“Understandable.” Not every Inferrara was as unstable and nasty as Teodora, but it seemed wiser to show Lennart that over time.
“However...” Lennart drummed his fingers on the table beside him. “If you’re cooperative, a transition to Teodora’s heir might be much smoother. You seem unlike her, which is a good thing.”
“Thank the gods for that.” Elektra managed a small smile. “I suppose I must tell you right now I have no desire to convert to the Quadrene creed.”
Lennart frowned. “Edric told me he hasn’t convinced you. I won’t lie. That will be a problem. My mission in Kronland is to sweep away all of the old, including Teodora’s corrupt regime and the faith enmeshed in it.”
“Olvisya will never accept the Quadrene faith.” Elektra was relieved at how calm she felt and sounded. Lennart might have the advantage over her, but she wouldn’t let him push her around.
“Maybe not right away. But if the empress does, it would be a good start. I don’t believe in forcing the people to change their beliefs, but it happened naturally in Estenor, once I made it clear that I had changed.”
“Olvisya is not Estenor.” Elektra knew little about that distant land, but she was certain it differed greatly from her own civilized country, with its millenia of religious tradition.
“No, it’s not.” Lennart chuckled. “But it would make quite an impression when I overthrow your mother and replace her with a young, enlightened empress eager to make changes.”
Elektra would love to be a young, enlightened empress. But she couldn’t give up her faith for that.
“I’ll be honest with you, Your Highness,” she said. “I wouldn’t mind being your ally. And I do want to be empress someday. But the empress defends the faith against all heresies. And kind and persuasive as Edric Maximus is, he’s still a heretic.”
She nearly added that Lennart was one, but caught herself. He seemed pleasant enough but she sensed it would be unwise to anger him.
“It seems not just Kronlanders are stubborn.” Lennart sighed. “I think Edric might be going too easy on you.”
An icy knot formed inside Elektra. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you might be better convinced with other methods.”
“Do you want to coerce me into your beliefs?” Elektra raised an eyebrow and in spite of everything, kept her cool, haughty tone. She silently thanked Vica for that.
“No, I don’t.” Lennart’s eyes were hard now. “But I see little point in having you as a prisoner if you can’t be of use. I wonder what your mother would give us in exchange for you?”
“No, please!” It burst out before Elektra could stop herself. “Please don’t return me to my mother.”
“That bad, is it?” Lennart was smiling again, though now he looked wolfish rather than friendly.
Elektra nodded, suddenly terrified.
Lennart stood. “This is what I’ll do,” he said, waiting for Elektra to wobble to her feet. “I’ll write to your mother, and let her know you’re here. I’ll see what she offers, and if it’s good enough, I’ll send you back. Of course, if you change your mind about religion, there’ll be no deal with her, and we’ll make an agreement just between the two of us.
“I’m heading south as soon as possible, but I’ll let Edric know what’s going on. I’m sure he doesn’t want you back in the empress’s clutches, so maybe he can find a way to be more persuasive. I suggest you spend the next days thinking hard about what kind of life you’d like.”
Elektra stared, unable to say a word, while Lennart turned on his heel and left the room.
Maryna
Maryna didn’t even have time to realize she was dying. She screamed as long as she was able, not because it would help, but because she could do nothing else.
Suddenly the pressure on her throat ended, and the weight holding her down disappeared. Her scream faded out as she rolled onto her side, away from the chaos nearby.
She put her hand to her throat and felt the warm stickiness of blood, then pushed hard against the wound even though it hurt. Blood trickled through her fingers and she wondered how much she’d have to lose before she died. At least the assassin hadn’t succeeded in cutting her throat.
Torchlight flooded the room, and guards streamed through the door, now hanging on broken hinges.
There was a great deal of grunting and thumping on the floor, and Maryna desperately wanted to see what was happening, though she was afraid to look. She kept one hand on her neck, crept to the edge of the bed and looked down.
The noise stopped and Magnus Torsen shouted, “We need her alive! Don’t kill her!”
For a confused instant, Maryna wondered if he was talking about her. But when she looked more closely, she noticed the assassin was a girl, one who didn’t look much older than Maryna herself. She was bigger and stronger though, still thrashing against the guards holding her down.
Magnus lay on the floor across the room, blood gushing from his leg.
Without thinking, Maryna snatched a shawl hanging over the foot of her bed and jumped to the floor.
“Oh Count Torsen, you’re hurt.” She crawled over the assassin’s limp arm to get to him, then pressed the shawl against the gushing wound.
“You’re hurt too, Your Grace,” Magnus murmured, looking paler by the second.
Maryna had forgotten about her own wound, but it was a mere trickle next to this.
“Someone help!” she shouted, panic raising her voice to a shriek. So many people now filled the room she worried no one would see them until it was too late.
“Help,” she cried again, tears starting as Magnus’s head thudded back against the floor. She couldn’t leave, or the wound would start gushing again.
Then Natalya knelt on the floor next to her, her hands pushing Maryna’s aside.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, her voice calm as always, though Maryna had never before seen the deep crease between her eyes.
“Just a little.” Maryna was suddenly aware of the blood soaking the front of her dress. “But his is worse.”
“Yes, it is,” Natalya said. “The doctor is near. Could you please go get him? I doubt he’ll spot us here.”
Happy to have something useful to do, Maryna sprang to her feet and pushed her way through the crowd of guards. She didn’t see the assassin anymore.
“Move aside,” she ordered, finding her princess voice once more. “Make way. I need the doctor to attend me now.”
The doctor, a gray-haired man with a kind, pudgy face, stood just inside the door.
“Come with me,” Maryna said. “He’s over there.”
“Your Grace, you must let me take a look at that wound.”
“Not now.” Maryna put steel in her voice. For at least a few more minutes she was a Princess of Norovaea. “Follow me. Count Torsen is seriously wounded.”
This time a path parted before her, and she saw several other people clustered around Magnus and Natalya.
The doctor went to work, ordering a few guards to fetch supplies for him.
Natalya got to her feet and joined Maryna, peering over the doctor’s shoulder.
“Will he live?” Maryna asked.
“Probably.” Natalya took her hand. “You likely saved his life, acting as quickly as you did. But he saved yours first, from what the others say. He was first through the door and pulled the assassin off you before she finished the job.”
If Maryna had read it in a story she would have found it romantic, but in real life, she felt sick.
“I need to sit down, I think.”
Natalya held her by the arm until they reached the bed, then helped her up onto it.
“You’ve had a terrible fright, and lost plenty of blood.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe we overlooked that entrance.”
“Which entrance?” Maryna asked as Natalya called for water and dabbed at the cut on Maryna’s neck. It stung, but Maryna resolved to make no noise.
“A hidden door behind
that big wardrobe.”
Natalya nodded in its direction, and Maryna gasped at the wide open doors, her clothes strewn on the floor, and a gaping hole behind that.
“There are several in the palace and the king has a map to all of them. Or so we thought. Now I’m wondering if the map he has is the original one, and if it’s not, who has it. We chose this room especially for you because we were certain there was no other way to get in. I’m terribly sorry, my dear.” Natalya stopped cleaning, and stroked Maryna’s forehead.
“But my door was locked from the outside, and the guards couldn’t get in either.” Maryna wondered how Magnus was doing, but didn’t want to seem too fussy.
“Yes, that means she had help, possibly among the guards.” Natalya pursed her lips. “Fortunately we took her alive and I will interrogate her. I will get the truth from her and the name of every single accomplice.”
“How can you do that?”
“You don’t need to know.” Natalya’s eyes hardened. “Someday when you’re older I’ll teach you how to conduct a proper interrogation, or how to hire the right person to do it for you.”
“I think I’d rather hire someone.” Maryna shivered. She knew little about interrogations, although Devyn had told her a few grisly stories she was sure he’d made up.
“Can I see how the count is doing?” she asked, deciding it was time to change the subject.
“Certainly.” Natalya helped Maryna off the bed and threw a dressing gown over her bloody dress.
The room had cleared out and Uncle Arryk was there. He sat on the floor next to Magnus, holding his hand and looking worried. He put his other hand out to Maryna and she sank onto the floor next to him, snuggled into his side.
“Thank the gods you’re all right,” the king said.
“What about Magnus—I mean, Count Torsen?”
“He’ll live.” Arryk looked down at her. “I’m very sorry about tonight, but you did brilliantly. I’m not letting you out of my sight again until we find everyone involved in this plot.”
Gwynneth
So Braeden hadn’t caught Fernanda.
Gwynneth’s knees wobbled and she wanted to sink into the grass, but she refused to give up. With Stella in Fernanda’s clutches, the guards couldn’t do a thing.
But even if Fernanda killed her and Stella, she might yet save the others, since Fernanda clearly hadn’t discovered the lodge.
“Let my daughter go.” Gwynneth did her best to keep her voice from shaking, although now she stood in the shade in wet clothes, so her teeth wanted to chatter anyway.
“If you let her go now, you can be on your way unharmed. I will give the order myself, I swear it.”
The captain standing beside her squawked in protest, and Gwynneth laid a hand on his arm, hoping he’d be quiet. Braeden must still be out here somewhere, and these guards could track Fernanda until he arrived.
Fernanda laughed her unpleasant, raspy cackle. “I think not.”
She stood, an amazing feat, considering her cross-legged position and that she held a little girl in one arm, while pressing a knife against her with her free hand. She ought to have one wounded arm, but it didn’t seem to trouble her.
From behind Gwynneth, a guard lunged forward at the motion, but the captain stopped him.
“No one moves,” he barked. “Not until the child is safe.”
“Then you will spend the rest of your days right here.” Fernanda ran the knife up Stella’s body until the tip of the blade touched her chin. “For this child will never be safe.”
She nodded at Gwynneth. “You will lead me to your other children.” She smirked. “I couldn’t believe my good fortune when I heard from the miller I killed yesterday that your party had passed, going deeper into the woods instead of to Allaux. You will take me to your hiding place, so I can give you and the others the mercy of a quick death.”
Gwynneth shook her head. There had to be a way out of this, though she didn’t yet know what it was. She offered up a frantic prayer that Braeden would burst out of the trees, but understood at the same time she needed to survive on her own.
“How kind of you.” She allowed scorn to drip from her voice and lifted her chin so she was looking down her nose at Fernanda. “If you murder all of us—which, considering your past failure, I doubt you can manage—you will receive no such mercy.”
Fury flashed in Fernanda’s eyes, and Gwynneth worried she’d pushed her too far. She needed to direct the woman’s anger at her so she’d leave Stella alone.
She took a step forward and Fernanda pushed the blade into Stella’s chin. The little girl had stopped crying several minutes before, but now she whimpered.
“Take me.” Gwynneth threw off the captain’s hand as he tried to stop her.
“Kill me and let the children go. I suppose I can understand why the empress would like me dead because she’s a nasty, vindictive person. But aside from being a bloodthirsty monster, what reason could you have for killing my children?”
“Reason enough.” Fernanda returned her stare and didn’t release her grip on Stella.
“There is no good reason.” Gwynneth struggled to keep her voice firm. “Let Stella go, and I swear on the gods I’ll turn myself over to you and instruct these guards not to pursue you.”
Fernanda smiled. “Tempting, but no. My mission is to kill all of you, and I won’t stop until I do so. Though I must say, your self-sacrificing motherly love is very charming. It almost brings a tear to my eye.”
“Your Grace,” the captain muttered into her ear. “Please let me try to kill her. I’m sure I can shoot her while avoiding the duchess.”
Gwynneth doubted that. While they spoke, Fernanda had inched her way backwards. Though she remained in range of a pistol, it was no longer a comfortable one, and Stella’s head was too close to hers.
“I can’t risk it,” Gwynneth said softly. “At least not yet. I’ll stall, but you must follow my lead.”
“I don’t care what you think,” Gwynneth snapped, raising her voice. “But I see I must cooperate so I will lead you back to the other children. You have my word that the guards will attempt nothing.”
Fernanda raised an eyebrow, and mercifully, the captain didn’t protest.
Gwynneth took a deep breath. “Please let me hold my daughter on our way. You can put your knife at my back or wherever else you want, and if I do anything you disapprove of, you can kill both of us. It will be easier for you if you don’t have to carry her, since the way is long and difficult.” She hoped Fernanda would prefer to have both hands free.
Fernanda considered, then nodded. “You will come here,” she said. “But everyone else must drop their weapons.”
“Do it.” Gwynneth stared at the captain.
Once pistols and knives had fallen into the grass Gwynneth asked, “Might I approach?”
She placed one foot in front of the other, her mouth dry. The clearing seemed much larger than it had appeared before, long shadows now covering the grass.
It would be dark within an hour or two, and Gwynneth had no intention of leading Fernanda back to the lodge. If they hadn’t returned by dark, another group of guards would search for and hopefully find them. It was a small chance, but the only one she had.
When she was close enough, Fernanda shoved Stella into Gwynneth’s arms and moving like lightning, had the knife at her back.
Gwynneth squeezed Stella tight, ignoring the blade poking into her ribs. “Are you all right darling?” she murmured.
“Yes.” Stella flung her arms around Gwynneth’s neck. “I’m sorry I ran away, Mama.”
“So am I,” Gwynneth murmured into her ear in Galladian. “But now you must do as I say so we can escape, do you understand?”
Stella said nothing, but Gwynneth felt her nod against her cheek. She stared straight ahead, then said to Fernanda. “It’ll be dark soon, so we’d better go.”
“The guards will lead the way,” Fernanda said. “Anyone tries anything, moves even
a muscle in my direction, the princess and baby girl are dead.”
Braeden
It had taken far too long to get to the hunting lodge, but Braeden didn’t see how Fernanda could have reached it ahead of them.
“We’ll go slow,” Braeden said. “Don’t want anyone to think we’re attacking.”
He glared at Devyn. “You especially; wait until I send for you.”
All was quiet as he approached the building. Insects buzzed, and the late afternoon sun warmed an idyllic rustic scene. Maybe everyone was asleep.
Braeden reckoned it was a good sign that nothing was in upheaval, though he wondered why no one had challenged him yet. If he were in charge, no one would make it this far without being noticed.
He dismounted and walked up to the door, which opened before he could knock.
“Who’re you?” A young guardsman asked, a scowl on his baby face.
“Braeden Terris. I’ve come by order of the Maxima to ensure the safety of Princess Gwynneth. Might I see her?”
The guard’s face turned friendly. “I know who you are.” Then he frowned. “But you can’t see the princess. She’s gone.”
“Gone? Where?” When Braeden had accepted this mission he’d never in a thousand years thought it would be so hard to keep up with a fancy lady like Gwynneth, hampered by frilly, huge-skirted dresses, and traveling with five children, no less.
“Into the woods.” The guard leaned forward. “Little Duchess Stella ran off, and the princess has gone with about half the guards to find her.”
“When did this happen?” Braeden couldn’t keep from shaking his head.
“Several hours ago. Truth be told, I’m glad you showed up. The sun’s about to go down, and if they haven’t returned by then, I don’t know what to do. We’re under strength as it is, guarding the two little ones.”
“Only two? What about the Duchess Maryna? I’d like to talk to her.”
“Not here.” Worry warred on the young man’s face with the pleasure he took in providing someone like Braeden with interesting information. “Though that’s a long story. One for later, when everyone’s gathered again.”
Winter of the Wolf (The Desolate Empire Book 4) Page 6