Seven Ways to Kill a King

by Melissa Wright

Late into the evening, the last before Hugh and Ginger made their way to Blackstone and left the group, Cass and Miri sat under the stars in companionable silence, though she was certain he also felt the weight of what was to come. Two of the queensguard waited on watch, and the other sleeping near the seamstress and her daughter, while Ginger and Hugh’s conversation was a low hum inside what must have been a sweltering tent. Cass’s dagger flashed in the moonlight as it made endless trips between his fingers. The cat sauntered nearer and lazily dropped beside Miri’s leg.

  Cass glanced at the beast with a smirk. Miri only shook her head.

  Her neck was still tender, and when she stopped midmovement, Cass’s gaze was on her.

  “It’s fine,” she promised. “I’ll be ready.”

  “It can wait.”

  Miri cut her eyes to his. “It cannot. I’ve already lost too much time.” At his expression, she asked, “What?”

  “You’ll need to adjust your plot. The king at Ravensgate won’t throw a public ball after he hears the details of Edwin’s death.”

  She shifted, and the cat growled at being disturbed. “He will. He’s too vain not to and too afraid to let on that he fears it.” She did not argue further, because though she was confident of the whims of the lords they had been, Miri had made other mistakes. She could be wrong about the reactions of men who had since turned kings.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said to the darkness. “We’ve no time for anything else.”

  Chapter 25

  Miri and Cass said their goodbyes to Ginger and Hugh and continued north toward Ravensgate for two more days. On the third day, the queensguard parted ways with them, not to abandon Miri and Cass but to watch from a distance in case they encountered trouble and needed help. More help, Miri amended, because thus far she’d needed saving more times than she could count.

  “Missing the company of your cat?”

  Cass’s words startled Miri out of her rumination, and she forced the frown from her face. “Hardly. Wretched beast.”

  “Are you in pain?”

  She gave him a look. “I’ve told you a thousand times that I’m well. I’m not lying to you.” At his expression, she added, “I have no need to lie to you.”

  Cass gave a small grin at her reply, and Miri felt her cheeks color. He had a soft curve to his smile, just on one side. She’d forgotten the way it transformed his face and how used to it she’d been. Gods, she was the daughter of the Lion Queen, and he could play her emotions with just a twist of his lips.

  She straightened her shoulders. “I mean I don’t have to because I’m the daughter of a queen.”

  His grin broke free then. “Oh, I knew what you meant.”

  She refused to look at it and be tangled in his underhanded tactics. But her breath huffed out, because she’d already forgotten what she’d been ruminating about in the first place. “Charm will only get you so far,” she said caustically.

  His smile fell. “You think me charming?”

  “You’ve made your point,” she snapped. “I’m sufficiently distracted from dark thoughts.”

  When he fell silent, Miri assumed he was appeased with her assessment, but as she turned to glance toward the call of a bird, what she saw on his face was not satisfaction. She wagered that it was concern for whatever dark thoughts Miri had admitted had been going through her head. She was off her game and needed rest to gain back her focus. In a matter of days, she would be faced with another king.

  “Tell me about Peter.”

  Miri sighed. It was as if he could read her mind. She slowed to ride beside him. “Lord Peter, king of Ravensgate, likes to host fancy parties.” She closed her eyes, remembering. “He has long hair and a smooth face. He’s handsome beyond reason and knows it too well. The ladies flock to him, but he’s never married. There will be time for that when he is old and gray, he always said. But he will, he’s promised, because to rob the world of his heirs would be too great a crime. So, he’ll have many sons, and even, he supposes, daughters to inherit his beauty.” Miri opened her eyes, shaking off the memory of Peter’s laugh. He’d thought himself so clever and perfect. But he was nothing if he did not have an audience. “He craves company and withers without it, fancy dress, and all the airs.”

  “And how will you meet him?”

  “The king holds a ball every season, open to the public—of a certain standing—so that they might experience his displays of wealth and pay him homage.” Her fingers slid over Wolf’s reins. “It’s a costumed celebration, masks for all.”

  “Sounds effortless.”

  She shifted in her saddle, careful not to let Cass see. In truth, she was still sore in places but only after long days of riding through rough terrain. She was fairly certain she would be fine if she could only get some exercise and movement. “It will be the most difficult yet.”

  “How so?”

  “There is a thin-shelled mollusk that is considered a delicacy by the people of Ravensgate. It’s not rare on the mountain but is elsewhere in the kingdom, making it worth more than it might otherwise be.”

  Cass hummed his acknowledgment, and Miri went on.

  “Shipping the prized mollusks is difficult because their shells crack so easily. But they can be found readily among the markets and even in the wild.”

  “What else can be readily found there?”

  “Rock spiders. They’re not known for aggression but, when pressured, deliver a lethal dose of venom.” Miri normally tried very hard not to dwell on the portion of her plan that required transferring the spider into the shell before sealing it with wax. “The presence of either the discarded shell, a delicacy brought in for the ball, or a spider so common outside the castle walls will not bring suspicion. In fact, the spider’s body will likely be easy to find, given that the bite will immediately sting. As the king’s body shuts down, all will be witness to the cause. His flesh will color, his limbs will tremble, and like so many hunters and travelers who’ve fallen prey to the spider’s bite, there will be no way to stop it or to ease the pain. The venom will spread. Peter will die.”

  “And what if it goes wrong?”

  Miri gave Cass a shrug. “Then we enjoy the ball and an entirely free meal.” She would have no need to leap from a window or to run.

  Miri managed to obtain the snails and two spiders more easily than she anticipated. The mountain was alive with preparations for the gathering, and no request seemed too odd or too complicated when coin was flowing like the Maidensgrace. Cass had procured a room with a local family, high enough in stature that they would be welcomed to the king’s tables but low enough not to draw undue attention. They’d managed two simple costumes with little-enough flair and masks that covered much of their faces. Miri’s mask had been slightly more complicated, but she’d managed to find one that curved down to one side, covering her wound with feathers and silk.

  She had not mentioned that Edwin had recognized her, but it was a constant niggling threat that any of the kings—any of Miri’s past acquaintances—could identify her as a girl who was meant to be dead. She did not need to fear the sorcerers, though, because sorcerers did not attend balls. Blood magic was not a subject the kings wanted touted when the blood it was bought with had been stolen from local women and boys.

  “We’ve only two days to waste, now that our tasks are done. What say you, dear Bean?”

  Miri gave Cass a flat look. “We’ve no days to waste. Those were meant to be used obtaining supplies for the next stop.”

  Cass hummed something that sounded suspiciously noncommittal.

  Miri settled onto the chaise and leaned over the arm to peer at him. He was sitting on the floor, sharpening one of her knives.

  “You weren’t eager to trade south of Ravensgate.”

  He did not look up at her.

  “Where your family lives.”

  His hand did not slow at his task, but the rhythm of his movements changed. “Henry was my family. They aren’t—I can never go back th
ere again.”

  “I’m sorry,” she told him. She was sorry that they would kill his family, that sorcerers would find and burn their homes and destroy everything Cass had ever known. If there was anything the sorcerers hated as much as the queen, it was those who were sworn to her by blood.

  Cass’s face, clean-shaven and a shade darker from their time in the sun, turned up to hers. He smelled of mint and steel. “The fault lies with neither of us.”

  Miri nodded, but guilt had already settled heavily in her gut. She had been there and watched and done nothing to stop her mother’s death. But it wasn’t just her mother. They’d killed her maids, her tutors, and everyone Miri held dear. They had taken Miri herself. “I’m not even a princess,” Miri whispered. Not anymore, not while the bastard King Nicholas sits on the throne at Stormskeep.

  Cass set the blade and stone onto the floor to turn toward her. He was so close that she could see the flecks in his hazel eyes. “You will always be. They cannot take that from you, just as they cannot take my vow.”

  She swallowed the words that wanted to rise.

  He came nearer still and with his voice impossibly low, he said, “You are the daughter of the Lion Queen.”

  Beneath his words, she heard, And I am bloodsworn. Between them crackled an energy that was capable of stealing her resolve, but Miri didn’t look away. Everything had been taken from her. The vow was all she had. She could be brave enough to fulfill her duty—the promise she had made to her mother— even aware of its cost, but she didn’t know if she was brave enough to do it alone. She didn’t want to face it alone. Miri had seen small flashes of Cass while on their journey and seen the scars across his back. He had been whipped, though he’d hidden it from her, probably because he should never have been in such a position. He should have been at her mother’s side, not playing a whipping boy for the local lords. And Miri was asking him to risk so much more. “I’m afraid I’m very selfish.”

  Cass’s gaze trailed over her face. “You are the most selfless woman I’ve ever known.”

  She pressed her lips together. It was something Henry would have said about Miri’s mother but never in the tone Cass had used. The queen had, without fail, put the realm above all else. Her final request, the vow she demanded of her second daughter, was not based on any self-serving motives. It was to save the kingdoms from harm. The Lion Queen knew something that Miri didn’t. Miri had always understood that and felt it in her very soul. It was all that kept her going when kings’ blood flowed over her hands.

  Miri and Cass filled their wait for the ball with much-needed rest and planning, and she was grateful for the ability to stretch her limbs and soak in a warm bath. Her aching muscles had eased to the point that she thought she might soon not feel the dull pains at all. They’d taken to eating in their rooms because of Miri’s fear of being recognized. Cleaned and coiffed and dressed in the clothes of a lady of stature, it was less likely that gazes would skirt her face. Bean had been the best of disguises, but a common trader or cleaning girl would not be welcome in the castle. It was also likely that her wound would be noticed, and even Cass had not known how many details of Edwin’s attacker had been noted by the kingsmen. The night had been dark, and blood had been everywhere. Miri couldn’t be certain that the location of her injury had even been obvious.

  But she suspected it very much was. She’d relived the event a hundred times since, and at least one sinister detail could not be resolved. Edwin’s mistress had already been standing in the doorway when Miri had killed the king. Miri couldn’t say how long her witness had stood in watch, because she’d not heard her approach. It must have happened in the struggle, and she must have seen the blade to Miri’s throat, and maiden save her, the woman’s silence during the struggle was all that had kept Miri alive.

  “What are you watching?” she asked Cass as he leaned against the open window, his shoulder cushioned by a thick pillar of brocade drapes drawn against the wall.

  He turned from the window, clearly intending to change the subject and distract her. Miri had caught on to his tells, and she would fall for no more of his clever games. She pinned him with a glare and stood to cross the room.

  The sun was low in the afternoon sky, casting shadows from the tall buildings that lined the plaza below. The mountain had been bustling with guests in preparation for the ball, but the crowd that had gathered seemed rowdier than the others. They surrounded a platform in the center of the stone, their voices rising in gleeful jeers and eager shouting. Men and women dressed in finery had joined with the local merchants to watch a proceeding that sent a dark foreboding into the pit of Miri’s stomach.

  “Who is he?”

  Cass shook his head. His constant presence beside Miri was something she’d grown to expect. “A lord, I think. It’s too far to make out the shouting, but his coat is dark blue.”

  Miri’s skin went cold. “A sympathizer?”

  Cass didn’t answer, not as she stood beside him in a room supplied by true sympathizers and as they were about to watch another man be tortured for loyalty to a dead queen.

  The man was dragged onto the platform, his fine coat torn from his body to cheers from the watching horde.

  “How many?” Miri whispered. She was not certain what she was asking: how many this year? How many since the last attempts at revolt? The sorcerers had burned thousands in Stormskeep uprisings alone. Miri had no idea how many had been slaughtered across the realm.

  “Too many to count,” Cass said.

  Too many. Too many to die. Too many who would pay for a crime that was not theirs.

  Miri didn’t look away as they bound the man to the post. She didn’t turn her gaze from the blood or block out the sound of his screams. Miri watched as one more was murdered at the hands of the bastard kings, and she renewed her vow of vengeance once more. Miri would reclaim whatever kingdoms she could. The kings of the realm would pay their due. The Lion had come to collect.

  Chapter 26

  Cass helped Miri into her gown. The thin undershirt she’d worried at relentlessly over the past months seemed to do nothing to mask the yellowing bruises that covered her skin. He’d watched as she powdered her face where the marks would show, as she dusted her healing fingers, and covered every bit that wouldn’t be concealed by her dress. She’d chosen one that buttoned high up her neck and had layers of silk and beads that he feared were too heavy for summer and were likely to restrict her movements. “I’ll not be fighting,” she’d promised, but there was not much else to be done. Bruises on a lady would draw attention, and any flesh that was bare would be looked upon in such a crowd.

  “Tighter,” Miri told him. “Near the waist.”

  Cass tugged the laces and straightened the fabric, and when she approved, he finished the last of the buttons up the line of her neck. Her hair, dark again after Ginger had dyed it on their trip, was pinned into loops at the crown of her head.

  Miri stared down at herself. “Garish color.”

  “It will look perfect with mine.”

  She laughed. “A matched set, indeed.” She turned as he tied the sash over her dress. “Best get into your own regalia.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I’ll be back in a wink.”

  Miri gave him a smile as he left the room, then Cass drew his new attire from their things. The pouch Terric had given him was tucked safely away, and he only had a few of the gems on his person. Coin was all well and good near the port, but in the north, help became more expensive. He laced on his pants and shirt then put on his tall boots, hating the way they felt. He hadn’t worn a formal suit in some time, and so many layers felt stiff and constricting. Cass saved the jacket for last, grateful that at least the ball was held late into the evening, when the air would be cool, and fastened the buttons lining his sleeves.

  “Do you need help?” Miri called from the adjoining room.

  “Nearly done,” Cass said. “Are you impatient?”

  She stuck her head through the doorway to
give him a look.

  He laughed. She’d been a shaking mess not two hours before, when the spider had to be moved from its wooden cage into the delicate shell and sealed with wax. Miri had nearly lost her nerve and might have been convinced to call the entire thing off, but she’d done it and since had seemed surprisingly untroubled. The night’s task would be easy, she’d kept saying.

  Cass reached into the pocket of his traveling clothes then crossed to Miri, trying not to stare at the color she’d added to her lips. She pressed them together, as if self-conscious, and looked up at him with eyes that seemed golden beneath lids as black as soot. Cass pinned the brooch to her dress.

  “Where did you find this?” Miri asked.

  He straightened the pin to his liking. “An astute trader by the name of Hugh persuaded me to purchase it for my new wife.” At Miri’s laugh, he added, “He did not offer to refund my coin when he discovered the truth of our arrangement.”

  “Cunning.”

  Her smile speared his chest, but Cass did not look away. “Indeed.”

  “How do we look?” Miri asked. She spun past him, moved toward the side table, and had the looking glass in hand before he’d a moment to even decide how to answer. “Gods,” she moaned. “I should have used this one to apply the makeup.”

  Cass chuckled. “We still have the masks.”

  Her eyes caught on the scar at her temple, the one from when she was a child, then fell to the strip of cloth covering her neck. She put the looking glass down, with its reflection toward the tabletop. Her gown was snug against her frame, flattering despite its cut, and Cass wished it were cool enough for cloaks and fur, something bulky to disguise her effortless grace and bearing of a princess. She glanced absently at his things on the table, her pale, powdered fingers brushing over a short lock of hair.

  Cass froze, his heart in his throat.

  Miri touched the lock carefully. It wasn’t the pale lion’s mane that it should truly have been but the color it had been so long ago when they’d first left Smithsport. Her wide eyes snapped to Cass.