The Kingmaker Series, #1

by Gemma Perfect

  And yet now, the fizz in her tummy is back, she will live.

  And she cannot wait to make a life.

  The path twists and turns through the trees but it is familiar to her; she could have walked it with her eyes shut in the pitch black and found her way to any spot picked out for her. She knows the trees, the copses, the clear paths, the rocks, and that’s why the quiver on the floor looks so out of place.

  She bends down. It’s Archer’s. His bow and flock of arrows are poking out. If he dropped it he would have noticed, she is sure. She’s concerned; a prickle of unease on the back of her neck, hairs on her arms standing up.

  Not knowing him that well, she still knows something is wrong.

  She picks it up, and follows the path along. There is no sign of anyone or anything and that makes Everleigh more alert. The woods are usually full of life and this silence is ominous.

  She moves faster, hitching up the skirt of her gown so that she can move more easily. She doesn’t like this.

  Deeper into the woods she hears jeering and laughing; sounds that have an edge of menace to them. Not happy sounds.

  Instinct guiding her, she takes out an arrow and loads it into the bow.

  The noise gets louder as she heads deeper into the trees. Her heart almost stops; in the clearing, ahead of her, is Archer, on his knees, surrounded by Brett and four of his friends. She can see from ten feet away that he has a bloodied nose. So intent are the five men on attacking Archer, unarmed and unassisted, that none of them notice her.

  Fury fills her; Brett is obviously after revenge for last night, which she knew he would want, but instead of fighting like a man he is taking the coward’s way. Outnumbering a man and then attacking him is cowardly and lacking in any of the sort of valour the King’s men are renowned for.

  She is disgusted.

  Without thinking she raises her arm and draws back the bow. Her aim is true and the arrow flies, whistling away from her and spearing through Brett’s good hand.

  The woods are suddenly silent except for Brett’s screaming, the four men with him turn and see her.

  Habit and reverence has them dropping to their knees, bowing to their princess and Kingmaker, spots of shame rising on their cheeks, before they notice the bow in her hands, and their collective jaws drop.

  Embarrassment and respect covers their features in equal measure as Brett drops to his knees. He isn’t bowing however, just holding his bloodied hand up to his chest and crying with pain.

  Archer stands and wipes the blood from his nose on the back of his sleeve. Now that she’s closer to him, she can see his knuckles are bloody and the other men are bruised and bloodied too. He has obviously done some damage, one against five. And she feels even surer that he will protect her and keep her safe.

  He stands by her side and takes back his arrows and bow. His eyebrows raised and a wry smile on his face, he laughs. “You can shoot.”

  “I can.” A smile twitches her lips.

  “Thank you.”

  “You were holding your own.”

  He dips his head. “Not for much longer.”

  “I’m so glad that you’re safe.”

  “Only because you got here in time.”

  Everleigh puts out her hand, touches his bruised cheek. He winces, but manages to smile.

  Turning to the five men behind her, Everleigh is livid. She addresses Robert, the oldest in the group, and aside from Brett, probably the King’s favourite. None of them can look her in the eye.

  “Robert, what can you tell me of this?”

  His head drops lower.

  Everleigh continues. “This attack on a single man, with no defences, his bow and arrows thrown aside. Such courage you have shown, men. Such valour. I am sure you are proud of yourselves.”

  The men’s heads drop lower again, if that’s possible. Even Brett looks shame-faced, though the agony he is feeling shows on his face as well.

  “The King, I am sure, will be well impressed with the hospitality you have shown a visitor to his castle. Sneaking off into the woods like cowards to attack this young man. What is your reason, Robert?”

  He mumbles something. “Speak up,” Everleigh demands, her tone imperious and cold. A side of her that Archer has never seen before.

  “He shot through Brett’s hand,” Robert says. He looks embarrassed. “His other hand.”

  Everleigh smiles. “Really? So, wonderful friends that you are, four brave and true knights thought you would teach him a lesson?”

  They nod.

  “And did Brett bother to tell you why Archer shot him?”

  The men shake their heads, gazes to the floor again. Brett’s eyes are full of fear now.

  “Speak up!”

  “No, princess, Kingmaker,” Robert says, spokesperson for the group. The other men look mortified. Archer is enjoying this. His future Queen can shoot to kill and has turned these strong men in to quivering wrecks with her quiet words.

  “Well your good friend, Brett here, who convinced you into this cowardly act, enjoys attacking unsuspecting people, unsuspecting women who are all alone and minding their own business, don’t you Brett?”

  Brett nods his head, face white, blood still pouring from his wound. Archer is sure he will pass out.

  “Next time anyone asks you to assist them in something you know is wrong, you ought to have the self respect and courage not to be sheep. To turn to them and say no. To do the right thing. I will let Brett tell you what he tried to do to me yesterday and why he got shot in his hand. And the two holes he now bears in his hands will serve as a reminder to him and you. You disgust me, the lot of you.”

  Everleigh doesn’t wait to hear from any of them; she turns back to Archer, who holds out his arm to her.

  “You are amazing,” Archer mutters under his breath as they walk away together.

  Halfreda

  THE END OF MY LIFE is coming. I have seen it in the flames and it will not be a gentle end. It will be harsh and violent and I may rally against it, but I will not survive it. I have seen it. No help from the flames when I need it, but then they give me this gem.

  I am not surprised to be truthful, and as I sit back in my chair and watch the flames for more revelations; my heart is already slowing down. I think I will welcome the end when it comes. I have lived longer than most people ever do and I have done much.

  When my teacher first told me about the prophecy of the Kingmaker, I think I knew then that it would be my life’s work. I’ve called it that, and felt it in my heart. Always.

  I have done other good things. I have guided the King and his father before him and his father before him. I have helped people and saved people.

  I am wise and generous and all my life has been about helping others.

  This King would have lost the Realm more than once without my sight. The intervention of a wise woman is worth a thousand soldiers. I can see if the battle is a feint before the soldiers march blindly on. I have warned of a friend who is really a foe, and told of a foe who could become a friend. I see danger and peril and opportunities that normal people cannot.

  Of course, I missed what was under my nose here; that worries me. I wonder if he will be part of my downfall. I cannot see enough detail to know, but it would make sense.

  I need to see Ginny. I need her to be ready to take over and I need her to know the truth of Everleigh. I am tired and feeling more than my age, but I need to go down to her cottage.

  There are things she needs to be aware of and things I need to put in place. I need to talk to my teacher and I want to say goodbye to the King.

  When death comes for me I will be ready. I will have said goodbye to the ones I love and prepared the people staying behind for the next part of their journey.

  I stand up slowly, reaching for my cloak. I wrap myself up and gather a basket of herbs, tonics and salves to take to Ginny. Who knows how many eyes are spying as we get closer to the Kingmaker’s death day. Who knows what plots are being arra
nged. I seldom visit Ginny but I have done. And a basket of herbs is what people would expect me to take.

  I smile as I leave my rooms, the fire burning down to embers.

  14

  WILL CLEARS HIS THROAT and everyone looks over as he tells an elaborate joke about a farmer, a prince and a market trader. He has probably been saving it up for an age and it works. The whole gathering erupts into laughter, and Will grins. He is a born fool. He loves to be the centre of attention and he loves to make people laugh. As she smiles over at him, Everleigh realises that he will be her fool. His father is the King’s fool and will retire with him. She will appoint her own fool.

  Suddenly the night and Will’s jokes take on new meaning. She wants to cry.

  “Wasn’t that bad was I, princess?” He plonks down beside her, a chicken leg in one hand.

  Everleigh hugs him close. Will takes her sentimentality for the looming fear of her death and pulls her even closer.

  “What’s this? A fool and a princess. Never a truer love.” Macsen sits next to Will, plucking the chicken from his hand and taking a bite.

  Will laughs. “I do love my princess and Kingmaker, as do all in the Realm. She is most winsome and brave.”

  “She is,” Macsen concedes, reaching for more food. “Where’s brother dearest?” he asks the group in general, looking around for Millard.

  “I’ve not seen him for a while. He was with father.”

  Macsen shrugs as though he doesn’t even care, and takes more food.

  Everleigh isn’t eating much. She is still shaken up about what happened in the woods. She has a stab of fear every time she thinks about what would have happened to Archer if she hadn’t got there when she did.

  As well as throwing his bag down, with his bows and arrows, one of them had pilfered his sword and another the dagger he keeps in his boot.

  She has no knowledge of romantic love, just things she has heard sung about or seen in plays. She loves her father and brothers, Addyson and Will. She believes she loves Lanorie as well.

  But Archer is something different; something new and unprepared for.

  Her heart has been closed to romantic love. It was never going to happen. The men around the castle were men she had known since they were all children together and she had never looked twice at any of them.

  Archer has awoken something in her from the first time she saw him, before she knew that he was there to serve and protect her.

  Since he had saved her from Brett and she had saved him from Brett there seems to be a deeper connection between them. She would look at him to find him already looking at her, the expression on his face, one she couldn’t read.

  Lanorie reaches over and takes the empty plates away and puts down more food.

  “Anything you need, princess?”

  Everleigh shakes her head. She has never been happier.

  Finally, Millard comes and joins them. “What have I missed?” He has a cup of ale in his hand and drinks deeply from it.

  “Everleigh’s in love,” Macsen says.

  Everleigh turns to stare at him; it is as though he is reading her thoughts.

  “With the fool’s boy.”

  Everybody laughs, including Will.

  Millard takes another drink. “Too late for love now, Everleigh. Only three days left.”

  The silence is immediate and spreads across all the picnickers. Will’s jaw has dropped so much that he looks comical, like he’s in the middle of one of his jests. Macsen is furious and Addyson bursts out crying.

  Everleigh remains calm. He doesn’t know her secret so what he said is true but insensitive. She wouldn’t have imagined it of him. She’s hurt, even though he’s wrong.

  She has all the time in the world.

  Macsen punches his brother on the arm and storms over to the King, shouting, gesticulating and glaring back at his brother. Addyson tucks into Lanorie’s arms and Everleigh smooths her hair. Will takes Everleigh’s hand and they all turn away from Millard.

  He shrugs and stands up. “Sorry, sis. But it’s true.” He walks off, leaving the mood low.

  Archer shares a look with Everleigh who looks down at Addyson, kissing the top of her head.

  It takes a while for the mood to lighten up. The King sends the minstrel over, who strikes up a jolly tune. Will dances with Lanorie, who he is half in love with, and everyone laughs. He tells jokes and flings himself around, determined to make up for what Millard has said. Both of her brothers have disappeared. The picnic is winding down.

  The fires have been lit, and one of the maids has taken Addyson home to bed, her tears eventually dry. The King has excused himself and Will finally runs out of steam. He kisses Everleigh on both cheeks. “See you tomorrow, beautiful.”

  Everleigh kisses his nose and hugs him good night. There are a few people scattered around on the rugs, but she is alone with Archer, sitting away from them.

  He passes her some chicken. “You’ve not eaten very much.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “What your brother said...”

  “He didn’t mean it to sound so callous. I don’t think. It’s a stressful time for them too. People forget that one of them will die. The Kingmaker’s feast and this whole week is about me. If I was still going to die, one of them would too. It must be scaring them half to death. The one who lives has all the power and responsibility while grieving for their brother and sister, and the other one’s dead. What a choice.”

  “But not one they would have to make.”

  “True. But that can be worse. I’ve known since I was little that I was going to die. I got used to it but I hated it. The choice was gone. I couldn’t decide anything. I just was. They’ve always had that uncertainty hanging over them.”

  Archer nods. He can see that.

  “Come with me.” Everleigh stands up and holds out her hand. “I want to show you something.”

  Not caring what the last few people at the picnic think about her holding hands with a boy, she takes his hand. It is cool to the touch. He holds on to her tightly. She leads him to the woods, to a clearing. “I hate having to keep my future a secret. I hate that I can’t share it with anyone else.”

  “Share with me. I’ll always listen to you.”

  “That’s what I thought. I want to show you what I can do. Tuck under that tree, sit on the rock.”

  Archer does as he is told. Everleigh wants to impress him. She calls the animals to her, so quietly that Archer won’t hear. They come. First the small creatures, butterflies, ants, even woodlice, crawl towards her and make a ring around her. Then mice, rats, voles and squirrels, rabbits, birds, deer. Every living creature in the forest has come to show their fealty to her magic, her power.

  Archer is grinning, a disbelieving look on his face. She knows he will never have seen anything like it in his life. It’s a sight that even she finds hard to believe.

  Slowly she shoos them away and they wander off. Archer jumps up. “That was even better than watching you shoot Brett.”

  Everleigh laughs. “You think?”

  “Maybe not. I think it’s all amazing, though. I think you are amazing. I am here because Halfreda asked me to come. But now I know you, I should tell you, I could never leave.”

  “I would never let you.”

  They stare at each other, tension growing between them.

  Archer takes her hand. “What else can you do?”

  “I don’t know. I want to try something. Watch.”

  The evening is mild, the clouds few, the breeze gentle. She looks up to the sky. She wants to call up a storm. She starts by drawing some more clouds and a wind forward. She darkens the sky, turning the clouds black. She calls them lower, and fuller. She calls them down further, until they feel like a blanket falling on them.

  She calls a raindrop into her open hand and it comes. She calls one down to Archer’s head and it comes. His face is a picture, disbelief, awe, wonder.

  She calls the rain proper. It starts
gently until she tells it to hammer down. It does, bouncing off the floor, and puddling around their feet. Her gown is soaked, her hair dripping. Archer is wet through, his breeches and shirt stuck to his skin. He looks good wet.

  She calls more rain and it lashes against them, she calls thunder and it rolls through the woods, she calls lightning that ignites the sky and brightens their faces. She stands with her arms up, commanding the weather and the whole Realm, while Archer watches in open-mouthed adoration.

  She is wet to her bones but feels warm because of the power that is coursing through her. She feels invincible, beyond powerful.

  She feels like a Queen.

  Laughing with her face up to the rain, she calls it off. The rain drops to a drizzle, and when she lowers her head, Archer is kneeling on the wet floor in front of her, hair dripping, flopping on to his forehead. He has never looked so good to her, her knight.

  “My Queen,” he says, his voice low. Everleigh walks over to him and takes his wet hands in hers. She pulls him up and they stand together.

  Without hesitation from either of them they move closer together, and as the rain continues to fall on them, they kiss for the first time.

  Ginata

  ANOTHER SLEEPLESS NIGHT. I am starting to look and feel older than my years. There seems to be a pulse of life, a heartbeat coming from the little bag of evil and it beats in time to mine. Once it is gone from my home, the unrest will continue as I know there will be two more murders, abetted by me and I am not sure how life can go on as it is now.

  Everything has changed and even though Halfreda tells me not to worry, I cannot help it.

  I have always known I was a white witch, as people call me. I have a few powers, far less than Halfreda, but growing as I explore and nurture them. I have always tried to do good.

  People are complicated and almost all of us are flawed in some way and yet I like to believe that people are trying to do their best. Trying to make the right choices.

  I allow someone to buy a love potion, as the heart can be turned. I allow someone to buy poison because the heart can be angry. I have even allowed this man to buy a death draught and is that because I too am flawed?