by Morgan Rice
Sophia wasn’t sure what she would do if he turned out not to be safe. She wasn’t sure if anything could turn her into the kind of blood-soaked conqueror that people seemed to fear, but she suspected that if anything could, it would be the news that something had happened to Sebastian.
She just had to hope that it wouldn’t come to that.
“Forward!” Sophia ordered, and they continued to advance through the streets. The strangest part about it was how quiet things were there. She could hear the sounds of battle in some of the smaller streets around them, but for the most part the city was silent save for the calls of the messengers she’d sent out. There was almost no sign of enemies now.
It was more like a parade than a battle. Sophia walked in an open space, made calm by the presence of her troops around her, Sienne at her side, with the forest cat’s ears high as she watched for danger. Yet there was no danger to be found. It felt as though those enemy soldiers who had been there had been committed elsewhere, or had seen that the city had fallen in all but name.
Gradually, people started to come out of their houses, some opening windows to look out, others stepping tentatively onto the streets. When those were not harmed by the soldiers around Sophia, more joined them, forming crowds who stared at her, still not quite comprehending what was happening.
Sophia did her best to explain it as she walked. “People of Ashton, my name is Sophia Danse. I am the Daughter of Lord Alfred and Lady Christina Danse, and I am the rightful heir to this kingdom. I am not here because I want to conquer you! I am here because I want to save the man I love!”
She kept calling out to them. It was a strange feeling, being at the center of so much attention, but Sophia didn’t feel as nervous doing it as she’d thought she might. She felt almost as if she were exactly where she was meant to be, as if all of this was precisely what should be happening in that moment. Someone threw a flower, and Sophia caught it, turning it in her hands and then threading it into her hair.
It was a peaceful moment, but around her, Sophia could see signs that things had been anything but peaceful just a short while ago. Some of the houses nearby bore the scars of cannon shot in crumbling stonework or holes punched through wood. A couple smoldered in ruins, although thankfully there were few of those. It was impossible, too, to ignore the dead bodies that littered the streets, royal soldiers and men in Ishjemme’s colors lying where they’d fallen.
“We’ll bury all of them,” Sophia whispered to Sienne.
Behind her, Sophia could see the crowd starting to follow, the people there trailing after her forces like the tail of a comet.
They walked on, and now the royal parade was in sight, the broad width of it leading up toward the palace. There the clash of blade on blade and the bark of muskets still sounded. Sophia didn’t hesitate.
“Charge!” she ordered, and to her surprise, it wasn’t just the soldiers with her who ran down there. Some of the crowd with them did too, the extra mass piling into the soldiers who were trying to block the route to the palace.
Sophia saw Lucas down there, fighting at the heart of the battle, and Kate by his side. They cut and thrust in seemingly perfect harmony, each striking in the gaps the others left. Combined with the sheer weight of the extra troops joining the fight, in moments, the royal forces were running. Kate looked as though she wanted to run after them, but instead, she turned to Sophia.
Sophia went up to her to hug her.
“Ashton is ours,” Kate said with a grin.
Lucas came forward, offering a bow, but Sophia wasn’t going to leave it at that. She drew him into their hug instead, holding him close with her sister.
“Thank you,” she said, “both of you.”
They stepped back.
“It was our pleasure,” Lucas said.
Kate nodded. “I’ve always wanted to attack Ashton with an army. Of course, the way I imagined it, more of it ended up on fire.”
Sophia wasn’t sure exactly how serious her sister was, although from what she’d done at the orphanage, there was every chance that Kate meant it.
“I’m just glad to see you recovered from everything Siobhan did to you,” Sophia said. “I thought we would have to invade without you.”
“You almost did,” Kate said.
Sophia shook her head. “We couldn’t have done it without you. You brought Lord Cranston’s people, and you saved me on the beach.”
“You were the one who drew their forces off,” Kate pointed out.
Lucas laughed. “Perhaps we should just say that you were both amazing and leave it at that. Sophia, Ashton is yours.”
Sophia looked up at the palace. “Not all of it. Not the bit that matters.”
Until they had the palace, they wouldn’t have whichever elements of the Dowager’s supporters remained. They wouldn’t have the biggest symbol of power in the city, or the heart of the kingdom’s government. More importantly, they wouldn’t have Sebastian. None of this counted if they couldn’t get to him. To everyone else, this invasion probably already looked like a success, but without him, it was a failure, pure and simple.
“We’ll take the palace,” Lucas promised.
Kate stretched her arms the way a sword master might before a bout. “I’m looking forward to it. Just give us the word, Sophia.”
Sophia looked up at the palace. It wasn’t some ancient castle with thick walls, but it still had defenses. The people in there would be those most committed to the current regime, not prepared to yield without a fight. They needed to get in there, though, or she would never see Sebastian again. She couldn’t allow that to happen. She wouldn’t.
“Take it,” she ordered. “End this, and bring Sebastian back to me.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sebastian tried to stand tall as they led him out from his tower cell, his arms tied behind his back. He tried not to show any fear, tried to be everything that a prince should be. He looked around, trying to find a way to escape, but four soldiers escorted him, each with a wary hand on his sword hilt. There was nothing to do but walk.
They led Sebastian down through the palace, and servants stopped in their tasks as he went past, watching him as he went to his death. Most of them had the carefully blank expressions of people who had long ago learned that they could not afford to show any reaction to the things their betters did. They could not become involved, because they knew all that it might cost them.
The soldiers took Sebastian down to a courtyard, where a gallows stood waiting, a headsman’s block set in place atop it. An executioner stood there holding a two-handed sword, his mask featureless, no sense of who he was or how he felt about the orders he had been given. A priestess of the Masked Goddess stood nearby, already chanting funerary rites even though Sebastian still lived.
More servants stood around, the only audience for what was meant to be the last event of his life. Sebastian recognized Falks the gardener, who had let him hide in the planting sheds when he was young, Willis the chamberlain, and more. There were nobles too, there to watch the end of the Dowager’s line. Sebastian couldn’t decide if their presence was a kind of tribute to him or a show of loyalty to their new ruler. Ultimately, it didn’t matter.
The part that mattered was coming far too quickly.
“Get on with it,” one of the guards said, shoving Sebastian forward. “Kneel, traitor, and be grateful that you’re getting something as quick as a sword.”
“I’m no traitor,” Sebastian declared. “My brother killed our mother, and Angelica has murdered him!”
He didn’t know what he was hoping for by saying it. It didn’t persuade anyone that all of this was a mistake, didn’t make them let him go. Sebastian hadn’t thought it would, but he wouldn’t stand by and let the lies stand, even though pain flared as one of the guards slammed a gauntleted fist into his stomach.
The guards shoved him forward, forcing him down to his knees. The priestess there brought forward a mask of white bone, kneeling with it before h
im as she held it out to him.
“To cover your sins, and your fear,” she said. It was probably meant to be a kind of mercy, or as close to one as the Church of the Masked Goddess ever managed.
Sebastian shook his head. “I have no sin to be afraid of here. If you want to kill me, you’ll do it looking at my face.”
“But—”
“Doesn’t make any difference to me,” the executioner muttered. “Mask, no mask, his head will come off the same.”
Sebastian heard the man move into place beside him with a heavy tread.
“If you’ve any last words, might as well say them,” the man said.
Sebastian found himself thinking of Sophia then, and the emotions that welled up inside him at the thought of her were almost overwhelming. Would she receive the letter he’d written for her? Would she know how much he loved her? He’d wanted to see her face again more than anything, but now… now it seemed that he would be beheaded here, without ceremony, without even the benefit of a real trial. It seemed like a pointless, foolish way to end a life.
Sebastian looked out at the small crowd of servants and nobles, imagining Sophia there, waiting for the moment when the sword blow that ended his life would fall. He wondered how sharp the blade was. Would it hurt, or would it pass through his neck before he even knew it?
Somewhere in the distance, bells started to sound. Sebastian ignored them, focusing on the moments to come, on his love for Sophia. It seemed like the one pure thing in his life, and—
“Alarm! Alarm!” a soldier yelled, running into the courtyard. “The enemy are forcing their way into the palace. We need every soldier we have!”
Panic came to the courtyard so fast it almost seemed comical. One moment, the nobles there were watching for Sebastian’s death, the next, they were milling around, pushing to get clear. The soldiers who had brought Sebastian there ran for the door, ready to fight or trying to escape, he couldn’t tell which.
The executioner didn’t run though. “Enemy or not, I can still finish you, you—”
Sebastian kicked out as hard as he could, catching the man on the knee and sending him stumbling back, then scrambled to his feet. The executioner cursed and caught his balance, swinging the great sword he held in a clumsy arc. Sebastian managed to duck it, the sword dragging the other man off balance as it passed overhead.
“You can’t dodge forever,” the executioner said.
The trouble was, Sebastian suspected he was right. The gallows only had so much space, and the courtyard beyond was filled with panicking people who would make it almost impossible to escape without tripping or falling. Unless he thought of something, he was going to die.
“Here, your highness!”
Sebastian glanced over to the side of the gallows, and was surprised to see Falks the gardener there, a pruning knife in his hands. He slid it across the boards of the gallows in Sebastian’s direction, and Sebastian threw himself for it, landing clumsily but managing to snag it with his bound hands.
“I’ll deal with you next, gardener!” the executioner promised, as Sebastian started to saw at the ropes that held him. The other man advanced, his heavy sword rising up slowly over Sebastian’s head.
Sebastian’s wrists came free, and he lunged up, under the arc of the descending sword. The pruning knife was short, but it was sharp as he plunged it into the executioner’s chest. The man’s mask meant that Sebastian couldn’t see his expression, but he could hear the gasp of surprise, felt the man struggle to complete his job in the moments before he fell.
The executioner’s sword clattered to the gallows and Sebastian snatched it up in spite of its weight. Seeing him like that, most of the remaining nobles made a run for the door. He turned back to Falks.
“You saved me.”
“Well, you and your brother might always have been at my plants, but you’re no murderer, your highness.”
“I’m not,” Sebastian said. “But Angelica is. She killed Rupert.”
“Ah, well…” the gardener began.
“What is it, Falks?” Sebastian said.
“Well, your highness… I think there’s something you ought to see.”
***
Sebastian followed as quickly as he could as the gardener led him out through the palace, using all the servants’ routes that had nothing to do with the main corridors. He led Sebastian to a low lean-to that served as his home, and that had seemed so much larger when Sebastian was a child.
As they walked, Sebastian could hear the sounds of battle, and occasionally saw soldiers rushing back and forth along the halls. None of them came near, though. He suspected that the sword he held had a lot to do with that. They managed to make it out into the palace grounds, then to Falks’s home.
Rupert lay on a camp bed at the heart of it, his chest rising and falling, just barely.
“How?” Sebastian asked, hardly able to believe this was happening. He’d been so certain that his brother was dead. Now, he didn’t know what to think, or what to feel.
“Some of the servants found him,” Falks said. “They didn’t dare call for a physiker, because that would have made Milady most unhappy, but he was still breathing and I… well, they know that if anyone knows the plants that will cure what ails them, it will be old Falks.”
“So you saved him?” Sebastian asked. He went over to his brother. In sleep, his brother looked peaceful, almost innocent. It was a lie, but it was one that Sebastian wished were true.
Falks shook his head. “Not exactly. Here, he needs to drink some of this.”
He passed over a water bottle that, when Sebastian uncorked it, smelled of anything but water. He pressed it to his brother’s lips, letting some dribble through.
“What is it?” Sebastian asked. “An antidote to what’s poisoned him?”
Falks shrugged. “I tried my best, but poisons are difficult. This one had already done a lot of damage.”
Slowly, as if even that took effort, Rupert’s eyes flickered open.
“Sebastian?” he said, his voice scarcely above a whisper. “Is that you? I can… barely see you.”
“I’m right here, Rupert,” Sebastian said.
“I think it’s my eyes,” Rupert said. “And the rest of me.”
“The rest of you?” Sebastian said, fear coming back. Just how badly was his brother hurt?
Falks answered that. “The cure wasn’t able to bring your brother all the way back. The poison was too much.”
“I’m telling this, Falks,” Rupert said, then coughed so hard Sebastian thought his chest might cave in. “Angelica poisoned me. She did a good job of it. My legs won’t move. My arms barely manage to. I spend half my time asleep, and half of the rest delirious.”
For almost the first time in his life, Sebastian felt a wave of pity for his brother. Rupert had always been the strong one, the dashing one, the handsome one. Now he lay in his cot bed and there almost seemed to be nothing left of him.
“You’ll get stronger,” Sebastian said.
“And what if I don’t?” Rupert shot back. “You think Angelica would be stupid enough to use poisons people recover from? What if I’m stuck like this? An object… a thing for people to laugh at? A ruler can’t be like this. Can’t be this weak.”
Sebastian could only imagine what it was like for Rupert right then. All his life, he’d been untouchable, strong, free to do as he wished. Now, he was all but a prisoner in his own body.
“There will be those who think I deserve this,” Rupert said.
“No one deserves to have this done to them,” Sebastian replied.
“No matter what they’ve done?” Rupert demanded. His eyes half closed in remembering. “I’ve done things that would make you shudder, Sebastian. I’ve killed more people than a plague wind. Men and women. I’ve tortured. I imprisoned you. I’ve… I killed our mother. I stabbed her, so many times…”
“You don’t need to tell me all of this,” Sebastian insisted. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’
t want to know all the awful things his brother had done in his life. “You’re still my brother.”
“I’m a fraction of him!” Rupert bellowed, with a faint hint of his old anger. “A monster. No, I was a monster before. Now, I’m just the shadow of one. Did you know I tried to rape that girl you love so much? And she wouldn’t be the first.”
Anger rose up in Sebastian at that thought, red and raw. “Why tell me that?”
“Because maybe then you’ll have the courage to do what you need to do,” Rupert said. “I need you… to kill me, brother.”
“What? No!” Sebastian shook his head fiercely. “No, I won’t.”
“I want you to,” Rupert said. “And you know I more than deserve it. I want your forgiveness, Sebastian, but I want your help, too. I can’t live like this.”
“What if you deserve to?” Sebastian shot back, his anger as much at what Rupert had demanded of him as at anything he’d done. “Why should I have to be the one to do this? How can you ask me to do it?”
“Because you’re my brother,” Rupert said, as if that answered all of it.
The worst part was that, in a strange way, it did.
Sebastian could feel tears springing to his eyes, the pain too great to contain. He took out the same knife that he’d used to kill the executioner. It was wickedly sharp, even if it had never been made for combat.
“I don’t think I can do this,” Sebastian said.
“Of course you can,” Rupert replied. “Do you hear the alarm bells? It means that my lovely wife has let invaders in. What do you think they’ll do to me if they catch me?”
Sebastian didn’t have an answer for that. Sophia had every reason to hate Rupert, but he couldn’t imagine her being cruel, or vengeful. Kate, though…
“You’d be doing the kind thing,” Rupert said. “The only thing.”
“I…” Sebastian moved closer, setting the point against Rupert’s chest, where his heart was.
“You can do this, brother,” Rupert said. “You’ve always been the one who did his duty, haven’t you? Well, this is your duty now.”