The Road of Kings: A Strong Woman in the Middle Ages (A Medieval Tale Book 8)

by Lina J. Potter

  Cortho also returned to his band.

  Looking from above, he thought that Alcine might come, try to talk to Chantaine, try to persuade him, but he would fail.

  That wouldn't cut in.

  Chantaine knew the whole truth. Where he had learned it was a different matter, but he did.

  With the instincts of a battered prey, Cortho realized that the count hadn't believed him. He had simply heard him out, and what came next?

  But he couldn't very well report it to Alcine.

  Your Excellency, it seems and appears to me...

  Nope, it wouldn't sound right.

  Cortho would rather keep his mouth shut and prepare a fresh horse. He would wait before fleeing, he still had to wait out an hour, but after that, it remained to be seen. Maybe Alcine would get around and reach the gate?

  And Maldonaya's tricks would help him persuade Chantaine? Win him over, explain it to him, buy him out—any option would do, as long as the count agreed with the duke and supported him. Still, his gut told Cortho that waiting was pointless.

  They still hadn't found the missing queen, either. What if Chantaine had her?

  He might, and that shed a wholly different light on the big picture. Cortho pondered it over, did a mental tally...

  Personally, in Chantaine's place, he would have wavered. Why would people care who the regent was? It could just as well work out, and the count would have power, lots of power, all the power in his hands. Why share it with Alcine?

  Then the negotiations were doomed from the get-go.

  Cortho thought some more and got down from the wall closer to the horses. Both his heart and his gut told him to run. But a title...an estate...

  All right. He would give Alcine a chance...as long as his horse was ready.

  ***

  The northern tower didn't bring Jerisson any joy. Or was it the other way round? He was glad to see everyone alive—Erando, the Elonts, and the Roivels. But their condition...

  Everyone had gotten their share, no matter their age or gender. The marquis was put on a rack and branded; Count Elont was whipped; Count Roivel waterboarded; the women had their nails pulled... It might have been more, but Jess didn't pay attention. The sight of Countess Roivel huddled up on the floor crying was enough. Not long before, she had seemed so strong and unbending, but some things broke people.

  They recognized Jerisson, but nobody seemed happy to see him, not anymore.

  "Jess," Marquis Losan said, barely moving his lips. "You..."

  Jerisson would have loved to punch the jailor, twisting his neck and freeing the prisoners, but... He couldn't, not yet, at least. He couldn't even tell them the truth. Instead, he threw up his hands, dejected.

  "Yes. It's me."

  "You'll have time to talk," the torturer chuckled. "You'll all hang together."

  Jess turned around.

  "None of us will talk to you; I promise you that."

  It almost sounded like a threat.

  The jailor squirmed and waved his hand.

  "Your time is up, I'm sure! Scram."

  Jess couldn't help but glance in the direction where help was supposed to come.

  How soon would Chantaine's troops arrive?

  He didn't want to hang next to the marquis, but if he had no other opportunity... He wanted to die even less.

  "I'll be back," he swore to his friends and turned to the door.

  "You will, oh yes," the jailor grinned.

  With a heavy heart, Jess left the tower, followed by Countess Elont's wail.

  ***

  Altres Lort took only two minutes to open the fence door.

  Who said that a secret passage leading from the palace could only end on the street? In some cases, the exit was an ordinary house, one of those handed out by His Majesty to his loyal men, an elderly couple living inside and attending to it.

  How would one enter it?

  Definitely not bang at the door, especially when you were chased by the guards. They might not open up straight away, and you'd lose time. But a man who knew certain secrets...

  Altres did know a fair share of them.

  After running for his life together with Gardwig in their youth, he hadn't just learned all the secret passages by heart: he improved them. You never knew when you'd have to escape—or where. Everything was planned out. How could it not be? It was a matter of national importance! The king's security mattered a lot!

  Altres simply pulled out several rivets from the ornamented grid of the fence door, and it immediately opened up. As soon as the last of his men went inside, they pushed it down.

  Everyone fell on the ground and covered themselves with their cloaks, while Altres crawled closer to the porch. It's not like he could stand tall for everybody to see him. No, he crawled on the ground to the back door so that nobody would notice.

  The tenants were already waiting for him. The door was open.

  "Your Grace? "

  "Hush!"

  It wasn't the smartest of replies, but it was enough to be understood.

  The lights in the house went out, and the old servant blew at the candle in his hands.

  Of course, he knew Altres Lort. He had worked for thirty years in the palace and was currently living out the rest of his days with his wife on the royal pension in the house given by His Majesty. He was also taking care of the secret passage.

  The King's Butcher slipped inside, followed by the soldiers.

  Fitting fifty men inside was a story in its own right. It was a real challenge, but they couldn't stay in the street. Well, the more, the merrier, Altres thought. They wouldn't have to wait long; soon, they would find someone to take it out on.

  "Your Grace, what's going on?"

  Altres clapped the old servant on the shoulder.

  "Nothing good, Yurnie. Nothing good."

  The servant had already guessed that.

  "Goodness knows what's happened in the palace..."

  "That's where we're headed. Just so you know, you haven't seen us, and you don't know us."

  "Yes, Your Grace."

  "Open the passage for us."

  Giving a hurried bow, the servant went to the kitchen and down to the basement. There, everything was set up the easiest way possible.

  Move aside the barrel of sauerkraut, push down the seemingly unyielding shelves... A lever could work miracles. All of that might have seemed to be there forever, unable to be lifted, but in reality, one move changed everything.

  Count Lort knew where to push. He led the procession across the dark secret corridor to the place where nobody expected them and didn't want them.

  He moved his mouth in a smile, but his eyes remained cold. He had been too late to help, but he would be fast enough to avenge his brother. That was his right.

  ***

  "No! NO!"

  Milia was writhing on her bed.

  Lily gave her a firm shake. She had been sleeping in the adjacent room and immediately ran to the queen when the noise woke her up. Seeing that Milia was deep in the throes of a nightmare, she interrupted it in the simplest way possible: by waking her up.

  "Come up! Wake up!"

  The grey eyes slowly opened, still full of fear. Milia grasped the surroundings, sighed, and closed her eyelids. A tear rolled down her cheek, then another.

  "Thank you."

  "You're welcome. Drink something."

  "All right."

  Lily skillfully helped the woman sit upright, fluffed up her pillow, and gave her water.

  "I really need to make you a sippy cup. I'll have a talk with the Eveers."

  "A sippy cup?"

  "I'll show it to you later when all of this is over."

  "You're so confident in this..."

  Lily shrugged. Two years ago, she had found herself in a new world all alone, with no friends or family—only her hands, her head, and her determination. That proved to be enough.

  At that moment, she had all of that, but also something else: someone to love and
someone to fight for, and she wasn't going to give up. Even if she died, she would go out with her teeth clenched on an enemy's throat.

  That's what she told Milia.

  "You also have someone to fight for."

  "I can't. I'm weak like that."

  "You must." Lily wasn't going to admit defeat. "I have Miranda, and for her, I will swim across an ocean and scoop out a mountain with a spoon. And also, Roman and Jacob, there, at home... I don't love them like I love Mirrie, but they are my children, and I'm responsible for them. And you have three! Do you want to betray them?"

  Lily didn't mention Jerisson. Milia reminded her.

  "My husband is dead."

  "And mine is nowhere to be found. Maybe he's also dead," Lily retorted. "Should I die as well?"

  The queen was embarrassed.

  "It's even easier for you, in a way," Lily added, twisting the knife. "For me, everything's still in flux, and you know for sure. I'm tormented by doubt and speculation, and I'll have to keep doing that for a long time. But even if Jess is dead, I still have my children to live for. I won't betray them by being a spineless weakling!"

  "I'd rather not know," Milia whispered. "I'd rather keep hoping...at least for a bit!"

  "Hope is something kings can't afford."

  "I’m not—"

  "Milia, please understand. We don't have any choice. A king is more than fancy ceremonies and accessories. By accepting the crown, you assumed not only rights but also responsibilities. This country is yours: your choice, your right, your road, if you will. Nobody else can travel it but you. When you become a ruler, you become something more than human: a symbol. You're responsible for more than just your own self, but for every one of your subjects, down to the last beggar."

  "I'm not a king."

  "You're the mother of a future king. Your burden is even heavier. Your husband ruled, and then your son will. You may not get to rule yourself, but you will get to shape him, make him a better king."

  "You're so cruel."

  "Our life's no bed of roses, either."

  Milia paused for a few seconds, composing herself.

  "What would you have done in my place?"

  "I'd summon a regency council," Lily immediately replied, not surprised with the question. "You already have the chairman, Count Lort. He was completely loyal to Gardwig and will be loyal to your children. He'll love them, too. As for the rest, we'll pick them one by one as the need arises. In the meantime, you can tend to the children."

  "You speak as if that's easy..."

  "It's never been easy for me," Lily snapped. "And it won't be easy for you, so get used to it. That is the road of kings."

  "I'm just the king's wife."

  "No, Milia. You're the queen. You're responsible for those who live in Wellster, as well as your children, as well as many other things. You'll have to learn to live with it."

  Milia didn't want to learn, but there were no other options in sight. All she had to do was move forward, and for the time being, pray to Aldonai to grant luck to those who protected them.

  ***

  When he entered Alcine's study, Jerisson wasn't as calm as before. The duke noticed that, too.

  "Have you figured what's waiting for you, Count?"

  "What was the point in torturing the women?"

  "We didn't torture them. They were just a means to influence their husbands," Alcine replied, apathetic. "If it was your wife there, what would you tell?"

  "Everything," Jess said without hesitating. "But I'd lose her after that."

  "Really?"

  "She'd never forgive me for that betrayal. She'd either kill me or leave."

  Alcine raised his eyebrows. That wasn't something he'd expect from a woman.

  "Interesting... Maybe we'll have a chance to talk to her yet."

  Jerisson shuddered, imagining Lilian next to that dirt bag. At least it wouldn't last long.

  If Lily would still be able to act, she'd never take it. She'd strike the bastard down without flinching. A smile came unbidden.

  "Did I say something funny?" Alcine asked with a slight scowl.

  "You haven't caught her, have you? And you won't catch her now."

  "Why's that?"

  Jerisson grinned. I know, but you can keep guessing. The duke squinted.

  "So what have you decided, Count? Will you write a confession that you killed His Majesty, or would you rather return to the northern tower?"

  Jess shrugged.

  "Give me parchment and tell me what to write."

  Alcine pushed him pen and ink from his side of the desk. The feather in the quill was one of those gifted by Lilian to Gardwig. Jerisson recognized the "G" letter adorned with a crown.

  "Go on then. Cardin, Wellster, day... of... I, Jerisson, Count Earton..."

  Jess obediently started scribbling on the paper. It was a confession, true.

  He finished it with his signature, poured a dash of sand, and handed it to the duke.

  "Check."

  Alcine couldn't help but set his eyes on the text. He read it carefully.

  "Wh—"

  He didn't get the chance to say anything more. Jess deftly shook the shackles from one of his hands.

  Manacles? He wasn't going to fall for that! It was time to end that circus. They might look threatening and weigh as much as the real deal, but the bracelet wasn't held by a rivet, but by a simple screw. He didn't need more than a few minutes to pull that out. He had already practiced doing that on his way to the study, so as to be prepared.

  A chain wrapped around Robert Alcine's throat, preventing him from calling for help, depriving him of air...

  Jerisson hadn't gotten to lead the royal guards for nothing; a position like that required guts, whether you were the king's nephew or not.

  Jess waited for Alcine to lose consciousness and masterfully tied him up. The arms, the legs, a gag, a door bolt...

  Great!

  So what was next?

  That was a question. Altres didn't know where Jess would end up in capture, so he couldn't list all the secret passages to him. Therefore, he had decided not even to start. What was the point, really? He would forget some, mix up the others, and some were state secrets fit only for use by the king.

  Well then. If he couldn't escape, then Jess would hold out inside the room for as long as Aldonai willed.

  He might need a weapon, too—something to fit his hand. Having only the good word at his disposal when the time came didn't seem appealing.

  Gardwig's study was helpful enough to provide the count with a curved Khangan sword. It felt a bit odd, but it had the proper weight and a grip that felt just right in his hand. Ooh, what's this? A dagger?

  All the weapons inside were Gardwig's. Jess could have taken a zweihander, a bastard sword, or even a glaive from the wall, but all of them were far too heavy. Fine, he wouldn't be greedy.

  The duke was still out. No need to wake him up; let him sleep, for the time being, build up strength for the execution. Meanwhile, Jess decided to examine the study.

  ***

  Altres Lort counted down steps and corners.

  After that memorable escape together with Gardwig, he had personally explored all the nooks and crannies in the palace and knew each and every secret passage.

  Gard had known them as well, but he didn't make use of that information.

  They were already inside the palace, or rather, underneath it. Where would they exit?

  Altres held no doubts about that: definitely under the queen's chambers. There might be guards posted at the princes' rooms, the enemies having already learned about the secret passage, but that branch might still be free.

  That's where Altres was headed.

  Of course, he didn't fall out in the middle of the room, all covered by dust and cobwebs, cussing his heart out. He didn't even make a noise.

  The builders of the tunnels were no fools.

  The people who designed secret passages always accounted for peepholes. Yo
u never knew who could be inside the room. It was better to be safe.

  And really, what if the king decided not to escape, but to eavesdrop?

  But Her Majesty's quarters were dark and still.

  A woman was snoring in the bed. Several ladies-in-waiting and a few maids were huddled on the couches in the anteroom. That wasn't good. If that coop took alarm...

  On the other hand, if it really was Albitta, Altres didn't want to let her get away.

  He made up his mind. Pointing at his men, he gave out orders and opened the door. Conveniently, it opened just into the closet. While technically a part of the chambers, it didn't have anyone inside.

  Six soldiers led by the count found themselves in a world of laces, silk, ribbons, and perfume. They didn't rush forward, stomping their boots and waking the entire palace.

  Only two of them went forward, slipping inside the bedroom: Altres himself and Rein, one of the soldiers.

  As he came up to the bed, Altres took a closer look, having accustomed himself to the darkness. Yes, it was Betty: older and uglier, but definitely her. Out of reflex, he reached out for his dagger, but no. He couldn't kill her. Instead, he pressed his hand against her throat, picking just the right spot.

  He didn't want to kill her, although it would have been acceptable; he only aimed to knock her out, putting her in a deep sleep.

  The rest was simple. He wrapped the former queen in the blanket, tied her up in a bundle, gagged her, and passed her over to Rein. The soldier was no hunchback; with his build, it wouldn't be as hard for him to carry that load. In the closet, Altres left Albitta with two of the men to guard her and commanded the rest to follow him. They needed to take a captive, make him talk, find out where the second conspiracy leader was, and get to him.

  The bastard wouldn't get away. Altres closed his fists. The slime had no chance. He wouldn't slip out, not if Altres had anything to say about it.

  ***

  The timing for the knock at the door was exceedingly bad—at least, from Jerisson's point of view.

  "Your Excellency! Urgent news!"

  Jess was willing to bet a gold coin that he knew the reason.

  Chantaine.

  Really, couldn't he have strolled around for twenty more minutes? Too bad.