He ascended the raised platform and stood where Remiel had addressed the crowd less than an hour before. The music stopped, and everyone ceased their conversations and waited for his words.
“People and friends of Anatolia, it is with a heavy heart that I must announce the passing of King Remiel Altena. Just moments ago, His Majesty suffered a heart attack in his study. It is said that tragedy never rides alone, and that holds doubly true tonight.” Gregor took a shuddering breath. “One of my agents arrived minutes ago and informed me that the carriage in which the Queen and Prince Marcus were riding went out of control and plummeted off a treacherous stretch of roadway where they both perished.”
Women sobbed and excited muttering filled the room. Faces sought out those they knew in hopes of finding answers in the confused and anguished looks of others. Some wept for the royal family. Others looked on in fear of what would become of the future they had invested so heavily in now that its chief architect and his heir were dead.
“I do bring one glimmering ray of good news,” Gregor continued. “Princess Evelyn had not yet returned to the coach when the horses bolted and is now on her way home. There is much we as a nation will have to sort out over the coming days and weeks, but let us take care of one important duty now while we are all gathered here so that, despite our great loss, we can continue to ride toward the future Remiel died trying to bring about.
“I checked the Royal Registry of Succession and have preliminarily identified the one who will stand beside Princess Evelyn, and he is in this room tonight.” Once again, faces shifted around the room, seeking out the one who was about to be named king. “Parliament will of course have to convene and name him officially, but there is no doubt that Gordon Mandel is our next king. Your Highness, will you please come stand beside me and address your people?”
Gordon walked to the dais in a daze, confusion etched upon his face. He stood next to Gregor on trembling knees and looked at the sea of faces staring at him expectantly.
“I—I don’t know what to say. There must be some mistake. I am so far removed from succession that I barely feel related to His Majesty.”
Gregor projected once more to the crowd. “As many of you know, a series of illnesses and tragedies has decimated Remiel’s line, and that has left Baron Gordon Mandel to succeed Remiel Altena as King of Anatolia. There is no mistake.” Gregor bent a knee and kneeled. “Your Majesty.”
Gordon nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. “My good people, I can only hope to show you the love and wise leadership Remiel did during his long reign. I know I am young, but I surround myself with wise people like Gregor Ward, and they will keep me from stumbling. I wish I had the words to express what I am feeling, but I need time to process everything that has happened. For now, I declare a month of mourning for Remiel and his family. I know his effort to build the trade highway for the people has left many coffers bare, but I will gladly use my own meager wealth to see that he, Queen Damodara, and Prince Marcus receive the grandest funeral this or any nation has ever seen.”
The crowd kneeled as Gregor led his new king away. “You handled that excellently, very convincing.”
“I should be, I have been practicing for more than a year,” Gordon replied with a smile.
“No smiling. You need to keep up the pretense. We are all in mourning.”
“You might be, but I am beyond ecstatic that the old fool is gone.”
Gregor looked around to ensure they were alone, spun, grabbed Gordon by the throat, and slammed him into the wall. “Remiel was twice the king you will ever be, and he was my friend. If I was able to kill him, imagine what I would be willing to do to you.”
Gordon’s eyes were wide with terror, and they darted everywhere seeking salvation. “You can’t treat me like this, I’m the king now!”
“Don’t forget who put you here. You are a mouthpiece for The Guild. If you don’t say and do exactly as I tell you, I will toss you off a tower parapet before anyone even knows your name. Do you understand me?” The de facto king nodded and rubbed his neck when Gregor released him. “Good, now make sure you are properly sorrowful when the Princess arrives. I can make her marry you, but it would be best if she chose it herself.”
“Don’t worry; you saw from my performance that I can be brilliant.”
“You are a high-functioning idiot. That is why I pressed The Guild to choose you to usurp Remiel. Continue to perform well and you will live a life like few others. Fail us, and your reign will be tragically short.”
***
Garran paced about the room as his cocaine-enhanced anxiety fueled the fire of his boredom. He opened the door on the left side of the room only to be greeted by a pair of scowling guards. He closed the door, tried the one on the other side of the room, and found a familiar face.
“Martin, I wondered what you’ve been up too. I see you finally went to a physic and amputated your lips from Dean Kelsey’s ass. Are you still pleasuring yourself to purloined panties?”
“Go fulfill your namesake and eat shit, Holt,” Martin retorted. “You set me up and you know it. The joke is on you though. I’m better off now than if I had graduated that fool’s school.”
“Really? What are you up to these days other than acting as a doorstop?”
“Much the same as you, only I’m being paid a great deal more.”
Garran nodded knowingly. “Ah, so you are part of this political shift Gregor mentioned. What’s going on exactly?”
“Like I would tell you.”
“What if I said please?”
“Piss off, Holt.”
Garran’s humor fled but his smile remained. “What if I didn’t say please?”
CHAPTER 3
Dragoslav pulled Evelyn through the same unused corridor Gregor had taken her and her mother and brother down when they had left the palace just a few days ago. It felt like another lifetime, this new one little more than a vaporous blur, like a dream that failed to manifest fully. For her, it was a blessing, because when it finally did, it would reveal the nightmare it truly was.
The vicious man shoved her into a room and blocked the doorway with his body. Evelyn saw Gregor standing near the far wall, and her heart leapt.
“Gregor!” The look on his face stopped her in her tracks, and her eyes shifted to the younger man in the room. “Gregor, what is happening? Mother and Marcus are dead!”
Gregor nodded, his face rigid and somber. “I know, and I am afraid your heartache has not yet reached its crescendo.”
Evelyn clamped her hands over her stomach and was barely able to keep her knees from buckling. “Father…”
Gregor took three paces and held her gently by the arm to steady her. “It’s all right. Everything is almost over now.”
The Princess stood straight, slapped the agent’s hands away, and tried to claw out his eyes. “What have you done? We were your friends! You were practically family!”
Gregor clamped his fingers around her wrists and held them securely in his grip. “I will always remember them so, especially the practically part. What is done is done, and nothing can change it now. What happens next is up to you.”
“There is nothing left for me. My family is dead, and you killed them!”
“Technically, Dragoslav killed your mother and brother.”
Dragoslav looked up at the mention of his name. “I bet you never expected to be working with me again after you sent me to prison to rot for the rest of my life, Ward.”
“I was only surprised that you managed to live this long. I had given instructions to your jailors to do whatever it took to give you a long, painful death.”
Dragoslav shrugged and smiled. “I guess they took too long, but if it makes you feel better, they did cause me a great deal of pain for several years.”
“How fortunate for us both.” Gregor turned back to Evelyn. “Your father died of a heart attack two nights past.”
“I may be young, but I am no fool,” Evelyn sneered. “
Did you poison him to make it look natural? Of course you did.”
“She has you figured out, Gregor,” Gordon said. “You were right, she is clever.”
“What is he doing here?” Evelyn asked, her voice a mix of scorn and confusion.
“Evelyn, you remember Gordon Mandel, don’t you?”
“Gordon? Aren’t we cousins or some such? It still does not answer my question.”
Gordon smiled and cocked his head. “Distantly. We are to be wed at the end of our month of mourning.”
“Like hell we are. I would sooner slit my throat than become a pawn in whatever nefarious scheme you have concocted. You may have stolen my father’s throne, but you can sit it alone until the people pull you down and take your head once they hear of what you have done.”
“You speak from anger, child,” Gregor remonstrated. “If you take a moment to think with your mind and not your heart, you will see that sowing discord will do no one any good.”
“I see your heads on pikes, and that looks very good to me.”
“Do you think the kingdom will benefit from a civil war?”
“Wars have been fought for less.”
Gregor shook his head. “I think you forget how unfavorable your father became in these last few years. Those who might be willing to take up the blade in his name are too few to do anything but paint the streets red. Your family will still be dead, Gordon will still be king, and you will have only the dead to name you friend. Help us move forward without any further needless deaths. Do not be the cause for more daughters to lose their fathers, all in an attempt to soothe your pain. I know you are not that selfish.”
Evelyn’s breath came deep and fast as she fought to contain the rage boiling inside her. She was her mother’s daughter, and she would compose herself and use her brains to make the right decision.
“I will on one condition.”
“If it is in my power, I will gladly oblige you.”
“If you have not already, you must not kill Adam. He is all I have left in this world. If you take him, I will do everything in my power to make you all pay dearly even it means forfeiting my life to do so.”
Gregor’s lips compressed into a tight line. “Adam’s continued existence presents a serious problem. Surely you understand that.”
“No, he does not. We both know he cannot be king.”
“But he could produce an heir.”
“He has fully assimilated into monastic life. He has taken vows and will produce no claimant to the throne.”
“I think I stand testament to the ease at which oaths are broken,” Gregor argued.
“You know Adam. You know he will not forsake his vows for any reason. Agree, or I will scream your treachery from the tower to anyone who will listen. How well will the other nations treat with a murderer and usurper? How strong will our alliances be after that?”
Gregor nodded. “Very well, I will order my men to bring him in alive. Once he is in our control, I see no reason to fear him. You must understand that all of this has been underway for several days now. I will send a special courier to deliver my orders not to harm him, but I cannot guarantee he will reach them in time.”
“You had better pray he does, because if anything happens to my brother, I will bide my time and slit your throats in your sleep.”
Gregor gave her a patronizing smile. “I think we both know you don’t have that kind of cold resolve.”
“You knew me when I had parents and a baby brother. I was a silly little princess with nothing more to worry about than what dress I would wear to dinner. Now you face a queen with nothing left to lose.” Evelyn turned her cold, baleful eyes to Dragoslav. “I assume you will keep me under close watch. You may take me to my rooms now. I can no longer tolerate the stench in this chamber.”
Gregor and Gordon watched the bitter young woman storm off. “Do you think she is really capable of it?” Gordon asked.
“A few days ago I would have said not a chance.”
“And now?”
“I would sleep with a locking cod piece if I were you.”
***
Adam knelt next to his bed and performed his prayers while he waited for the evening’s dinner bell to sound. He had performed the same ritual thousands of times over the past decade. No one observing him would ever assume that he was the heir to the throne of one of the most powerful kingdoms in the land. No one here certainly gave him any deferential treatment. Here, he was just another monk, one amongst dozens who came to study and seek enlightenment. The premise was moot anyway. He could never become king ever since it was discovered that he was…different.
Adam rose to his feet when the bell sounded but stopped and listened. There was something erratic in the bell’s clangor. Instead of the controlled three tolls, it continued to chime as if in alarm. Within moments, he heard excited voices in the hall and a disturbance farther off. If he did not know better, he would swear there was fighting. Such was impossible. His was a pacifist sect.
He opened his door and stuck his head outside. Several of his brothers hastened through the hall, darted into rooms, and locked the doors. Brother Marshal spotted him and bustled over.
“Get inside and lock your door. Try to find somewhere to hide if you can. Perhaps under your bed or in your wardrobe.”
“What is happening?”
“Armed men are running amok within the abbey.” He leaned closer and whispered. “I heard some of them ask about you.”
“Why would armed men be seeking me?”
“I do not know, but it cannot be good. Go and hide. None of us will give you up.”
Marshal darted down the hall and disappeared into one of the other rooms. Adam closed and locked the door as his mind raced for an answer as to what was happening. His thoughts were a jumble, thrown into chaos by the mounting panic in his heart as the sound of the intruders drew near. He looked around the room for somewhere to hide. His eyes set upon the standing wardrobe in the corner. It was narrow and simply designed, but no better options presented itself.
Pushing aside his two spare robes, Adam stepped inside and closed the door. He could see a small slice of the room through the crack in the door. The sound of splintering wood assaulted his ears as whoever was looking for him battered down the doors to the other rooms. Each crash and cry brought the intruders closer until someone began pounding on his door. There was a pause just before a heavy boot sundered the door and its owner and two other men stepped inside.
“Come out, Adam. There’s no use hiding. Let’s get this done with quickly and painlessly so we can all be on our way,” one of the men said.
Adam fought to control his breathing, which sounded like a pair of bellows to his ears. The speaker moved away from his line of sight, and he could no longer see him. Adam ever so slightly shifted his head to try to catch a glimpse of where he had gone. A sword blade erupted though the closet’s right-hand door, narrowly missing his face.
Adam burst out of the left side with his hands held before him. “What do you want with me?”
“I don’t want anything with you, but someone else wants you dead, and they’re paying us a lot of coin to see it done.”
“Please, I can pay you more than they are.”
“Priests ain’t got gold.”
“My father is the King. He will pay you a ransom for my safe return.”
“Sorry, boyo, dead men don’t pay anything to anyone.”
Adam’s hands fell next to his sides. “My father is dead?”
“Him and the rest of your high and mighty kin. Don’t look so sad. You’re about to join them.”
The man raised his sword and prepared to thrust it through Adam’s heart, but he paused at the sound of a new commotion. Steel clashed in impossibly rapid strikes and men cried out. A man rushed into the room like a dervish, darting between the three assassins and ending their lives with incredibly swift slashes from a pair of strange weapons that looked more at home on a farm than a battlefield.
“What is going on? Who are you?”
“I’m the one guy who doesn’t want you dead. Let’s leave it at that. We don’t have much time. I wasn’t exactly inconspicuous when I made my entrance, and there are a dozen or more killers converging on us as we speak.”
Adam nodded, his face held in a look of forced concentration and calm. “What do I do?”
“Wait just a minute.”
“You said we had to leave now. What are we waiting for?”
“A distraction and a drink.” Garran pulled a flask from inside his coat and drank. “Here’s my drink.” There was a whoosh of air like the sound of rushing water followed seconds later by an explosion. “And there’s our distraction.”
“What was that?” Adam asked, flicking his gaze over his shoulder toward the sound as Garran pulled him down the hallway.
“That was most of your abbey’s lamp oil going up at once in the library.”
“You set fire to the library?” Adam exclaimed. “Why would you do that? Our library was renowned throughout the kingdom for its wealth of knowledge and history!”
“It is also renowned for its amazing combustibility, and now it is history.”
Adam gazed toward the central structure of his home as fire consumed it and cast the large, open courtyard and surrounding buildings in an eerie, wavering orange light. It was precisely how he envisioned hell.
Figures darted across the courtyard, most little more than silhouettes backlit by the conflagration. Some rushed toward the fire carrying buckets, but far too many wielded swords and were there only to cause further destruction, mainly to Adam’s body. Twice during their flight, two or three men rushed at them when they recognized their prey, but Garran handily defeated them and left them dead or crippled on the ground. He pulled Adam behind the empty stables and watched the commotion around them.
The Agent Page 4