Entangled (Cursed Magic Series, Book 2.5)

by Casey Odell

  Farron laid back on a narrow bed and stared up at the wooden planks covering the ceiling. The inn he’d chosen was in the poorer district where the fisherman and workers resided. The people here were less likely to talk, especially if they were given silver or gold. He’d decided to lay low for a few days after the incident at Lord Linos’ estate. The guards would still be looking for him, but he needed to come up with a plan. Tomorrow he would meet the girl and perhaps she’d have some more information, but until then he was going to rest and recover.

  Officially, Lord Kasían was wanted for embezzling money from the Crown and Council. But if that were really the case, they wouldn’t have sent him. There was a reason he was known as Sin de Reine, the King’s Shadow: they only sent him when they needed someone taken care of. At first, there were only whispers about him, rumors that King Earnehard— his father— had come back from the grave to seek vengeance. And then the stories started, followed by suspicions and accusations that the King’s long lost brother may not have been all that he seemed. But they couldn’t prove, let alone do, anything. He was the King’s brother and the Council’s favorite toy— the Council’s Silver Dog, they’d started calling him. He’d had more alibis and identities than he could remember, had killed more men than he could count on both hands, and had caused innumerable conflicts, but at least he got paid well. Money he had used for good, like helping to support his mother and donating to the Haven Maria oversaw.

  Still, his conscious grew weary.

  And it would grow heavier yet because unofficially, he was here to kill Lord Kasían. Normally it wouldn’t bother him that the lord had stolen money from the Council; in fact, he applauded it. It turned out, though, that the man amassed some of his fortune another way. A more despicable way: in the trafficking of young girls. For years young women had disappeared in Derenan and throughout the southern territories without a trace. There were no clues or leads until one of the girls finally escaped, and they’d learned what the lord had actually been up to. And had found the bodies of three women in his cellar.

  Farron would have gladly killed the man right there on the spot, but the Council and his brother had decided otherwise. Lord Kasían was a powerful man, his family old and influential, and had a hold over one of the major imports to Derenan. To kill the man outright or to arrest him, regardless of what he had done, would likely strike up some sort of rebellion, whether it be from his family, the men loyal to him, or his workers. A war no one was too keen on starting. So they decided to kill him quietly, make the whole affair seem natural, but before they could do so, Lord Kasían had fled the city. It had taken them days to find any leads.

  Only the guilty ran, and Farron was determined to catch him.

  He just wasn’t so sure he wanted it to look like an accident. The man deserved to die and he wanted other lords to know that even they couldn’t escape punishment for crimes they had committed. He was tired of the moral corruption and the backstabbing that ran rampant through the nobility, and even the Council— no, especially the Council. He wanted to send the message that no one could escape him— no one could hide in the shadows, because he was one of them.

  Claire yawned and stretched her arms up above her head as she made her way down the rickety stairs to their kitchen. She tied the sash to her plain cotton robe closed. A few hours before midday, it was still early, for her anyway. Late hours working in the tavern didn’t allow waking at the first light of dawn. Besides, she couldn’t think of a good enough reason to wake up so early in the day. It just wasn’t worth it.

  As usual, Mother was up before her, boiling a pot of water for her morning tea, looking perky and refreshed. Claire squinted her eyes at the bright sunlight coming in the tiny window above the sink and ran a hand through her hair. She wished she knew her mother’s secret to looking so good in the morning. It must have been a natural talent. Claire still felt so tired from the previous night that she fought not to go upstairs and climb back into bed. Mother would kill her, of course. But at the moment it seemed worth it.

  It was only when she was halfway around the island in the kitchen that she noticed the pink rose in the vase. Claire stopped short, her eyes going wide.

  “What’s this?”

  Her mother turned from the stove and shrugged. “I found it in one of the shutters out front this morning. It was so pretty I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away.”

  Claire would have believed it was just another token for her mother if it weren’t for the green ribbon tied around the stem. The same one she’d seen in the market that day she ran into Jerrod. It couldn’t be…

  “Do—” she started, her heart beating frantically. “Do we need anything from the market today?”

  Marion gave her a strange look, her eyes narrowing. Then she smiled. “I suppose we could use a few more things—”

  Excitement quickly replaced her fatigue and Claire rushed towards the stairs before her mother could finish.

  “I will meet this secret admirer someday!” Mother called after her.

  If that was what he was. Her hands shook as she hurried to get ready. She wasn’t sure if it was from him. But it was just too coincidental not to be. There was only one way to be certain. Butterflies filled her stomach as she braided her hair, then re-braided it to get it just right. Once dressed in her best shirt and slacks, she hurried back down the stairs with a new vitality, a smile plastered on her face.

  Mother sipped her tea slowly, eyeing Claire. “At least tell me he isn’t a patron in our establishment.”

  Claire just shook her head as she untied the ribbon from the flower and wrapped it around the end of her braid, topping it off with a bow. She didn’t want to talk about it too much for fear that she may jinx it. With that, she grabbed the basket she usually took to the market and slipped out the back door.

  The closer she got to the town center, the worse her stomach felt. The butterflies were gone, being slowly replaced by gut-wrenching pangs, her knees grew weaker by the second, and an anxious battle waged inside her head. She wanted to see him, but at the same time was too nervous to do just that. But ultimately, she had to know. He may have been the best suitor she would ever have, after all.

  The market was crowded. Claire pushed her way through the masses, standing on her tip-toes, eyes scanning. Nothing. She spotted a few town guards, but none of them were Jerrod. She stopped in the center by the farmers’ carts where she’d previously spoken to him, her heart waning. He just may not be on duty today, she tried to reassure herself, her self-confidence sinking by the second. Or perhaps the rose really had been for her mother and the ribbon was just a coincidence, after all.

  Claire sighed, glancing around one more time. She felt like a fool. Getting her hopes up like that…

  “So you really did come,” said a familiar voice from behind her.

  Her heart leaped and she slowly turned around, her cheeks burning. Dressed in simple deep brown slacks and green linen shirt, Jerrod looked younger than he did with the uniform. And although his town guard’s outfit was particularly easy on the eyes, he seemed more accessible now, more real. She risked a quick glance up to his face. He smiled at her, sparkling green eyes, heartwarming dimples and all. Claire quickly averted her eyes, her nervousness growing. It hadn’t been this bad the last time she saw him. But then again, she hadn’t really known of his feelings then, either.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d…” He drifted off, his own nervousness showing. He tried to cover it up with a slight laugh. “Do you like it… the ribbon, I mean?”

  “Y-yes,” Claire managed to say finally. “And the flower too. It was very pretty. Thank you.” She smiled up at him, hoping to dispel some of their nerves.

  “That’s good.” He appeared to relax slightly. “I wasn’t sure you’d get it, being that I had to leave it late at night…”

  She gave him a questioning look.

  “No!” he exclaimed, his eyes going wide. “Not like that! I mean, I’m not one of those types of me
n… the ones that usually come to bother you. I was just on patrol, you see, and I thought that since I was passing by…”

  “You mean, you actually convinced Captain Rinald to send a patrol by the tavern?” It was her turn to be shocked now.

  “Well, sort of.” He ran a hand over the back of his head. “As long as I am the one doing it.” His eyes met hers and he gave her a hopeful smile. “So, I switched watches with a few of the other men and am now a proud member of the night patrol. I’ll be keeping you— a-and your tavern— safe from now on. If you want me to, that is…”

  Claire was dumbfounded. What was she supposed to say to that? She and her mother had been trying for years to get the town guard to do something to help deter their late night visitors. “That would be… that would be nice.” Nice was an understatement but was all she could think of at the moment. To be able to sleep safe and sound at night would be a tremendous relief, not that her mother couldn’t handle the men, but it would be wonderful if they didn’t have to deal with those drunken sots at all after the tavern closed.

  “It’s settled then!” Jarrod exclaimed, his face brightening. “Those men will bother you no more! Not if I have anything to do with it!” He puffed up his chest a little.

  Claire couldn’t help but smile. “And what will be my payment in return?” she asked teasingly.

  He blushed at that. “I-I would like to see you again, Miss Tanith. If that’s possible… I mean, if you want to. I don’t want you to feel like you have to or anything…”

  “No, I would like that, too.” She could feel her whole body flush at the admission.

  His shoulders sagged in relief as if a great weight was lifted from him.

  “How about we meet again here tomorrow?” she asked. “It seems I will have to come back because I have left all my coin back at home…” She’d been in such a rush to get here, she’d completely forgotten. But at least she had her answer. And it looked to be a good one.

  A message, that was what he was going to send. He’d made up his mind the other night. To kill Lord Kasían outright was a direct rebellion against the Council, and even his brother, the King.

  The manse struck an imposing figure atop a cliff overlooking the sea, surrounded by an immense fence and gate. Farron stood along the tree line across from the estate dressed head to toe in black, blending into the shadows.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  Only this time he was prepared, armed with his twin daggers, a gift from his late master Lorian, and a multitude of hidden blades, cords, and rope. Black fingerless gloves covered his forearms, the sleeves of his shirt ending just after his elbows so that the only thing noticeable was the shock of his white hair and face. He’d thought about dyeing his hair black, as he did at times, but he wanted Lord Kasían to know it was him.

  The night was overcast, but it didn’t necessarily make his task any easier. Half the challenge would just be getting in.

  He’d met with the servant girl last night, and though she wasn’t able to confirm his name, she seemed certain that the man he was looking for was here. Rockhead Manor: a few miles outside of town, summer retreat of Lord Drenner, and veritable fortress. The perfect hiding place for a lord on the run. He was here. He could feel it.

  Of course, the whole thing could be a trap. The thought had crossed his mind. The servant girl could have been working for the Lord all along or could have betrayed him for a hefty reward. The chances of that, however, looked slim. The girl appeared trustworthy, and just as hateful of the nobility as him. But it didn’t hurt to be cautious.

  And he needed to be alert tonight. The grounds were heavy with guards. More than usual, even for an estate as grand as this one. Someone was scared, and he had every right to be.

  Farron had waited for half the night in the forest, studying the manor, the guards, who came, who left. Two carriages entered, both being checked thoroughly, so sneaking in that way wasn’t an option. No, he needed another way. And after hours of watching, the only idea he could come up with was to climb along the cliffs and hope the fence didn’t encircle the back side of the grounds or at least be lightly guarded if it did.

  He shifted on his feet. Heights didn’t really frighten him, but that route just seemed unpleasant. Inconvenient. Getting out afterward would be just as arduous, even more so if he got caught. But it was the only option he had at the moment.

  Farron faded back into the trees and made his way towards the water, carefully picking his steps. The forest ended abruptly before a sheer drop. Waves crashed far below, the ebbing water revealing rocks that poked up like jagged teeth. He untied the rope around his waist and tied one end around a tree and threw the rest over the edge.

  He looked over at the estate. From this angle, it looked like the fence didn’t extend all the way around the back. A boon for him, at least. Perhaps they didn’t think anybody would be foolish enough to scale the cliffs. But unfortunately for them, he was just that. The climb should keep him out of sight of the guards for a while.

  With a sigh, Farron slowly lowered himself down the side of the cliff, using the rope to rappel, his feet finding purchase in the craggy surface. Then he started to climb sideways. Sharp rock stabbed at his fingers. He managed to make it several feet over before he was forced to abandon the safety of the rope. He watched as it dangled lifelessly in the wind, then took a deep breath and continued on his way. If he died here then at least he wouldn’t have to return to the castle and face the wrath of his brother and the Council.

  It seemed like hours had passed by the time he came around to the back side of the estate. His arms and legs had almost reached their limit, his hands cut and bloodied. He climbed up and peeked over the edge.

  A low hedge stood a few feet from the top of the cliff, an extensive manicured garden spread out behind it. The main building of the estate loomed dark and commanding with only a few windows lit up. Farron climbed up onto solid ground and rolled over onto his back next to the hedge. He stayed there for a few moments, looking up at the sky, breathing heavily. He’d like to say the hard part was over, but it wasn’t. He still had to find Lord Kasían and kill him.

  With a light sigh, he rolled over and got to his hands and knees. He peered over the hedge and was able to get a better look at the house. Three-storied and intricate in design, the estate was typical to the region, with large sandstone bricks, tiled roof, and a columned balcony that wrapped around the second floor. Flowered vines engulfed the right side of the house. Another easy climb, he thought. Two men stood guard, one at each corner of the building. Security was light in the back, it seemed. Most of the guards were concentrated on the front. Farron grinned. Perhaps this part wouldn’t be as bad as he had thought. He ducked back down and started to crawl, following the hedge around to the side of the garden. The guards in the back would be unprepared. Hopefully.

  When he was halfway to the house, he stopped behind a tall flowering plant and leaned back in a crouch. He ran a hand along the stems of the flowers to cause a light rustle. Then stilled, listening. A moment later he heard footsteps as one of the guards approached. He undid a thin cord wrapped around one of the straps to his daggers, and stretched it out between his hands, then waited. When the footsteps were on the other side of the plant, he tensed, readying for the attack. He needed to make this quick.

  The guard passed by him, his eyes scanning the gardens, but looking in all the wrong places. Farron quickly snuck up behind him, wrapped the cord around his neck and pulled him back into the shadows. He struggled, clawing at the cord, gasping for breath.

  “Scream and you die,” he whispered into the guard’s ear.

  The man stilled. He was lightly armored, if it could even be called that, in a simple leather jerkin, with only a single sword at his waist. More a sword for hire than a guard.

  “Lord Kasían, where is he?” he hissed.

  “I don’t—” he choked out.

  Farron tightened the cord and the man flinched, making a gaggin
g sound. He started to go limp. “Where?” he asked again. He didn’t have time for this. But before he could get an answer the man sagged against him.

  Farron made a tsk sound and lowered the man to the ground. He used the cord to bind his hands behind his back, then used one of his daggers to cut a strip of cloth from the man’s pants to use as a gag. He didn’t need a repeat of the last time. He then dragged the guard behind the hedge. When that was done, he peeked around the flowering plant at the house again. Which window was it? It wouldn’t be long before the other guards discovered one of their men was missing.

  He had to take a chance.

  Crouching low to the ground, Farron ran towards the right corner of the house, where the vines grew rampant, and used them as a foothold to grasp the bottom of the railing to the balcony. Quickly, he climbed up and over the banister and made for the nearest window. He peered into the paned glass, but the room was dark and empty. One after the other, he checked each window as he made his way down the balcony towards the only one on this floor emitting light, each room as empty as the first. He edged up to the last one and looked in.

  A man stood across the room in a dark red dressing gown, bent over slightly, washing his face in a basin. A lone oil lamp burned on a table next to an enormous bed. Although lavish, the room didn’t look to be a master suite. A guest room by the look of it. That was a good sign.

  And then he saw it. The man had straightened and Farron caught sight of his face in the round mirror on the wall. Though more wrinkled and grayed than the last time he’d seen him, the man was definitely Lord Kasían.

  Farron glanced around. There had to be another way in. If he broke the window the whole grounds would hear it. Across the room, a pair of glass doors stood open to the balcony. He stiffened. Was he waiting for him? Or was he just that arrogant?