The Steel Queen (The Silk & Steel Saga Book 1)

by Karen Azinger

  Bloody footprints led to a door standing slightly ajar. Blaine heard a faint moan from within. Kicking the door open, he entered with steel first. Two bodies lay in an otherwise deserted room, both soldiers of Lanverness. One man twitched, clutching at his abdomen. Kneeling, Blaine tried to comfort the injured soldier, but the wound was clearly fatal. Wadding his cloak into a ball, Blaine eased it under the soldier’s head to cushion him from the cold stone floor. “Who did this?”

  The soldier’s eyes told Blaine he knew his wound was fatal. “Tricked us into coming here. Traitors…traitors in the army. We refused…staying loyal to the prince.” Staring up at Blaine with urgent eyes, the man struggled to say, “W-warn the queen…traitors from within.”

  The man’s eyes began to glaze. Desperate to learn more, Blaine shook the dying man. “Who are the traitors? Who did this to you?”

  The man’s eyes fluttered, refocusing on Blaine’s face. With a last effort he gasped, “The red…horns.” A look of peace settled over his face and then he was gone.

  Muttering a prayer to Valin, Blaine eased the dead man’s eyes shut and gently reclaimed his cloak. Stepping around the body, he knelt to check the second man. The second soldier had died quickly, a stab direct to the heart. Blaine searched for clues to the violence, finding a crumpled note clutched in the second man’s hand. He freed the note and smoothed the parchment to better read the spidery handwriting.

  “Politics!’ Blaine made the word a curse. Staring at the note, he considered his options. His only recourse was to take the information directly to the queen. Anyone else could be in league with the traitors.

  Leaving the room much as he’d found it, Blaine tucked the note into a pouch on his belt. He retraced his steps, looking for a way out of the maze of corridors, eventually finding a page who led him to the queen’s section of the castle. A pair of stern-faced guards blocked his way, refusing entry. Undaunted, Blaine insisted he had an urgent message for the queen. The guards showed him to a small sitting room where he was told to wait.

  A succession of sleepy-eyed officials grilled Blaine about the nature of his message. Not knowing whom to trust, he refused to talk to anyone save the queen. His stubbornness eventually won out. A herald and a pair of guards escorted him through the tower. At the door of the solar, he was asked to relinquish his sword and other weapons. Feeling naked, Blaine entered queen’s sanctum.

  The queen sat on a throne in front of a roaring fire. Despite the early hour, she was already bedecked in finery. Strands of pearls bound her raven-black hair away from a heart-shaped face. A green silk gown accented her hourglass figure, a gleam of rings on her fingers. Blaine's steps faltered, the woman was a vision of beauty and power, the perfect image of a queen. Without thinking, he dropped to his knee and waited for permission to speak.

  “You may rise.” Her voice carried the sultry tones of a woman in command. “Why does a knight serving the princess of Castlegard suddenly seek an urgent audience?”

  Standing, Blaine dared to look the queen full in the face. A fierce intelligent met his stare. He took a step backward, retreating from the queen’s scrutiny. The woman’s gaze cut like a sword. Realizing he was way out of his depth, he took a deep breath and carefully recounted the events of this morning. He explained about his habit of practicing in the dawn hours and about getting lost in the lower levels of the castle. He told the queen about the pool of blood in the hallway and about the dying soldier’s last words. Finished, he handed the queen the crumpled note.

  The queen read the note in stony silence.

  Blaine waited, watching for any reaction, but her face remained devoid of emotion. He supposed her mask of calm was all part of being a queen.

  “Tell us again. What did the soldier say when you asked who was responsible for the attack?”

  “With his dying breath the soldier said, the red horns.”

  “Yet the note invites the soldiers to join the griffins in putting a king on the throne. It seems the soldiers were never meant to have a voice beyond the note placed in their hand. By finding one alive, you have allowed the truth to prevail.” Pausing, the queen added, “The truth can be a powerful weapon if wielded wisely.”

  Blaine waited while the queen studied the crumpled note.

  “It seems to us that we gain the greatest advantage if the traitors assume the truth died with the soldiers. We will ask you to recount your tale to our closest advisor, the Master Archivist, but no one else. Our shadowmaster will see to it that one of his most trusted men raises the alarm when the two dead soldiers are discovered later this morning. The man will also discover the crumpled note.” The queen’s stare drilled into him. “Your conversation with the dying man never happened. If you are questioned about your meeting with the queen, you will say you were simply delivering a private message from Princess Katherine. Are we understood?”

  “Perfectly.”

  In a solemn voice, the queen said, “You have done the Rose Crown a great service, Sir Blaine. We are in your debt.”

  “Thank you, your majesty.”

  The queen rang a golden hand bell. The outer door immediately opened and two guards entered the room. Turning toward Blaine, the queen said, “The guards will show you to our private meeting room. The Master Archivist will join you there shortly. Thank you again for your service.” Nodding, the queen added, “Please give our regards to Princess Katherine. We will give careful consideration to her request.”

  Bowing low, Blaine left the solar and reclaimed his blue sword. While waiting for the queen’s counselors, he considered the events of the morning. Lanverness was not as peaceful as everyone thought. Storm clouds were gathering within the queen’s own castle. Blaine suspected it would take more than swords to defeat the gathering dark.

  55

  Katherine

  Unable to sleep, Kath roamed the cold marble corridors of Castle Tandroth trying to unravel the riddle of her dreams. The dawn light cast subtle shadows in the deserted hallways, a good time to be alone, a good time to think. Kath turned a corner, surprised to glimpse a dark figure ahead. The man stalked the corridor with a confident stride yet the hallway was empty of footsteps. Intrigued, she followed, her doeskin boots whispering down the marble corridor.

  The figure stepped into a circle of torchlight. Kath’s breath caught, recognizing the man from the parapet. Clad in black leathers, he moved with a feral grace. Tall, with the broad shoulders of an archer, he prowled the corridor like a hungry black panther. A shiver ran down her back igniting a heat in her loins. Something about this man awakened deep feelings within her. Struggling to understand, she gave in to the need to follow.

  He pivoted without warning, piercing her with his one-eyed gaze.

  Kath froze, a deer trapped by a lion.

  “What do you want?” His voice was rich and deep, riddled with undertones.

  Stepping out of the shadows, her heart thundering, Kath closed the distance between them. Memories of the unbroken tower beat like wings against her mind. She stared up into his face, seeking a match with the distant past. Tanned by the sun, his face was ruggedly handsome, the black leather eye patch adding mystery to his good looks. His sapphire blue eye held her in a steady gaze. The blue eye was a relief. In her visions from that other time, Kath was sure the knight had soft brown eyes, the kind of brown eyes you could drown your soul in. This could not be the same man. A strange mixture of relief and disappointment flooded her. A small sigh escaped her lips.

  The man reached out a hand as if to steady her.

  His touch sent sparks through her, making her doubt her earlier conclusions. Confused, she peered into his face.

  “Are you all right?”

  Finding her voice, she asked, “Who are you?”

  “My name is Duncan Treloch. Do I know you?”

  “Yes…I mean no.” Shaking her head, she tried to untie her tongue. “It’s just that it seems like I’ve met you somewhere before, but it couldn’t be, could it?” As her mind cleare
d, his name fell into place. She stared up at him, relieved to know that he truly belonged to this time. Recovering her composure, she flashed him an impish smile and said, “So you’re the Duncan who missed soup night.”

  Now it was his turn to look puzzled. “Yes, but what would you know of soup night?”

  Seeing his confusion, Kath said, “Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Princess Katherine of Castlegard, recently arrived to foster with the queen. As a welcome to the court, Jordan invited me to soup night. There was an empty chair at the table for you. You missed a fun evening.”

  “Ah, the princess with the sword. Jordan mentioned you at breakfast the next morning.” With a courtly bow, he added, “I am pleased to meet you. Welcome to the Rose Court. The Royal J’s enjoyed your company the other night…so perhaps we will be seeing you at future soup nights.”

  With a warm smile, Kath said, “I would like that.”

  A slightly awkward silence settled between them. Staring up at his face, it seemed as if they shared a conversation without any words being spoken. She’d never experienced anything quite like it.

  He gave her an intense stare. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? Out on the parapet, in the cold morning wind?”

  She nodded, wondering how to explain. “Nightmares. Sometimes the fresh air helps.”

  His one-eyed stare raked across her, pausing at the sword at her hip. “You don’t look like the type to be bothered by nightmares. Coming from Castlegard, I’ll wager your good with that sword.”

  She expected irony or derision in his voice but heard only sincerity. The compliment was so outrageous for a man of Erdhe that Kath stood slack-jawed, staring up at Duncan in disbelief. Perhaps he did come from another time.

  He chuckled but it was full of warmth.

  Kath felt her face flush red. Struggling to hide her embarrassment, she reached for something to say. “Do you often walk the parapets at dawn?” She instantly regretted the stupid question.

  He flashed her a roguish smile. “I’ve a restless spirit.” He shrugged. “I’m not one to be contained behind stone walls.”

  She stood rooted to the ground, trying to see past the blue gaze of this mysterious man. She had a thousand questions she wanted to ask, a thousand things she wanted to say, but she found herself suddenly speechless. All she could do was stare.

  He nodded. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, perhaps at another soup night.” He gave her a half bow. “In the meantime, I wish you good dreams, Katherine of Castlegard.” He turned and left her standing in the hallway.

  She didn’t want him to go but she couldn’t think of a reason for him to stay. She watched as he prowled down the corridor, his black leathers highlighting his muscular frame. A spark burned within her. She knew his name but she did not understand why he intrigued her so…or why he reminded her so much of that other time. She would have to talk to her sword sister about Duncan. Smiling, she whispered his name, “Duncan Treloch,” liking the sound of it. Kath did not know why the gods had brought her to Pellanor, but one thing was certain, she was looking forward to unraveling this enigma wrapped in black leathers.

  56

  Liandra

  Traitors from within. It was a grim thought but one any monarch, especially a sovereign queen, had to constantly consider. Plots within plots. Evidence indicated that this threat from the Red Horns was better planned and better organized than any plot Liandra had yet faced. All the more reason to out-scheme this current crop of traitors, but to weave her tangled web she’d need the aid of two of her men, her shadowmaster and her soldier-son. Liandra narrowed her gaze, considering her two men. The soldier-prince stood next to the spymaster, bright armor contrasting with dark shadows, a pair of opposites. Her shadowmaster was tempered steel, tested with many a secret, while her son was a novice at court intrigue. Liandra knew every secret shared was a risk, but in this case, she judged it acceptable. In measured tones she explained the ruse of the Red Horns. “We would have your advice on this matter.”

  Prince Stewart was quick to respond. “The first priority is to protect the queen. The sergeant’s dying words prove the traitors have not corrupted the Rose Squad. The Rose Squad should be assigned to guard the queen’s tower.”

  Liandra appreciated her son’s concerns, but his blunt, straightforward suggestion proved the young soldier-prince saw the world in black and white. Perhaps this threat would teach him to manipulate the countless shades of gray that defined the political world. Before the queen could rebuke the prince, the Master Archivist intervened.

  “My prince, you raise a good suggestion however it is far too obvious. Replacing the royal guards with a squad from the army would send a clear signal to the traitors that the crown is suspicious. The traitors would merely go to ground, regrouping to surface at another time. As it stands, we have the advantage of being forewarned. We must use the advantage to flush out the traitors and apply a lethal end to their schemes. We must pull the traitors out by the root, not merely trim the branches. To do that, we need names, especially the names of the leaders.”

  Frustration filled the prince’s face yet he held his silence. The queen approved of her royal son’s control. Perhaps it was not too late to teach him the subtleties of intrigue. “Our shadowmaster is correct. We need to tease out the traitors. Our actions must be subtle, flowing beneath the normal patterns of the court. We must weave our own webs and wait to see who is ensnared by their actions.” Turning her gaze to the master, the queen said, “Your shadowmen must be vigilant. We suspect there will be more clues pointing toward this fictitious plot. Perhaps the clues can be traced backwards to discover these Red Horns.”

  “It shall be as you command.”

  Seething with anger, the prince glared at the spymaster. “I wish you good hunting, but the safety of the queen should never be a matter of luck. If your webs of intrigue do not catch the traitors then this revolt may very well become a matter of swords. Political intrigue and shadowmen will not protect the queen once swords are drawn. I say again, we need to surround the queen with loyal steel.”

  Her royal son raised a good point. “Now you have hit closer to the mark. The Rose Squad is too obvious but protection will be needed.” The queen eased back in her chair, considering the problem. “The question is whom do we trust?” She considered her two advisors. “One of you deals with the sword and the other with shadow. We would ask each of you to compile separate lists of those swords that you believe to be loyal. We will trust only those names that appear on both lists, appointing them to guard the Queen’s Tower.”

  Shaking his head, the master said, “The Queen’s Tower is the domain of the royal guards. The plan will only work if there are sufficient guards on the list. Anything else will alert the traitors.”

  “Then it must be done in secret. We must find a way to surround ourselves with loyal swords that appear to be something else entirely. Shadow and subterfuge must be used to our advantage.”

  The prince and the master nodded but neither offered a suggestion.

  After a while, the queen smiled seeing the solution. “Who is always present but seldom seen?” Seeing puzzlement on the men’s faces, the queen explained. “Servants. The Queen’s Tower is full of servants yet few ever bother to look closely at their faces. We will replace our servants with loyal swords. Perhaps some of our veterans retired from the army could be recruited to the task. Gray hair is a common trait among the servants senior enough to attend the Queen’s Tower. The sooner this is accomplished the better.”

  Both men bowed their heads to the queen’s commands.

  “Prince Stewart, will this plan satisfy your concerns?”

  “Yes, your majesty, but I have another issue to discuss.”

  The queen gestured for the prince to continue.

  “If this revolt becomes a battle, then it will be difficult to tell friend from foe since all will wear the green and white of Lanverness.” Lowering his voice, the prince added, “We will need a way to identi
fy those loyal to the crown.”

  It was an excellent point. Perhaps, there were advantages to having an advisor with a military mind. “What do you suggest?”

  “Armbands. Easily hidden in belt pouches or pockets, the armbands will only be used if fighting breaks out.”

  The master asked, “What type of armbands?”

  “Black armbands. When soldiers of Lanverness fight against each other it will be a black day.”

  Nodding, queen said, “Armbands are an excellent idea, but we should also have a password.” Seeing agreement at the table, the queen added, “We play a complicated game of chess with the leader of the Red Horns. Our password will be white’s gambit.”

  The two men signaled their agreement.

  “There is one other aspect to consider.” The queen lowered her voice. “To have a chance at success, this Red Horn’s plot must be, by its very nature, broad reaching. Such reach would require a powerbroker in the Rose Court, someone with a seat at our council table.”

  The prince looked shocked but the master nodded, his face grave. “Unmasking this traitor must be our highest priority.”

  In a quiet voice, the prince asked, “Whom do you suspect?”

  The queen considered her loyal lords. “The plot implies there are traitors within the army. That alone would point toward General Helfner but the man is too blunt and straightforward. No, we are looking for someone who is devious and careful.”

  Clearing his throat, the master said, “Unfortunately, your majesty has a penchant for choosing shrewd men to sit on the royal council. There are several who would make excellent candidates for the leader of the Red Horns.”

  The prince stared at the black-robed master. “And those candidates are?”

  With a rare smile, the master replied, “Aside from myself, the suspects would include the Lords Sheldon, Turner, and Hunter. Lord Sheldon controls the constable force. The constables are not as overtly threatening as the army but they are a force to be reckoned with. Then there is the Knight Protector, Lord Turner, who controls the royal guard, a key position for capturing the queen. Given the small size of the guards, Lord Turner would need the help of the army in order to secure the throne. The other candidate is Lord Hunter. As a diplomat, Lord Hunter has a very devious mind and he may have allies outside the kingdom.” After a pause the master added, “We must also consider the men who have resigned from the royal council. Many men have left the court harboring a grudge against their queen. Lord Nealy left the council in disgrace over a matter of incompetence and Duke Anders under suspicion of corruption. Lord Nealy is too much of a bungler to be the leader of the Red Horns, but Duke Anders could be a serious threat.”