Five Poisoned Apples

by Skye Hoffert et al.

  He darted to the door, and Zaig hurried after him so Ailda wouldn’t be surprised by the stranger. He watched the young man come to a stop just past the threshold of the cabin as the light caught Ailda’s face. Zaig couldn’t blame say he blamed him. He clapped him on the shoulder, and Raff jolted back into motion, offering a hand to the princess with humble courtesy. “Your Majesty,” he said.

  Ailda smiled nervously and allowed herself to be helped down from the saddle. Then she turned her reins over to Raff. “I’ll put the horses in the stable,” the young man said, tearing his gaze unwillingly from the princess to glance at Zaig.

  “Don’t unsaddle mine,” Zaig cautioned. He felt bad for the poor animal, but he couldn’t change mounts without alerting the queen that something was amiss.

  Zaig turned to Ailda, who was shyly studying the men grouped in the doorway. “This is only temporary,” he said softly, “but you’ll be safe here.”

  He offered her his arm, but she surprised him by grabbing him in a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. She released him just as quickly and tucked her arm in his, squaring her shoulders. He couldn’t help but admire her relative calm and trust, considering he’d just dragged her into the wilds to a cabin full of strangers with no explanation. He gave her a small smile and led her inside.

  The men rushed to get the princess a chair. No! A better chair than that! And some food. But on a plate with no chips! Zaig thought the flurry would never end, but finally she was settled, secure as could be, and things calmed down somewhat.

  When Raff returned from the stable, Zaig cleared his throat. “So, introductions. Your Majesty, this is Raff, who took care of the horses. Those two over there are his older brothers, Pell and Murke.” He pointed to the wiry, curly-haired siblings.

  “Then there’s Jathis and Norvin. They’re originally from the mountains, so they’re a mite strange but decent.” He grinned, and the brothers scowled back humorously.

  “And this is Zehlam.” He motioned to a short barrel of a man, who leaned on the corner of the table.

  “And last but certainly not least is Brax. The mother of this group.”

  “Mother, my foot,” Brax grumbled, but smiled at the princess.

  Zaig gave her a small smile. “I grew up with them. They have a logging business up here during the summer. You’ll be safe here until something else can be arranged.”

  Ailda wrung her hands together. “Thank you all so much. It’s good to meet you. I promise I won’t be any bother, and I’ll repay you as soon as I can.”

  “Don’t you worry about it,” Brax assured her, settling back into his own chair. “It’s no trouble at all. Zaig, sit down and eat.”

  Zaig shook his head, though he was so tired he wondered how he stayed on his feet. “I have to get back. I—”

  “Sit down before you fall down.” Brax’s voice was firm.

  Old habits took over as Zaig moved to obey the leader of their little gang, and he accepted the plate Brax pushed toward him. He took a slow bite, exhaustion settling into his limbs. Across from him, Ailda sat next to Raff, who kept up a steady stream of conversation with her. Zaig was glad to see some of the fear leaving her features, and Raff even got a smile out of her.

  Pell leaned toward him. “We were planning to go back to town in a couple days. It’s time to take a load of timber down, see the families, and get some supplies.” He flicked a finger toward Ailda, keeping his voice low. “But she probably needs to stay out of sight.”

  Zaig frowned, trying to think of all that could possibly go wrong, but the thoughts didn’t come easily after two days with hardly any sleep. “If I tell the queen she’s dead, she won’t exactly be looking for her. But if someone was to see her and recognize her . . .”

  “You boys can still go to town.” Brax rested his forearms on the table. “My wife is gone visiting relatives. She won’t be back yet. I can stay here this time with the princess.” He glanced at Zaig. “We go home the end of every week. If I stay this time, that would give you a fortnight before it’s time to go again. We’ll have to decide what to do by then.”

  Zaig nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “Let me tell the queen it’s finished. Then I’ll think of something.”

  Norvin stood to refill his plate and clapped Zaig on the shoulder on his way past. “Almost like old times, eh?”

  Zaig forced a smile and nodded, but his gaze slid to Ailda, still talking with Raff. It wasn’t like old times at all. Things had changed. They’d all changed. They weren’t the same boys who’d banded together at the orphanage, dividing up their food and helping each other through the lessons the priests gave.

  “Not to pry,” Brax’s voice cut through his thoughts, “but why’d you take this job? I thought the others were foolish, but at least it made sense those men should die. But her? I don’t see why you’d agree to that.”

  Zaig wanted to tell him to just let him be, but the familiar sounds of his friends talking and eating around him loosened his tongue and eased some of the tension inside him. He sighed. “I want to leave. Get out of here for good and go somewhere no one knows me. Maybe change my name. I needed the money.”

  Brax shook his head. “You should have just come here. We would have cut you in, you know that. Logging won’t make you rich, but it’s honest work, and if you saved, you could get enough to go away if you wanted.”

  Zaig stared at the worn wood of the table, following every scratch and fissure across its surface. “You all have families to provide for. I didn’t want to cut you short.”

  “We wouldn’t have minded,” Pell cut in. “Why do you have to leave anyway? You could still team up with us. There’s plenty of trees. We could use you.”

  Zaig shook his head. “I need to get out of here. There’re people who know they can find me in Laivden. I can’t just say I’m out of business. I want to start over where I don’t have to deal with any of it.”

  “You never should have gone off sailing,” Brax grumbled.

  Anger lanced through Zaig and he scowled, pushing back from the table. “I’ll be back as soon as I have a plan. Then you won’t have to worry about my problems.” He headed to the door.

  “Zaig?”

  He stopped and looked back at Ailda, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

  “You’ll come back, won’t you?”

  “As soon as I can.” He nodded, then stepped into the night and closed the door behind him, but he heard it open a second later as he headed to the stables.

  “Zaig, wait.” Brax caught up to him and put an arm out to stop him. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

  “I know,” Zaig muttered. “It’s fine.”

  Brax sighed. “Are you sure you can’t stay longer? Rest up? You look dead, yourself.”

  Zaig shook his head. “I’m supposed to deliver that girl’s heart tonight. I’ll be late enough as it is.”

  Brax folded his arms across his chest. “Where are you gonna get a heart?” He frowned.

  Zaig raked a hand through his hair, his eyes wandering around the dark clearing, and the looming shadows of the trees beyond. “I’m still working on that part.”

  “What’s a human heart look like?” Brax asked slowly.

  Zaig shrugged, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Don’t know. Never been asked to cut one out before.”

  “Would a pig’s heart do?”

  Zaig glanced at his friend and dared to hope. “Maybe.”

  “I might be able to help.” Brax disappeared into the cabin and quickly returned with a lantern. He led Zaig beyond the clearing out into the brush to a semi-fresh gut pile. “We killed a wild boar today and roasted it,” Brax explained. He snatched up a bloody glob that was the heart. “Will this do?”

  Zaig nodded, relieved, then retrieved the little box from his jacket and produced the stake. Brax raised an eyebrow, and Zaig shrugged. “When the queen wants someone dead, she really wants them dead.”

  He took the heart, stabbed the smooth woode
n stake through it, then placed it in the box and tucked it all away safely in his saddlebags. He smeared his hands down his pants and took a deep breath. “Make sure they . . . treat her right.” He knew the warning wasn’t necessary. These weren’t sailors he was leaving her with. But if he was going to risk his life to protect the young queen, he might as well cover everything.

  Brax nodded. “They’ll behave. I’ll see to it.”

  “Thank you.” Zaig gripped his friend’s hand once before mounting and setting off into the night.

  His ride back was much slower to spare the horse, and it was early morning when he returned to the castle. The Captain of the Guard met him immediately. Zaig tucked the box under his arm and followed him to a parlor where the queen waited.

  Minoa was wearing a dressing gown, her hair done in a single braid. If she was tired, it didn’t show. She stood tall, her eyes flashing, and Zaig felt certain she could take on an army in nothing but a nightdress.

  “What took you so long? Is it done?”

  “It’s done.” Zaig held the box out. “I had to take her somewhere the body wouldn’t be discovered accidentally. A girl with her heart cut out might cause alarm.” He hoped she couldn’t hear his own heart pounding as she took the box.

  She opened it quickly, and her shoulders sagged. She exhaled in what he could only guess was relief and closed the box. “Your reward is there.” She pointed to a chest on an end table.

  Zaig felt lightheaded as he walked to it and flipped the lid open. Shiny gold coins winked up at him, and not even the nauseous fear churning in his stomach could suppress a bolt of excitement.

  “Thank you, Zaig. You’re free to go now. My troops will search for the lost princess this morning, and once the guard who rode out with her identifies where he last saw her, he’ll spend the rest of his life in my prison for letting her get separated and lost in the wilderness. Down the road, we’ll hold a lovely funeral ceremony for her, and that will be the end of it.”

  Zaig looked up from the coins and closed the lid with a snap. Prison? But he was the one who went with her.

  Minoa laughed coolly. “It’s a story, Zaig. Something I can tell the court to cover all of this up. Surely you know about that sort of thing in your line of work.” She headed for the door. “Goodnight. Don’t spend your earnings all in one place.”

  Zaig had thought when he got home he would collapse from exhaustion, but instead he found himself wide awake. Anxiety threatened to eat a hole in his stomach. Would the queen somehow discover the truth about the heart? Had someone seen him ride off with the princess, alive? And what of Ailda? He had to protect her somehow, get her to safety. But how long could she stay in hiding?

  When sleep finally did come, it brought dreams of Brax approaching him with his ax, the queen’s laughter echoing like thunder.

  Chapter Five

  Days slipped by, and Zaig wracked his brain for a solution for the princess, all the while watching his back for the queen. Where was a runaway princess to go? All he could think was that she would have to blend in, find a home with commoners. But that was no life for the rightful queen. She could always come out of hiding later. In a year, she would come of age and could claim her right to rule and be rid of Minoa. But did she have the strength to do that? Ailda was soft and sweet and gentle. All the things Minoa wasn’t. She’d need to be hard and tough to overthrow her stepmother and take her throne back.

  And this still left her without a place to stay for the next year. She couldn’t remain at the logging camp forever, and he couldn’t take her to the tenement house. For all he knew, Minoa was having him watched to make sure he’d truly done his job. But where else could Ailda go?

  There just wasn’t an answer to this riddle.

  His fortnight was almost over when Widow Gaisun knocked on his door and announced that a letter had come for him. Zaig thanked her and closed the door again before unfolding the rough paper. Brax’s wobbly handwriting scrawled across the page.

  Please come. Zehlam’s been killed.

  Zaig’s heart froze, then nearly beat out of his chest. Killed? How? Cold dread rose inside him, and he tried to push it back down. No. He couldn’t afford to feel that way now. He never wanted to feel that way again.

  He had to get to the cabin and find out what happened.

  He barely had the presence of mind to arm himself before flying down the stairs. Calling out an excuse to the widow that made little sense, he raced out to the street, dashing to the livery.

  His mind spun, trying to piece together something that made sense. Why would Zehlam be killed? Was it because the princess was there or completely unrelated? A thousand questions raced through his head, but there wasn’t an answer. He had to get there and see.

  He had no patience to wait for the livery boy to saddle a horse, so he did it himself, tossing the lad the necessary coins before he left. It was all he could do to not race all the way there, but it would do no good to ruin the horse. Still, he pushed as hard as he dared, and his thoughts raced on when he couldn’t.

  Was Ailda all right? Everyone else? How long ago had they sent the letter? Who would kill Zehlam? There was no reason for it. His friends in the hills were good men. They weren’t like him. True, they had all grown up together, but after leaving the orphanage they’d gone separate ways. They had chosen an honest living and families, while Zaig danced over the line of criminal.

  Regret twisted in his gut, and he wished he’d remained with them instead of leaving to sail with Frinnan. None of this would have happened if he’d stayed off that ship. He quickly shoved the thought aside and urged the horse faster.

  When Zaig finally reached the clearing, all looked as it should. The cabin stood with smoke puffing out the chimney, and the draft horses grazed in their corral. But nothing was right. Where was everyone?

  Terror rolled in his stomach as he leapt off the horse. Throwing caution to the wind, he headed straight for the door, not caring that this could be some kind of ambush laid just for him. He had to find the others and make sure they were safe. He had to know what happened.

  Before his hand touched the latch, the door opened and Ailda stood there. Her wide eyes gazed up at him, and he felt like he could breathe again just seeing her alive.

  “Are you all right?” He tried to get a look at her, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, shoving the door shut.

  “I’m fine. Did you get our message?”

  “Yes. What’s happened?” Zaig cast a glance around the cabin, but they were the only ones there. Where were his friends?

  Ailda ran a hand down her skirt. She looked well enough. He saw no sign of injuries, but she was shaking as she spoke. “They went out to cut trees after they got back from town at the beginning of the week. I stayed behind to try to make something for supper and clean up a bit.” Her lip trembled. “I wanted to help. They . . . they sent Zehlam back to check on me. I didn’t know. He never arrived.”

  Her voice cracked, and Zaig placed a hand on her shoulder. “I need you to tell me what happened.” He spoke firmly, willing her to keep calm. He needed to keep his wits about him, and right now he couldn’t handle it if she broke down.

  Ailda sniffed hard and nodded. “They quit early when he didn’t come back to them. They thought something must be wrong here with me. They . . . found him on the way.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks. “His throat was cut.”

  She reached for him, and Zaig let her tuck her face against his shirt. He put his hands on her shoulders but didn’t let himself pull her close like he wanted to. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want the surge of warmth that shot through him at her touch. It felt like betrayal to Zehlam. He didn’t want to need her comfort as badly as she was needing his.

  Ailda sucked in a ragged breath, her whole body trembling. “They brought him back, but it was too late that night to start a grave. They wrapped him in a blanket in the barn, but . . . the next morning his . . . his body was . . .”

  “What?” Zaig
urged at her hesitation, his head swirling.

  “Gone,” she choked out, looking up at him with flooded green eyes. “It was gone.”

  Prickles ran up Zaig’s arms, and he numbly folded the princess back into his embrace, this time pressing her closer. She clutched his shirt, her hands trembling, but he barely noticed. Why would the body be gone? Why wasn’t anyone else here? What else wasn’t she telling him? “Where are the others?” he whispered.

  “Looking for Pell!” she sobbed, clinging to him like she might collapse.

  Pell? Not Pell too. “What do you mean?” he demanded. He knew he sounded angry, but he didn’t care anymore. Hadn’t they taken precautions? Terror replaced the blood in his veins. Nothing else could happen here. Not to his friends. Not because of him.

  “We planned to all stay close until you got here.” The princess shuddered, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “He went to the privy. That was hours ago.”

  Zaig fought for control as every emotion raged inside him. He pushed her away from him more roughly than he’d intended. “Stay here and bolt the door.”

  “Zaig, wait!”

  “It’ll be all right.” The words tasted like a lie, but they had to be true. A knot in his throat choked him with the knowledge that this was his fault. Somehow he was the cause of all this. He had to stop it. He had to make it right.

  He charged outside, scanning the empty clearing. “Brax?” he bellowed. “Brax? Jathis?”

  “Zaig!” Norvin called from his right, and he followed the voice into the trees.

  Norvin clutched a hunting knife and looked more shaken than Zaig had ever seen him. “There’s no trace of him,” he rasped. “Tis unnatural, Zaig. Uncanny. Like a curse been set upon the hills.”

  Zaig slid a dagger from his belt. “It’s no curse, it’s a man. And when I find him, he’ll pay.”

  “Over here!” Brax’s distant voice set them both running, crashing through the branches. Zaig knew. He already knew what he was running toward, but even though every part of him wanted to bolt the other direction, he kept going.