by Sarina Dorie
“I’d rather the favor I owed you was this rather than something else.” She turned her face away.
His shoulders tensed at the indignity of her insinuation. “I have no intention of taking privileges with you, if that’s what you think.” He forced himself to put his pride aside and consider her situation. If the Raven Court was anything like the Silver Court, her assumption wasn’t an unfair one.
He wished he could say something that would alleviate her concerns. “Take your pay back. You’ll need it to buy yourself new clothes and a uniform that fits better. I’ll think of a suitable way you can repay me and discuss it with you. Will that be permissible?”
Reluctantly she took the bag back and nodded.
He was as relieved as she was when she left. He couldn’t remember when he’d felt so insulted. She hadn’t been trying to imply he was dishonorable—that had simply been her experience up until her new life. He loathed the Raven Court and his own—that he should be lumped in with every other base man she had encountered thus far. He didn’t just want to avenge his sister’s murder. He wanted to kill every tyrant in the Raven Court who preyed on others weaker than themselves rather than protecting them.
Now Errol needed to find a way for her to feel as though she were paying off her debt to him—in a manner he wouldn’t find deplorable.
CHAPTER FOUR
Taking Up the Gauntlet
The king had given Errol supposed justice, but Errol wasn’t satisfied. He found the kitchen maid who had written him the letter about Alma.
He took the woman aside, Kendra glaring daggers at him as he did so. “You said it was the Raven Court who attacked. Do you have a description of the criminals?”
“I wasn’t there. I was just repeating what I heard.” She cast her gaze downward, reticence in her manners despite the forthright words in the letter she had written. “I don’t know if it was actually the Raven Court.”
“Who gave you this information?” he asked, his tone just as sharp as it would be if he were talking to one of his soldiers. Too late he realized this was not the way to get information from a hesitant woman.
She edged back. “I’ve got work to do, Captain.”
“I’m just trying to get to the bottom of this,” he said. “You were friends with my sister. I want to find her murderers. Surely you must understand. I need to do something for her.”
“I was friends with Alma.” She crossed her arms and looked him up and down. “I knew her for the last ten years. You, I’ve never seen. What good are you going to do for her now that she’s dead? You could have done a smidge more while she was alive.”
Shame jolted through Errol at that. He was vividly aware of Ivy, his charge, pretending to not watch him as she collected herbs hung from the ceiling. It was embarrassing enough for Alma’s coworkers and friends to see him squirm, but they also had to snub him.
“Very well,” Errol said, his tone stiff with polite formality. “If you refuse to assist me in my quest, I shall do so without you.”
Errol had gleaned the general vicinity where his sister had died. It had been in the aptly named Codpiece District. He knew from what Alma had told him twenty-five years before that she had walked along the outskirts of that neighborhood, giving biscuits and pastries to street urchins and teenage prostitutes.
Errol filled his pockets full of cookies from a nearby bakery and bribed the children in the neighborhood for information.
“Did you see a woman with blonde hair a while back, a woman who gave out cookies to children?” he asked.
“Aye, but she hasn’t been around for a while,” a filthy little boy said. “Her cookies were better than these.”
His older sister elbowed him. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“I liked her cookies too,” Errol said. “Can you tell me where you might have seen the woman walk?”
“I could show you for another cookie,” the boy said.
“The cookie that you said wasn’t very good?” Errol teased.
The boy made a face. “I didn’t say they weren’t good. I just said hers were better.”
The little girl tugged on her brother’s arm, glaring at Errol. “We aren’t going with you. For all we know, you’re some pervert who likes children and intends to drag us into an alley.” She turned to her brother. “You can’t trust strangers. They act all nice, but they’re brutes—and they get away with it if they’re wearing a uniform.”
Errol stared at the child, astounded that she should imply such a thing—and more shocked that she knew of such things. It was a harsh world for peasants in poverty. He didn’t like knowing that military men took such liberties with children. When he thought about his young recruits and their inappropriate behaviors, he hoped none of them would be so depraved. He had a lot of work to do training them to be soldiers—and teaching them to have compassion in their souls.
“I am sorry if I have suggested something that would make you uncomfortable,” Errol said. “Perhaps you could simply point me in the correct direction.”
The children nodded down the street. Errol continued his mission. He tried to ask people on the street whether they had seen his sister. Most of them took one look at his uniform and walked the other way.
“Psst,” the filthy boy from earlier whispered to Errol.
He pointed to a side street that headed into the more unsavory neighborhood. “Keep going that way. She was often walking over there.”
Errol inclined his head to the child in the grandest gesture of gratitude he could give without owing a more serious favor. He headed deeper into the Codpiece District, interviewing drunken men and ladies of ill repute.
Errol stopped a woman in threadbare clothes carrying a toddler. He explained his situation to her.
She backed away, fear in her eyes. “I don’t want to get mixed up in any business with the Raven Court.”
“It’s all right. You’re safe. I just have a few questions,” Errol tried to reassure her.
She rushed away, glancing at the roofs of shops and houses as if afraid a raven might be perched in wait. The idea of that was ridiculous. The attack on Alma had been an isolated incident. King Viridios would never allow the Raven Court to infiltrate his own capital.
* * *
After several more excursions, Errol still hadn’t found anyone who knew Alma, aside from the butcher and grocer where she placed her orders. They didn’t know where she went after errands, though.
Errol hated calling on Ivy this way, but he saw no other alternative. She worked in the kitchen with all the women who had been friends with Alma, including the one who had spoken with the brothel owner. He needed to find that man—and any others who might have seen what had happened to her.
Before Ivy started her shift early one morning, Errol caught her in the servant passage on her way to the kitchen. “A word with you.” He cleared his throat. “I have thought of a small favor you can perform for me.”
She hugged her arms around herself. “Yes, sir.”
“You know about my sister?”
“Yes, sir.”
“There is a maid in the kitchen who has information about her death. I need to find out where she was brought before she died.” He found he had difficulty looking into her face. “A brothel. She wasn’t a harlot. That’s just where they took her. I wish to question the man so I can avenge her death.”
“Yes, sir. I will perform this favor in your behalf.” She curtsied. “It is the least I can do.”
Several days later Errol found a page torn from a book slipped under his door. In the margin was written a note with a man’s name and address.
This is the brothel owner of the house where your sister was taken. I am pleased to have been of service helping you with this task, but I know it isn’t enough. Please instruct me how I may be of further use.
Errol had no further use for her. He ignored the last part of the note.
On his next afterno
on off, Errol found the owner of the brothel who had taken Alma in. He knocked at the door, glancing at the nearly empty street.
A bald man with an oversized mustache drooping around his mouth answered. He squinted at Errol as if he might start trouble.
Errol explained his situation. From the hostility in the man’s expression, he could tell he was failing before he had even begun.
Errol opened his palms to the man, showing them free of weapons, trying to demonstrate earnestness in his face. “I’m just trying to find out information about my sister’s death. Is it true it was the Raven Court? Can you give me an account of what happened? I might be able to petition the king if I can prove who the culprits are.”
The burly man crossed his arms. “What is this? Some kind of jest?”
“No, I just want to show the king that he has been neglecting—”
“Neglecting the likes of us?” The man snorted. “That sounds like treason to me. Are you here to try to catch me badmouthing our sovereign?”
“No, that isn’t it at all. I just—”
The man slammed the door in his face.
Errol was at a dead end, but he wasn’t ready to give up.
CHAPTER FIVE
Pain in the Prince
The following day, Errol was requested by Prince Elric-Atherius himself to guard him as he took a turn about the grounds. This was one of the first times Errol had been in the prince’s presence since the day Ivy had arrived.
He supposed he should have been grateful the noble took enough of an interest in him to request him for the duty, but Errol was more annoyed than anything else. It threw off his schedule after he’d already planned sparring for the afternoon. He’d had to leave one of his sergeants in charge.
Errol instructed Lieutenant Darragh O’Sullivan to walk ahead while Errol took the rear. Even though he was glamoured invisible, Errol could tell where his soldier walked from years of practice seeing through glamours. He’d learned from the best and put his magical skills to practice each day.
Prince Elric-Atherius seated himself on a stone bench. Today he wore the attire of a peasant, his clothes loose and unfitted. Over that, he wore a flowing kimono robe with a floral pattern. To top it off, he wore a braided crown of yellow roses, the thorns intact. Errol couldn’t imagine what Prince Elric-Atherius was trying to say with his unusual fashion statement.
The prince scanned the foliage as though searching for someone. “Come join me, Captain Errol.” He patted the bench.
Errol unglamoured himself and bowed. “It is kind of you to invite me, Your Highness, but it would be presumptuous of me to sit with my employer as though I’m your equal.”
“Stand, then.” The prince waved him off airily. “But I wish to converse. Tell me how you are faring.”
Errol suspected the prince had more to say than to simply ask whether he was well.
“Excuse me but a moment,” Errol said.
O’Sullivan wavered in and out of sight with the unsteadiness of his remedial glamour skills. Errol used his Fae sight to see through the invisibility to ensure his subordinate was watching.
He discreetly signaled to O’Sullivan, using the hand language guards used to communicate without royalty knowing they were doing so. He used the gesture for “secrecy” and “discretion” followed by “vigilance.” Errol constructed a soundproof barrier so that they wouldn’t be overheard. He had no idea what to expect from the prince or what his intentions might truly be.
The rest of the royal family were predictable in their cruelty and violence. Prince Elric-Atherius always left Errol guessing.
Errol stepped in closer to the prince. “Is everything all right, Your Highness?”
“Indeed. I simply wondered how you were.” He paused as if thinking something over. “I had feared you might be in poor spirits after . . . your sister’s death.”
Errol’s tone came out sharper than he intended. “I assure you, I am quite well and fit for duty, Your Highness.”
“Indeed. I didn’t mean you would let your personal life interfere with your career.” Prince Elric-Atherius’ smile grew strained.
Errol shifted from foot to foot, uncertain whether he should apologize or remain silent. Just when he thought he should say something to acknowledge that he had overstepped politeness, the prince spoke again.
“How is your charge? She is well? I expect she is speaking now that she has a tongue.”
The question threw Errol off. “Just so, Your Highness. She speaks some, though I tend to think less to me than to others.” Errol was careful not to mention he had found her a position in the castle’s kitchen. He didn’t want to draw attention to his defiance of Beorhtsige’s edict that a former maid from the Raven Court should not be permitted to prepare his food.
Beorhtsige’s cruelty and temper were predictable traits Errol had witnessed on numerous occasions. If he caught Ivy in the kitchen, he would punish Errol. Or Ivy. That was Errol’s true worry. He only hoped that Beorhtsige’s lack of interest in domestic matters would mean he never learned that she wasn’t employed in the royal guard’s mess hall.
“Why do you think she’s shy around you? Do you think it’s because she finds you handsome?” Prince Elric-Atherius tossed his long hair over his shoulder. “I know I often intimidate the ladies with my good looks and charm.”
They could rule out the prince’s modesty being a trait that intimidated women since he possessed none.
“I highly doubt my face inspires her silence.” Errol wished he were having this conversation with someone he was friends with like Helga, someone he didn’t have to walk on eggshells around. He thought about the little he knew about Ivy’s life in the Raven Court and tried to come up with a satisfactory answer. “It is likely that I make her uncomfortable because I’m a man and a soldier.”
The prince’s eyes twinkled, shifting from yellow to brown. “Not because your bark is worse than your bite?”
Errol couldn’t help smiling at the truth of the observation. “That might not help matters.” He supposed Ivy might be settling in better with Kendra as her superior than Grimback. They were both gruff in their ways, though Errol suspected Kendra was more sympathetic to Ivy’s situation. And Ivy was now surrounded by other women rather than being placed in the barracks where one of her duties had been to serve food to soldiers who might remind her of tyrants from her past.
“I heard she’s being looked after by an old flame of yours,” Prince Elric-Atherius said.
Errol said through clenched teeth. “You are well informed.” He considered what else the prince knew through magic or spies.
The king had his shadow goblins. For all Errol knew, the prince did as well. He would need to be careful with Ivy’s safety—and his.
The prince laughed. “I overheard the maids gossiping. That’s all. I didn’t mean to intrude in your personal affairs. I simply heard your name and listened to what the maids said.”
Errol bowed his head, wondering whether the prince would mention Ivy’s placement in the kitchen or anything more about Kendra. If Prince Elric-Atherius understood what Errol had done in defiance of Beorhtsige, he might repeat it. Even if he didn’t use the information to blackmail Errol, he could thoughtlessly speak of it where someone might gossip about it, and Beorhtsige would learn the truth.
Errol hadn’t considered how he might endanger Ivy by defying Beorhtsige. What he had hoped was an easy solution might not go without consequence.
Errol cleared his throat. “I am surprised I am anyone worth being mentioned in gossip.”
The prince’s brows shot upward. “Surely you jest! Every eligible maiden in the castle has her eyes on you. With your silver hair and good looks, they’ve got their hearts set on you. And you’re far more approachable than any aristocrats. Of course you’d be the center of gossip!”
“That is overly generous praise.” Errol suspected the prince’s words were an exaggeration meant to butter him up for
something, though he couldn’t imagine what. “If you don’t mind my asking, Your Highness, what is it you want from me?”
“I beg your pardon.” The prince straightened.
“You requested my presence. It is clear you have taken an interest in my life. To what end?” Errol supposed he should have been less caustic when speaking with royalty, but it was beyond his patience to put up with manipulative nobles.
Prince Elric-Atherius might have been a step up from his siblings, but he was behaving far too kindly for someone of his station.
“I just wanted to have a civilized conversation with someone—meaning someone who isn’t one of my brothers or sisters. Or parents.” Prince Elric-Atherius stood. “Is that a crime?”
“No, of course not. You are royalty. You can do as you like with a peasant such as myself.” Errol couldn’t keep the bitterness from his tone when he thought of all he had witnessed aristocrats doing to those they considered less than them. “I simply wish to know what you want of me rather than beating around the bush.”
“There is no bush to beat. I simply wanted . . . never mind. We are different men from who we were twenty years ago.” Prince Elric-Atherius frowned.
Errol thought this might be an appropriate moment to take his leave by fading into the scenery with his glamour.
Prince Elric-Atherius went on, stealing Errol’s chance to retreat. “I thought things might be like they once were at court, back when Steorra was still alive. I thought . . . well, I had hoped . . . I imagined you and I might be acquaintances.”
Errol’s spine went rigid, waiting for the laugh to come and a joke to be made.
The prince kicked at a rock next to the bench, looking like a forlorn child. “It was a silly hope, I know, especially after I left without a goodbye to you. I shouldn’t have been so selfish. It isn’t the kind of thing one should do to a friend.”
Errol tried not to laugh. Prince Elric-Atherius wasn’t his friend. He was royalty. Errol would never be anything more than a back to step on to keep him out of the mud. The only difference between Prince Elric-Atherius and the rest of his family was that he would apologize about it as he did so—and his siblings would punch him for his supposed weakness in having regrets about the action afterward.