The crowd went wild at the boldness of her statement.
“Why do I demand? Because our King was murdered, that’s why!” Although the speculation had been there, to hear Kiernan say it out loud caused a few outraged shrieks—some from the nobles behind her.
“Yes, murdered,” she said softly. “For no other reason than greed and envy. Someone wanted what he possessed and killed him for it. I tell you now that Iserlohn must stand firm and whole in the wake of this tragic event lest others believe that murder is an acceptable means to an end.”
Roaring applause resounded throughout the hall, this time from all sections of the room.
Kiernan turned around to face her father’s vassals. “It is time. Please take your places.”
Beck came to stand next to her while the lords and ladies of the Court walked down from the dais and stood in a single line before her. She wasn’t surprised to see Gage Gregaros at the front.
“Gage of House Gregaros,” she said loudly, “on this day and in front of these witnesses, I demand your sword and your allegiance to House Everard. What say you?”
Gage stepped forward and knelt with his sword held out in front of him parallel to the ground. “By my oath, my sword is yours to command, Your Grace.”
Kiernan nodded and Gage stepped to the side.
Lady Mila Stowe came next.
“Mila of House Stowe, on this day and in front of these witnesses, I demand your sword and your allegiance to House Everard. What say you?”
Not surprisingly, the young noble knelt and gave her oath as did Lady Lillian Knapp and Lord Johan Hamilton.
When Lord Duncan Bartlett approached, Kiernan couldn’t help but notice that his sword remained firmly sheathed in the scabbard at his hip.
Kiernan narrowed her gaze. “Duncan of House Bartlett, on this day and in front of these witnesses, I demand your sword and your allegiance to House Everard. What say you?”
He paused and all in the room waited for his response.
“Lord Bartlett?” Kiernan prompted.
“Your Grace, I would like to enquire of Master Asher if it is permitted to have additional time to swear the oath.”
The crowd murmured angrily.
“I mean no disrespect,” Duncan said, “but matters have moved rather quickly. I arrived in Nysa only a few days ago for a meeting of the Court and this morning find myself attending the funeral of the King. I simply wish more time for members of House Bartlett to arrive in Nysa for the crowning of a new monarch.”
Smooth, Duncan. Are you really stalling in order for your army to arrive?
Kiernan glanced at the scribe, who was furiously flipping through the pages of a large tome on his desk. All was quiet as he researched the answer. Kiernan noticed him wipe his brow several times under the scrutiny before finally standing. “Yes, yes, here it is,” he said, pointing his finger down at a passage in the book. “Vassals of a deceased monarch have three days to swear allegiance to the ruling heir or…or to make their own bid for the throne.”
The crowd erupted once again.
Kiernan kept her composure, quieting the crowd with raised arms.
“Lady Morningstar?” She let the question hang in the air, not bothering to recite the formal words.
Elinor nodded. “I, too, will delay taking the oath, Your Grace.”
“Very well, Lord Bartlett, Lady Morningstar, your requests for delay have been granted. We will meet back here in three days’ time.” She leaned forward and whispered so that only the two nobles could hear. “And, mark my words. I will have your swords then.”
Chapter 11
Dark Shadows
The darkness descended out of nowhere and Kiernan realized she had been out on her ride longer than she intended. Chirping birds, buzzing insects, croaking frogs—all the ambient sounds of the Grayan Forest—had lulled her racing thoughts into a welcome calm and she had lost all track of time. Now, though, gray shadows crept closer to the path she rode and whispered cloyingly through the branches overhead. The creatures had all gone quiet, and a sudden sense of unease formed in her chest.
She turned Bluebell around and kicked her into a trot, anxious now to return to the city.
Up ahead, she noticed a fallen log on the path that had not been there previously. She looked at it curiously and prepared to go around. That was when the first silhouette took shape in between the trees on the right. Whether animal or human, she couldn’t tell, but it began to keep pace with her, slithering effortlessly through the dense forest. A hint of motion at the corner of her left eye swung her head the other way and another figure appeared. Then, another.
A surge of adrenaline shot straight to her heart. “Git!” She slapped Bluebell’s rump with her hand, startling the mare into a frightened jump over the log and then into a panicked run. Shoulder blades itching in dread of an assassin’s arrow, Kiernan slumped low in the saddle, silently urging the horse faster.
In her terror, she inadvertently guided the horse too close to the edge of the woods and cried out when a low-hanging limb struck her shoulder and almost knocked her to the ground. Bluebell started to slow, but Kiernan scrambled back into the saddle and slapped the reins. Go, Bluebell, go!
Her thoughts only on escape, she flew forward on the dim path. The trees on either side flew by in a hazy smear. When another branch clipped her arm, she decided to give Bluebell her head, hoping the mare could see the trail better than she could.
It worked.
Within moments, a faint light appeared and the shadows gave way to the moonlit grassy plains outside of Nysa. Dirt flying from the horse’s hooves, she burst from the forest at a treacherous sprint.
The bright fires of the marketplace glittered in the distance and she raced for them. She tossed a quick glance over her shoulder and saw no signs of pursuit, but she was too frightened now to slow. It wasn’t until she reached the first of the merchant stalls that she finally sat up in the saddle and reined in the winded mare.
A heavy sigh slipped from her lips, but her heart still thudded uncontrollably. She raised the hood of her cloak and disappeared into the throng of shoppers, winding her way along the rutted lanes that separated the booths.
In the familiar clamor of the marketplace and with the slowing of her heart, she had to wonder if she had imagined the shadows. Had her exhausted state from both the funeral and the swords ceremony twisted the innocuous into something more sinister? Had she grown so used to monsters in every corner? Or could it simply have been her Dagarmon guard trailing her?
By the time she arrived at the city gates, she had convinced herself that her life had never really been in danger. A chuckle with Beck and a good night’s rest is all I need to put this frightening experience behind me.
The gates were closed now, so she led Bluebell to the arched side door and presented herself to the guard. After declining an escort, she made her way through the deserted streets and skirted the palace courtyard for the royal stables.
Bluebell whinnied at sight of the building. Flickering lamplight illuminated a small patch of ground just outside of the stables, but the dark interior caused Kiernan to hesitate. She listened intently for any sounds of movement before lifting a leg over Bluebell’s head and jumping down.
She reached for the saddle, but froze at an odd shuffling sound. She spun the dagger at her hip into her hand and twisted around. A mindshifted thought sprang to her tongue.
A bent figure rushed toward her.
“Your Grace! I’ve been waiting for you ever since you rode out hours ago!” An elderly groom in a scarlet coat hurried to take the reins of Bluebell.
Kiernan released her shifting and forced a smile to her face. “Thank you, Therman. I…I apologize that you had to wait so long.”
“Oh, no trouble at all.”
She drew a hand down Bluebell’s nose. “Take good care of her for me. I’ve been running her hard.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” he told her with a wink. “I’m glad you’re bac
k safely.”
Leaving the groom to his work, Kiernan headed to the servants’ entrance at the rear of the palace, her mind whirling with all that needed to be done, starting with sending notice to the other lands of her father’s death. She also wanted to talk to Captain Bo Franck about sending scouts south to determine if Duncan Bartlett or Elinor Morningstar had bannermen on the move. She hoped it wouldn’t come down to armed conflict, but if her hand was forced, she would fight. She couldn’t allow murderers to secure the Crown.
The palace lights beckoned to her with the promise of succor and she sighed wishing she had taken Beck up on his offer to ride with her. But, after the aborted ceremony and running the beautiful Lady Stowe off her husband a second time, she needed the time alone.
From the darkened alcove of the castle wall, a Scarlet Saber peeled away from the shadows and came toward her. She lifted a hand in greeting, but then pulled up short. The tunic is off. No, not a tunic at all, but a plain black cloak.
The figure raised an arm and a flash of metal glinted off the moonlight, revealing the blade in his hand. A grunt issued forth as he whipped the weapon directly at her. Her breath caught in her throat as the knife meant to take her life stopped less than an inch from her face and hovered in the air.
A Dagarmon slid out of the shadows and stood in front of her. He flicked his wrist and the dagger fell to the cobblestone path with a metallic clink. His eyes never left the assassin as he said quietly, “I’m not sure how, but he is a Mage, Your Grace.” The tattooed Dagarmon snorted. “A new Mage who is still more comfortable using weaponry than sorcery.”
The assassin ignored the taunt and rushed forward, mumbling a spell this time.
The Dagarmon pushed Kiernan to the ground and threw up his hands to issue a counterspell. The two Mages managed to avoid each other’s deadly sorcery and crashed together in a blur of black cloaks, hands and knives.
Kiernan scrambled to her feet and watched the violent struggle helplessly. There was nothing she could do with the two men entangled so closely.
The fight ended mere seconds later.
Both were down, one on top of the other.
The man on the bottom pushed the other off and the body rolled listlessly over on his back, blood seeping through the shirt on his chest.
The Dagarmon.
Kiernan looked down in horror at the tattooed face, slack now in death, realizing she never even knew her protector’s name.
Slowly, she backed away as the killer rose to his feet. She unlaced her cloak and let it fall to the ground. Her dagger had already found its way into her hand, but the meager weapon felt woefully inadequate against a Mage.
He rushed her then, closing the distance between them.
I can’t let him get his hands on me! She held her dagger out in front of her and mindshifted. Stop!
The thought slammed into the Mage with all the strength of her pureblood power at the same time he grabbed her head and unleashed the killing curse with a furious roar, “Morbendi!”
****
Beck’s eyes popped open and he jerked awake sending the Protetor to the floor with a hollow thud. Disorientation gripped him until he realized that he must have fallen asleep reading the Mage handbook.
Some days he wondered if he would ever finish the bloody thing. He had owned the book for over twenty years and still hadn’t read all that it contained. He discovered quite by accident that tapping on certain words brought up entire new sections of related content.
With a yawn, he turned to the side surprised to see that Kiernan was not in bed. Darkened skies told him that she should have been back by now. Knowing her, she’s down in the War Room discussing accession strategy with the captains. Although the day’s events had been distressing for her, he felt confident that his wife would prevail. He actually felt a stab of pity for the idiot nobles who thought to challenge her.
Beck threw aside the blanket, stood from the bed and went to the door to his chambers. A Scarlet Saber stood just outside. “Find the Princess for me. She’ll either be in the War Room or the stables.”
The Scarlet Saber nodded and hurried away.
Beck closed the door and went back into the bedroom. He picked the Protetor off the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. What had I been looking for, anyway? Ah, yes, that fish experimentation of Gil’s still bothered him and he wanted to know how the Mage accomplished the spell so he would be able to spot further tests in the future.
His eyebrows twitched mischievously. Maybe he should also research truth serums so he could find out who killed Maximus. He snorted and quickly dismissed the idea. A fine line separated what the people of Massa would and would not accept from sorcery, and Beck often felt like a tightrope walker as he negotiated the razor’s edge of all that was possible.
Yawning once again, he lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.
All of a sudden, the mattress sank beneath the weight of something that had leapt onto the bed and then onto his chest. He opened his eyes and hissed in shock at the black feline sitting atop him. Yellow eyes narrowed to slits stared back at him from a sleek, whiskered face, tail swishing lazily against his body.
Beck sat up, embarrassed at his frightened reaction and the animal jumped to the floor.
The air shimmered and the black cat shifted into human form. A very naked human form.
Beck paled at the sight. “Good Highworld, woman, put some clothes on!”
“I am a bodyshifter, Your Grace,” the woman said matter-of-factly. “I cannot very well carry clothes on my back.”
“There’s a robe over there!” Beck yelled, waving his hand in the general direction of a chair, his eyes quite forcefully averted.
He stood from the bed and thrust his arms into a shirt. When he felt enough time had passed, he turned. Lady Mila Stowe stood before him wrapped in his robe. If Kiernan enters this room right now, I may never survive the night. Unfortunately, he needed answers that only Mila could provide. “Well? Were you there when it happened?” he questioned, getting right to the point.
Her midnight-blue eyes held remorse. “Yes, but it happened so fast, Your Grace, there was nothing I could do. The assassin killed Sevant Kree and attacked the King before I even knew he was in the room.”
“That is what I don’t understand. How did he manage to get by Sevant?”
“The King’s assassin was a sorcerer.”
Beck felt the blood rush to his head. “A sorcerer? You must be mistaken.”
“I saw him.”
“A Mage who can kill an innocent simply does not exist.”
“Um…does the Mage War ring a bell, Your Grace? How about the Demon War?”
He shook his head. “Back then, yes, but not now!”
“Now, too. It was a Mage, Your Grace.”
“Why didn’t you come to me sooner with this?”
She threw her hands in the air. “Because of your wife! I tried, but she wouldn’t let me within sight of you!”
Beck speared a hand through his hair. She was right. He didn’t think much of it at the time, but Kiernan did seem to always be there to interrupt whenever Mila tried to talk to him. “What you’re telling me is impossible, Mila. The Dagarmon cannot kill innocent people.”
“I don’t think it was a Dagarmon.”
“Now, you’re confusing me even more.”
“Are all the Dagarmon tattooed?”
He nodded. “Yes. Without exception.”
“The killer wasn’t.”
“Then, he wasn’t Mage. Only the Dagarmon are Mage.”
“I heard him cast a spell!”
“What did he say?”
“Div…diverge or something like that.”
“Divergia?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
Try as he might, Beck couldn’t make sense of anything Mila was telling him. He rubbed his jaw. “Then what?”
“I was in animal form, but I shifted as soon as I knew what he was and killed him before he could get away.�
��
“I need to see the body,” he said in excitement, moving toward the door. “Take me to him.”
“I can’t.” At his questioning look, she said, “It disappeared. After I killed him, I went to retrieve one of my soldiers to help dispose of the body and when we got back, it was gone.”
Beck scratched his head. “So a wizard, who can’t possibly exist, is killed and then another—an accomplice?—retrieves his body? Impossible.”
“You keep saying that, but you must have felt something strange was going on when you asked me to guard the King for you.”
Yes, he had. Several weeks ago Diamond’s stone had gone silent and the last time that happened, Avalon Ravener had used sorcery to blind the Divination sorceress’s sight. He had been on edge ever since. Looks like now he had every reason to be.
“I don’t understand,” Mila continued. “Why would a Mage want to assassinate the King? To what purpose?”
Good question. Only Beck had more of those than he did answers.
Chapter 12
Stolen Memories
Kiernan squeezed her eyes shut and moaned at the sharp pain stabbing behind her ears. Nausea crept up her throat. A heavy weight pushed down on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She tried to roll over, but found she couldn’t move. Her eyes slit open to find a man she didn’t recognize lying on top of her.
“Get off!” She shoved and kicked until the man fell to the side on his back. A dagger stuck up from the middle of his chest.
She scrambled back from the dead man and expelled the contents of her stomach. For long moments, she vomited as the pain in her head worsened. When she had nothing left, she collapsed to the ground and curled up into a ball on her side.
Bajan! I need you!
An Oath Of The Kings (Book 4) Page 7