“I can’t read,” he said.
The page raced forward eagerly, leaning over the guard’s shoulder. Giles moved forward in a much more dignified way and also began to read the parchment. He reached the end quickly, and looked up at Scarlett, his expression exasperated.
“You produce this now?”
“I didn’t know about it before,” said Scarlett impatiently. “Apparently Jonan forgot to mention it.”
“What did I forget?” said Jonan, looking at the document more closely. “Oh, that.” He saw Scarlett’s look and shrugged defensively. “What? How was I supposed to know to mention it? Since when has our status been in question? I assumed they knew but just didn’t care.”
Giles grimaced, the expression seeming to acknowledge that it wasn’t an entirely unreasonable conclusion to draw.
“Wait a minute,” Jonan said suddenly, and everyone’s eyes jumped to him. “You went through my trunk?”
“Yes,” said Scarlett, staring at him in confusion. “What’s the problem?”
“Your anniversary present was hidden in there,” said Jonan, aggrieved.
Scarlett just rolled her eyes, not missing the look of utter disbelief on Giles’s face. Her cousin didn’t know Jonan, but she had long since ceased to be surprised at his tendency not to take anything seriously.
“Well, unless it’s this sword,” she said sarcastically, “It’s still in there.”
“What does the parchment say?” asked the guard impatiently.
“It’s an official proclamation of King Calinnae of Kyona,” said the page importantly. “That’s his royal seal at the bottom, I believe?” He turned the statement into a question, looking to Giles for confirmation.
“Yes,” Giles agreed. “That’s the royal Kyonan seal.”
“And it says that—”
“Louder!” shouted someone from the crowd, and the page cleared his throat importantly.
“It says, ‘I, King Calinnae of Kyona, appoint the bearer of this document, Jonan of Nerita, and his wife Scarlett, as official representatives of the Kyonan crown for the duration of their state visit to the kingdom of Balenol. Jonan bears my authority to treat with the Balenan crown on matters pertaining to Kyona. Should he consider it necessary, he—or in his absence, his wife—has authority to make decisions regarding trade and relations between the two kingdoms…’”
The page trailed off, glancing up at the agitated crowd.
“You missed some,” said Scarlett, her voice hard. “Finish the sentence.”
The page looked uncertainly at Giles, but the prince said nothing, so the page cleared his throat and tried again.
“‘—authority to make decisions regarding trade and relations between the two kingdoms, including authority to declare war.’”
The crowd had been silent while he read, but a muttering started to spread after these words. Scarlett saw uneasiness on many faces at the mention of war. People seemed to be looking at Jonan with new eyes, and no one more so than Giles. She perfectly understood the appraising look of surprise her cousin was directing at Jonan. The decision to give the status of royal representative to someone outside the court was unprecedented in Balenol, and probably in Kyona too. The authorization was a compelling statement of King Calinnae’s trust in Jonan, and the delegation of the ability to declare war was unusual and dramatic. She could only assume that Cal had included that statement in an effort to protect her and Jonan from exactly what had happened.
“He can’t declare war if his head has been chopped off,” called someone from the crowd.
“But his wife still can,” chimed in someone else, nervously.
Scarlett smiled in secret satisfaction. She knew it was silly to be pleased by such a thing at this moment, but it was the first time since arriving in Nohl that anyone had referred to her as Jonan’s wife.
“So execute both of them,” muttered someone near the front in an audible aside.
Jonan glared at the man aggressively, taking a step forward, which immediately caused the royal guards to swarm around him. Scarlett decided it was time to step in.
“Are you really going to deny my formal petition for an audience with King Siloam?” she asked the guard, who was clearly wavering.
“Of course not,” Giles spoke for him. “The law must be upheld. You are quite right to remind us of your entitlement as a foreign dignitary.” He turned to the page. “Carry this message to His Majesty at once: His Highness Prince Giles wishes to inform him that our visiting emissaries have requested a formal audience on the matter of the intended execution.”
The page scurried off, and a restless muttering filled the courtyard as everyone resigned themselves impatiently to wait. Scarlett met Jonan’s eye, and despite the tension of the moment, she couldn’t help a small smile at the warmth in his expression.
“For a minute I thought I wasn’t going to see you again,” he said, his voice soft despite his evident attempt to keep his tone light. “I couldn’t help wishing I could have another go at my last words to you.”
Scarlett could sense Giles’s curiosity, but she felt no need to enlighten him about her earlier conversation with Jonan, and how much Giles’s unjust words had rattled her normally imperturbable husband. She moved forward, intending to stand beside Jonan, but the outspoken guard stepped between them, shaking his head.
“Until I hear otherwise, this man is still scheduled for execution. Stay where you are.”
Scarlett scowled, but did as she was told. The guard could say what he liked, but surely they couldn’t execute Jonan now. In light of the parchment she had produced, King Siloam would have to be out of his mind to hold to his belief that they could kill Jonan without provoking war. The crowd would be all the angrier for being so close to satisfaction before having their sport denied them, but that was neither her fault nor her problem.
She did feel a twinge of uneasiness that, in thwarting the execution, she was doing exactly what Scanlon wanted her to do. She scanned the crowd, but although she could still see quite a number of soldiers dotted throughout the courtyard, there was no sign either of her brother or the general.
Like everyone else, she was watching the entrance to the castle, expecting the page to reappear and summon all interested parties to the king’s audience chamber. But no one had yet emerged when she heard Giles give a barely audible sigh. She turned to him in surprise, and saw that he was not looking across at the castle’s entrance, but up at its walls. He quickly schooled his features, his long-suffering look giving way to a respectfully impassive face, but following his gaze, she understood what had exasperated him.
King Siloam, as lazy as ever, apparently did not intend to hold court in his audience chamber a second time that day. His personal receiving room had been built with a balcony overlooking the castle courtyard. Its purpose was to facilitate public addresses by the monarch, and to allow him to preside over other events and festivities. It had undoubtedly also been used in the past to allow the sovereign to see his judgments carried out via whipping or execution, but Scarlett had never seen King Siloam use it for such a purpose. He lacked the bloodthirstiness of her late father, and was happy to let others put his carelessly applied penalties into effect without his presence.
The crowd became aware of the king a moment after Scarlett had, and an expectant silence fell as everyone bowed. Scarlett saw Jonan turn, confused, to look behind him, and saw his eyebrow rise in astonishment at the spectacle. She cringed for her monarch. He looked quite pleased with himself, probably thinking that he had not only gotten out of extra effort, but that he made an imposing picture, stationed above his people in the ornate purple robe he wore for public audiences. In reality—at least in Scarlett’s opinion—he looked foolish, lazy and out of place, as if he had no idea that an execution was underway.
For a moment there was silence, many people looking to Giles, apparently expecting him to take charge of the situation. But Scarlett could see at a glance that her cousin was reluctant to
demean himself by shouting up at the balcony above, and she couldn’t really blame him.
“Thank you Your Majesty,” she called in a respectful tone, resigning herself to looking a little ridiculous, “for so graciously granting my request for an audience.”
Jonan snorted derisively at her words, but Scarlett ignored him. Seeing that she had the king’s attention, she started to curtsy before suddenly realizing that she was wearing leggings, and executing a low bow instead. King Siloam stared at her in open amazement, and she doubted he heard a word of her succinct but forceful explanation of the state of affairs.
But the page had clearly explained the matter to the king. When Scarlett was finished, he turned to his nephew, his voice carrying clearly across the courtyard due to the acoustics created by the balcony’s clever design.
“Are you satisfied as to the authenticity of the document, Giles?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Giles calmly. “There can be no doubt that it is genuine.”
“Well, well,” said the king, a little displeased as he looked at Jonan. “I suppose we must release him, then.”
The guards instantly obeyed, and Jonan shook out his limbs pointedly as the king continued, addressing the former prisoner.
“This matter has not been handled at all to my satisfaction, and you have certainly not been forthright. For the sake of your king I will show lenience, but I trust you will curb your violence in future. We are a civilized people here in Balenol, and we will not countenance the aggressive behavior that may pass as acceptable in Kyona.”
Scarlett knew a moment of dread as Jonan opened his mouth to reply, but fortunately his inevitable disrespect was forestalled by an angry voice from the crowd.
“You’re going to let him go?!”
Giles turned his head sharply, clearly trying to identify the speaker who dared to speak out so publicly against the king.
“You are weak!”
“You let the Kyonans leave, and now you let them walk all over us from afar!”
Scarlett sucked in a breath as additional voices swelled the chorus. Giles looked genuinely shocked by now, such open defiance against the crown being unprecedented. But Scarlett had expected something of this nature. She had given the military its opening, after all. As voices continued to call at random from the crowd, their sources difficult to locate, she suddenly understood why the soldiers had been spread indiscriminately throughout the space.
She opened her mouth to tell Giles that they needed to find Scanlon and the general, neither of whom was in sight. But all that came out was a startled squeak as she was unexpectedly grabbed by the arm and hauled toward the edge of the courtyard.
Chapter Thirteen
Scarlett had a dagger out so fast that she could only be grateful that the familiar voice penetrated to her consciousness before she could plunge it in anywhere.
“Easy, Scar! If you wanted to do away with me, it would have been much easier just to let them execute me.”
“What are you doing, Jo?” Scarlett gasped, her heart jumping unevenly at how close her blade had come to Jonan’s arm before she pulled her hand back with a start.
“Getting out of here, what else?” responded Jonan, still tugging her along. “My experience tells me that we’ve only got a short break before someone tries to kill one or both of us again.”
They had almost reached the edge of the courtyard, but as if to prove the truth of his words, they found their way barred by a small knot of angry-looking civilians.
“Not so fast, Kyonan,” one of them growled. “We don’t care what papers your little king sent with you.”
“He’s actually quite tall,” said Jonan conversationally, as usual seeming to feel no dismay at being outnumbered and unarmed. At least these townspeople also seemed to be carrying no weapons.
“Let us pass,” demanded Scarlett furiously. “You heard the verdict. Are you going to defy the king?”
“Maybe it’s about time,” one of the men muttered, and Scarlett frowned. Scanlon and his allies had done their work well, it seemed.
“Our quarrel isn’t with you,” another man said to her, his eyes flicking back to Jonan. “It’s Kyonan blood we want.”
“Speak for yourself,” snarled another. “She’s thrown in her lot with them now. And for all the big talk of trade deals and alliances, I don’t see any sign of Kyonan dragons coming to help us. She was planning to betray her own people all along.”
Jonan bristled as several pairs of eyes turned aggressively toward Scarlett. She looked back to the front of the courtyard, wondering why no one seemed interested in the unsanctioned violence being threatened. She could see at a glance that the soldiers were succeeding far too well at riling up the crowd, and she was suddenly afraid for Giles, who was trying single-handedly to contain the impending eruption, his every line rigid with fury at the sudden mutiny. He needed backup, and quickly.
“I don’t know,” jeered one of the townspeople, his words slurring as if he was tipsy, despite the early hour. Scarlett turned back to her own confrontation to find that the man’s eyes were fixed unpleasantly on her. “Seems to me it would be a waste to kill her now we know the ravishing Lady Wrendal is willing to debase herself outside her high and mighty class.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her blade, relishing the fact that she no longer had to play the part of the haughty but helpless peeress when men leered at her. But she had no opportunity to show off her skills. She felt Jonan stiffen beside her at the suggestive words, and as soon as the man stepped toward Scarlett, Jonan broke on the group like an enraged jaguar. He had obviously rediscovered how to access his hidden power, because he needed no weapon as he fell upon the aggressors.
In moments, four men were on the ground, either unconscious or too dazed to rise, and several more had taken flight. As soon as the coast was clear, Jonan once again seized her hand and began to run. Her protests fell on deaf ears, and in light of the many hostile pairs of eyes still trained on them, she allowed him to pull her along until they had left the courtyard.
Once they had wound through a couple of backstreets, however, she pulled Jonan to a stop, to his obvious reluctance.
“What was that?” she demanded, raising her eyebrows at Jonan, who was still glowering back toward the courtyard.
He stared at her blankly, his chest still heaving. “What do you mean? Did you expect me to stand by while they—”
“Of course not,” she said impatiently. “But you didn’t want to let me take even one of them?” She spoke dryly, and he flashed her a sudden grin.
“Sorry, Scarlett. But to be fair, I’ve been locked up since the moment we got here, and I think I needed the release more than you.”
She shook her head, privately thinking he was right. Plus it was probably for the best. Aggressive as the men had been, it wouldn’t have felt right to use her weapon against their fists.
“Come on,” said Jonan, seeming to have caught his breath. “Let’s go.”
“Where?” asked Scarlett, nonplussed.
“Home!” said Jonan, as if it was obvious. “We can be at the ship in half an hour if we run.”
“We can’t just leave,” said Scarlett, scandalized. “They have a crisis on their hands.”
“Good,” said Jonan fervently. “They’ll be too distracted to realize we’re gone until it’s too late. Do you think I want to stay to go for round three in the dungeons? I wasn’t kidding about the rats, Scar!”
“You don’t understand, Jonan,” said Scarlett quickly. “Scanlon is planning a coup, with the general. I don’t know how many of the soldiers are in on it, but they were intending to use the fact that the crown spared you from execution as the basis of an uprising. They want to topple the monarchy altogether.”
Jonan stared at her for a moment, his mouth open.
“You believe me, don’t you?” said Scarlett anxiously.
“What?” Jonan’s expression went from amazement to confusion. “Of course I beli
eve you.” He smiled admiringly. “I was going to say that I’m impressed you managed to uncover a plot of this magnitude in such a short time, but I’m not exactly surprised. You’ve always been the sharpest person in the Balenan court, if they only knew it.”
Warmth spread through her at his praise. His confidence was a balm after her frustrating attempts to warn the royals of the disaster hanging over them. But the pleasant feeling soon fled as she remembered Giles, facing off against the angry crowd.
“We need to find Scanlon,” she said. “And the general. Neither of them were there in the courtyard, although it was definitely their soldiers working everyone up, and it makes me uneasy not knowing where they are.”
She started back toward the courtyard, but Jonan caught her hand. “Why is this our problem?” he asked quickly. “Why didn’t you just warn Giles?”
“I did,” said Scarlett darkly. “But he didn’t take me seriously.”
Jonan shrugged. “His mistake, then. No reason to risk your life showing him you were right.”
“It’s not about being right, Jonan,” said Scarlett quickly. “I can’t help but feel partly responsible. The reason Giles didn’t believe me was because I already lied to him yesterday. Plus, I played a part in Scanlon’s plot myself, by stopping the execution.”
“You mean my execution,” said Jonan dryly. “I don’t think you can blame yourself for not letting your husband die just to delay some plot against the country that has basically disowned you.”
Scarlett winced slightly at his words, and Jonan clearly saw it, looking instantly penitent. “Scarlett, I didn’t mean—”
She cut him off with a wave. “Of course I don’t blame myself for saving you, but it still irks me to know that Scanlon is going to use my actions to cause mischief.”
“I can understand that,” said Jonan, more gently. “But that doesn’t make this our fight.”
“Since when do you run from a fight?” Scarlett challenged, her eyebrows raised.
Jonan stepped forward with a sigh, closing the distance between them and running his hand through her hair as she looked up into his face.
Captive's Return Page 11