Amber Eyes

by S. D. Grimm

  Connor concentrated on calming his breathing. Heels clicked harshly against the marble floor in the corridor. At least four sets of footsteps stopped outside his door. One of them light with a cocky bounce. Oswell. Accompanied by . . . soldiers?

  Connor’s throat tightened. If they’d trailed Rebekah here—

  The door handle turned. Rusted hinges creaked. Connor tried not to smirk. His mother had been quieter. Torchlight preceded the intruder.

  Connor gripped the knife under his pillow. The door burst open.

  Connor sat up, knife in hand. “What is going on here?”

  Oswell tilted his chin. “You dare raise a weapon against the king’s second?”

  “You busted into my room, scaring the pants off of me when I would be sleeping is all.” He put the knife on his pillow and raised his hands. “I meant no disrespect.”

  The three soldiers Connor had expected filtered into his room.

  He tipped his chin toward them. “What did I do to earn the greeting party?”

  Oswell being in charge during Franco’s absence could prove terrible, especially if the man suspected Connor was guilty of more than sneaking food from the kitchens. Oswell had always had it out for Connor, ever since Franco first called Connor “brother.” And now Franco wasn’t here to step into the middle of a disagreement.

  Oswell crept farther into his room. “Your mother is missing.”

  “Missing?” Connor jumped out of bed and grabbed his sword and shirt.

  “You didn’t know?” Oswell stared at him, and a wicked smile slid across his lips. “Be careful. I’m borrowing Belladonna’s power.”

  Connor swallowed. A spell made her power viable for a few hours. He’d have to take care with his words tonight, or it could be his mother’s last.

  “That she was missing? How could I?” Connor pulled his shirt over his head. Then he flew to his window and opened it. The cool night breeze billowed in like a welcome friend. A hint of gray rose up from the horizon. The gray of morning.

  “See anything?” Oswell came up behind him.

  Connor looked down the four-story drop to the ground from his tower. The wind shifted, sprayed him in the face. “No.” He turned away from the window and headed toward the door. Soldiers impeded his exit.

  He whirled around. “Are we going to look for her?”

  “We have scoured the whole castle and she is gone.”

  “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

  Oswell narrowed his eyes and searched Connor’s face. “Since the king has always felt the two of you were brothers, I doubt he would have told you, but I’ll not spare you the gory details about your mother.”

  He locked eyes with the king’s second. “What details?”

  Another gust of wind fluttered against the edge of the valance.

  Oswell leaned on the fireplace mantle. “She killed innocent soldiers tonight. Two men in training who stood watch in the east wing. Boys, only fifteen.”

  “Killed? What proof do you have?”

  Oswell smiled. “If dead soldiers aren’t enough, once we find her, we will have the proof we need. Now have you seen her?”

  “Seen her? I was in my bed before you barged in.” That was close. Oswell didn’t seem to notice a lie. “If you think I’ll believe she killed innocent boys—”

  “If I can prove it?” Oswell asked.

  Connor shook his head. The bracer. She’d been wearing the bracer. She’d made him drink the potion. Was it possible that she’d killed the guards? Or made them kill one another so she could lie? “Then—then she has gone against everything she ever taught me.”

  “I am glad to hear you say that.” Oswell straightened. “I was beginning to think you might have changed.”

  The soldiers started nosing around the room. The sun sent a soft glow through the window as its early morning rays touched the skyline. They would find her.

  Panic clawed at his gut. He stood. “What are you doing?”

  “She may have snuck in here. You are the only person she trusts.” The way Oswell stared into Connor’s eyes unnerved him. “Do you want to tell me if she is here and get on my good side?”

  “I told you—”

  “Leave him alone.” Rebekah came out of his dressing room and threw her daggers down.

  “Mother.”

  A burly man grabbed Rebekah, but she didn’t struggle. “Let my son go.”

  “I thought we could be reasonable.” Oswell rubbed his hands together.

  Connor walked over to his mother. “Is it true? Did you kill innocent men—boys?”

  Rebekah stared at him open-mouthed. Tears filled her eyes. “Tonight was the only chance I had.”

  Oswell waved his hand. “Take her down to the dungeons. She will be beheaded today.”

  “Wait.” Connor looked over his shoulder at Oswell. “Please. I need answers first. You know King Franco would give them to me.”

  Oswell’s eyes narrowed. “Very well.”

  Connor drew his sword and pointed it at his mother. Oswell didn’t intervene. Instead, the guard released Rebekah. Connor’s sword tip motioned toward the window, and Rebekah moved there, away from everyone else. Thea had told him this moment would come. How had she known?

  Truthfully, when she’d said Oswell would make him see that Rebekah had betrayed him, Connor didn’t believe it for a moment. But now . . . now that she stood before him, after all she’d done to get him to leave with her tonight—against his will—he understood just how powerful Thea was. And he prayed that she was right.

  If she wasn’t, he was about to make the worst mistake of his entire life.

  He moved so her back was to the open window. “You taught me to be kind, mother. Was it all a lie?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “You killed harmless boys?”

  A tear slid down his mother’s cheek. “The queen poisons her soldiers. Then she makes General Balton give them a tonic to stop the poison from killing them. But it’s too late; it’s already infected them. They are no longer the same. They become monsters with black hearts.”

  “That makes it okay to kill them?” He advanced, pushing her closer to the window. “To make people do things they don’t wish to?”

  Her eyes widened. “I’m not the only one guilty of that.”

  So she had made him drink on purpose. The wind howled. Everything was set up just right. Just like Thea had told him. How could he have doubted her? She knew it all. Knew he would have to do this to his own mother. His heart ached. Rebekah would choose her own fate now.

  “Connor.” Oswell placed a hand on his shoulder. “We can take care of Rebekah.”

  He snarled. “She betrayed me, didn’t she? Everything she taught me? Everything I lived for?” He turned toward his mother. Made his voice soft. “Answer my question. Does that make it okay to kill them?”

  “Sometimes we have to do things against our values in order to save the ones we love.”

  Connor lowered the tip of his sword and walked toward her. “I trusted you.”

  Her golden hair fluttered around her angelic face as she stared back at him with tears in her eyes. “Connor, I love you. I had no choice.”

  “There is always a choice. You taught me that.” He reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand.

  She kissed his palm. “Yes. There’s always a choice.”

  The wind hit his face. Warm. His heart trembled. What could he say to her now?

  “I choose to trust that you know what you’re doing.”

  A voice filled his mind. “Now.”

  He dropped his sword. “I do. And I choose justice.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed. How easily she fell out the window.

  Gasps staggered behind him.

  Connor lurched toward the window, clutched the cold sill in his hands, and watched his mother fall. His heart throbbed with every beat.

  Warm air rushed up to greet his face as Cliffdiver swooped beneath her. She grabbed hold of the grypho
n and he carried her to the ground. She lay down, twisting her form as if dead. Cliffdiver looked up at him, and another gust of the mild wind hit Connor’s face before the gryphon ghosted into the shadows.

  Oswell pushed him out of the way. “He did it.” A smile snaked across his face. “I didn’t think you had that kind of darkness in you.” He looked as though he’d tasted something sour. “The king will be pleased.”

  Connor closed his eyes. Rebekah was free. Almost. “She got what she deserved.” He sighed and turned toward Oswell. “Let me take care of her body.”

  “Of course. Make a pyre.”

  Connor squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. He walked away from the sound of Oswell’s chuckle. Once out of his room, he descended the stairs without torchlight. His wolf eyes didn’t need it. When he reached the ground, he scooped Rebekah into his arms. She stayed limp, her head lolling with each step as he walked out of the palace court, across the drawbridge, and out toward the cemetery.

  He would build his funeral pyre. No one would think to bother him.

  As soon as they were out of eyesight, he spoke to his mother. “I’m so sorry. I—”

  She raised her head and gripped him around the neck. “I trusted you. You did well in there.”

  Connor smiled ruefully. “Nearly killing you?”

  “I never doubted.”

  He set her down and began collecting wood from the woodpile.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Oswell wants me to burn your body, but you can go.”

  “Go? I’ll wait for you.”

  He tore his gaze away from her. “I’m not coming, Mother.”

  “Connor?”

  “I have to follow my Destiny Path.”

  “You can’t stay. Franco will return, and he’ll know the trace spell was broken.”

  “The king believes he has my loyalty. This will get back to him and make him more sure of it.”

  “But Belladonna.”

  “I’ll guard my tongue. That is an art you taught me well.” He grabbed her hands and watched the tears fill her eyes. “Did you really kill the soldiers?”

  “No.” She shook her head and managed a tearful laugh. “I used the tangle flower as planned. They will wake in the morning.” She hung her head. “But I imagine Franco will order Oswell to kill them now, to keep your loyalty.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe I can get them to safety.”

  “So you are really going back?” She smoothed his hair.

  “Mother, something—someone—needs me to stay.”

  A faint rustle in the trees announced the white-headed gryphon. Connor nodded toward the animal. “Thank you for saving her.”

  Cliffdiver cocked his head and eyed Connor. “You look different, but smell the same. And I can feel your power.”

  Connor smiled.

  “You smile the same, too.”

  “Who is this?” Rebekah eyed the creature.

  “Cliffdiver.”

  “You’re bonded to him?”

  Connor nodded.

  Rebekah held out her hand to the gryphon. “Thank you.” She looked at Connor. “He does not seem to recognize you. Has he ever seen you as a man?”

  “No.”

  Rebekah turned to the gryphon. “You will take care of my son?”

  Connor shook his head. “Don’t worry about me, Mother. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

  “How will you find me?”

  “Moon Over Water? I could find it in my sleep by pull alone.”

  “They need you.”

  “Since when have I been one to neglect my duties?”

  She pulled him in for a hug. “Never.” When she released him, all evidence of tears had been erased, but she sniffed. “I won’t be able to protect you now.”

  “You need to go to the others. They pull you?”

  She nodded. Then she turned, leaving him to finish the pyre.

  At least his mother had made it away. And the plan had been flawless. Well, not entirely. He swallowed. He’d need to free himself from Franco’s clutches before Franco found out what he and his mother had so desperately tried to hide from him. And now that the trace spell was broken, he’d have to remain more visible.

  Neither of those things would be easy, especially since Thea had no more guidance to offer from the grave.

  Chapter 63

  Mysterious Women

  Ryan lowered the bucket into the well. Cool autumn air rippled his

   shirt. He couldn’t get his thoughts off Madison and Morgan. He was beginning to wish he’d never met either of those two mysterious women. Still, he wanted to help Madison. But he wouldn’t do it alone. No matter what Morgan saw, going to the palace alone was suicide.

  He was no hero. Hadn’t even completed his training. And here she was, trying to send him off on some rescue. Now Logan—there was a hero. The Lone Wolf, for heaven’s sake.

  And Ethan was Stone Wolf. That didn’t surprise him. For some reason, he’d always suspected his brother to be that swordsman. If Morgan wanted to help them, why didn’t she just ask them to save Madison? Who was Ryan Granden anyway?

  No one they needed.

  “I can use you if your friends won’t. I will prize your talents where they ignore you.”

  “How long does it take you to get a bucket of water?” Chloe interrupted his thoughts and stood there with her hands on her hips.

  “It’s coming.” His calloused hands pulled the rope.

  “You’ve gotten dangerously good with that thing.” Chloe motioned to his sword.

  “You have, too.” He nodded to her daggers.

  “Thanks. But not as fast as you.”

  “Well, I did like to pretend I knew what I was doing with one before we even left home.”

  “And you think I never played with daggers?”

  He hefted out the bucket and handed it to Chloe, then took her empty one. “Well, if you hadn’t spent so much of your extra time doing penance—”

  Chloe splashed water all over him. “You were saying?”

  Ryan tried to squeeze the excess water from his well-worn clothes and scowled. “You’re getting dangerously good with that thing.”

  She giggled. “And now you have to bring up more water. You’d best hurry. You don’t want Estelle and One Eye to come home from the market to no supper.” Her grin turned impish. “Might as well bring both buckets. I’ll be cutting up carrots.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes as he lowered the bucket back into the well.

  Stag followed Chloe to the house, the bounce in his tail matching the bounce in her step. Ryan laughed to himself.

  When he had two full buckets, he lifted both and headed toward the house. The cool breeze chilled him to the bone as it filtered through his wet clothes. A few stray leaves rustled past. He looked up at the clouds racing across the gray sky. The sunlight barely broke through.

  A shrill scream carried through the wind.

  Chloe.

  Ryan’s heart tripped on a beat.

  He dropped his burden and dashed toward the cabin.

  The scream still echoed in his ears, but another came. Chloe raced out the back door, looking behind her. Ryan caught his sister. She was trembling and covered in blood. The kitchen knife in her hands dripped red.

  “Chloe?”

  “They killed Stag.”

  The back door opened and spewed out a woman dressed in tight clothes with black leather overlays. The queen’s emblem decorated her uniform, and she had long, dark hair. He remembered her. The lie detector from the palace. He’d bested her with his wit once before. A sword was a different matter entirely.

  Ryan placed himself between the woman and his sister and drew his sword. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “You.” The woman stepped forward. Her hair swung in a ponytail behind her.

  Three men came out of the house. One was covered in blood.

  The woman in black narrowed her eyes. “Your dog killed one of my men. I like to retur
n favors.”

  “I guess you’ve made an enemy.” Ryan tightened his grip on his sword. Dance. He just had to dance.

  The woman smiled a perfectly wicked smile. “And any friend of Logan’s is an enemy of mine. Especially you.”

  Ryan pushed his sister farther back with his right hand and clutched his sword in his left. “Run, Chloe.”

  “No.”

  “Run, Chloe!”

  “No!”

  The three men raced toward them. Ryan concentrated on the dance and the steps of the fight began to map out for him. Every muscle showed the direction the soldier would move. Ryan gritted his teeth, clutched his sword, and let his instinct take over.

  With the first clash, the man’s strength pushed against him. The man lunged again and pain shot through Ryan’s shoulder. This guy was good. Trained. Ryan didn’t stand a chance. That meant Chloe didn’t, either.

  A new fervor pulsed through Ryan’s veins. He had to make sure his sister lived to see another day. He lunged forward, blocked, pushed, and hacked down at the man’s right arm. How easily his blade passed through bracer, flesh, and bone.

  “Good.”

  Bile crept up Ryan’s throat as reality rushed back to him.

  “Now the other.”

  This was different than the huge giant he’d fought with Jayden. Giants were monsters, not men. This was a man. He pushed his sword through the man’s middle, evidence of a scream burning his throat. The man fell.

  One Eye’s voice pulsed in Ryan’s ears: Someday you will look a man in the eyes and you’ll kill him. You’ll see the light fade. His screams will ring in your ears long after they’re silenced. The world will want to stop around you, but boy, if you’re in the middle of a fight and you stop, that will be your last kill.

  That was a voice Ryan welcomed. He willed himself to keep dancing. His arms ached, but he raised his bloodied sword and turned toward his sister’s attacker. Chloe staggered back and thudded to the ground. Her daggers, wet with blood, went up to defend her, but they wouldn’t stop a sword.

  Blood covered her weapons.

  And his sword.

  Blood.

  Death.

  He was a killer.

  Chloe screamed.

  A strange roar resounded in his head, and a white lion leaped toward Chloe. Where had it come from? He hadn’t seen one with Belladonna before. Ryan gripped his sword in both hands and sliced through the air at the lion’s white head. It dissolved like smoke in the wind, but his blade penetrated flesh and bone. A man. He’d struck one of the soldiers and sent the man’s head tumbling to the ground. Ryan’s stomach clenched. His shoulders screamed for him to stop.