Luke, of course it was Luke, followed Crystali back around the entryway, coming to stop at her bed. He knelt next to it, so he could see her face clearly. “Kazia…”
“What, Luke? What is it?”
Luke’s hand snaked out, rubbing her cold fingers. “Randolf didn’t come to dinner. No one has been able to locate him since.”
Kazia’s eyes, suddenly very awake, widened as she struggled to sit up straight. “How long ago was that?”
“Almost twenty-four hours.”
“Almost — how long have I been asleep?!” she gasped.
“About a day and a half.”
She gripped the covers like a lifeline. “When…” her voice cracked and she swallowed, hard, and tried again. “When did he leave my room?”
“Right before dinner. He said he needed to talk to the cook. We talked to the cook and he said he made Randolf a picnic. Kazia, we’re afraid he may have left. I’m sorry. Perhaps he was overwhelmed at the thought of a—”
“A picnic? No, Luke! He didn’t leave.” He opened his mouth to argue with her but she was too busy trying to untangle herself from the covers. “We were supposed to have another meeting last night.” She rushed to find her slippers, swayed and nearly fell. Nakomi was there, out of nowhere, and Kazia leaned against her to keep from collapsing.
“You were what? Why wasn’t I informed?”
“Because I never got a chance, Luke. What with all the fun and fighting of the previous evening.” She threw him a furious glare over her shoulder as she tied the sash of her robe more firmly around her waist.
“Where are you going?” She nearly collapsed again, cursing.
Crystali, came into the room at a speed-walk, pressing a cup of steaming broth into her hands. “It will give you energy.”
“Thank you.” Kazia could have kissed her, but there was no time. “Have you looked in the gardens?”
“I don’t know.” Luke waved a man from William’s guard over. “We’ve been protecting you. The Abeta Royal Guard has been looking for Randolf.”
Kazia had a brief image of Randolf, pale and horrified, when he found out how debilitating her sickness really was. He could have left. Please, please tell me he left. “No, we didn’t look in the garden.” The man shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably.
“Well, look now!” Kazia exploded. “Nakomi, come!” Ignoring her pain, she hurtled down the two flights of stairs, out the front door, and across the expansive lawns leading to the gardens. “Nakomi, find him!” she whispered, but Nakomi only growled at her. I’m not leaving you.
She didn’t have time to argue with a wolf who couldn’t even talk back, so she shoved the gate open and raced inside, all of her guard and several of William’s behind her.
“Spread out — keep your eyes wide, boys.” Luke yelled, taking command of both teams. They fanned out, moving silently through the garden, melting into the shadows. Kazia grabbed Nakomi’s fur, steering them both to the far side of the maze, where Randolf had taken her that first day. She had just passed the broken pot, still red with Luke’s blood, when she heard the faint cry.
“Help. Help me.” She froze, listening hard, and Nakomi seemed to hold her breath, too. “Please help me.” It sounded slightly strangled, but she recognized the voice.
“Luke!” She cried because she couldn’t run as fast as he could, stuck in her slippers as she was, and Luke sprinted around her, racing down the path. Benjamin, coming up fast behind them, scooped her into his arms and carried her the remainder of the way, setting her on her feet as soon as they came within sight of Randolf. There was so much blood. Kazia shoved a fist into her mouth to keep from screaming as she stumbled forward, landing on her knees beside him. He clutched something in his hands; a dark blanket of some sort. “Randolf, shhhh. It’s okay. I’m here now.”
“Kazia,” he whispered. He couldn’t raise his head, and the words bubbled in his throat.
“Don’t speak. We’re going to get you inside. The medics will fix you right up.” She didn’t realize tears were soaking her cheeks until she nearly choked on them. Luke pried the blanket from Randolf’s desperate fingers, tossing it to the side as he searched for the wound.
“Kazia, I know we just met.” Randolf coughed, blood spurting from his mouth and spraying Kazia’s face.
She sobbed harder. “No, Randolf. Don’t do this. You’re going to be fine. Just rest.” Beside her, Luke gave a sharp intake of breath, and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, following his grim gaze. Randolf’s stomach was a heaving mass of torn, bloody gashes. Multiple stab wounds spurted blood every time he breathed. She raised horrified eyes to Luke, who shook his head as he ripped his jacket off and pressed it against the damage. “Randolf? Hold on. Please hold on.” Kazia sobbed, laying both hands on either side of his cheeks, pressing her forehead against his as she cradled his head in her lap.
“Kazia, I need to tell you.” His voice was weak, so weak. “I prayed that I would live… until you found me. I need…” She sobbed harder, wanting to tell him not to speak when it hurt him so much, knowing he wouldn’t rest until he said what he so desperately tried to say. “I love you, Kazia.” He choked on her name, blood pouring from the corners of his lips.
“Randolf, please,” she cried, her tears mingling with his blood, running in rivulets down the sides of his face, into her hands. “Please don’t leave me. You’ll be okay.” He closed his eyes, and she heard the rattle rising in his throat, claiming his last breath and his life. “No! No, please! Luke, help him!” she cried, raising her head, pleading.
Luke pumped hard on his chest, trying to pound Randolf’s exhausted heart into beating again. He held the jacket tight against the wounds, even when blood completely soaked it and claimed his hands clear up to the elbows. He tried. Luke tried so hard, but he finally raised hopeless eyes to meet Kazia’s gaze.
“There’s nothing I can do,” he whispered.
Benjamin pulled his jacket off as well, laying it across Randolf’s body. But Kazia wouldn’t move. He fought so hard, waiting for her for hours and hours and hours — while she slept! She couldn’t leave him. She wouldn’t leave him.
She was still stubbornly clinging to his body when William and Charlotte got there. Charlotte screamed and passed out immediately. William came, kneeling next to Kazia, taking her bloody hand in his. “My son. Oh my son,” he keened quietly, over and over, letting his tears fall on Randolf’s lifeless body. He held tightly to Kazia’s hand like it was a lifeline, and they cried together.
It might have been hours or even days later when the guards finally came to take the body. The royal physician was there to give them all something to help with the pain. Kazia took it, gratefully, as did Charlotte. King William did not. They led Kazia back to Randolf’s chambers like she was a small, lost child, Nakomi staying so close she nearly knocked Kazia over several times. When Kazia climbed into Randolf’s bed, Nakomi leaped up with her, stretching out and only leaving a small corner for Kazia to curl up in, but Kazia was grateful for Nakomi’s presence and buried her face in the thick fur. She was only half-conscious and entirely numb when she heard the murmur of low voices in the sitting room. She fought herself awake, past the numbness, through the pain, so she could hear what was being said. “The cloak he had in his hands was hers.”
She choked on another sob. Her cloak. He’d taken it with him to protect her from the setting sun. He had been trying to deal with her illness. She didn’t recognize the first voice, but the second was in her head every waking second, so she had no problem recognizing him when he responded, “What are you implying, Captain?”
Oh. They thought she had killed Randolf. How ironic that they thought she was the assassin they hunted, when in fact she was an assassin — but not the one they were so afraid of. She was an assassin bent on revenge, and she had failed to protect Randolf, who was only guilty of being close to her.
“I’m not implying anything. I just think it’s odd that the assass
in seems to always be wherever she is,” the first voice, clearly Abeta’s Captain of the Royal Guard, was terse even as his voice held a world of sadness.
“That’s because the assassin is following her, you idiot. She was supposed to meet Prince Randolf there. The assassin probably thought he could kill them both and take the crown.”
“Captain, there’s no need to get upset, I just found it odd, that’s all.”
“Tell me this, then. She was here, surrounded by ten guards and a giant wolf. We had a guard at every door and every window and we all sat here for a day and a half and watched her sleep off a fever that had the physician so worried, he wouldn’t leave her side, either. So how, exactly, do you think she made it out there to kill him? Not to mention the fact that she’s very, very ill, very small, and the kindest person I’ve ever met.” Luke was yelling by the time he finished and Kazia no longer had to strain to pick up the conversation, which her exhausted and drugged mind appreciated.
“I’m sorry, Captain. I didn’t realize. We’re all in a panic here, you understand.”
“Yes, I do understand. Our entire royal family was killed a month ago, remember? The princess is all we have left.”
“I’m sorry Captain. Truly, I’m very sorry. I… overstepped.”
Benjamin, when he interrupted, was calm and conversational in the face of their anger. “You know, he probably took her cloak, knowing she was planning on meeting him and not wanting her to be cold.”
Heath spoke up next and Kazia wondered if her whole guard was facing down the Abeta Captain. “Or something darker.”
“What do you mean?” the Abeta Captain asked.
Yes, what do you mean, Heath?
“What if the killer wore her cloak, knowing Randolf wouldn’t be suspicious if he thought it was Princess Kazia?” They all fell silent, and in the sudden quiet, she lost her battle and passed out.
Kazia knocked on the door to the king’s private chambers, her hand shaking more than a little. She had slept for two straight days. After eating enough to stay on her feet and cleaning up enough that she didn’t smell like a lost elephant, she went to King William. He hadn’t emerged from his room since Randolf’s death. The gardens were closed, and at Randolf’s funeral pyre that coming night, they were burning the gardens to the ground with him.
“Leave me be.” The king sounded fierce, but Kazia could hear the deep, agonized pain underneath it.
“I told you he wouldn’t let you in,” Charlotte said, patting her white hair and reapplying her makeup to hide the bags under her eyes.
Kazia frowned at her and knocked again. “King William? It’s Princess Kazia. Please… please let me in.” There was a lifetime of silences on the other side of the door, and then the lock creaked and it swung open, just a bit.
“Come in.” His eyes weren’t sparkling. Kazia wondered if they would ever sparkle again.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I just woke up.” He smiled and although it was full of pain, it was a kind smile. Kazia remembered Randolf’s words, His people still love him. They loved him because he had a good heart.
“I know, little princess. Sit down. Nakomi, make yourself comfortable.” The big wolf had been lurking in the shadows, but emerged to settle at William’s feet. Kazia smiled, grateful Nakomi could sense that William needed her more than she herself did at the moment.
“How are you doing?” Kazia asked as gently as possible.
He smirked a little, but it faded. “No parent should have to mourn the loss of a child.”
Kazia slid from her seat and knelt on the other side of his chair, putting one hand on Nakomi for strength and the other on William’s arm. For strength. “I’m so sorry, William. This — this is all my fault. I led the assassin here.” She tried not to cry, she really did, but she failed and a sob nearly choked her.
“Kazia, that isn’t true.”
“It is. I led him here and he took his vengeance on Randolf. Instead of me. While I slept,” she cried.
William slowly shook his head. “The city is locked down, Kazia. It has been since we received word of your parents’ deaths. The assassin was already here.”
Kazia nearly fell over. He knows who killed his son. “Already he— How can that be? The assassin attacked me at Uncle Jeffery’s. He tried to poison me.”
William tipped his head to the side, considering. “Then it seems that there is only one person the assassin could be. The only one there and here.”
“Jeffery.”
William nodded, watching her out of the corner of his milky eye. “But, he was at his estate when my parents were killed. Two of my guards were on patrol there.”
“You and I both know that he has had help.”
Kazia bit her lip. This man, somehow he knew. He knew what she was, what she tried so hard to hide. “We need to alert the guards. If we act quickly we can take him by surprise and he won’t have a chance to escape.” Kazia rose to her feet, shoving her skirts out of the way. “Nakomi, come.” She started to pull the door open — it was a big, heavy door that groaned as she moved it.
“You are much stronger than anyone gives you credit for, little princess.”
She smiled, distracted, as she motioned frantically at the Abeta captain. “Because I can open your door?”
“Because you’re still alive.”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise but he only smiled his sad smile.
“Yes, Princess? Is something wrong?” The captain hurried to her side, scanning the room behind her. “No. Actually, I think something is finally right.
They stormed through the castle, the combination of both guards, moving like swift flames of justice toward Jeffery’s quarters. The king led the way. When they burst through the doors, Jeffery’s window shutters flapped in the breeze, a long rope trailing down to the garden. “He won’t get far. He can’t get out of the city. Find him!” William shouted, glaring out the window. The mass of roiling black clouds raced across the sky, as if in answer to his call.
Kazia watched them move away, on their quest for justice. They wouldn’t find Jeffery. He’d left as soon as he’d killed Randolf. And they’d forgotten her in their angered frenzy. Which made it very easy for her to leave the castle and escape into the village.
She moved on silent feet, blending with the shadows, nearly invisible, escaping around the light. She followed her target as he slunk through the streets, infuriated at his confidence. He was so sure he would escape. So sure he had outsmarted the castle guards, pinning the prince’s murder on someone else. He even whistled occasionally, nearly tempting her beyond her limit not to shoot him from the shadows and leave him to die, like he had Randolf. But she wanted him to see her face, to know her plan before she killed him. Even so… she glared ferociously as he skipped over a puddle like a child playing hopscotch. He should be scared. He should know she was coming for him. But he wasn’t smart enough to put all the pieces together. She reached into her belt and pulled out her blow dart, dipping the tip into her special powder. Just a bit — she didn’t want to kill him. But it would hurt. Oooh, it would hurt.
He paused, tipping his hat to a very well-endowed woman of the streets. She turned with a smile on her scarlet lips, placing a hand on his arm and leaning into him. Kazia slid from one shadow the next, until she was within range, inwardly cursing the fact that she didn’t have her cloak in this pouring rain. My cloak. Covered in Randolf’s blood. Her princess-self, weak and hurting, flashed briefly into consciousness. Kazia couldn’t deal with that pain now. She couldn’t deal with the guilt. If she hadn’t been so sick. If she hadn’t been so confused. She should have killed Jeffery as soon as she arrived in Abeta. But she’d failed. And now he would suffer even more for it.
She raised the blow dart to her lips, unable to stop the wicked smile before she blew, one fast, hard breath, watching the tiny little dart whiz through the air and embed itself in his neck. He squealed a little in pain, his hand slapping his skin, shoving the dart in even
further and she nearly danced with glee. The woman frowned and backed away as he yelled. Kazia counted backward, pronouncing zero as his agonized screams tore the alley in two.
And then he started looking, his gaze running frantically up and down the streets. Finally, he realized she hunted him. She moved through the shadows, not enough that he would see her but enough that he would know she was there. Her wicked grin broadened as terror took over his features.
He turned and ran.
She didn’t run. There was no need. She knew where he was going and once he got there, he’d be trapped.
She followed him to the tunnels. Ancient underground tunnels that went beyond the city walls. Long ago kings had closed the tunnels, but thieves and bandits had torn them open again. Kazia herself had used the tunnels more than once to get in and out of the city undetected — it was the only way when the gates were closed.
She paused outside the door, cleaning her knife and letting herself revel in his frustrated screams as he found his way out of the city blocked. But time was wasting and she didn’t want him to die before he found out who she was and what she planned to do.
“Stay, Nakomi.”
“Uncle Jeffery,” she purred, pushing the door open and letting herself into the room. He spun, facing her, and his features relaxed.
“Kazia. What are you doing here?”
Kazia opened her eyes as wide and innocent as they would go. “I’ve been framed for Prince Randolf’s murder. What are you doing here?”
He gave her that arrogant pity that she hated so much. “I feared the assassin.”
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