by Tanya Bird
Leksi picked up a stick and stoked the fire. The flames burned a little brighter. ‘What’s there to say? I thought you might’ve heard something by now. It’s been months.’
Tyron’s expression turned serious. ‘We have not been able to get ears or eyes into Masville. The king has everyone fearing for their lives. Lucky for us, Cora has a remarkable network of spies.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me at all. Though it’s probably not much help given how closely she’s watched by her husband.’
Tyron stared into the fire. ‘There are rumours. Substantial enough that I thought it best to tell you in person.’
Leksi straightened, a feeling of dread rising in him. ‘Oh?’
The prince hesitated. ‘Aldara has this crazy idea that you might be in love with Petra.’ He kept his eyes on the fire. When Leksi did not deny it, he added, ‘And I am inclined to think she is right.’
Leksi watched the flames. There was no point lying. They knew each other far too well for that. ‘Is that the rumour you’re referring to?’
‘I wish it were.’
Leksi drew a breath. ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re preparing me for some rather bad news?’
‘You are not going to like what I am about to tell you,’ the prince said, sounding apologetic.
Another breath for courage. ‘All right. Let’s hear it.’
Chapter 33
Xander sat on the top step of the manor, his head in his hands and a scowl on his face. ‘How many days will you be gone?’
Leksi was beside him, looking out over the immaculate grounds. It was early morning and the sun was at an uncomfortable angle, yet somehow it was easier to stare into the blinding light than to look down at Xander. ‘I don’t know exactly, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
Xander was silent for a moment. ‘What if you don’t come back?’
Leksi looked down at his hands. The separation was hard on him also, but he could not hide away in Veanor after learning Petra was suffering at the hands of the king. He was going to get her out of there.
He moved to crouch in front of Xander, taking hold of his arms. ‘Do you see Prince Tyron seated on his horse behind me?’
Xander looked past him to where Tyron was waiting patiently, watching them. He nodded.
‘Well, he’s an excellent bodyguard, and he’ll be coming with me. It’s his job to make sure I get back here to you.’
Xander studied Tyron for a moment before looking back at Leksi. ‘I thought it was your job to keep him safe?’
‘It is. We take care of each other.’
Xander appeared sceptical. ‘You said you’re a stronger fighter than him. Shouldn’t you take someone better?’
Leksi glanced over his shoulder to see if Tyron had heard that last comment. Judging by the way he was shaking his head, and the faint smile on his face, he guessed he had.
He turned back to Xander. ‘And I stand by that statement,’ he said, loudly enough for Tyron to hear. ‘But since it’s impossible to find someone who matches my skill, the prince will have to do.’
Xander thought for a moment before finally nodding. ‘But you will come back? With my mother?’
He could not make that promise. Thankfully Hali, who had no doubt been eavesdropping, walked over and placed a hand on Xander’s shoulder. ‘Time to say goodbye.’
Leksi stood and looked at her. ‘Thank you for doing this.’
‘No need to thank me. We always love having him. We have so many fun things planned that I suspect the time is just going to fly by.’
‘What about my riding lessons?’ Xander asked.
Leksi gave his head a pat. ‘Lord Yuri is an excellent rider.’
‘He also mentioned something about needing a sparring partner,’ Hali said, looking down at the boy. ‘Do you think you’re ready to handle a sword?’
Xander looked up at Leksi to gauge his reaction.
‘Lord Yuri is an excellent swordsman too. You’ll be ready for battle in no time.’ He brushed a thumb down Xander’s cheek. ‘Behave.’ He went to turn away, but the boy hugged him about the hips, holding tightly. Leksi wanted to reassure him, to promise he would be back, but he had decided to do whatever was necessary to get Petra out of Masville—and that came with enormous risk.
‘Let’s go visit the dogs out back,’ Hali said, taking him gently by the shoulders.
Xander reluctantly let go and turned his watery eyes up to Leksi. ‘I’ll pray for you.’
Leksi felt the same choking sensation he had experienced the last time he had seen Petra. He was hopeless at goodbyes. He should have told her he loved her.
He swept his thumb down Xander’s nose. ‘Thank you.’ Turning away, a hard lump lodged in his throat, he descended the steps towards his waiting horse. Thankfully, Tyron knew better than to ask if he was all right.
They rode east with the prince’s men in tow, arriving at Lord Belen’s manor in Wripis in the middle of the night. Their exhausted mounts were taken to the stables, and Tyron and Leksi made their way down to the small house where the prince and his family lived most of the year. It was quiet and dark when they stepped inside, not the usual chaos Leksi had come to expect from the household. Everyone was no doubt asleep.
‘If you want to go see Aldara and the litter, I’ll tend the fire.’
Tyron came to stand in front of the dying embers. ‘They are not here. I sent them to Roysten before I came to you.’
Leksi knew his friend did not want his family anywhere near danger. First sniff of trouble and Tyron had sent them away. Leksi tossed a log onto the fire and watched the flames grow. ‘When are they due back?’
‘I will collect them when it is safe.’
‘You think King Nilos will try to breach the border?’
‘I think he wants you dead at any cost, and I am not going to let that happen.’
Leksi swallowed. ‘I know I haven’t been completely upfront with you of late, and I know you question some of my recent decisions.’
‘Yes, because I did not understand your motives.’
‘But now you do?’
‘I believe so.’ Tyron paused. ‘It seems Sir Leksi finally met his match.’
The knight glanced at him. ‘It seems I’m not immune to love after all.’
Tyron laughed and clapped a hand on his back. ‘It is not an illness.’
‘A sentence, then.’
The prince shook his head. ‘So how do you plan on getting Petra out of Masville Castle with the mad king on your heel?’
He released a long breath. ‘I’ll think of something.’
‘It’s going to be an interesting fight.’ Tyron paused. ‘I’m going to have to tell Pandarus what happened in Veanor.’
‘He’ll probably have me handed over.’
‘I am sure he would like nothing more, but the crown owes you a little more than that.’
Leksi’s smile fell away. ‘You know I’m not waiting around for his approval.’
Tyron’s expression was resigned. ‘I know.’
‘And you know you can’t come with me to Corneo, right?’
Tyron exhaled. ‘Your fight is my fight. That is how it has always been.’
‘I might be the most hated man by that family at present, but you’re most definitely a close second. Prince Felipe will kill you on sight if you step foot into Corneo.’
Tyron watched the flames for a moment. ‘If you think I am going to sit back while you ride off to die, you are wrong.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘Get some sleep. We will talk in the morning.’
Leksi did not want to waste time sleeping. ‘I can go right now, drag some men from their tents if I need to.’
‘Then what? Scale the castle walls and kill every person in sight until you find her?’ Tyron shook his head. ‘You need fresh men, a fresh mind, and a plan if you are to have any chance of succeeding.’
All of those things took time, which he did not have. He had promised to protect her. ‘I should’ve gone bac
k for her sooner.’
‘It was not possible then, and I am not convinced it is possible now.’
‘I need to get her out of there before he kills her or…’ He could not finish.
Tyron narrowed his eyes. ‘Or what?’
Leksi just shook his head, remembering her words the day they had met.
‘There might be a way,’ Tyron said, ‘but let’s be clever about this. How many times did you bring me back to Archdale when Aldara was imprisoned in Zoelin?’
Silence.
‘You need to act carefully or you will only endanger her further.’
Tyron was right, of course. He prided himself on being practical, but his good sense seemed to go out the window when it came to Petra. He would kill the entire Corneon army and their king if that was what it took to free her from that man.
‘You’re a good friend.’
The prince shrugged. ‘You are blood as far as I am concerned.’ He stepped past Leksi and headed for the stairs. ‘You had better be here in the morning.’
Leksi woke to the sound of horses and muffled voices. Sliding out of bed, he stepped into his trousers before making his way downstairs. He found the front door open and Tyron standing outside talking with someone—not a soldier by the looks of him, but a common man. Leksi waited in the doorway, watching the exchange. A letter was handed over, and Tyron opened and read it. After a minute, he looked up and thanked the man before sending him on his way and turning back to the house.
‘Good or bad news?’ Leksi called.
Tyron walked up the narrow path towards him, looking conflicted. If he was having trouble deciding, it was probably bad.
When the prince reached him, he held out the letter. Leksi took it, glancing first at the bottom to see who it was from. Lord Belen.
‘He is sending her to Onuric Castle in Zoelin,’ Tyron said before Leksi had the chance to finish reading.
‘Petra?’ He scanned the rest of the letter.
A nod. ‘She is being transported today.’
Leksi stared at the words on the page, trying to get inside King Nilos’s head. ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’ He read it one more time to ensure he had understood the message properly. When he was done, he folded the paper and handed it back to Tyron. ‘How did Lord Belen find out?’
Tyron looked out at the garden. ‘It seems the king has made no secret of the fact.’
Leksi ran his hands over his face. ‘He cannot stand to be away from her. Why would he send her to Onuric?’
‘Maybe he wants to teach her a lesson.’
‘Hali describes Onuric as a prison for Companions.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Does the fool think she’ll return from that place more in love with him?’
Tyron shrugged. ‘It will be a rather harsh existence for her there. Perhaps he is trying to show her there are worse places to be than in his bed.’
‘She’s been locked up for months and suddenly he decides to hand her over to King Jayr?’ He paused. ‘Does that sound logical to you?’
‘Are you really expecting King Nilos to make logical decisions at this point in time? The man is not fit to rule.’
Leksi stared out into the grey light. ‘I think he wants me to know. He must have figured out by now that his men failed. Perhaps he’s trying to lure me out.’
Tyron gave a silent nod. ‘What are you going to do?’
He looked at the prince. ‘Follow the breadcrumbs, of course. What else can I do?’
‘If you are right, they will be expecting you.’
He pushed off the doorframe. ‘Best not disappoint them, then. How many men can I have?’
‘You mean to breach the border without permission from your king?’
‘Yes.’
Tyron exhaled. ‘Well, I will go with you.’
Leksi thought on this for a moment. ‘There will be hell to pay afterwards. Pandarus won’t be pleased.’
Tyron turned and headed inside. ‘As opposed to all those times I am in his good graces?’
‘Fair point,’ Leksi said, following after him.
The prince shook his head. ‘If we make it out alive—’
‘If? Since when does the fierce Prince Tyron of Syrasan go into battle throwing around words like if?’
‘Since we decided to knowingly walk into a trap set by a king who wishes us both dead.’
Leksi reached up and patted his shoulder. ‘Better armour up.’
Chapter 34
Petra paced the length of the room, bare feet padding the smooth floor. Her feet left prints that evaporated by the time her next foot was planted, and she found it calming to watch.
Lately she had possessed a strange sort of energy, though it came in waves. Some days she would walk the room, stopping only when her legs gave out, and other days just the thought of getting off the ground was too much.
Those days were dangerous because her mind ran free. Sometimes she imagined her own death, King Nilos entering the room and finding her corpse. Thinking of his grief brought a strange satisfaction. Other times, she imagined his death. On very bad days she visualised being the one to kill him. She could picture herself crushing his bones with her bare hands. She liked to imagine the guard rushing in—too late. Perhaps he would hit her in the head with the hilt of his sword, or drive the blade through her stomach. She wondered what it would feel like to die that way.
She stopped walking and focused on the trees outside the window. It helped ground her sick mind. She knew what she had become. At some point she had stopped fighting it and started indulging it. There was no coming back from the darkness now. The only thing she knew for certain was that she could not be saved.
A knock came at the door, and she turned to stare at it. No one ever knocked; they just walked in, avoiding eye contact for fear of catching her misfortune.
Her fingers stretched and curled as the door opened. Perhaps it was King Nilos coming to fulfil her prophecy. She had not seen him since he had broken the news of Leksi’s death. She had not slept either, so her mind was particularly dark.
To her surprise, Nyla stepped into the room, looking around before spotting her by the window. There was no hiding the mentor’s… surprise? Horror? She collected herself before taking a few more steps into the room, her smile uncomfortable.
‘Hello, Petra.’ Her tone was patronising.
‘What are you doing here?’
The mentor turned and signalled to someone outside, and a maid peeked hesitantly around the doorway before entering. Nyla turned back with an even bigger smile. ‘I am here to pretty you up. I am confident I will have you feeling like your old self again in no time.’
There was no old self, just her possessed remains.
More people entered, servants carrying pails of steaming water, towels, brushes, garments. A cloak. What could I possibly need a cloak for? She watched as they placed the items on the floor and bed, frowning at the absence of linen. Had they not heard? You could make a rope and hang yourself with bedsheets.
‘Am I going somewhere?’ Her eyes were still fixed on the cloak. ‘Outside?’ She was not hopeful, only confused.
Nyla’s smile failed her for a moment. ‘Actually, I do not know. I was only instructed to get you ready.’
She should have felt hopeful. She should have felt something. Anywhere was better than being stuck in that room.
‘All right.’
It did not matter to her. In there, out there—same prison, different scenery. So she let the women do as they pleased, not caring that the guard remained in the room with them. The maids did their best to form a body curtain around her, but they need not have worried. No man would look at her in her current state. She was a breathing skeleton wrapped in skin. She was also insane.
They scrubbed her skin, face, hair, and teeth. They cut her fingernails, saying nothing of the bleeding cuticles and purple flesh. They brushed her hair, patiently working through the knots. It might have hurt in another life.
Nyla let out
a small gasp when she spotted the marks on her neck. Petra turned to take in her expression. They must have been bad, because mentors saw bruises all the time.
‘We could try to cover it with paint,’ Nyla offered.
Petra looked out the window. ‘Do not bother. If you try to cover every mark, you will be here all day.’
Nyla nodded and picked up the scented oil, rubbing it over Petra’s dry skin, pausing whenever she came across a new bruise. After they had dressed her, Nyla stood in front of her, brush poised to paint her face. Her gaze stopped on the large, yellow bruise above Petra’s eye. What was that from again? Ah, yes. The king had pushed her off the bed because she refused to answer one of his questions. She had succeeded too well at blocking out the persistent sound of his voice.
‘Is it painful to touch?’ Nyla asked, biting her bottom lip.
Was it? She did not think so. ‘No.’
Nyla looked sceptical. Perhaps it was worse than Petra had realised.
‘I think we will just add a little colour to your lips instead.’
Petra did not reply, just stood still and let Nyla do what she needed to. She did not wish to make trouble for the mentor.
Servants left with the dirty water and clothes, and one returned with a tray of food. Nyla picked up the bread and held it out for her, and Petra stared down at it like it was poison.
‘I am not hungry.’
Nyla frowned. ‘You need to eat something.’
She picked up the water and drank it. It turned her empty stomach cold and nauseous.
‘That is not food,’ Nyla pointed out.
Petra reluctantly took the bread but did not eat it.
Nyla waited.
Petra waited.
Eventually, Nyla looked around the room and said, ‘I believe my work here is done.’ She gestured for the maids to clear the room and glanced again at the bread in Petra’s hand. ‘Please eat. You are frightfully thin.’
And bruised. And alone.
‘I do not suppose you have heard any news of my son?’
Nyla glanced at the guard over her shoulder. Even if she did, she would never risk telling her. ‘I am certain the king is handling the matter.’