by C. J. Archer
I ordered them to go to bed in the adjoining sleeping quarters and sat at the table. Erik pulled out a deck of cards and had begun shuffling them when Theodore burst in, using the same internal door we’d used to enter.
“Dane said I’d find you here.” He’d clearly heard the news going by his bright eyes. “Go on, give me the details. How did Gladstow look when Kitty walked in?”
“Like he wanted to fall through the floor and disappear,” I said.
“I wish I’d been there.”
“Where have you been?”
“Going through the king’s wardrobe and setting aside anything that could be reused for either you or Yelena.”
“Hedging your bets?”
He pouted. “Your relationship is not a joke, Josie. It’s most upsetting to think that you won’t be queen. I’d rather use those fabrics to make you something, but if you keep refusing to marry him…” He sighed.
I touched his knee. “It’ll be all right, Theo.”
He threw his hands in the air. “How? You and Dane belong together.”
I rested my elbows on the table and buried my face in my hands. I groaned. Sometimes I could pretend that I wasn’t affected, that everything would be well, but not always. My friends knew better, anyway. I would never be able to convince them.
Theodore sighed again. “He won’t accept your refusal. He has made that clear.”
“What’s he going to do, kidnap me and force me to say the vows in front of a priest?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him.”
The door opened again, and Balthazar hobbled in. “I hear the duchess is back.”
“And quite in control of the situation,” I said. “You’d be proud of her, Bal.”
“Why? Because she put herself in danger?” He eased himself onto a chair. “Erik, pour me something from the sideboard.”
“The Deerhorns won’t dare harm her now,” Theodore said, also taking a seat. “If something happens to Kitty, everyone will point the finger at them. Even Gladstow isn’t stupid enough to stand by them if Dane became king.”
Balthazar conceded the point with a nod. “Let’s hope you’re right.”
“You’re forgetting something,” I said. “The gem and wishes. Lady Deerhorn was angry at first, but after she calmed down, she had a self-assured look.”
“That’s her regular look,” Balthazar pointed out.
“It was more. They have something planned. It’s most likely to do with the gem and wishes. I’m very worried about Max and the other guards. It’ll be easy enough to intercept them, kidnap Brant again, take Max or one of the others hostage, and demand we give them the gem.” The more I thought about it, the more certain I became. “Lady Deerhorn is not going to let us just take Brant. She’d sell her sons to get her hands on those wishes.”
Balthazar glanced towards the door leading outside, as if willing Max to walk in with Brant in tow. The door remained firmly shut.
It opened throughout the day, however, as guards came and went. Dora visited with her son, Remy, and we talked about his lessons and he asked me what Freedland was like. Other servants visited to pass the time or to speak with Balthazar about their work. Some asked when we expected Max back.
Dane did not come. Nor did Max.
The afternoon wore on, and everyone’s nerves stretched. The ale didn’t calm me; nor did pacing around the garrison or strolling to the stables. In fact, my worry increased when we met with Lady Deerhorn and Lord Xavier there. They lingered by the arched entrance, neither summoning a groom from the stable yard to prepare their horses, nor returning to the palace.
I was glad to have Erik and Quentin accompany me. Even in the open, I didn’t want to encounter either Deerhorn alone. Theodore wanted to turn back, but I refused to let them see how much we feared them.
“I want to find out what they’re doing here,” I said.
“I think I know,” Quentin said darkly. “And it ain’t to look in on the horses.”
Erik rested his hand on his sword hilt. “They are watching for Max’s return too.”
“Not Max,” I said. “Brant’s return, yes, but not with Max. They’ve sent their own men on ahead to intercept our guards. I knew this would happen. We should have sent more guards with him.”
“He took more than a dozen,” Quentin said.
Theodore rested a hand on my lower back. “I’m sure Max will be fine.” He didn’t sound convinced, however.
We’d been foolish to think Max could retrieve Brant when the Deerhorns knew full well where he’d gone. The proof was in Lady Deerhorn and Lord Xavier watching the road at the point where it disappeared into the forest.
They both turned upon hearing our footsteps on the gravel. Lady Deerhorn promptly turned away again, but not before she tossed out a knowing smile.
“Run back to your lover, Miss Cully,” Lord Xavier said. “Oh, wait.” His top lip lifted with his sneer. “He can only save you if nothing gets in the way of him becoming king. But something extraordinary would need to happen to prevent him claiming the throne, would it not?”
He waited for my response, but I didn’t rise to the bait, and after a moment, he turned around again too.
“You don’t have the gem,” Quentin spat.
“Not yet,” Lord Xavier tossed over his shoulder. “But you’ll give it to us when the time comes.”
His mother shot him a glare. He cleared his throat and continued to watch the road.
I glanced at Theodore, my brow arched. He merely shrugged. It was Erik who signaled to us, indicating the lurking Deerhorn men just inside the archway to the stable yard on one side of the road and the coach house yard on the other. Unlike their mistress and her son, they were not watching the road. They watched us.
I silently indicated we should leave. If the men they’d sent to intercept Max succeeded in retrieving Brant, then these men could easily overpower Quentin and Erik then kidnap me. The Deerhorns would think nothing of doing it here in the open if they possessed Brant. It would be a desperate act, but they were desperate people with the scent of magic in their nostrils.
Erik suddenly cocked his head to the side and stared along the road. A moment later, I heard it too. The thundering hooves of several horses.
“Is it Max?” Quentin asked, hand shielding his eyes from the afternoon glare.
Lady Deerhorn went very still, but Lord Xavier strode off in the direction of the approaching riders. Erik followed him, but Quentin remained with Theodore and me. Theodore took my hand.
The hooves kicked up mud as the horses galloped towards us. It was impossible to count the number of riders, but there were a good number. At least some wore the crimson livery of palace guards. But not all.
I clutched Theodore’s hand tighter.
Quentin squinted at the fast approaching riders, counting out loud. “There are enough, but something’s wrong. They’re not all our men.”
The riders sped past Lord Xavier and Erik. Erik let out a whoop.
It was only then that I began to breathe again. But Erik’s elation quickly dampened. He looked back along the road, as if waiting for more riders. None came.
I stopped taking notice. When I spotted Max leading the group, I nearly cried out in relief. Thank Hailia he was safe.
“Where are the other guards?” Quentin asked as Max pulled his horse to a stop near us. “And who are they?” He pointed at the riders following the palace guards. Their hands were tied to their saddle pommels and each horse was tied to the one in front.
“They’re our prisoners,” Max announced. “They intercepted us as we departed the house where Brant was being kept.” He dismounted and handed the reins to a groom. He nodded a greeting at Lady Deerhorn and Lord Xavier. “You wouldn’t know who these men are, would you, my lady?”
Lady Deerhorn’s jaw hardened. She picked up her skirts and marched off towards the palace, her back ramrod straight.
“My lord?” Max prompted. “Do you know them? It’s just that o
ne or two said they worked for you.”
Lord Xavier swallowed hard and raced after his mother. Their lurking men followed.
I threw my arms around Max. “It’s good to see you. What happened?”
“Where’s Brant?” Theodore asked.
“On his way, hopefully.”
“Hopefully?”
“I knew the Deerhorns would send men after us, so we left here in two batches. I departed the palace first with a dozen men, and Tom left some time later with another six.”
“The first group were a false group,” Erik said, nodding in understanding.
“A decoy,” Theodore corrected him.
“I stayed with the decoy group,” Max went on. “I wasn’t sure if the Deerhorns’ men realized we left in two batches, but if they did, I wanted them to assume my group would be the one to retrieve Brant, since I was the most senior guard. I hoped they’d follow me and not Tom’s contingent. Mine was also the larger of the two groups.”
“So they intercepted you on the way?” Quentin asked.
Max shook his head. “Not on the way there, on the way back. My men entered the cottage, told Brant to wait for Tom, then we left again, leaving him behind.”
“He just obeyed?”
“He had no choice. He was shackled with only two prison guards for company. They were easily dispatched. Tom’s men took the longer route, so they could approach from the north, while we headed off again, going south. Shortly after our departure, the Deerhorn men ambushed us.” He watched as the prisoners were led away by palace guards. The jail cells would soon be overflowing.
Erik clapped Max on the back. “We did not doubt you had a plan.”
“Never,” Theodore said, grinning.
“I was expecting them, so we were prepared for their attack,” Max went on. “We overpowered them, although it wasn’t easy. They outnumbered us. Rylan’s got a cut to his arm, but it’s not deep.”
They hadn’t brought back many prisoners, so the rest must have suffered a worse fate at the scene. The ones being led away sported cuts and bruises but no life-threatening injuries.
“So Brant will be here soon,” Erik said with another clap on the shoulder for Max.
“Don’t celebrate yet,” Max said. “Not until he’s here.”
“There could have been a second ambush group,” Quentin added nervously.
We all looked along the road. It was quiet, the dust having resettled. A weighty silence also settled around us, until Theodore broke it.
“You should clean up while we wait,” he said to Max. “You’ve been traveling for two days.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Max eyed the horses, drinking from troughs, through the stable yard archway. “If they’re not here soon, I’ll head out again.”
“The Deerhorns won’t acknowledge sending those men,” Theodore said.
“Of course they won’t,” I said, gazing after the prisoners. They stopped as someone approached from the palace. I didn’t need to see his face to know it was Dane. His physique was so familiar to me.
A sedan chair carried by two men stopped too, then both sedan chair and Dane continued towards us. It was a fair distance to the stable yard and it seemed to take an age before they reached us.
Just as they did, Erik let out a shout. “More riders!”
We all turned to see them racing towards us at full tilt. The group was much smaller, and they did not wear the crimson palace livery. “It’s not Tom,” I said, voice trembling.
Max smiled. “Have faith in me, Josie. I told them to wear plain clothing.”
I frowned to get a better look at the riders’ faces then gasped. I recognized Tom and the men with him. All were palace guards. All except Brant, riding in the middle.
Beside me, Dane drew in a deep breath. His gaze connected with Max’s. “Well done, my friend. Your plan worked.”
Max nodded back. “Thank you, sir. Er, Your Majesty.”
“I’ll always be just Dane for you.”
Balthazar peered out from the sedan chair. He gave a good natured grunt. “Never doubted you, Max. Right, Josie?”
“Never,” I said.
The riders stopped directly in front of us. Tom and the other guards smiled and accepted the congratulatory praise from Dane and Max, while Brant merely scowled from the saddle.
Erik reached up and pulled him down, keeping him on his feet as he stumbled. Then he hugged him. “Welcome home, Brant.”
Brant used his shoulder to shove him away. “Get off me, you big oaf. I don’t want to be here.”
“Then you should have resisted,” Tom said. To Dane, he added, “He didn’t resist. He already had those bruises when we found him.”
“You should have given him more,” Quentin piped up. “No one would have cared.”
Like the Deerhorn men, Brant’s hands were tied, and he also sported a bruised cheek and swollen eye. But where the mercenaries’ bruises were only just beginning to turn purple, Brant’s were already yellow.
“Take him to the garrison,” Dane ordered. “Bal?”
“I’ll meet you there with the gem,” Balthazar said.
“Take an escort. We don’t want anything to happen to you before or after you fetch it.”
Balthazar settled back into the sedan chair. “I don’t have to fetch it. I’ll meet you at the garrison,” he said again. “I suggest you use the walk to convince Brant to spend the first wish to get our memories back and the second to save himself.”
“Save myself?” Brant echoed, watching as the carriers left with the sedan chair between them, an extra spring in their step. “What do you mean, old man?” he called out. When there was no answer, he turned to Dane. “What does he mean?”
“Maybe you could use the last wish to be smarter,” Quentin said smugly.
“Shut your hole, rat.”
“Bal means that you are going to die on the scaffold,” Quentin went on.
Brant stopped. When Max shoved him, he shoved back. “What is he talking about?”
“Murderers are hanged,” Dane said. “Everyone knows you killed Leon.”
“You arse,” Brant snarled. “I saved you by killing him! I saved everyone!”
“Some of the nobles still think he was the legitimate king, so you’ve committed regicide in their eyes,” Dane went on. “In trials of regicide, the judges are five ministers. The Deerhorns have no influence over them. They can’t save you in exchange for a wish.”
“I don’t care about the fucking Deerhorns.” Brant licked his swollen, split lip. “Not after what they did to me.”
“You will still have the third wish after you use the second to ask for our memories back. Use it to sway the judges into finding you not guilty.”
“When will I face trial?” Brant asked.
“Tomorrow morning. Your hanging will be immediately afterwards.”
“If I’m found guilty.”
“You will be unless you use the third wish to save yourself. No one will try to stop you.”
Brant lowered his head, his shoulders slumped forward.
Theodore hooked his arm through mine. “Then all the wishes will be used up,” he muttered. “Thank the goddess, everything can return to normal.”
“Normal,” Brant muttered. “What even is that?”
“We’ve got news for you,” Quentin said. “We learned some things in Freedland about all of us, including you.” He spent the rest of the walk telling Brant about the prison mine and our pardons.
Dane remained quiet. The pardons didn’t include the men in the palace cells. I wasn’t sure if he considered Brant a danger like them and excluded him from the pardon too. If so, Brant could free himself from the scaffold in Glancia with the final wish but be caught in Freedland if he returned there.
By the time we reached the garrison, we’d gathered quite a following. Servants emerged from the service commons and the palace itself, blinking into the sunlight and smiling when they recognized Brant. The noblemen must be in
side in meetings, but a few noblewomen crossed the inner forecourt only to pause upon seeing the throng of servants and hurry back inside.
There was no sign of the Deerhorns.
Balthazar’s sedan chair stood by the door to the garrison, abandoned. We filed inside and I spotted the two burly carriers flanking Balthazar at the head of the table. Servants packed into the room, bodies pressed against one another. It was hot, but no one seemed to care. A hush blanketed the crowd and the thick air pulsed with anticipation. Max and other guards accepted the praise and thanks of their fellow servants, while Brant endured their jeers. Someone spat on him. He wiped the glob from his face with his shoulder.
Balthazar signaled for Brant to be brought to him. “There were three wishes,” he began, with all the showmanship of a narrator introducing a theatrical play. “Leon used one. You have the remaining two. Correct?”
“Get on with it,” Brant snarled.
Balthazar sighed and shook his head. “You’ve been trouble from the outset. It’s no surprise to anyone that you ended up in a prison mine. Leon should have asked the sorcerer to leave you behind.”
Brant’s lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl. He charged forward and almost got to Balthazar before Dane and Max grabbed him and hauled him back.
“Just give me the fucking gem, old man!” Brant shouted. “Then I can get out of this fucking place and go home!”
Balthazar leaned his walking stick against the table and dipped his hands into the pockets of his robes. “It’s in here somewhere.”
Brant rolled his eyes.
“Ah.” Balthazar removed his hand and opened his fist. The gem throbbed as if alive, its blood-red glow lighting up the faces of those leaning in for a closer look.
Brant’s eyes widened, his lips parted with his gasp. His face was scarlet from the gem’s light. “I feel it,” he murmured. “I feel the magic blooming inside me. It’s calling me.”
His hands, still tied together in front of him, snatched at the gem like a hungry child presented with food.
Balthazar jerked back his hand, fist closed, just as his other whipped out of his pocket and punched Brant in the stomach.
Brant cried out in surprise and pain. He stumbled forward and would have fallen on Balthazar if Dane and Max hadn’t held him upright. “You lied,” he spluttered. “Give it to me!”