"Out of the way, boys." Dante gripped Seth and Riley by the arm. "This has been a long time coming."
Dante hurriedly ushered them toward the corner of the kitchen. The old squire put his hand firmly on Seth's chest in warning. He grabbed the kitchen table and overturned it. Riley helped him slide the table to the corner. They placed it in a barrier position. Dante drew his sword and stood between Seth and the fighting men. They were treating him like a helpless child when less than an hour hence he'd sent the Amity raiders scurrying back to the sea.
Steel slammed against wood as another deadly attack from Sandor missed its mark. He was skilled with a blade and nearly a match for Leo. Seth gripped at the stone glistening on his finger. The battle would have been over before it began if the Lion Ring were still upon his father’s finger. Spinning and lunging, their deadly dance drew blood from both combatants. Seth could do nothing but wait for the outcome.
Sandor lunged. Leo twisted into his body, slapping the blade out of his hand. Stabbing his enemy in the shoulder with a short thrust, his father came back into the First Stance. He pressed the sword's tip against Sandor's throat.
"You won’t murder me in cold blood, Ranger."
Leo leaned closer to Sandor. His words were slow, deadly. "I am no longer a ranger."
Terror grew in the assassin’s eyes. Death was coming for him. Seth leapt over the table and pushed past Dante. He stood beside his father and placed his hand carefully on Leo’s sword arm.
"No, Father." Seth moved between them. "I know you have the right to kill him after what he’s done, but he is known as another man here. You won’t find justice on Marianna. I don’t want to lose you again. Let me take him to the constable, or we can see him to the high court in Larkspur ourselves."
"You show your weakness, half-breed filth." Sandor spat at Seth's boot.
"Weakness? No. It's taking every last bit of will I have not to kill you myself, murderer. You took my mother from me, but I won't stand by and let you take my father as well."
Leo’s eyes found his own. The anger and hatred melted. He lowered his sword with a smile. Then he twisted his body with a speed worthy of any ranger and slammed a fist into Sandor's face. The man collapsed to the floor.
"My son has spared your life, thief of my happiness. Surrender, before my sword raises again."
Sandor took his hands away from his bleeding nose and lifted them in surrender. Then, with a serpent's speed, the villain rolled onto his feet and bolted out the door. Seth didn't give chase. The man had helped raise him, kept him fed, and educated him. Sparing his life would be payment in full for his past.
"He won't get far," Leo said. "So much like your mother. You have a good and honest heart."
Leo’s gaze was drawn to something behind Seth's back. He turned, but saw only empty space in the dark window. His father continued to stare out the glass for a brief moment. Deep loss was upon his face. Clearly forcing a smile, he gripped Seth's arm and led him away from the window.
"Dante, we cannot leave Emma in Sandor’s house after all her kindness to Anne and my son. Help Seth fetch her."
"Yes, Edmund, I'll take the Cub in the morning."
"No, you must do it tonight, while Sandor's wounds are still fresh." Leo took Dante's arm with his other hand. "It will be quicker with three. Riley, keep an eye on Seth for me? Make sure he stays safe, yes?"
"Of course, Leo. I promise. Do you think there’s time to stop by the farm and say goodbye to my family, sir?"
"Perhaps on the way back."
His father kissed Seth on the forehead again. Gentle fingers lingered upon his cheek. Something was wrong. Seth’s heart told him so. Despite his foreboding, he found himself on the lane waving goodbye to his father anyway. He chanced a look at Dante, whose lips had tightened in a frown. The old squire sensed it too.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Dung and damp. In all Julian's wild imaginings of his final moments with his father, he'd never guessed the end of their match would come in such a dreary place. A woolie farm was not the setting for a once great King of Valdeon to meet his end. Then again, Leo had chosen his fodder-filled bed. He could die in it.
A head blocked the light in a corner panel of the kitchen window of the farmhouse. His spy sunk back down slowly into a crouch. Julian's finger tapped impatiently upon the hilt of his sword as the man moved silently back through the shrubs toward his waiting entourage. This was it. The end of his searching and the end of the stinging nettle in his heart. Leo's time would soon be over.
The spy, dropping to his knees upon the ground, shifted his eyes to Julian’s boots. "He is there, my lord prince. I could not hear what was said, but there appears to be a disagreement of some sort."
The door of the farmhouse slammed open and a man in black robes staggered out. Julian and his men remained absolutely still as he ran past them toward the backward little town. It appeared some unfortunate woolie farmer had angered Leo and had gotten the worst in the exchange.
Three more figures exited the shack and walked purposefully up the hill. One of them was the Lion’s squire. Faithful to the last. The old fool. He prodded two teen boys up the path before him. One was a fiery haired woolie farmer whose pale skin glowed in the darkness. The other was a taller boy with dark hair. Something in his manner seemed vaguely familiar. He didn't carry himself like a farmer.
"It’s Dante De Vincente, my lord. Shall we kill him and the boys?" Marcellus drew his weapon with hungry glee.
Julian eyed his butchering friend with a sigh. Marcellus’s fetish for bloodshed would bring the entire woolie-dung-infested island to gather at this secluded farm. Nothing must ruin this moment, not after all his planning and pain to stage the raid upon their town.
"No. Dante is nothing. Let him go and settle whatever argument took place tonight. It was most likely a silly disagreement about wages and none of our concern. The Lion's squire will return to their hovel and find he has failed his lord."
Julian stepped out of the trees and onto the path. He didn't bother with stealth. Leo would know he was coming. Motioning for Marcellus and the others to remain where they were, he walked without hiding toward the farmhouse. Years of frustration and waiting had finally brought him to this moment, yet he hesitated at the door.
You lose your nerve now when the Lion Ring is within our grasp? Have you forgotten your desire to bear the crown? Think on your people, Julian. They need their king.
"I have forgotten nothing. You will forgive me for needing a moment. I go to murder my father, after all."
He grasped the handle and threw the door open. Edmund D’Antoiné was standing in the center of the tiny kitchen, sword in hand. The old ranger was still cunning though age had slowed him. Gone was the Jalora's mask of serenity. Raw emotion shone upon his father's face for the first time in more years than Julian had been upon the Erthe.
"Hello, Father." Julian looked around at the tiny farmhouse cluttered with cheap housewares. "Interesting choice of lifestyles. I hadn’t guessed you would pretend at farming, nicely done."
"Do not call me father, bastard child. My true son and heir is beyond your reach. He bears the Lion Ring now."
It was true then. Leo had spawned a half-breed babe with his Tslavian whore, and the Jalora had accepted him. He hadn't wanted to believe such a disgusting lie at the word of the stranger in his chambers. Perhaps the Jalora had gone mad out of desperation. No one would accept such an abomination or allow him to take the Lion Seat. If not for Gorman's incessant talk about invasion, Julian was tempted to allow this young Lion to try taking the Crown of Sorrows. The Valdeonian people would assassinate him before the day was out.
"Where is the unlucky young man? I'm afraid I'm rather in a hurry and will be forced to take the Lion Ring from him."
His father's face was stone. "Many warned me against keeping you, my queen's bastard child. I see now I should have listened to them. You've inherited her dark heart."
Keeping his bitter words in check,
Julian moved back to the door. Four hungry Dirge hovered upon the threshold, their song already coming in low tones. His fifth Dirge waited upon their ship, keeping any ambitious Amity raiders from betraying their word.
"Don’t look so unhappy, Leo. You’ll be with your Tslavian cow soon."
Julian hurried out of the farmhouse as the Dirge's song grew louder. Marcellus and his men were waiting for him beside a hovering dinghy. Julian climbed onto the little vessel, turning his face away from the howls inside the farmhouse. Marcellus sat beside him and gave the order to fly.
"You aren’t going to watch, my prince?"
"A young Lion bears the ring. Once I find him, we can return to Valdeon in triumph."
Once the Heir is dead, you mean.
"Precisely."
This half-breed boy wasn't a Jalora ranger yet. He wouldn't receive his full powers until his naming and entry into the legion. The creature was practically helpless. He would be easily defeated. Julian's tension eased a bit. The Lion Ring would be his this time. He'd killed two other brothers. One more wouldn't weigh too heavily upon his conscience.
"We have company, my prince!"
Marcellus gestured to the west. An ebony airship sailed low upon the horizon, its hull skipping inches above the cliffs. The sails swelled like storm clouds against the clearing sky. A massive crimson beast bared its fangs from their folds. Julian’s new allies from the north — the Jackal — had somehow followed them. It wasn't too difficult to guess who had led them to Marianna. He'd hoped they'd lost their changeling nanny in the streets of San Leonora. Curse the foul creature and may it meet a painful end!
Marcellus shifted uneasily beside him. "Are you certain these men are our allies, my prince?"
"I'm certain of nothing when it comes to Lord Gorman. These Jackal have grown too attentive. Take us in all haste to the fields beyond the airship port. I have a Lion to cage."
Chapter Thirty-Eight
They found the door to the McCloud home open. Emma, her cloak trailing wet upon the floor, stood just inside the house. Her eyes were riveted upon the closed door of the headmaster's study. Body tense and teeth bared, she kept still like a huntress trying desperately not to startle a thicket of pheasant.
"Emma?"
She turned to Seth, relief swimming in her eyes. Emma came to him. Her strong fingers dug into his arms. Then her gaze was drawn to his left hand where the Lion Ring glistened under the bright lamplight. Shaking her head, she dropped her chin to her chest. Moaning like a wounded beast, she let her hands fall away.
"You have taken up your father's ring then."
Gone was the friendly singsong tone of the woman from Horner Isle. Harsh Tslavic vowels stabbed into his heart just as surely as her lies. She looked at him at last. In her features was stony acceptance. This was a version of Emma he'd never met.
"I cannot say I am pleased, but it is a man's life you've chosen." Her smile was fleeting when Seth made no reply. "You've come for Pavel. He's shut inside his den. Have a care, Seth. He's a cornered beast and as such is more dangerous."
"Riley, will you fetch the constable? Justice is overlong in coming to Pavel Sandor."
Riley came to stand by his shoulder. "Emma's right, Seth. He's a killer. You have a care now."
He passed through the open door and hurried toward the police station across the square. The smart thing to do was to wait until he returned with Constable McTavish. Seth wasn't inclined to wait. Sandor was going to explain a few things or be very sorry he hadn't.
The door handle wasn't locked when he turned it. Seth pushed open the door. A cheery fire burned in the grate, sending shadows dancing upon the walls. The false headmaster sat in his chair behind the desk as he always did during the evenings. Despite his bleeding shoulder, it was almost as if Fergus McCloud had not transformed into Andara's deadliest assassin. Then the man looked at him with the cold eyes of a killer. He lifted a pistol from under the desk and held it toward them.
"Tell me who you really are."
"Not Fergus McCloud, if that’s what you mean." Sandor's eyes narrowed as a spiteful grin came to his lips. "Oh, there was such a man. I met him on the airship headed to Marianna. He was thrilled to be embarking on an adventure. I ended his adventure quickly. No one will ever find that body."
"I'll cut the head off this vile snake!" Dante reached for his dagger.
Sandor stretched out the pistol and aimed it in a perfect line toward Dante's head. "Patience, Lion's squire. Your turn will come soon enough. Test my patience further and we will have done with you now."
Seth stepped between them, pulling the killer's attention back upon him. Sandor's laugh exploded in obscene shrills.
"Shocked? You think me a monster? Remember, we’re related. I am your Mother’s cousin, after all. Stifle your Islander Puritanism, boy. Rest assured, I never touched your sainted mother. Though I wanted her, she would not let me so much as touch her hand." Pavel’s eyes grew distant. "I hoped she would learn to love me eventually. How could I compete with you, the Leo’s child? You were a constant reminder I was not her lover."
All these years, Sandor had seen Seth as a rival for Anne's affection. His incestuous desire and playacting as another man for decades must have driven him mad.
"If you loved my mother, why did you poison her?"
"Loved? What a child you are. She wanted to leave and make a mockery of all our sacrifices. I gave her a kinder justice than the one she would have found on Andara. Do you know what they do to treacherous women who carry babes of mixed Tslavian and Valdeonian blood such as yours, half-breed?" Pavel gave him a disgusted sneer. "They tie these traitors to a boulder and push the stone into the nearest body of water. If by some miracle the mother escapes and gives birth to such an abomination, the baby is poisoned."
"Tslavians are cruel creatures." He slapped an angry fist against his leg. After all he'd learned about control in the past few weeks, he'd failed to stop the man from goading him.
"My countrymen at least give the bastard children a merciful death. Valdeonians bury the babes alive. Ask the Lion's squire. He cannot deny it."
Dante turned from Seth's gaze. His jaw tightened as he shot Sandor a murderous glare. It was true then. Seth shook his head and took a step back. What kind of a world was he about to enter?
"Our ranger overseer has stopped me from killing you all these years, but even he can’t protect you now. You see, I have new friends. They understand my need to leave these cursed Isles. I will return to my holdings in Tslavia and back to my old life." Sandor's finger tightened on the trigger. "Goodbye, Seth. Give my best to your mother when you see her."
"My father will avenge me."
"I very much doubt it."
Sandor grunted, dropping the pistol to the ground. A knife jutted from his shoulder in the very spot Leo had wounded him. He glared at a point in the room to their right. Screaming with powerless rage, he dove for the pistol. Seth was quicker. He kicked the weapon toward Dante, who picked it up and aimed it at Sandor.
"You always were overly fond of your own voice, Pavel. It is my pleasure to remind you who is really the deadliest assassin in Andara." Emma crouched in a warrior's stance beside the wall, a second dagger at the ready in her sure hand. "Never turn your back on me, my husband."
She moved on graceful feet to stand beside Seth. Taking his hand, she squeezed it fondly. Emma was another soul who'd given her life to protect him. He remembered the cold indifference Sandor had shown her each day. She could have easily killed her bullying husband, but for Seth's sake she endured.
"I warned you what would happen if you threatened him again, my husband."
"This must be a happy moment for you, wife. You turn traitor to your own people for the love of this half-breed!" Pavel Sandor growled like a caged animal. "Will our king forgive you for breaking your sacred oath, my lady? Or will the death you deserve be his gift to you?"
"Silence your lying tongue, Pavel. Do you forget who taught you that game? I stopped
fearing death long ago."
Emma lifted her aging hand to touch Seth's cheek. In her eyes, he saw a glimmer of the woman who helped raise him. Gentle fingers smoothed along his cheek. Then she pinched him hard.
"You must forgive your mother, Seth. Pavel's lies kept your parents apart. Our king ordered him to hide her from Edmund until their marriage could be annulled. My husband saw his chance and tricked Anne into coming to Marianna, because he wanted her." Emma spat in Sandor’s face. "He fed her lies about imaginary pursuers, pretending to be her protector to keep Anne with him. Pavel had her terrified to leave Marianna."
"And the ranger? I know you have spoken with him, Emma."
"He never revealed his face to me or to Pavel. Be wary of him, Seth. He has his own reasons for keeping you alive."
Riley burst into the room with Constable McTavish in tow. The constable's expression darkened as he took in the scene. Riley, Seth noted, was frowning at Emma. She shrugged and stepped away from Seth. Once again, the little woolie farmer knew more than he let on.
"Fergus McCloud or whoever you are, you’re under arrest for murder, fraud, and anything else I can think of." Constable McTavish pulled his prisoner roughly from the floor. "If you behave yourself, I’ll let Doctor McFadden treat those wounds."
The constable searched Sandor, pulling another pistol and a few daggers from his clothing. Satisfied he'd found all the villain's hidden weapons, he pulled Sandor toward the door. It was over. Anne’s killer had been brought to justice. Now he could live in peace with Leo.
Sandor gripped the door frame, pulling against the constable's hold. Spittle ran down his chin as he fought wildly to face Seth. The constable stopped pulling on his prisoner when Seth nodded.
"You have no idea of the dangers you face if you leave this island, boy! Your mother’s people will shun you. Your father’s people will kill you. The rangers, well, they will have a far worse fate in store."
Emma move between them. The tip of her dagger poked out of the cuff on her sleeve. Riley came to stand beside her, his own weapon drawn. "Sleep with one eye open, Pavel Sandor. Always remember I serve the Lion."
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