The Kingmaker Series, #1

by Gemma Perfect

  “Let me just see where this goes.” He’s half in her room and half out.

  Will takes Everleigh’s hand and leads her to the window seat. The tiny spot of light that Archer has taken with him has faded but they can vaguely hear his echoing footsteps as he explores.

  “Will, did she really tell someone about me?”

  Will nods. He looks heartbroken.

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, Will. Please don’t be upset with me. Halfreda told me not to tell anyone and I only told Lanorie, because I see so much of her. We were in here one day and...” she trails off. She’s hurt Will so much by not telling him the truth about her future. He is one of her best friends – she’s closer to him than to Lanorie, really, and yet she hadn’t told him that she would live.

  “Everleigh, I’m not upset. I love you.”

  She cries. It’s all too much. “I have been so happy and so scared and so excited and so all over the place. I knew it wasn’t long to wait to tell you, I didn’t think you’d find out like this.”

  Will strokes her hair; his beautiful princess.

  “Hey, some help?” Archer calls out from inside the passageway. He can’t climb out and hold the candle at the same time. Will takes it off him. Everleigh stays seated by the window.

  “So?”

  “It’s an escape route, like Will said. Put there by whoever used to have your room. I bet no one else knows.”

  “Where does it lead?” Will asks, poking his head through to look.

  “Behind the stable. My guess is, someone would escape, grab a horse and bolt. Good idea.”

  “Great. So, I’m safe from my murderous brothers?” Everleigh doesn’t believe she has anything to worry about. “Maybe Lanorie was just gossiping. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  Archer nods. That was always a possibility and if he didn’t know about the death draught, he wouldn’t be half as worried as he was. But he did know. And he wasn’t about to upset Everleigh or Will with that knowledge.

  “I’m going to sleep on your floor,” he tells her.

  “No chance. Enough, Archer. I’ve let you poke around the room; you’ve found a secret passage. If anyone knocks on my door I’ll run away.”

  Archer shakes his head, fitting the grate back to where it had been. “Murderers don’t knock.”

  Lanorie

  SO I’M A GOSSIP AND a coward and any other nasty name you want to call me. It won’t be as bad as anything I’ve called myself.

  I know what I’ve done and that’s why I’m leaving. I have been here since I was a little girl, but how can I look at any of them now? My sweet Everleigh. She’ll be a great Queen. She’s a better woman than I am.

  It took me a while but I’ve realised there is no other choice for me.

  I’ve got my trunk open and I’m filling it, the only thing slowing me down is that I can’t stop crying.

  If I leave now she will never know what I have done. She will tell the Realm that she is a Queen on her death day, and get to live instead. The princes get to live and they can all celebrate together. I will be somewhere else. I am bound to find work if I don’t tell the real reason I have fled.

  I pack another gown, and tears fall faster. This dress is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. It is jade coloured and decorated with tiny diamonds. It is far too grand for a handmaiden to wear and so I’ve only ever worn it in my room. The fabric is so soft; it makes a perfect hankie for my tears. They are flooding the room.

  Who knew that I would be so dumb, having my head turned by some fellow. When she told me her secret I knew it was a bad idea. Who can help but gossip in this castle. We make our own fun. Who’s courting who, who’s stealing from where. It’s part of court life.

  But this I know is different. Even as I’m saying gossip is just court life I know it isn’t true. I didn’t gossip; I betrayed my best friend. Everleigh’s been like my sister. We have laughed together and spent all of our time together for years and years. I cannot believe myself. She would never have done that to me. Shows what she thinks of me that she told me. It was a secret, but she told me. That’s what she thought of me. I was important enough to know a secret.

  And I’m wailing again. I’ll have Cook in here if I’m not careful and she’ll be mad if she sees me packing. She’ll want to know what’s what. And what’ll I say?

  I have ruined everything. And I need to get away. Every inch of this place reminds me of her. She would have been my Queen and I know she would have seen me right. Even more right than she already has.

  I pick up another dress, another stole, another brooch. She has been good to me.

  I will take forever to leave if I sit and cry over every little thing she has given me. Almost all my stuff was hers first. She loved me.

  My trunk is packed. I will never be able to carry it, but I will send for it once I’m accepted in to a new household. In a little bag I have got the jewel she gave me, some coin I have collected for favours done for the princes and the King and a small pebble that Everleigh found in the grounds once. We are a long way from the seas in this part of the Realm and she thought it was lucky.

  I have no luck. I have spoiled my happy little life for some kisses. And the funny thing? I haven’t seen my lovely kissing friend since we last talked in the stables. I’ve gone to our little spot, at the time we were meeting and he’s not come.

  His kisses and love talk were as fake as I am a fake friend to Everleigh. I guess I got what I deserved.

  19

  ARCHER IS REFUSING to leave. Everleigh is determined that he can’t stay and Will is standing between them.

  “I have vowed to keep you safe. Let me do my job.”

  “My brothers would never hurt me.”

  “I’m happy to be wrong. Let me stay.”

  “Let me be right. Just go.”

  The room is dark, the lamps burning low, the bath water cold.

  “Please?”

  There’s a crash outside, further along the corridor. Archer pushes Everleigh behind him and reaches for his sword.

  There’s silence, both inside the room and out of it. “What was that?” Will whispers, all of them looking towards the door. It’s heavy, made out of solid wood, but not locked. Anyone could open it and anyone could come in.

  They laugh nervously. “We’re all on edge.”

  “I’ll be fine. Knock for me at breakfast time.”

  Archer nods. Were they just panic-stricken, would she be fine if they left? He takes her over to the grate. If she knows how to open it perhaps he would rest. There is a little maid outside her door while she sleeps, who would sound the alarm if something were to happen.

  There’s a scuffling noise directly outside her room. “I don’t like this,” Archer says, looking towards the door as he pulls out the grate. They could all be out of the room in seconds.

  “Quick.” Archer can hear muffled voices and someone rattles the door handle. If they weren’t all looking they wouldn’t have seen it or heard it.

  Trusting his instincts and listening to his gut, Archer pushes Everleigh through the gap and jumps in after her. They don’t have a light. It’s dark and smelly and Everleigh is sure there are rats at her feet. “Come on.” He holds his hand out to Will. Will shakes his head.

  “They’ll be expecting a body in her bed. If she’s not here, they’ll look for her.”

  Everleigh shakes her head, reaching out to him. “No.” Her voice is low but urgent. “Will, quickly. Now!”

  He ignores her and climbs in to her bed, pulling the covers up over his head, his back to the door, facing Archer and Everleigh.

  “Will. Will!” Everleigh starts sobbing. “This is stupid.” She pushes Archer aside; she’ll drag Will out of the room herself. She won’t put him in danger. Archer grabs hold of her to stop her, as the door to her room is pushed open.

  A cloaked figure rushes into the room, Archer quietly slides the grate into place and puts his hand over Everleigh’s mouth just before s
he screams out.

  The man takes the several steps to Everleigh’s bed, where Will is tucked under her covers, and draws his sword. Everleigh is shaking she’s sobbing so much, her mouth working against Archer’s hand as she tries desperately to cry out, despite the danger.

  The cloaked beast raises his hand, without checking under the cover; it’s inconceivable that anyone other than Everleigh would be there. If it wasn’t for Archer and Will, she would have been there.

  She watches the scene like a play; it couldn’t be real.

  The swordsman slices into Will, once, twice, three times. She has no idea which bits of him are hit but he must be dead.

  Archer is struggling to hold on to her; she’s still rallying against him. Every instinct telling her to help her friend, even though she knows it is too late.

  The cloaked man sheaths his sword and pulls back his cloak.

  Everleigh’s legs buckle underneath her and Archer just manages to hold her up. If she had dropped, then he would have heard her.

  Her brother Macsen would have heard her.

  A noise in the corridor makes him cover his head again and slip out of the room. Maybe he had been planning on checking on his handiwork, taking a look at his murdered sister but luckily for them he did not.

  Her brother.

  She reaches for the grate.

  “We can’t go back in. It’s not safe.”

  “He thinks I’m dead. My brother thinks I’m dead.” Sobs overtake her again. Life as she knew it is over. Power did strange things to people but she would never have believed that Macsen would hurt her.

  “We need to go to Halfreda’s rooms. We’ll be safe there till morning. Even if he comes back and finds Will he won’t look for you there.”

  “Will.” Everleigh can’t move. The grief is too stark. She hasn’t experienced anything like it since she lost her mum, and that grief had been a different kind of grief as she had been too young to truly appreciate it; this is violent and cruel. She can’t stand it. She can’t breathe.

  “Everleigh. We need to go.”

  “I can’t leave him here. It’s cold and dark and he’s dead by himself.”

  “You can’t do anything for him.”

  “I won’t leave him.” Everleigh crosses her arms, tears coursing down her face. “He saved my life.”

  Archer opens the grate and climbs through to Everleigh’s room, reaching back to help her out. He holds her back while he pulls the bedsheets off Will. He is in a bad way, but Archer can hear his gurgling breath.

  “Everleigh, he’s still breathing, help me grab him.”

  Everleigh moves around the other side of the bed and seeing her friend bloodied and dying, covers her mouth with her hand. She’s crying but follows Archer’s lead, helping him lift Will up and pulling him forwards. Archer moves next to her and hoists him up over his shoulder like a rag doll.

  “Check the corridor.”

  Everleigh runs forward, opens the door and nods that the way is clear. Archer carries Will easily, he is lighter and shorter than him, though slippery from the blood.

  “We need to take him to Halfreda. She can fix him.”

  Archer nods. “If anyone can.”

  Halfreda

  THE WALK BACK TO THE castle is thrice as long as the one from it. I have to keep stopping, sitting on low walls and once even dropping to the floor, until a woman with a skin of ale took pity on me. As the wise woman of the castle I have never been so low as to sit on the floor like a tramp. It felt frightening to me, being out of the castle so late, and I knew my powers would help me none if I was set on by some ruffian or other.

  Fear made me move faster than I might have, so only the gods know how long it would have taken me otherwise.

  The village is not a bad place to be, but there will always be someone chancing their arm. Trying their luck. And I must admit to being an easy target.

  Looking at me, bundled up in my old cloaks, stooped and shuffling, alone, no one with bad blood would hesitate before taking me on or out. Some men love violence for the pleasure it gives them; it makes them feel alive, I suppose. Others will only injure for gain or retribution. All the same, I would not survive an attack and as my end is coming, I am wary. I should have sent for a carriage to bring me back to the castle.

  My feet are crying out and my back is almost bent in half. I sit one more time; I can see the castle now and it won’t take me ten more minutes to get there.

  I wonder if the ball has finished. I know all about the comings and goings in the castle but I don’t join in with them all. I do sit and join meals, though not always, I might be asked to join a feast if there is someone important attending, and I cannot resist a play, but jousts and hunts and balls are not for me. I am old now and I like my own company.

  It is a gift in this world to enjoy the solitary pleasures. So many people fill their lives with drama and their minds with nonsense. There is true delight in sitting alone, thinking, relaxing, letting the mind be still, not full of petty problems.

  The castle is before me and I sigh with joy. I need to rest but I will see the King first.

  The guards gesture me through with barely a glance and I head to the ballroom. I look through the doors, see people laughing and dancing, the two princes twirling ladies around, though no sign of Everleigh, Addyson or the King. Everleigh will have retired; she doesn’t stay up late; she is always too tired from her late night treks to her mother’s grave. Addyson would have gone to bed even earlier as the youngest of all and I am glad the King has gone to his rooms, it will be simpler to talk there, rather than pulling him away from the party.

  I know he will be awake; he seldom sleeps before midnight.

  The blisters on my feet are troubling me, filling my head with pain. So much pain that I don’t see it in my mind’s eye. I only see it when I reach for the door handle.

  The King!

  I don’t knock the door, just push it open. He is there, slumped on the floor. “Guards!” I scream as loud as I am able, as I am softly spoken, but one comes running.

  “Get the doctor. I think the King has been poisoned.”

  I am sure it is too late of course, though some poisons have antidotes, as I go closer to him, I know it is the death draught and there is nothing to be done.

  I start to wail, a foreign tongue slipping out of my mouth and a strange chanting joining it.

  Murdered by his own son. It is nothing but an abomination. What will become of him? A ruler such as he would be an evil one indeed. And if he can kill his father he will surely kill his sister. I need to get Everleigh to safety. If he hears that she will live, then she is as good as dead.

  Two guards run into the room, dropping to their knees when they see their dead King. He inspired such love and loyalty; I am broken hearted to see him so undignified on the floor.

  If I was in better shape would I have seen this; prevented it?

  Useless questions. No help to any of us.

  I need to get Everleigh to safety.

  My mind flashes to Millard and Addyson, but I am sure they will be left alone for now. Macsen is power hungry and they have nothing to offer him.

  “Guards, let the doctor see him, but I don’t believe he can be saved.”

  They lower their heads, grief etched on their faces.

  We will bring forward our announcement; Everleigh will need to be crowned tomorrow. We cannot be without a ruler and we need Everleigh crowned to keep Macsen at bay. If that will be enough.

  I head out to the courtyard, to Everleigh’s room. There is a commotion behind me and, nerves fraught, I cry out as I turn.

  “Halfreda?”

  It is Archer and he is carrying a sack or something. Everleigh is with him. They step into the light. It is the fool’s boy he is carrying and he is bleeding surely to death. What has gone on in this castle in my absence? Some evil has come to life, some malignant force.

  “Halfreda, quick, we need to get Will to your rooms. We think he can be s
aved.”

  I know I need to but I cannot move.

  I announce it, ridiculously simply, without preamble or assurances. “The King is dead. He has been murdered.”

  20

  THIS TIME, WHEN EVERLEIGH falls Archer cannot catch her because he is still holding Will.

  Halfreda helps Everleigh to her feet, but she cannot stand. “My father?”

  Halfreda nods at her. There are no words. She scoops her up again and this time, supports her so that she can’t fall.

  “By my brother?”

  Halfreda nods again, slowly. “I think so. How did you guess?”

  Everleigh gestures at Will.

  Halfreda rubs at her face; she is pale and weary. “He did this too?”

  “Macsen.” Everleigh nods. “He thought that Will was me. He wanted to kill me.”

  Halfreda shakes her head, a sob escaping her; what a mess.

  They need to get to Halfreda’s rooms, and quickly. Will is losing blood fast, and his breathing is shallow, but Everleigh is like a puppet with no strings, limp and crying. Endless tears washing away all hopes of normality.

  Halfreda assists her and they go as quickly as they can. Archer lays Will out in front of Halfreda’s fire, still burning, though low. Halfreda throws some more logs on, and bustles about in some drawers. They can’t risk calling the King’s doctor, they have no idea now who is in an alliance with whom. Macsen could have been quietly gathering supporters around him, ready for his coup, his bid for the Kingship. It is clear now that he will do anything to get the crown. Including killing his own father and sister.

  Archer sits holding Everleigh and Halfreda kneels next to Will. She pulls his clothes off him, revealing the wounds in his stomach.

  Clearly Macsen is a swordsman but not a good marksman. He has made two fatal mistakes; he hasn’t checked that his intended victim is the one in the bed. And he hasn’t stabbed in enough places to ensure maximum damage. To do a better job he should have stabbed in the stomach, the heart and the throat, but instead all three wounds are in one area, underneath Will’s heart, to the left.