Seven Ways to Kill a King

by Melissa Wright

  Chapter 8

  Cass hadn’t argued with Miri again, but he’d made it clear that he did not support her plan. She was risking her life—a life he was sworn to protect and utterly responsible for—so they were at odds with no hope of reconciliation on the matter. The night the kingsman had been slain, Cass had sat quietly in the darkened woods, waiting for his brothers-in-arms to show. No one had come. Miri had not been able to see Cass in those shadows, and he’d been grateful. He’d watched his brothers—bloodsworn and queensguard—die before. He had no desire to see it again.

  He prayed Terric had made it out and that the kingsman’s body was never found. If it had been, they would know soon enough.

  Cass had planned their next stop at a manor outside of Pirn, but with the kingsmen so thickly afoot, he decided to take the princess farther into the city and find safety among the crowds—if he could keep her fool emotions from getting the best of her sense, anyway. Her drive was well and truly dangerous for so many, not just herself.

  As he silently rode beside her, Cass remembered Miri as a child. She’d been a mannered, intelligent little lion, bejeweled and beribboned, and a beast with a sword. But the fight had gone out of her for a while.

  The escape had been hard on all of them, along with the endless grief of not just losing family but also losing their way of life and everything they held dear. They’d even had to give up their names. Miri had barely spoken that first year. Cass wasn’t much older than she was, but those few years had made a difference. He couldn’t deny that he would give anything to be able to see Henry again and to have back the family he lost. But he’d understood they were gone and that there was no going back. He couldn’t even return to his previous family without putting them at risk.

  Miri had grown under the watch and protection of what was left of the queensguard. They’d been scattered and hiding through the realm, but the Lion Queen had put plans into place. She must have known the betrayal was close and sensed something the others hadn’t. Cass had wondered so often why the queen had not warned her guard and whether she’d confided in Henry. But there was no way to know once they were gone.

  So Cass, one of the few who’d eluded massacre, had watched Miri turn from princess to lost girl to the creature she’d become. He’d seen her with sword and bracer behind Nan’s barn or hacking away at oat sacks in the stable. She’d thrown knives and punches but only when she thought she was alone. Miri had always possessed skill, but the motions as she grew had been filled with violence, anger, regret, and the helpless rage that he’d felt for so long as well. What had happened had broken her and was breaking her still.

  “We’ll be riding into Pirn soon,” Cass said. “Perhaps slide up your hood to keep the sun from your face.”

  Miri had barely spoken to him in the three days since their encounter with the kingsmen. He wasn’t sure whether the silence stemmed from his disapproval of her plan or her guilt that she’d risked Terric. She slid the cloak hood up regardless, knowing full well his concern was more that she might be recognized than have too much sun. But Miri was not the little girl she used to be, and though she would certainly draw a man’s eye, it was not because of a resemblance to the Lion Queen. Her hair had been dyed dark, her face was smudged with dirt, and she was in the clothes of a woodsman.

  “When we arrive,” he said carefully, “I’d like to discuss your plans in detail.”

  Her gaze, suddenly sharp, shot to his. She was ready for a fight.

  He inclined his head. “So that I might do what I can to assist you.”

  Her expression cleared for a moment. Then she said, “I’ll not allow you to do it for me. I have to do this myself.”

  Cass looked ahead, toward the widening gaps in the trees, the low rolling hills, and the first signs of worn paths. “I cannot do it for you, in any case. I wouldn’t succeed. I know those who’ve been better suited to the task who have tried.”

  Miri did not ask who or what had happened. She was clever enough to know it was a trap. And clearly, those attempts had failed. “I’ll not use a bow,” she said. “Nothing so obvious. If they realize what’s happened, the rest will immediately protect themselves.”

  He tried not to let his interest show, but gods, she’d truly planned it through. It was not some rash attempt—only foolish and destined to fail.

  “When possible, I plan to play those who are already inclined to suspicion and hatred against one another.”

  He felt her glance at him, but Cass didn’t look away from the horizon.

  Miri shrugged. “I’ve enough experience at that, at least.”

  She would make it look like an accident or as if the attack came from one of the other kings. It would give her precious time for another move. “And when things get heated? When they begin to protect themselves and their borders?”

  “Then I will work with what they give me. I don’t expect it to be easy, Cassius.”

  He tried to ignore the way it felt to hear her say his name and to be so near to her after so long standing in the shadows as her guard. He’d wanted to break protocol in Smithsport, but he’d been expressly forbidden. It didn’t matter that he’d known her since she was a child or that he might be able to offer comfort. It mattered that the two of them together—a queensguard and a princess of Stormskeep—might draw recognition where one of them would not. She wasn’t Princess Myrina any longer. She was Bean. And Bean was not in the habit of accepting social calls.

  They came into Pirn late in the day, to a private residence that accepted them as weary travelers looking for a few days’ work. Cass felt uneasy about risks to Miri’s cover, but the queensguard did not hold traitors within its ranks, let alone a soul who might consider loyalty to treasonous kings. Henry had provided his bloodsworn with knowledge of those who could be trusted, should anything go badly, and things had gone nearly as badly as they could go. The queen was dead, Henry was gone, and the true heir was locked in a fortress tower.

  “Evening,” the stable hand said as Cass handed over their reins. “What a pair of beauties.”

  Cass smiled, patting Milo on the shoulder and brushing off a fleck of mud. “They’ve had a rough bit of riding. They’ll be grateful for a break.”

  The stable hand gave Cass and Miri a once-over but managed to resist noting that they looked quite the same. Cass chuckled and handled the man a coin.

  “I’ll have your packs sent up,” the man said and clicked his tongue to move the horses toward a stall.

  Up, apparently, meant the second floor, as the entire layout of the manor’s first floor consisted of a massive kitchen, a ballroom, and a maze of halls and corridors. Cass had managed to quickly request dinner in their room as they’d passed through the kitchen while they were led by a young maid to the small suite that would be theirs.

  “The third floor,” the girl said, “is only for the lord of the house, but you may freely use the bath and the study down here.”

  Miri made a small sound of relief behind him at the mention of a bath, but she was too busy eating a cake she’d been offered in the kitchen to address anything else.

  “Thank you,” Cass told the girl. “I believe we will both be ready for a bath and good rest. Please see that we are not disturbed after dinner.”

  The girl gave him an appraising look, but Cass only smiled politely before slipping her a coin. They could think what they wanted about the newly wed pair, but he needed to pin Miri down on the details of her plan. And seven hells, they did need a bath and good rest.

  “The steward said you’d be expecting a package. It’s been brought up—oh, and here are your bags.”

  She backed away as another young girl paced the corridor, passing Miri and Cass with her gaze downcast—not avoiding a look, Cass thought, but annoyed at the weight of her burden. She hefted the packs higher as Cass opened the door, and the girl made quick work of settling them before leaving.

  Cass thanked both, passed them two more coins, and sagged in relief when he fina
lly shut the door.

  Miri stood in the center of a very small parlor, staring down at a twine-wrapped parcel. “You were expecting a package?” she asked incredulously.

  He crossed the distance to draw the handwritten note from the parcel. You are never alone. Cass felt something squeeze in his chest, and Miri leaned closer to read the note.

  Her honey-brown eyes slid to his face. “They were expecting you?”

  Her words were only a whisper, but Cass found he could barely speak. He shook his head softly. “There are only a few of us, but Thom had sent word ahead. Everyone was ready, should they be needed.” He saw in her gaze the hope that they meant to help in her plot. “To hide you again,” Cass explained. “To help us escape.”

  Her chest fell with her expression, but Cass nudged her. “Open it.”

  Miri eyed him suspiciously for one moment before leaning over to tug the twine free. Beneath the plain paper were new clothes—woven shirts and leather vests in the style of Pirn—and a small satchel Cass suspected was filled with coin. Miri peered inside then asked, “Where do they get the money?”

  She knew it wasn’t hers. The queen’s stores had been taken with her throne.

  Cass settled onto the small fabric bench to unlace his boots. “Many in the kingdom were well looked after. They miss what has been taken, the same as you or I.”

  Miri’s fingers stilled on the fabric, but she didn’t speak. Cass wondered whether she meant to argue that no one felt the same as she did or if the tension in her body was merely because of the reminder of her mother.

  He sighed. They had ridden into the city of Pirn, where she planned to avenge her mother’s death, and Miri could not even face the thought of the woman, let alone the emotion that came with it.

  Cass rose from the bench, boots forgotten, and moved to stand beside Miri. He slid a hand to the small of her back. The motion drew her gaze to his. “We both need a bath and some decent food. Then you and I are going to sit at this table and map out every single detail of your murderous plot.” His voice was quiet, but the tone was clear. “Do you agree to those terms, my lady?”

  Miri stared up at him, and Cass was grateful he’d not called her Princess or Bean. He could see the struggle behind her gaze and understood that she’d held her plans tightly for so long that letting go to anyone would be difficult. He hoped she trusted him. He hoped she didn’t die.

  Miri’s brow drew together at his expression, but eventually, she gave him a small nod. “I agree.”

  Chapter 9

  Miri woke in the small apartment to the sound of a cart in the street. She blinked in the broken darkness, her brain still foggy. The room was dimly lit in strips by sparse moonlight through the glass. It was not that she’d grown used to the sounds of the forest, but at Nan and Thom’s, the sounds had been so different. The air had been filled with noisy patterns of ships coming into port, sailors eager for a stretch of land, and the gulls that called to sea and sky.

  Miri had made it to Pirn. It was all so real.

  She shifted beneath two layers of warm blanket to find Cass’s lean form positioned carefully on the floor at the foot of the single bed. He was by all appearances asleep, but Miri had learned to take nothing of that sort at face value. They’d stayed up half the night, meticulously walking through the first step of Miri’s plan. Cass had grilled her on every detail and second-guessed her every move. Her patience had worn down, as had their candle, but Miri felt more secure since she’d had a solution for nearly every one of his proposed flaws. Cass was queensguard. He’d been trained in such things. Miri felt a pang for Henry because of all the small ways in which Cass mirrored the head guard’s mannerisms and tone. She pushed the thought away, creeping carefully down her mattress to slide a blanket over the edge of the bed and onto Cass’s still form. He cuddled into the quilt, into Miri’s warmth, and she settled flat on the bed again.

  When the sun rose, they would eat a good breakfast and go to the market at Pirn. Then, two days later, Miri would scratch the first king’s name from her list. If she lived, they would escape to Kirkwall, and there, she would knock another from his throne atop a lengthy flight of stairs. Seven kings. Seven murders. Seven men between Miri and her sister’s freedom—between Miri’s death or freedom for them all.

  A sigh came from the floor at the foot of her bed. “Go to sleep, Bean. We’ve plenty to worry about on the morrow.”

  Miri bit down a chuckle at his tone and rolled to her side. Gods help her, but she was worried less than she’d ever been. It was not death she was afraid of. It was being trapped, unable to act on her vow. Finally, finally, one way or the other, Miri would be free.

  The market at Pirn was a loud and bustling affair. It felt like certain chaos, but beneath it all was a pattern, order, and the apparent familiarity of everyone involved. Miri had not been in a crowd that size for years, and her heart raced with the excitement and terror particular to facing something new. She clung to her satchel. Cass was pressed to her side. They’d eaten a breakfast of honey and biscuits and dressed in clothes that had been provided by a nameless benefactor. Cass’s face was once again clean-shaven, and his clothes were of a nicer cut. The garb looked nothing like the uniform of a queensguard—decidedly so. The cut of the fabric rounded over his shoulders, and the shirt was loose and pleated and tied with string. He wore a wide belt and, though it was warm, a long thin cloak that hid most of his blades.

  Miri had a weapon, too, though she couldn’t imagine it would do her any good should a band of kingsmen find her. Cass had fitted her with a boot dagger, and two more were strapped to the back of her belt. If nothing else, it made her feel safer. And because she was the Lion Queen’s daughter, her hair had been bundled away beneath a soft brown bonnet with a ridiculously oversized brim. She pushed at it as they moved through the crowd, hating the way it obstructed her vision. Cass slipped his arm around her waist, tugging her to him when she inadvertently bumped into a curly-headed man with a basket full of salted pork. She glanced at him then tripped over a broken stone in the path.

  “Seven hells,” Cass muttered, drawing her between two stalls to bend the visor back. Miri stood looking up at him as he folded the material over itself, his mouth drawn and eyes pinched.

  “Sorry to be so difficult,” she said coolly.

  His hazel eyes met hers. “You stick out like a bad apple. It’s hard enough to keep an eye on the crowd.” He meant by himself. Miri frowned as Cass added, “When we get to the blacksmith, let me do the talking.”

  “Because you’re my husband.” She crossed her arms, incredulous.

  “Because you’ve never bartered as someone who holds no power. Bean.”

  She scowled at his reminder then swatted his hands away from her bonnet. “As you say,” she offered. “But I pick the sword.”

  Cass took hold of her hand and drew her with him as he made a path between stalls of woodcraft and pottery, weaving past carts of oils, wine, cast pots, and caged chickens. A vendor tried to sell Miri a scarf, and another offered wax. Cass kept on, appearing to pay it all no mind, though Miri could feel the tension in him. She kept up, one hand tight in his, the other managing her cloak, until the scents of the market were overpowered by the smoke and solvent and molten steel of the blacksmith’s stalls.

  At the entrance to a massive tent Cass stepped aside, letting Miri walk past him inside. The interior was hot and dusty and filled with the clank of metal being formed beyond the stall. Miri let her eyes adjust to the dim light as she stared past the folded brim of her bonnet to a wall of metal ornaments and shields. Long tables were situated in rows, each scattered with an assortment of cuffs and knives. Horseshoes rested in a bucket on the trodden earth, and farm tools and construction material sat on a table of their own.

  A woman wearing a thick leather apron came forward, wiping her hands on a threadbare rag. “What’ll do for you?”

  “I need a sword,” Miri said.

  Cass’s hand slipped deftly beneath Miri�
�s cloak to rest on her back, and he smiled down at her like she was the best mare in the stable. “My wife would like a sword of her own, something light and thin, I think, for I trust she’ll take to it brilliantly.” At Miri’s attempt at an apologetic glance, he added, “And sharp. For good measure.”

  The blacksmith laughed, but the sound was drowned out by the hammering of metal beyond the tent walls. “Aye,” she said when the clatter died down. “Sharp.”

  She gestured for them to follow, and Cass let Miri go ahead of him. His fingers brushed the back of her arm as they slid free of her cloak.

  She would try to remember the girl Bean had no idea about metalwork and weaponry, aside from the skill with her knives—those of a trader and a woodsman. They walked past a bench layered with ax heads and chisels as the woman slipped through the side of the tent. Outside again but away from the crowd, the woman led them to a cart built of thick, scarred lumber. She tossed back a massive sheet of leather to reveal half a dozen mallets and three well-made swords.

  “We’ve not much in the way of options inside, but these are maybe more what you’re after.” She lifted the shortest of the three and flipped it down to hand to Miri by the grip. “Ned’s got a bit of a knack for this sort of steel. Shame he can’t sell it outside of town.”

  Miri’s gaze shot up, but Cass cleared his throat before her words escaped. “Restrictions?” he asked.

  The woman nodded, her hands coming to her hips. Her fingers were black with dust. “New rules every year.” She gave Cass a crooked smile. “Fancy seeing ‘em try to enforce that at Blackstone.”

  So the rules were not coming from Pirn. It was new laws from Stormskeep or maybe the entire lot of those kings. Miri’s fingers tightened around the braided leather grip of her sword.