, and worse, which of her own had betrayed her and every other kingdom on the continent by conspiring with the Komizar, trading our lives for their greed. Other than the Chancellor and the Watch Captain, the rest had remained curiously silent, and I found their quiet brooding just as disturbing as the outbursts. They plotted.
I looked at Lia. “Speak, Princess. You have the floor as long as you like.”
She smiled, a frightening hardness to her lips. “The floor,” she repeated savoring the words as she turned, her arms held out to her sides. “Forgive me, esteemed ministers for the state of my”—she looked down at her bloodstained clothes, then at her exposed shoulder—“my appearance. I know it doesn’t follow court protocol. But there’s some comfort in it too, I suppose. Beaten and scorned, she will expose the wicked. She paused, the smile slipping from her face. “Do those words frighten you? They should.”
She turned, her gaze traveling over the lords, then she stopped and looked up at the empty gallery. Every eye followed her stare. The silence grew long and uncomfortable, but for now the memory of her knife flying across the room seemed to keep their tongues quiet. My pulse raced, and Tavish and I exchanged a worried glance. She seemed to have forgotten where we were or what she was doing. I followed her gaze. There was nothing there. Nothing, at least, that I could see.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
The air changed, hanging above us, the color soft and muted, like aged parchment. The room grew larger, dreamlike, becoming a distant world where a fourteen-year-old girl charged with her brothers by her side. More who believed in her followed close behind. They were all dead now, killed on a nameless battlefield. Walther whispered, Be careful, sister.
I heard the girl yell that no one should move, and she promised they wouldn’t be hurt. She knew that wasn’t true. Some would die, though she didn’t know which ones or when, but their deaths already clouded behind her eyes. She saw two men charging with her, watching, turning, archers flanking her with arrows drawn. And then her eyes landed on the cabinet, the faces, the empty seat of her father. The air snapped sharp, the colors brilliant, and fear vibrated against the walls in waves. The girl was gone. It was only me. Facing them. And today, no one would be banishing me to my chamber.
The Viceregent, the Chancellor, the Watch Captain, the Trademaster, the court physician, the Timekeeper, the Field Marshal, the Huntmaster, and of course, the Royal Scholar, who looked the most troubled of all by the turn of events. Notably absent was the First Daughter and the king himself, but one of them would be here soon. The Timekeeper fiddled nervously with the buttons on his jacket, pulling and fretting until one popped off. It clattered to the floor, rolling across the polished stone.
I knew who the mastermind behind this was, the architect who craved power just as much as the Komizar. Maybe even more, risking everything for the whole prize—the continent. I looked at him, slow and steady. It was obvious now. The scales of his true nature gleamed beneath his robe. The dragon who had as many faces as the Komizar.
When the Chancellor disobeyed the first of my orders, my dagger flew. It took all of my will not to aim straight for his heart. In my days crossing the Cam Lanteux, every time I practiced throwing my knife into the trunk of a tree, I had marked his heart as the target in my mind’s eye, but his death would come later. For now he might still be of some use to me, and I would use every piece of him, finger by finger, if that was what it took to save my brothers.
He sat but seethed, now throwing insults at Rafe.
I watched him and the others, one by one, down the line—for a conspiracy was only as good as its weakest link—and now that link was being tested.
The citadelle closed in, contracting, squeezing the treachery into something hard and alive, its heartbeat wild, resisting, its beastly roar echoing, but beneath it all I heard another sound, a fragile thrum as persistent as hope, and I saw someone step out on the balcony.
It was a girl. She leaned over the rail, her wide dark eyes fixed on mine. Promise, she said.
I nodded. “I promised long ago.”
And then she was gone, the world shifting, the air sharp and bright again.
The lords waited, their attention whittled to a point, ready to snap.
I told them of traitors in their midst, of dragons with unquenchable thirst, and still another, the Komizar of Venda, who was on his way here with an unstoppable army to destroy them all, helped by the same traitors who had sent Crown Prince Walther to his death. “I ran from the wedding because I was afraid, but I did not betray Morrighan, and I did not betray my brother. I watched him die, but at the hands of Vendans who were lying in wait for him. He was sent into an ambush by traitors here in this room. The same ones who have sent Princes Regan and Bryn to die.”
The Royal Scholar leaned forward. “Wouldn’t this be better discussed in—”
But the Viceregent cut him off, holding up his hand. “Let’s not interrupt the princess. Let her have her say. We can give her that much.” He eyed me as if recalling every word we had spoken in his office. Do you have any evidence? He knew my word wasn’t enough.
I glared, slow and steady, at the Royal Scholar, a warning—your time will come—and turned to the Field Marshal, who was the cabinet liaison to the troops. “My brothers need to be tracked down and brought home immediately. With my father ill, they never should have been sent away to Gitos and Cortenai in the first place. How do you explain this flagrant breach of protocol, Lord Commander?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and shot a hard glance at the Watch Captain. The Royal Scholar watched them all as if ready to jump from his seat.
“I didn’t want to send them,” he answered, a scowl darkening his face. “In fact, I argued against it. But I was swayed to believe it was for the good of the realm.”
“And your brothers heartily agreed,” the Watch Captain added.
I stormed across the dais, slamming my sword onto the table inches from his hand. “They agreed to be slaughtered?”
The Watch Captain gawked at his hand as if making sure all his fingers were still there. His gaze shot back to me, his eyes glowing with anger. “The girl is insane!” he shouted to Rafe’s soldiers standing near him. “Lay down your weapons before she gets you all killed!”
The rumble of footsteps echoed in the south hall, the vibration of a hundred boots pounding toward us. Soldiers had been alerted. I looked back at the cabinet.
The Dragon.
A smile.
One that no one else could see.
A voice no one else could hear.
More. It is mine. You are mine.
The grind of teeth.
A gluttonous swallow.
A satisfied breath.
I turned to Rafe as the rumbling footsteps got louder. He held my gaze and nodded, confident. Keep going.
A lord in the back of the hall, apparently emboldened by the sound of soldiers, stood. “The only traitor we see in this hall is you! If there were other traitors, you would name them! The Watch Captain’s right—the girl is mad!”
The Vic
eregent sighed, tenting his hands in front of him, and frowned. “We’ve allowed you your say, Arabella, but I’m afraid I must agree with Lord Gowan. You can’t make these accusations without providing evidence, and we don’t see any.”
I could name many traitors, possibly half of the cabinet, but my only evidence, if Pauline was able to secure it, would be construed as something I had planted. I needed someone else to point the finger.
“You’ll have your evidence,” I promised, stalling for time. Where was Pauline? She was coming from the north hall, but what if her way was already blocked? “And you’ll get your names. But we haven’t discussed—”
A hand pounded on the north entry door and a shout blared through it. “Lia!”
The bar was lifted, and Pauline rushed across the room, nervously taking in the scrutiny of the cabinet and the lords. She walked up the steps to meet me with a box clutched in her arms.
There was another clatter of footsteps, and our men posing as citadelle guards rushed to the gallery rail. Gwyneth joined them and nodded to me. More footsteps. Soft. Hurried. A swish of skirts. Aunt Bernette, Aunt Cloris, and Lady Adele, the queen’s attendant, appeared, their hands gripping the rail as their eyes skimmed the room. Their gazes passed over me, and a knot swelled in my throat. I wasn’t the same girl who had left here so many months ago, and they didn’t recognize me. When they finally realized who I was, Aunt Cloris gasped, and tears flowed down Aunt Bernette’s cheeks, but Gwyneth had coached them well. They were not to speak, only bear witness, and they all held their tongues. And then there was a flash of blue, and my lungs squeezed. The queen stepped forward between my aunts, a shadow of who she had once been. She looked down at me, her eyes dark hollows, her gaze searing into mine. There’s nothing to know.… It’s only the chill of the night. But now we both knew it was far more than a chill.
“Welcome, Your Majesty,” I said. “We were just about to discuss the king’s health.”
I turned back to the cabinet. They fidgeted, waiting for me to say something, the Watch Captain’s hands safely tucked beneath the table.
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