The Kingmaker Complete Trilogy (The Kingmaker Trilogy #1-3)

by Gemma Perfect

  Out in the courtyard the fighting has come to an end. There are split lips and broken noses, and a few dead guards. Weaver is doubled over, back against a wall, blood dripping onto the floor.

  “Will you live?”

  He grins as he looks up at me. “Of course.” He spits a gob of blood onto the floor, his nose and his lip are bleeding and there is blood on his sword. “I didn’t kill anyone, but I put a few out of service.”

  I grin at him. A few injured guards are nothing to what I’ve done. “I’ve got Millard.”

  “What? Where?”

  “I whacked him over the head, like you did with Wolf, but I’ve tied him up, with Ginata, in case.” I shrug; he’ll know what I mean.

  “Fantastic. Where?”

  “He’s in Ginata’s rooms, I followed them, he’s injured and she was going to fix him. I whacked him with a stone bowl thing. Twice.”

  “Is he dead.”

  “No. I’m going to go and find Everleigh, come with me.” I shake my head. “No, go to Ginata’s rooms and watch them till I get back. Just in case.”

  “Brilliant idea. Where is it?”

  I give him the best directions I can remember and head through the mass of groaning, bloodied bodies, thinking that if Will and Everleigh had any sense – which they do – they’ll head for the cottages.

  Despite the bloodshed and the plan going wrong I am happy. Della and Addyson are safe. I’ve not seen Finn, but I can imagine he ran back to the cottages when the fighting started, and I don’t blame him. He’s not a fighter.

  We are all safe and well and considering how things played out, that’s not too bad. I wish we’d got Wolf tied up like I tied up Millard, but there was nothing around to do it with. We threw him down a ditch, after I kicked him, and hopefully he’ll stay there for a bit. I don’t think he’d look for Millard in Ginata’s rooms anyway. At least not straight away.

  I still need to be quick though.

  I jump over the wall, heading back to the cottages and land on something. Hell, it’s someone – it’s Will. He’s got a bloody wound on his head but I can see he’s alive from his colour. “Will!” I shake him. There’s no sign of Everleigh and Will is hurt. That means something went wrong.

  “Will!” I shake him harder. “Will! Where’s Everleigh?”

  He moans and groans but doesn’t wake up. “Will! Where’s Everleigh?”

  He can’t answer my questions, so I roll him closer to the wall. I’m no healer but I don’t think he’s in any immediate danger and I have to find Everleigh.

  I can’t; she could be anywhere. I scream out her name in case she’s close by, but there’s no reply. I scream it again. Where the hell is she and who took her? One of Millard’s men, I know that much. Damn Millard. I contemplate going back to the castle, kicking the life out of him, but I don’t think it will help. If someone has taken her then it’s him they’ll bring her back to.

  Maybe she’s already in the King’s rooms. Only I don’t know where they are. The castle is huge and I barely found my way out of Ginata’s rooms to the courtyard.

  I close my eyes for a second, try to think of the best thing to do. Then I start running to the cottages.

  When I burst in Finn, Della and Addyson all jump out of their seats. “I need help.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “I can’t find Everleigh. She was with Will, but Will’s hurt.”

  “Where is she?” Addyson bursts out crying and I want to join her.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  “Has Millard got her? Is she dead?”

  “No. I’ve got Millard.”

  “What? How?”

  “I followed him and Ginata and cracked him over the head.”

  “Has Wolf got her?”

  “I don’t think so. We cracked him over the head and threw him down a ditch.”

  “But he could have got up?”

  “He could have...let’s just go. I thought if someone took her they might have taken her to Millard’s rooms. But I don’t know where they are.”

  Addyson takes my hand and the four of us rush back to the castle. I tell them everything I know on the way. The way Millard let Will go free. The way Everleigh made it rain and set the wooden hanging tower on fire. How Weaver knocked Wolf out. How I knocked Millard out. And hit him twice. How Will is hurt. There’s too much to say, and we have to be quick.

  Will is where I left him and still breathing and so we abandon him again, and head to Ginata’s rooms first. There are a few stragglers still sitting around the courtyard, groaning and nursing their wounds, but anyone who could get away has gone and there are only two bodies, both Millard’s men.

  Addyson leads the way because I can barely remember. We go through Ginata’s rooms and into her work room and I can see that Millard is still unconscious. If we could just find Everleigh we would have everything we want.

  Ginata holds her hands up. “Untie me and I’ll get a sleeping draught for Millard. He won’t wake for hours. Where’s Everleigh?”

  “She’s gone?”

  “What? Where?”

  “We don’t know. We found Will, but he’s been knocked out. There was no sign of Everleigh.”

  “We’ve lost her?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Now what?”

  We are all silent. I feel sick that we’ve lost Everleigh. She could be dead already.

  “We could put him in the tower...” Addyson suggests, her voice quiet. “It’s what he did to me.”

  “That would be good, but we don’t have a key.” I ruffle her hair and she smiles up at me.

  “We need him somewhere we can leave him without worrying. While we look for Everleigh.”

  “What about the cottage?” This suggestion from Della. “No one would look there.”

  Ginata looks worried. “True, but if he wakes up then he’ll know I’m not on his side.”

  “Is that so terrible?” I ask.

  30

  GINATA DOESN’T ANSWER and Ceryn gives her a strange look. “This is everything we wanted. Millard out of action and Everleigh on the throne.”

  “Yes, but Everleigh’s not here.”

  “Whoever took her, took her for Millard...” Weaver thinks the same way as Ceryn. “So, they’ll bring her back to Millard.”

  “So where do we go, what do we do with him?” Della asks.

  “We go to his rooms.” Ceryn and Weaver grin.

  “We’ll be safe there. No one can sneak up on us.”

  “And then when whoever has her, brings her, we’ll attack them and crown her.”

  “That’s a bloody good idea.”

  “Brilliant.”

  “And if Wolf comes, he’ll never expect us to be there and we can attack him again. Tie him up this time.”

  “No one will expect us to be there.”

  “Do we know who took her? Who chased them?”

  “It was Brett,” Ginata says. “The one with the bandaged hands.”

  “He’ll have worse than that when we find him. Right, let’s move Millard, before anyone comes looking for him.”

  Ceryn uses her dagger to cut some of the ropes off him so he’s easier to carry and for a second everyone just stares at him. This is the King of the Realm; knocked out, tied up and drugged. What they have all been a part of is an act of treason and without Everleigh there to take over his reign it seems far worse of a crime.

  Addyson kneels in front of him, her older brother. She touches his face and then touches his crown. Then she takes it off his head. “For Everleigh.”

  The silence is thick, it’s too upsetting, too sickening, that Everleigh is missing, could be hurt, could be dead. That they finally have the crown, but not the head to wear it.

  “Right, let’s go.”

  Finn and Weaver carry Millard easily from Ginata’s work room to his own room and Ceryn ties him back up. She pulls the ropes extra hard and gives him a kick on the shin before turning away. “What if I st
art looking for Everleigh and you boys fetch Will to Ginata. Addyson – you go and wait in Ginata’s rooms with Della.”

  “Why go looking for her? We think they’ll bring her here, whoever has her.”

  “What if we’re wrong?”

  Weaver nods his agreement. “I’ll come back and guard Millard?”

  “Let’s hide him first, in case anyone comes in. Put him in this closet.”

  They shove him in a closet, where there’s less chance of anyone coming across him by accident.

  Ceryn nods and the plan made, they all walk away from their crownless King.

  Back in her own room Ginata paces while Della and Addyson sit on the window seat, crown on the table near them. She can hear them chatting to each other but can’t hear what they are saying. She envies their closeness; she has no one that she’s close to since Halfreda died.

  She’s stuck in this limbo between helping Everleigh but being separated from her, serving Millard and having such conflicting feelings about him.

  Leaving him just now, trussed up like a chicken and helpless felt worse than wrong; it felt like a betrayal. But helping Millard and not Everleigh is another type of betrayal. She takes a slug of ale from the cup on the table, her mind made up.

  Her hand is searching among her potion bottles before she knows what she’s doing and she ignores her inner voices as they argue.

  “I’ll watch for them in the corridor,” she announces her intention to Della and Addyson but they barely glance her way.

  She has no idea how much time she has as she finds herself running along the corridor to Millard’s rooms, but she knows it’s not long. She bursts inside and shuts the door behind her, resting against it, heart hammering, stomach twisting.

  She throws open the closet door; Millard looks like a victim; his handsome head empty without his crown, his thick hair ruffled with the indentation of the heavy gold. His rich clothes make him look pathetic because he’s tied up and vulnerable.

  She looks at the bottle in her hand and takes a deep breath. What is she doing?

  Making things fair, giving him a chance.

  Serving her King.

  Betraying her Queen.

  She walks slowly to his side. If Weaver comes back now it’s all over; Everleigh and all the others won’t want anything to do with her. She will be killed as a traitor when Millard is killed or, at best, locked up; her betrayal of Everleigh and her cause complete.

  Or, before she crosses that line, she could go back to her rooms and wait for Will, patch him up and keep herself and her feelings separate; become an observer of all that’s going on rather than a participant.

  What to do?

  She pulls the dagger from her boot and slices at the ropes that bind him. She holds his head back as though he’s an infant who cannot help himself and she pours the tonic that will wake him up into his mouth.

  Deed done she rests her hand on his cheek for a second, before turning away from him and rushing back to the corridor to wait for Will. Only seconds after she gets her breath back, Finn and Weaver come around the corner carrying him.

  “All good?” Weaver asks and Ginata nods.

  “Help me to get him laying down.” She wants to keep Weaver from Millard’s rooms for as long as she can. Give her King a chance to come around and make an escape.

  “I think he’ll live,” Weaver says.

  “Thanks. Do you think Della and Addyson should go back to the cottage? Maybe you could take them?”

  Weaver frowns. “I should guard the King.”

  “He’s tied up and hidden. I just fear for their safety, walking back alone. Even with Finn.”

  Finn laughs and Ginata touches his sleeve. “No offence.”

  “None taken. I know I’m no great warrior.”

  They smile, a moment of lightness welcome to them all.

  “I don’t want to leave you though, Ginata.”

  “I’ll be fine. None of the King’s men would do me any harm, and most of them are off somewhere licking their wounds. It was quite a fight out there today.”

  “You’re right. Yes, it’ll be safer for Addyson away from the castle. The King’s men won’t bother you if they see you, but they might try to hurt or imprison her again.”

  “I’ll sort Will out. He seems fine. There’s a lump on his head but no fresh blood. He just needs a tonic and some rest.”

  After hugs and promises to be careful, Weaver, Finn, Addyson and Della leave Ginata and Will and while Will snoozes, oblivious to all that’s going on, Ginata sits with her head in her hands.

  Right or wrong she’s done what she’s done, and now it’s time to live with the consequences, whatever they may be.

  CERYN IS SCREAMING out Everleigh’s name as she rides through the woods, past the river, up to the top of the forest, looking down over the castle and the villages beyond.

  It’s not fair that they’ve got Millard prisoner; that Addyson took the crown off his head and they have nowhere to put it. “Everleigh!” Her voice is hoarse from shouting but she keeps shouting and searching and shouting and searching. It’s what Archer would have done if he were alive and she has to honour that. Besides, she had a choice to go home and leave Everleigh to fight her own battle for the throne, but she didn’t want to. She has to be here helping and until she finds Everleigh she will keep shouting and searching.

  WEAVER HEADS UP THE little group, Finn and Della either side of Addyson. It’s right to get her away from the castle, and with Millard tied up and unconscious and hidden, there is less urgency than there might have been, but he still wants to be quick. There’s still tension in the air and a feeling of unrest around the castle.

  The courtyard is still quiet, though a few little maids are quietly going about their business. Life always goes back to normal, but Weaver is ready, hand on his sword, in case.

  They leave the castle behind them, happy to move away from the memories of the day; Everleigh being taken and Will attacked, all the fighting, the horror of it, the hollow victory of taking Millard’s crown and having nowhere to place it.

  They walk along, quietly, each one lost in their own thoughts, memories and troubles.

  What happens next is a question none of them can answer.

  Everleigh

  BRETT WHISPERS HE IS sorry and then throws a hood over my head and carries me away from the castle, from Will, from any sort of rescue.

  Sorry, for what? I cannot help but think of what he wanted to do to me before and I am trying not to be sick in this hood. If I do, I am likely to choke and die and I won’t go out like that.

  I want to fight so badly but my body is limp and I am not so stupid as to not recognise that I am helpless.

  Imagination is no friend to anyone in trouble; I am imagining Brett taking me to the tower; or attacking me in the woods again, like he did before, but succeeding; I picture him killing me and proudly taking my body to my brother to show him how clever he is and how deserving of praise. Will he hit me, hurt me, touch me, kill me?

  I am sweating and shivering and more scared than I have ever been in my life. Even when I imagined Halfreda slitting my throat I wasn’t this scared; I had planned for that my whole life long, I had pictured it and prepared for it as best I could and I knew with the whole Realm watching I wasn’t going to scream and cry and dissolve into tears; I had decided to die like a brave Kingmaker, head held high, throat exposed...

  But this, this is different. I don’t know what’s coming. Brett ready to attack or my brother crowing with victory or more of the King’s men wanting to aid and assist Millard in anything he chooses, no matter how nefarious.

  I am not sure what will be worse; facing Brett or my brother.

  At least my brother doesn’t have any designs on my body, doesn’t fancy himself as the right man to awaken my inner desire and convince me to abandon my innocence.

  Millard will kill me. I don’t think he’ll lock me up, maybe before but not now, and maybe death would be preferable to what
Brett might do.

  So, some sort of horrible ending awaits me when I get to wherever we are going and a little bit of me hopes that Brett will just keep walking. Keep walking and I can close my eyes and pretend I’m somewhere else, doing something else, laughing or joking, that maybe it’s a week and a half ago and my father lives, Halfreda lives and Archer lives.

  Tears flow down my face at the thought of all that I have lost and a little helpless, weak bit of me thinks death would be welcome. At least I could stop fighting, stop battling, stop.

  Forget about how lonely my life has become, how helpless and hopeless. How much I miss my father, Halfreda. Archer.

  I hope that maybe whenever we get where we are going, he will leave the hood over my head and I will never really know what my fate is.

  Brett is slowing down and the snakes in my tummy unfurl and squirm freely, the bile rises in my throat and I swallow it down, the bitter, acrid taste making me wince.

  He sets me down and whispers, Walk, to me, and putting his hands either side of my hips, in a far too intimate gesture, he guides me forward.

  My feet are refusing to work properly, the fear and the upset making me stumble and stagger. What if I just lay down and refuse to go further? Will that start an attack sooner or give me a short reprieve while he decides what to do with me?

  He pushes my head down and I feel the atmosphere around me change; I think we are in the caves at the farthest edge of the river; the air is dank, oppressive and our treads are echoing.

  The end of our journey is coming. I can feel it. We are walking more quickly, with purpose. Brett is taking me to where I am going to end up. At his feet or my brother’s, I cannot stand the not knowing, the lack of sight making every other sense heightened.

  I can smell Brett; he smells like he needs a good wash; he smells nervous, if that makes any sense. I can hear my breathing, shallow and too fast, panic overcoming me and threatening to send me into a meltdown.

  I can sense other people in the cave, hear breathing that’s not mine or Brett’s, and my knees buckle, no longer able to hold me up. As I drop to the floor I feel the dirt and stones under my palms, and I know this is it; I am about to die. Or be violated. Or both.