“What do you mean, immediately?!” Uncle Rupert spoke sharply. “I was gone for half an hour—how were you so quickly convinced to order an execution?!”
“I am sick to death of this Kyonan boy,” said the king, sounding petulant. “He is all anyone petitions me about all day long, and I want to be done with him once and for all. You are just blinded by affection for your niece.”
“That’s nonsense,” replied Uncle Rupert, and Scarlett had to agree. “My niece has nothing to do with this. The boy is here as an official emissary of his king.”
“Everyone said that last time, and it turned out to be no such thing,” said King Siloam, dismissively.
“But this time it is true, Siloam! If we kill him, it will be seen as an act of war.”
“Lord Grentan doesn’t seem to think so. He says that this King Calinnae will have to accept that the murder of one of our soldiers changes the situation. We could hardly let such an offense go unpunished.”
“That is foolishness, brother.” Prince Rupert sounded as frustrated as Scarlett felt. “Lord Grentan is pursuing his own agenda.”
“Enough.” The king’s voice was uncharacteristically firm. “My mind is made up. I know you think me incapable of making my own decisions, but you’re wrong. Now let’s hear no more about it.”
This statement was followed by silence, and Scarlett didn’t realize that her uncle was taking leave of the king until he suddenly emerged from the room, pausing in surprise at the sight of her still facing off with the guards.
“Scarlett! What are you doing here?” His expression was hard, but she pushed on eagerly.
“Uncle Rupert, I need to see the king!”
“Dressed like that?” her uncle asked, looking her over with disfavor. “Absolutely not.” He began to walk away from the receiving room, and Scarlett kept pace with him, abandoning her fruitless argument with the king’s guards. Two of the guards followed Prince Rupert, walking a respectful distance behind them.
“Who cares what I’m wearing?” she said impatiently. “Uncle Rupert, trouble is brewing. There’s a plan to—”
“I am well aware of what’s being planned. I’m sure you wish to petition the king about your husband’s execution, but believe me it will do no good. I don’t want this execution any more than you do, and I’ve already spoken to him. Unfortunately, he is resolved. Even if he would see you, your meddling would only make matters worse.”
“It’s not just the execution,” she said quickly. “It’s Scanlon. He’s—”
“I’m not interested, Scarlett,” said her uncle, cutting her off ruthlessly. “You’ve made an almighty mess already, and you needn’t look to me for help to get out of it. Any dispute between you and your brother is a domestic matter, and if you had more class, you would not wish to air it outside your own household.”
“It’s nothing to do with my household,” Scarlett cried, frustrated. “It’s yours! He’s speaking treason, just listen to me!”
“Your husband has nothing to do with my household,” said Prince Rupert brutally, pausing in the doorway to his personal chambers. “Dramatic allegations will not convince anyone, Scarlett, not when we are all now perfectly aware that you will do—and say—anything to protect your Kyonans. If you wish to pay your last respects to your husband, I suggest you stop wasting your time with me and go down to the dungeons.” He entered his rooms as he spoke, closing the door behind him.
“Uncle!” Scarlett cried, but it was no use. The door remained shut, and the two guards now flanked it, their stony expressions making it clear that she would not be gaining entry.
Giles. She needed to find Giles. Surely he would listen to her. She took off running once again, her uncle’s last words ringing in her ears and filling her with terror. How long had it been since the king’s pronouncement? How long before it was too late? Should she abandon the attempt to tell the royals about Scanlon’s treachery and go straight to the courtyard?
She wasn’t even sure where to find Giles, so she redirected her steps back toward her own room. She ransacked her trunk again, concealing an extra two blades on her person. She then went through Jonan’s trunk, which had somewhat ironically been brought from the ship to her chamber. She was hunting for a spare weapon, but she frowned when her foraging uncovered a document with the official seal of Kyona’s king.
Her eyes widened as she scanned the parchment. This would have been extremely useful a day earlier, but she had never seen it before. Even in her anxiety for him, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the absent Jonan. It was so like her husband to neglect to mention such a practical—and crucial—detail.
She tucked the parchment into her bodice, hoping desperately that it wasn’t too late to use it. In addition, she strapped Jonan’s spare sword belt around her slim waist. It was awkward and too large, but better than no sword at all. She could only assume that the sword he usually carried on him had been seized when they arrested him at the dock.
This task complete, she hurried toward the entranceway, reflecting that with all this running, it had been well worth changing out of her impractical dress. The need to choose between finding Giles and going straight to the courtyard was removed by her cousin’s well-timed appearance as she hurtled toward the castle’s front door.
“Giles!” she cried, seizing his arm.
“Scarlett! What in the kingdom are you wearing? Is that a sword?”
“Never mind, that’s not important right now!” said Scarlett, exasperated.
“You’re right,” said Giles quickly. “Scarlett, I thought there would be more time, but the king—”
“I know, I know,” Scarlett cut him off. “But there’s something else happening, Giles. They’re planning a coup!”
“What?” he asked, startled. “Who is?”
“The military,” Scarlett said, stumbling over her words in her haste. “Scanlon. The general.”
“Slow down,” said Giles, looking bewildered.
Scarlett took a deep breath, willing herself to be more coherent. “Scanlon is working with the general, riling the people up so that when the crown fails to take aggressive action to satisfy everyone’s anger, people will turn on the royals.”
“But the crown is about to take aggressive action,” said Giles blankly.
“Yes, well, I know that, but that wasn’t part of his plan,” Scarlett said impatiently. “He’s counting on me to stop that.”
“Whose plan?” Giles looked more bewildered than ever.
“Scanlon’s! He’s behind it.”
“And he’s counting on your help. You’re in on it?” Giles raised an eyebrow.
“Of course not,” snapped Scarlett. “But the fact that Scanlon doesn’t want Jonan executed won’t stop me from preventing the execution, and Scanlon knows that. He’s using me, and I know he is, but what choice do I have?”
She knew she wasn’t making much sense, and Giles’s blank stare confirmed it.
“I’ll be honest, Scar. I have no idea what you’re talking about. I know some of the soldiers have been muttering, but it’s a big leap from there to a coup. Let alone implicating the general himself. And what Scanlon has to do with any of it is beyond me. Where did you get all this information?”
“Scanlon told me himself! He and the general were talking after the king gave his verdict, and I overheard them, and he basically admitted that they’re plotting against the crown!”
“Oh Scar,” said Giles, the pity in his voice worse than his former confusion. “Scanlon has an ugly streak to him, there’s no denying it. He knows how hard this is on you, and he was trying to bait you. I’m sure he would love to push you into making a fool of yourself, or worse—he probably wouldn’t shed any tears if you got yourself executed alongside Jonan.”
Scarlett went cold at the mention of Jonan’s execution. She couldn’t afford to waste time arguing with her cousin. “Giles, you have to help me stop the execution, then you have to root out whoever in the military is invol
ved with this coup. They’ll use any mercy the crown shows Jonan as the catalyst for an uprising. Giles!” she snapped, seeing that he was distracted by the scurry of people moving out of the entranceway toward the promised execution. “Why aren’t you taking me seriously?”
Giles sighed. “Don’t think I have no sympathy for you, Scarlett. I really do. I wanted to stop this, and I tried my best. But I failed. And forgive me for being skeptical when you then race in at the eleventh hour with some far-fetched tale about needing to stop Jonan’s execution, or the fate of the kingdom will hang in the balance. I mean,” he gave her a pointed look, “it wouldn’t be the first time in the last twenty-four hours that you’d lied to me outright where Jonan is concerned, would it?”
“Look at my face, Giles!” Scarlett cried in desperation. “I know I deceived you in the past, but you know me. Do you really think I’m lying to you right now? Plus, that doesn’t even make sense. If I made the story up, why would I admit that sparing Jonan’s life is exactly what the crown’s enemies want?”
Giles frowned as he tried to keep up with the frenzied flow of words. “I don’t think you’re lying to me,” he said at last, his voice quiet. “But I think Scanlon has been lying to you, trying to get into your head.”
Scarlett growled in frustration. Why would no one listen to her? All she was trying to do was help Balenol, not that she had much reason anymore to wish the country well. Giles had said that everyone now knew of her secret activities as a rebel leader, but it didn’t seem to have changed anyone’s opinion that she was a foolish, gullible, vapid girl, not to be taken seriously. She could think of one person who would have listened to her warning, would have believed the sincerity and accuracy of her report without question. But he was currently being led out for execution, and not exactly in a position to help her in any attempt to thwart Scanlon.
“I don’t have time for this,” she said curtly. “Believe me or don’t—it’s your future crown on the line, what do I care if Scanlon topples the throne?” She tried to brush past Giles, but he grabbed her arm, stopping her momentum.
“Where are you going?” She could hear the genuine alarm in his voice. “I don’t think you should go out there, Scarlett. It’s not going to be pretty. You don’t want to see it.”
She stared at him in amazement. “You think my husband is going to be executed, and you expect me to hang back inside here to avoid seeing anything distressing? You have an even poorer opinion of me than I realized.” Her eyes grew fierce. “Not that it matters, because there won’t be anything distressing to see. I’m going to stop this.”
“You can’t stop it, Scar,” said Giles, speaking softly even while he continued to grip her arm firmly. “Don’t put yourself through the agony of watching.”
For a moment Scarlett’s eyes glazed over, her mind going blank at the surreal nature of the moment. It was impossible not to call to mind the last execution she had witnessed before leaving Nohl. Or not quite witnessed, because she had been prevented from actually seeing Raldo beheaded, that time by Jonan himself. Jonan had held her in his arms, she remembered, for the first time. She had felt almost safe there, even then. He had let her cry against him, and unless she was mistaken, he had even shed tears of his own.
And now he was the one facing the blade.
She shook her head to clear it, wrenching her arm from Giles’s grip at the same time. There had been too much at stake for her to throw off her disguise and rush to Raldo’s aid when he was executed. But this time was different. She had nothing she was unwilling to lose in the cause of saving Jonan’s life. She had no intention of hanging back, and no time to lose.
“Scar!” Giles cried as she pulled free of him. “The king has made up his mind—even my father couldn’t convince him. You can’t stop this!”
Scarlett paused for a moment on the threshold, turning back to meet Giles’s eye with a steely expression.
“Watch me.”
Chapter Twelve
Scarlett’s heart leaped into her throat as she stepped out into the courtyard. She had thought Jonan was still to be brought up from the dungeon, so the sight of him already standing at the base of the execution scaffold stopped her breath. What was wrong with Giles that he kept her talking when time was so crucial?
She ran through the crowd, shoving people aside in her haste to reach Jonan and the men surrounding him. She noticed that they were not soldiers this time, but members of the royal guard. Not that the soldiers were absent. She didn’t have leisure to survey the eager crowd closely, but she did notice that a number of the people she pushed past wore the traditional military uniform. She was vaguely surprised that they were spread throughout the courtyard instead of standing in a block, but she didn’t have time to puzzle over the matter. She had almost reached the front of the crowd when she saw a guard start to push Jonan toward the steps at the base of the scaffold.
“Stop!” she cried, but her voice was lost in the bustle. She shoved a middle-aged woman aside and burst out into the open space. “I said STOP!”
“Scarlett!” Jonan cried, mingled relief and alarm in his tone.
“Step back,” said a guard, stepping forward to intercept her. His grip was firm, but his voice was kinder than that of the soldiers who had restrained her that morning. “Don’t make a scene, now.”
“I will absolutely make a scene!” Scarlett protested, making her voice as loud as possible. She could hear the excited murmuring of the crowd, and was confident she had their full attention. Good. She knew her Balenan people, and there was nothing they loved so much as a spectacle. And she was more than ready to make a spectacle of herself if that was what was needed.
“This man is an official foreign emissary, and I demand that you cease at once,” she projected in a confident voice.
“We have our orders, My Lady,” said the guard gruffly. “And they come from the king himself.”
“Then I demand an audience with the king,” said Scarlett boldly.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” said the guard dryly. “He held an audience an hour ago, and this matter was settled then.”
“I was not given the opportunity to be present!” said Scarlett. “And neither was he.” She gestured toward Jonan. “Isn’t it customary for those under accusation to have the chance to state their case before judgment is passed?”
The soldier shrugged. “That’s not my area.”
Scarlett looked around quickly and spotted a royal page, in dull green livery. She beckoned him forward, and he came readily, clearly as engrossed by the drama as the rest of the crowd.
“You would know about such matters,” Scarlett appealed to him. “I’m right, aren’t I? About the right of an accused to defend himself?”
“Well, yes, of course,” said the page, “but not in the case of, you know…”
“Let’s imagine I don’t,” said Scarlett, her voice dry. “Please enlighten me.”
“Well, that law doesn’t apply to sla—um, I mean Kyonans.”
“Of course not,” Jonan snorted, but Scarlett ignored him.
“But it does apply to foreign dignitaries, does it not? Even those from Kyona?”
“Ye-es,” said the page hesitantly. “I believe so.”
“It does,” said Scarlett. “And I believe the law also states that foreign dignitaries are entitled to request an audience directly with the king over any matter pertaining to their kingdom, or a subject of that kingdom.”
“Uh…” said the page, hesitating. Scarlett raised her eyebrows at him, and he shrugged apologetically. “I’m just a junior page, My Lady.”
“She’s right,” said a voice behind her, and Scarlett turned. She hadn’t even realized that Giles had followed her.
“Of course I am,” she said crisply. “I was raised here at the castle, as everyone present is well aware.” She looked at her cousin. “I was trained in the ways of the court alongside you, wasn’t I, Your Highness?”
The look Giles gave her told
her that he knew from the use of his title that she was not actually asking him so much as playing to her audience. But all he said was, “Indeed.”
She turned back to the royal guards, satisfied. “This execution is unlawful. This man isn’t a slave, and he has the right to answer any accusations against him.”
“He’s a Kyonan!” shouted a sudden voice from the crowd.
“That’s right,” Jonan yelled back unexpectedly. “And I’m proud to be Kyonan!”
Scarlett shot him an irritated look, but he raised an eyebrow, unrepentant.
“There you go,” jeered an onlooker. “He’s spoken in his own defense. Now let’s have his head!”
“We don’t need a trial,” joined another random voice. “Kyona owes us blood!”
“Execute him!” Several voices joined the cry. Scarlett scowled at the crowd but couldn’t identify the individual speakers.
“It’s not for you to declare the execution unlawful, My Lady,” said the guard in a measured tone. “The king has ordered it, and we are bound to obey.”
“Then I invoke my status as a foreign dignitary to demand an audience with the king,” she shouted over the melee.
“Foreign dignitary,” scoffed another one of the guards. “You just said it yourself—you were raised right here in the castle.”
“And who says this man is even a foreign dignitary?” chimed in the page, unexpectedly reasserting himself. “Didn’t he claim to be an emissary of the king last time, when all along he was just an adventurer?”
“Adventurer,” repeated Jonan, apparently pleased. “I quite like that.”
“Be quiet, Jo,” scolded Scarlett, once more glaring at him as she pulled the rolled parchment out of her bodice. He again raised his eyebrows at her, this time with quite a different expression, but she focused instead on the royal guard who had made himself a spokesman.
“I am a foreign dignitary,” she declared, “and I can prove my status.” She thrust the paper at the guard, who shrugged.
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