Five Poisoned Apples

by Skye Hoffert et al.

  “It’s amazing what some people can do with silver,” Minoa mused from somewhere behind him.

  “Some of it almost seems a bit much.” Zaig set down a knife, its blade curved like a talon.

  Minoa laughed. “Sometimes I think the silversmiths like to make these things just for fun, whether they’re useful or not.”

  Zaig turned to find himself toe to toe with her. The scent of lavender filled his nose, and she turned wide eyes on him. They were blue. He’d never noticed before. A soft, almost gray blue. She stared at him, and for a moment Zaig feared she might kiss him, or the other way around. But then she spoke.

  “Zaig, my men never encountered your other friend, Zehlam, in the woods. It’s likely he followed when your friends moved to the cave you used, to stay near Ailda. If he did, we’ll . . . have to kill him too.” She searched his face. “Can you do that?”

  “You said he’s a different person now.” His voice came out raspy, and he lowered his gaze, looking off to one side. He didn’t want to think about a monster taking over his friend. “Zehlam’s dead. I’ll be all right.” He hoped it was true.

  Frowning slightly, he looked at her again. Something wasn’t right. “How do you know I used the cave?” He’d never told her that.

  A red flush crept into her cheeks, and he liked the way it looked, but he pushed that thought away. “I took the liberty of asking around about you,” she admitted. “When you sent word to Brax with the guard to Brister, I knew that must be where Ailda was. I had men search the town, but there was no sign of her. I had to find information about you and your friends, where you might think to hide her. Someone told me about the cave.” She was trying and failing to sound composed.

  “Frinnan told you,” Zaig said flatly. He wasn’t mad exactly. But he felt this changed things somehow, having her know about him.

  “I didn’t say who,” she hedged, but he nodded.

  “Frinnan stayed with me in that cave. He’s the only one who would know about it besides Brax and the others. They wouldn’t have told.”

  Why had Frinnan given away that information? How did she even find him? Zaig had given him his half of the reward money weeks ago. He should have been on a ship by now.

  “In his defense, I was very persuasive.” Minoa shrugged and turned to carefully straighten a row of silver knives, but not before he caught the guilty flash in her eyes. Or the barely concealed smile at the corner of her lips. “You’re a very hard man to find information about, and once I tracked down someone who knew you, I wasn’t going to let him go without getting what I wanted.”

  Zaig rolled his eyes. It wasn’t hard to guess what would have persuaded Frinnan. “How much did you have to pay him?”

  “Twice what I paid you,” she admitted, glancing up with a pained smile.

  Zaig smirked slightly. Of course, loyalty and friendship didn’t matter much in the face of ten thousand gold pieces. He wondered how fast Frinnan had spent it all. “I always told him he should have been a pirate.” Minoa laughed, but Zaig glowered at her. Whatever Frinnan’s weaknesses, there was nothing humorous about her having knowledge she could use against him. “What else did he tell you?”

  She hesitated, her jaw set and eyes hard. But there was something soft in her features too, the carefulness that came when handling an injured animal. “Just . . . that your father was a drunk and beat you.”

  “He wasn’t my father.” Zaig fought to keep the venom from his voice. It rankled him that a man he hadn’t thought about in years could still get to him so easily. “He was married to my mother, but he wasn’t my father. She told me. I was two when he came along.” He took a deep breath. Now was not the time to think about those things. Now was not the time for vulnerability, not with a woman like Minoa watching him so closely. “Go on.”

  Minoa took a step back and smoothed her skirts, her gaze skimming the floor. “I know that your mother died when you were six. You and Frinnan were best friends, he had no family. The two of you found the cave together. When you were eight you ran away, and a priest picked you both up off the street and took you to an orphanage. That’s where you met the rest of your friends. You quit going by your . . . stepfather’s surname, and he never came looking for you.” She glanced up at him through her eyelashes.

  Zaig frowned. Had Frinnan told her everything? He saw the sympathy in her eyes and didn’t like it. He didn’t need sympathy concerning a man he’d banished from his life years ago.

  He pushed the locks of hair back off his forehead revealing the scar. “I didn’t want him to look for me. Don’t act like it’s a bad thing.”

  She stared a moment then shrugged, her shoulders rising and falling daintily. “Frinnan said that when you got too old for the home, the two of you went sailing for a few years while the others stayed behind. You came back and became an . . . unofficial law officer.”

  Zaig rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s a nice way to put it. Did he tell you why?” he asked slowly.

  She shook her head. “No.” Her voice was persuasive, probing.

  Well, she wasn’t going to get the answer from him. Zaig nodded once then walked away, ignoring the question in her eyes. Some secrets he could still keep to himself.

  They were on the road first thing the next morning. Minoa dressed in a plain riding habit and exchanged her elaborate curls for a simple bun. Zaig tried to ignore the fact that the simplicity only made her natural beauty more astounding. He let his gaze flit around to anything else.

  “May I ask why you’re not in mourning?” He glanced at her quickly.

  Minoa’s lips drew into a thin line. “I’ll mourn when it’s over. I feel hypocritical, displaying my loss while Phileas’s murderer walks free.”

  Zaig nodded and looked away again. Three men rode along with them, all armed with Minoa’s silver weapons and belts full of wooden stakes. There had been a fourth, the one who poisoned Ailda with garlic, but Minoa had ordered him to stay behind since he’d blundered that mission.

  He frowned over at Minoa on her bay horse. “I still don’t like this.”

  “Like what?” She didn’t look at him, rocking easily with the motion of her mount, as if this were nothing more than an afternoon ride across the countryside.

  “Having all these extra people. I don’t work in groups. You said you needed someone who could work from the shadows.”

  “I do.” She nodded. “My men will follow your instruction. But there are at least two vampires out there and possibly more by now. I won’t risk failure by sending you in alone.”

  Zaig didn’t want to think about how many more vampires might be waiting for him or about how many of them might have familiar faces. “You shouldn’t be here though. What about the—”

  “Shhh!” Minoa hissed, glancing around as if she expected Ailda to jump out at any moment, her hand curling protectively against her stomach. “There is nothing until she is gone for good.”

  Zaig twisted in his saddle to look behind them. He could just discern Laivden—the towers of the castle and Blagwell Church jutting into the sky like fingers. “You should go back. You could make it by yourself from here.”

  Minoa faced him squarely, sidestepping her horse over so close to his that his boot nearly touched her gelding’s shoulder. “I could make it by myself from anywhere.” Her tone was calm and level, but he didn’t miss the warning beneath it. She was in charge here. He would do as he was told or she’d throw him right back in that dungeon.

  He nodded slightly. Stubborn woman.

  Minoa eased her horse away again and faced forward. “I want this done right. If it’s only you four, she’ll either kill you all or try to convince you she’s innocent. My presence is the only thing that might influence her enough to make her drop her act and reveal herself. She wants me dead more than anything, and if she thinks she has a chance, she might lower her guard enough that one of you can kill her. You need me, and you’re not going to convince me to leave, so I suggest you start working out yo
ur plan.”

  Zaig shook his head but didn’t waste time arguing further. A sick knot churned inside him. What was going to happen when they got there? Could everything the queen had told him actually be true? He wouldn’t lay a finger on Ailda unless he could see for himself, with certainty.

  Would Zehlam really be there? That thought troubled him most of all, and he scolded himself for using his friend’s name. Whatever he encountered tonight, it wouldn’t be Zehlam.

  He pushed such thoughts away and tried to take in the countryside. He’d known this area well as a boy, but it was years since he’d traveled to Brister. While part of him felt he should be experiencing some significant emotion about returning, he didn’t. The only person who had made life bearable was gone. His friends weren’t there anymore, and the only memories he had were overshadowed by the fear roiling in his gut at what he would find in the cave.

  “Are you all right?” The gentleness in Minoa’s voice surprised him and drew him out of his thoughts.

  “Tense, is all.” Zaig swallowed. “I’ll be solid before we get there.”

  “It’s all right to be nervous.”

  He wondered if she spoke for his benefit or her own.

  “No, it’s not.” He shook his head. “If you’re nervous, you think too much. You make mistakes. You mustn’t think—just act.” He faced forward, making every muscle melt into the motion of his horse, taking a deep breath then releasing it slowly. Tonight he must be at his best. Either Ailda or Minoa would be after him, and he had no intention of going down.

  He could see Minoa studying him from the corner of his eye. “You really are the best, aren’t you?”

  “Nah.” He shook his head. “The best would have killed her the first time.”

  Minoa tipped her head. “I’m almost glad you didn’t . . . It shows what kind of man you are.”

  Zaig looked out over the hills, not sure what to say to that. What kind of man did she think he was? She’d heard his story from Frinnan. She couldn’t have any illusions about his virtue.

  “You saw yourself in her, didn’t you?” she continued. “That’s why you saved her.”

  Zaig looked at her sharply. How was it she could read him like a book yet remain a constant puzzle to him? He nodded slightly then looked away.

  “Why do you do what you do, Zaig?”

  He chewed on the inside of his lip. Why so many questions? And . . . why did he want to tell her? He glanced at her, then away quickly. She had her blue eyes fixed on him, not in the teasing, vulnerable way Ailda looked at him, but with a calm determination and understanding that invited more from him.

  “Just . . .” he hesitated, then pushed himself on. “Too many innocent people get swept down a hole with no one to stick up for them. Too many of the bad ones get off scot-free, never having to be accountable.”

  “Very noble,” Minoa said slowly, “but I think there’s more to it than some faceless innocents.”

  Zaig gnawed on the inside of his lip. He felt her eyes on him but refused to look up. “My mother . . .” he faltered, trying to find words that wouldn’t condemn her in Minoa’s eyes. “She was all alone when she had me. No money. She did whatever work she could, but . . .”

  “There’s not much for a woman.” The tenderness in Minoa’s voice assured him she didn’t intend to judge.

  “No.” He shook his head. “My stepfather came along and offered to help her. I guess her debt was bad, so she agreed.” He exhaled and tried to shed the memories. “He was terrible to her. I’d rather have starved than seen her treated like that.” He looked down. “I was always too scared of him to try to do anything.”

  “You were a boy,” Minoa said softly.

  “I’m not anymore.” He glanced up at her. “That’s why.”

  Minoa nodded, twisting the reins around her fingers. “How did you get started in this . . . this work?”

  Zaig bit his lip and focused on the stretch of road between his horse’s ears. “Frinnan didn’t tell you that?”

  “No, he didn’t. I’ve dipped into the treasury too often lately, so I didn’t try to persuade him. Not after what it cost me to get him to talk in the first place. He said he’s the one who told you about my offer. How did you ever secure him as your informant?” She raised an eyebrow.

  Zaig shook his head, glad for the chance to try and push the subject elsewhere. “I didn’t. He’s not my informant, he’s just a friend. He knows what I do, so sometimes he tells me things. He figured we could split the reward if I accepted your offer.” He mustered a smirk. “He’s probably spent all of it by now.”

  Minoa smiled slightly and pushed back a stray wisp of hair, still looking at him expectantly. Her original question—how he got started—still hung between them. Of course she wouldn’t be deterred so easily.

  Zaig glanced around, but Minoa’s hunters were scattered along the road ahead and behind them, too far away to overhear their conversation. Whether that was their own choice or by orders, he couldn’t guess. He frowned and shook his head. “I was sixteen when I went sailing the first time. There was a crewman everyone said was a killer, but he’d never been caught at anything. I just figured it for gossip until we were both on watch one night.” He shrugged, remembering the cool taste of night air at sea. “There wasn’t supposed to be any drinking on board, but he must have had a stash. He was drunk and he got to talking.” He glanced at her, but her gaze was guarded, waiting for the rest of the story. “It turns out the rumors were true. He said something about a little girl…” He looked away. “I decided he wasn’t going to get away with it anymore. I stabbed him and shoved him over the rail. Next morning I told the captain I hadn’t seen him that night and figured he skipped watch and fell asleep.”

  “He believed you?” Minoa tipped her head, not looking at all concerned by his story.

  Zaig shook his head. “I don’t know. But there was nothing he could do about it. One of the others though, Boots, he knew what happened somehow. He offered to show me things. How to be invisible, to not leave blood on the deck.” His breathing hitched, and he drew a long gulp of air into his lungs. “I didn’t plan on ever killing again. But it seems like when you know how, people just find you. I’d have constables show up with these stories of men they couldn’t put away . . .”

  She nodded slowly, and he didn’t see any sign of fear or hostility. Relief washed over him when she didn’t ask anything else, and he banished the old memories once more to the hidden parts of his heart and tried to relax again. He glanced over at Minoa, sitting straight in the saddle. Though a long ride like this must be tiring for her, she showed no sign of discomfort.

  “What about you?” he ventured to ask, trying to distract himself. “What was your life like before marrying the king?”

  Now Minoa darted a look around, and Zaig raised an eyebrow. What would have her so secretive?

  At last she sighed. “A lot of summers running barefoot through the fields when I was a child. When I got older, it changed to hot days mending nets in exchange for scraps of food, and cold nights sleeping outside.”

  Zaig pulled his horse to a stop and frowned. “What?” She cast him a rueful smile and kept riding, and he hurried his horse after her. “You mean you weren’t a royal?”

  Minoa hummed in response, and he shook his head. “So how did you marry King Phileas?”

  She laughed and waved a hand. “I suppose I can trust you to keep a secret.” As she looked over at him, her face lit up with a smile. “I met him on accident when I was living in Newgarren. He was preparing to sail up the coast and survey our defenses.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and he once again glimpsed that simple humanity she kept hidden so well. “He found me again on his return trip.” She shook her head, a laugh parting her lips. “Oh, we lied. We built this elaborate story of who I was, and I don’t know how many people he had to pay off to play along so the court wouldn’t find out and raise a fuss. I can only image their horror if they knew they had a little farm gir
l on the throne.”

  Zaig had to remind himself not to stare at her. Finally it made sense, her hardness and the lack of a pampered palace demeanor. “I never would have thought you weren’t always a royal.”

  Minoa pursed her lips and shrugged. “Queen, regent. They’re just titles. They don’t determine who a person is. I learned a lot about the court when I married Phileas, but my experiences from the farms and docks have been just as useful. Court intrigue really isn’t so different from the squabbles among fishermen. Statesmen merely dress nicer.” She pushed a damp strand of hair from her face, her cheeks flushed by the sun’s warmth. “I am myself no matter my station, and that’s how I judge everyone else.”

  Something about the way she said it made him think she might be talking about more than her grand heist of the throne. But he didn’t let himself try to dig out her meaning. The last time he’d let himself be familiar with someone who outranked him had ended in this insane hunt. He wasn’t ready to try his hand at it again.

  Besides, there were other things needing his immediate focus. He must plan how to lure Ailda out and discover the truth for sure. If everything Minoa had told him was real, he’d have to kill the princess as quickly as possible. He would probably need to weaken her somehow, so he could get close enough with a stake. Hopefully the other hunters could deal with Zehlam, but he’d have to watch his back. All while keeping Minoa safe . . . and not getting bitten.

  “Would you ever consider doing this?”

  He turned to Minoa and raised an eyebrow. “Doing what?”

  She waved a hand at their group. “Hunting vampires. On a regular basis.”

  “Like . . . a job?”

  She raised that delicate eyebrow of hers.

  Zaig shook his head, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. “I haven’t even done it once. Give me some time to take it all in. I’m still not even sure I believe you!”