“She can shoot an arrow. I’ve seen her.”
“She wouldn’t have known we were here, my King.”
“I hate this. Why won’t she just let me reign in peace?”
They are silent the rest of the way, Millard brooding about his injury – the murder he just carried out completely forgotten and Wolf waiting to do as he’s told.
CERYN AND WEAVER RIDE faster than they ever have and when they get near to the cottages they walk the two horses to a copse of trees and tether them. They don’t want them visible if any of the King’s men ride by.
They are both crying by the time they get to the front door. Weaver wipes his eyes. “I’ll go first?”
“Let me.”
She pushes open the door and four faces look up at them, hope and worry etched on soft skin. Everleigh shakes her head when she sees Ceryn’s face, how her eyes flood over with tears, her mouth tries to speak, her shoulders shake.
“No!”
Ceryn is nodding now, Weaver standing behind her with his arms around her. “I’m so sorry. We found her, but we were too far away.”
“Your brother killed her.”
Everleigh drops to her knees, crying and muttering the word no, over and over.
Addyson buries her head in Della’s clothes and cries quietly.
Finn looks at them. “What happened?”
Della sits Addyson in front of the fire and eases Ceryn into a seat. Weaver sits on the arm. Everleigh stays on the floor, and Finn sits next to her, patting her back and trying to think of any way he can be helpful.
Everleigh raises her head as Ceryn starts talking, tears streaming, though she makes no attempt to wipe them or stem them.
“We rode through the woods from the river to the castle. Weaver heard a noise so we stopped. We could hear horses, men, dogs...but we couldn’t see anything. I climbed a tree. I could see them. About thirty of the King’s men on horses and about the same number of dogs. Lanorie was on one horse with a man and the King was riding next to them.”
Weaver rubs her arm and takes over. Ceryn is crying too much to talk. “We kept up with them, narrowing the gap between us and them.”
“Was she bringing them here?” Addyson’s tone is accusing and Weaver is quick to shake his head. “No, they were going in the wrong direction. When they got through the woods and there was only clear land ahead, I suppose the King realised it. He called the horses to a stop and we got a bit closer.”
Everleigh sobs louder and Addyson drops next to her, holding onto her, crying with her.
“Millard got off his horse, then the other man did as well – he pulled Lanorie off.”
“It happened too quickly, we couldn’t help.”
“What did he do to her?” Everleigh’s voice is so quiet they all strain to hear her.
“He...” Ceryn can’t make herself say it.
“Within a second he got his sword and he-”
“Beheaded her?”
Weaver and Ceryn nod and Everleigh screams. “I hate him. I hate him. I want to kill him!”
“You will,” Ceryn says, her voice steely. “I’ll help you.”
“We were too far away, it happened so fast. We were ready to try...”
Everleigh’s smile is faint. “Really?”
“Yes. We agreed we would try. For you. Die for you.”
“I did shoot an arrow at him, though.”
“She hit him too if his scream was anything to go by.”
Everleigh’s laugh turns to a cry and they are all crying, too shocked by the turn of events to speak.
GINATA HEARS THE FUSS from the corridor before Will. Will is sitting on the window seat in a daze, knees drawn up to his chest, cheeks wet with tears.
As the door slams open, Ginata is already on her feet, anxious to know what’s happened. Will jumps up too.
Wolf is holding on to Millard, who is injured, and leaning on Wolf heavily. Blood is dripping from a wound in his arm and on to the floor.
“He needs help. He’s been shot at.”
Ginata takes Millard’s hand and leads him towards her work room, instinct to help and heal taking over. “What happened?”
Millard is groggy from the pain and comes quietly.
“Someone shot him.” Wolf’s voice is tinged with anger.
“Did you find Everleigh?”
“No. That little witch was lying to us. She had no intention of taking us to Everleigh.”
“Where is she?” Ginata keeps her voice light, like she’s not too bothered. She can see Will behind Wolf and quickly shuts the door on him. Whatever has happened to Lanorie – and it is likely she is dead – Wolf does not need to see Will’s reaction. She knows he will be listening at the door but she cannot stop that.
“I need to lay him up here.”
Wolf helps her get Millard on the table, where he passes out from the pain and shock.
“She’s dead.” Wolf sounds pleased.
Ginata turns away from him, reaches to the back of a shelf for some cloth to tie around Millard’s arm. She is glad that Wolf cannot see her. She hopes that she looks briskly efficient and not at all upset. She turns back to face him. “Did you do his dirty work for him again?”
Wolf shakes his head. “No, he was that furious, he did it himself. Sliced her head right off.”
Ginata bites the inside of her cheek, hard, tasting blood. “Leave me alone. I need to help the King.”
“I’ll be out there.” Wolf opens the door and Ginata is glad to see no sign of Will. He hasn’t fainted on to the floor with the news of his sweetheart’s death. She doesn’t know where he is but she cannot be seen to care.
She must do her job now, with Wolf outside. She must help the King.
Ginata
WOLF IS PACING IN THE other room, worrying about his King.
I am standing stock still in front of Millard, worrying about Will. Everleigh. Myself. How simple was life just a few short weeks ago? I wish with all my heart that Halfreda was here, to hold my hand, and help me out.
Looking down at the King, unconscious and vulnerable, a wicked thought passes through my head. Wolf is in the other room; he isn’t watching me.
Millard is laying in front of me, the cause of all our problems.
How simple would it be to kill him?
My eyes spill over with tears. What has happened to me? Heal not harm, help not hinder. Until the damn death draught I have only ever used my powers for good. Where have I gone wrong? My moral compass is so skewed that I am standing in front of a King and wishing him dead, actively plotting in my head as to how I could hurt him.
Shame on me.
I close my eyes, tears staining my face, branding me. I am changing from myself to someone I don’t recognise and don’t like. I reach over to the shelf and take a swig from the flagon of ale. I never need to look for food or drink since I have moved into the castle and I must say I like it. But the good things are being outweighed by the bad; like my brain thinking wicked things, like wondering if I should kill Kings.
I stand closer to him. Look at his face. This man may be a cruel and slightly mad King, but he is a man, a person. I have no right to end his life, I have no claim to his life. I can help Everleigh in any way possible but I cannot go down this road. It will only end badly for me.
I touch his skin. What happened to his soul to rot it? How is he so evil at such a young age? I close my eyes, my hand on his cheek and I tell myself, silently but firmly, this man was just like me once, innocent of wrong doing but considering it. He stepped over that line.
I will not.
I concentrate on my skin touching his and will some of my goodness (just about) to leech through and heal him.
I will never know why this young prince turned out to be a crazed King with murder on his mind. I will not know his thoughts or secrets. And I do not need to.
I need only serve.
Him.
Everleigh.
Whoever holds the crown must hold my l
oyalty, if only to stop me doing something terrible that I would never recover from.
I let my hand wander to his heart. I feel the beat of his life and I focus on him feeling well and being good. Is it too late to save him, whoever rules? If he was repentant, Everleigh could lock him up, let him live.
When did his heart change? He would have been a beautiful baby, an innocent boy, with all the privileges and riches any child could desire.
He is a handsome man. With his eyes closed and the hate they glow with covered up, he looks even better. He is handsome and I know some of the revulsion I felt for him has dissipated, despite what he’s done to Lanorie. After all, I just thought myself about crossing that line. Whatever stopped me didn’t stop him. That’s the only difference
We have both had dark thoughts. I was strong enough to deflect them.
Or too cowardly to follow them through. I shake my head at that thought.
The bleeding has stopped but I need to tend to his wound. I need to wake him too. I go to a shelf of potions and find one that will slowly revive him.
I lift his head, awkwardly and let a few drops wet his lips. He stirs and I drip a few more into his now open mouth.
He opens his eyes and closes them again.
Wolf pokes his head through the door. “He awake yet?”
I shake my head. “Help me get the clothes off his top half. I need to be able to get at his wound.”
Wolf lifts Millard under one arm into a sitting position and I step around him, pulling at his clothes, ripping one bit of his shirt, struggling to get it up and over his head, without much assistance from Wolf, who seems to enjoy my discomfort.
Pig.
Wolf-Pig.
I shake my head to clear it again, I need to focus.
Millard opens his eyes and this time they stay open. He winces when I touch the skin around his cut, trying to figure out how bad it is. Wolf ripped the arrow out before he got here, so the skin is ragged and sorer than it would have been had the arrow been removed carefully.
I gather all the things I need to clean and sew the wound closed.
Wolf looks a little queasy and leaves me alone with the King again.
“Sorry my King, but it will hurt.”
“I can take it.” He says the words with a strong and clear voice, but the way his eyes fill with tears as I clean the cut show me how much it hurts.
I pull a stool over so that I can sit close to him, stitching him up, mending him and I wish I could mend his heart, his soul, his lust for murder and violence, his manic desire for power.
His body is fit, and I can smell the manly smell of him. I have never sat this close to an undressed man before and it unnerves me. What a different feeling this would be if I wasn’t the wise woman of the castle and he wasn’t the lunatic King.
But I am the wise woman and so I bend my head, avoid his gaze and stitch him, slowly, carefully and neatly back together. I am pleased with my work and when I straighten up to look at his arm, it looks good.
“Thank you,” he says, taking my hand, the needle dropping to the floor, spots of his blood dripping onto my hand, my skirt, the ground.
I freeze as he leans over and puts his face close to mine. I freeze when he kisses my cheek. And I am still frozen when he puts his lips against mine.
25
WOLF COMING IN TO THE room breaks apart their kiss and he scowls at them before turning on his heel and walking straight back out.
Ginata is silent, her fingers touching her mouth where the King’s lips had been only seconds before. In that instant, she had forgotten he was mad and evil and awful and murderous and traitorous and horrendous and only felt warm lips on her own, only felt a tingle of sweetness she had never felt before, only felt time stop and the world disappear.
“Forgive me,” Millard’s voice is smooth and deep. “It’s been a difficult day.”
He slips off the table and strides out of the room without looking back.
Ginata’s arms drop to her sides and she cries. What is wrong with her? She takes another sip of ale from the flagon, washing away the taste of her first kiss.
She hears footsteps and then Will is holding onto her and crying against her shoulder and she is crying too and holding him but for different reasons.
“I can’t believe she’s dead.”
“I know.”
They cry together for who knows how long.
“I have to see Everleigh.”
“We’ll sneak out tonight. We’ll go after supper.”
Will nods too upset to speak.
EVERLEIGH STANDS UP, breaking the inertia that has set over the whole group. “Where is she? I need to see her.”
Della is shaking her head. “No, Everleigh, that’s not a good idea.”
“I have to.”
“Everleigh-”
“I can’t leave her alone. I can’t. The animals will eat her.”
The silence says that she is right.
“I’ll take you,” Ceryn says. “Weaver you stay. Just in case.”
Weaver nods and Everleigh holds out a hand to Ceryn. “Now.”
Ceryn nods and takes her hand. “It won’t be very nice.”
“I know, but I can’t leave her. She’s looked after me for so long. She died for me.”
The truth of the words hit her anew and the tears sting afresh.
“Let’s go.”
“What will you do with her?” Finn asks.
Everleigh stops; they usually wrap people up and let them go off the island. Or they’re burnt at the Ashes. Neither of these will work because of where she is.
“We could make our own fire for her...” Ceryn’s voice trails off as she remembers how much she disliked Lanorie and feels ashamed of herself for being so mean spirited earlier.
“Fire is good,” Della says, nodding at Everleigh who looks unsure. “It’s not in the Ashes with any old body. It’s nicer than that.”
Everleigh nods. What else could they do?
“We’ll take the horses.”
Everleigh gives Addyson a hard hug before following Ceryn out of the cottage. They untie the horses and Ceryn helps Everleigh onto Weaver’s horse. “What’s her name?”
“Sweet Mabel.”
“Nice. What’s yours called?”
“Pitch.”
“Pitch. It suits her. It suits you.”
Ceryn smiles and takes the reins. “Just squeeze your thighs and she’ll canter along.”
“I can ride.” She’s used to riding horses and finds Sweet Mabel easy to manage. She wipes tears away. “She was my best friend. Apart from Will. Have you met Will?”
“Yes. We saw him at the castle. He seems nice.”
“Ah, he’s more than nice. He’s the most wonderful person in the world. He was in love with Lanorie.”
“Yes, he said.”
“He mooned after her all the time. She wasn’t interested.”
“Why not? If he’s so great?”
“He’s the fool’s son. A fool in waiting...”
“And?”
“Most people can’t see past the title. But he’s no fool. Not really.” She’s crying again.
“Are you alright?”
“Not at all. How am I going to do this? Stand this?”
“You just will. We surprise ourselves with what we can do, what we can stand. When we have to.”
“Your mark?”
“Yes. It’s hard for me to talk about it.”
“I bet. We don’t have to.”
“Thank you. Until this week only my parents, the man who looked after me after they threw me out and Archer and Weaver had seen my mark. I still can’t believe I showed you all.”
“I’m glad you did. It’s helped Addyson no end.”
“I’m glad something good’s come out of it. I hate it, it’s why I’m so defensive, I guess.”
“Defensive? No!”
They both laugh and then fall silent. “How far?”
“Not very. Eve
rleigh. Let me take the reins, close your eyes. Just till we get there.”
Everleigh shakes her head. “No. she died for me. I owe her this. I should look. I should see. I have to.”
Ceryn nods. She understands. “Through this last lot of trees, but stop a sec, let me check it’s clear.” Ceryn is sure that the King won’t give a second thought to this girl he killed with no regard at all, without a second of hesitation, but she wants to be sure. She will not lead Everleigh in to danger.
As quickly as she had earlier, even though it’s a different tree, Ceryn climbs to the top in seconds. The way forward is clear. She cannot hear anyone or see anyone. Except Lanorie. In two parts.
Satisfied, but sad again, she shimmies down and jumps back onto Pitch, stroking her behind her ears. “It’s clear.”
“But she’s still there?”
Ceryn nods. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I have to.”
They ride along, horses close together. “Thank you.” Everleigh’s voice is quivering. “I can see why Archer was friends with you. Both of you.”
“Thank you. That means everything.”
Everleigh stops the horse when she sees Lanorie ahead of them and takes a deep breath. She jumps off Sweet Mabel’s back and takes a second to steady herself, face against the horse’s mane, breathing in the scent of her.
Ceryn follows suit, leaving Pitch and Sweet Mabel to stand together and graze. She takes Everleigh’s hand.
Together they walk towards Lanorie. The two parts of her so cruelly separated. Everleigh stops and looks between Lanorie’s head and the rest of her, sobs wracking her whole body. Ceryn lets her drop to the floor, and then moves over to Lanorie.
The girl she took an instant dislike to, for no good reason really.
She closes her eyes and then, checking that Everleigh’s not looking, carefully picks up Lanorie’s head, touching her soft hair, almost forgetting that it’s separate from her body and that she’s dead. She takes it over and lays it on the floor, right atop of her body, so that with a quick glance, she might still be alive, just sleeping.
She drapes some of Lanorie’s hair in front of her, disguising the break between the two body parts; she’s not even sure why. Trying to make amends for being such a witch to her when she was alive maybe.
The Kingmaker Complete Trilogy (The Kingmaker Trilogy #1-3) Page 39