Seize the Crown

by Gemma Perfect

  “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 start 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.

  I feel Brett tugging at the ties that gather the hood around my neck and I flinch from his fingers, drawing my whole body inwards like I might disappear from his sight completely – from the sight of whoever else is here with us.

  There’s a whoosh over my ears as he pulls the hood off and I push my hair off my face, wiping away the tears and sweat and squinting as my eyes adjust to the gloom.

  I was right, Brett has brought me to one of the caves; I can remember playing here with Addyson and my brothers before they both went mad.

  And I am right that there are other people in the cave but I am not sure if the trauma of being taken has addled my brain somehow.

  Brett is grinning at me, standing placidly by the side of two men I recognise.

  The first is Halfreda’s teacher.

  My eyes come to rest on his smile, and his lovely eyes and then I look to the right of him. And I feel like I’m going to faint, no I am going to faint, because standing next to him, bruised and a little battered looking, standing not quite as strongly and upright as he used to, but with his bright red shock of hair exactly as I dreamed about it and his smile and his face and his eyes and himself so, so perfect, and alive...is Archer.

  THE END

  Book three: Born to Rule

  KEEP READING TO ENJOY the first few chapters of the third book in The Kingmaker Series...

  Everleigh

  ARCHER.

  How can something impossible be possible? Archer is dead. I saw it with my own eyes. I saw his body fall, I saw his blood flood the ground and when I put my ear to his chest, the beat of his life was gone.

  I went to the island with Ginata and pushed his dead body into the water.

  And yet here he is, his bright red hair as vibrant as before, his blue eyes glowing, his smile as I remember.

  He’s standing with Halfreda’s teacher.

  And Brett.

  The three of them are smiling at me and again I feel the lightness in my head, the woozy feeling, making my knees buckle, and I know that I’m going to faint when the three smiling men are obscured by thick, fuzzy black spots that swim across the impossible scene in front of me.

  Maybe I have already fainted and this is a dream.

  That must be it, because Halfreda’s teacher left before Macsen’s coronation, Brett hated Archer and knocked him out and would never want to help him, and Archer is dead.

  A dream.

  It doesn’t hurt when I hit the floor, it’s a relief to let go, to lose control.

  1

  “I WORRIED IT MIGHT kill her. The shock.” The teacher looks down at her, concern on his face.

  “Really? Why did we do it like this then? I should have hidden somewhere else. Let you explain everything first.”

  “You’re right. But I was excited. I wanted to see her reaction.”

  “Well, she fainted, a great reaction. Now what?”

  “She’ll get over it pretty quickly and she’ll be fine. And she’s alive. Cover her with your cloak.”

  Archer kneels next to Everleigh, placing his cloak over her and smoothing the hair off her forehead. He smiles over at Brett as he stands up. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Archer. I’ve been trying to make amends since that day in the woods. I feel like I’ve done it now.”

  “You have.” Archer gives him a hug, still amazed that the two of them can even be in the same space without fighting.

  “He would have killed her if someone else caught her. Wolf, or any of his men.”

  “I know. I’m glad I managed to get her away.”

  “You should get back before you’re missed.”

  “You’re right. Go on, hit me.”

  At Brett’s say so Archer pulls back his fist and punches him, hard in the face, once, twice and a third time. He helps pull him to his feet, wincing at the pull in his side. “Sorry Brett.”

  “It’s fine. It’s what we decided.” His speech is slurry through his fat lip, and the blood in his mouth. He shakes hands with the teacher and with Archer, and, letting the blood drip over his clothes, gives them a nod before ducking out of the cave.

  “Brave man,” the teacher says, watching Brett walk away. “Do you think it will work?”

  “I think so. The punches were real.”

  “People only see what they want to. I don’t think Millard will suspect him.”

  “I hope not. I wouldn’t want to see him dead. Not now.”

  “Me neither. He did a good thing.”

  The two men are silent, looking down at Everleigh. “I should never have let you talk me into doing it like this.” Archer kneels next to her again, shifting himself until he’s comfy. “What can I do?”
r />   “She’ll come around. Just give her time.”

  “I’ve got time.” He takes hold of her hand and holds it tight.

  WILL GROANS AND LIFTS his head up. He has no idea where he is or why he’s in such pain, but it can’t be good.

  “Hey, lay back down.” Ginata gently pushes him back until he’s lying flat again. “You took a pretty big whack to the head.”

  “Did I?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  He rubs at his head. “No...I...”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Will.”

  “And my name?”

  “Ginata.”

  “Where are you?”

  He raises his head enough to cast his eyes around. “Your work room. In the castle.”

  “So, no permanent damage done. I think.”

  “Good...so what am I missing? Who hit me?”

  “Brett, I think. One of the King’s men. Millard was going to hang you. He let you go, but you were escaping with Everleigh when you were knocked out. I think. I wasn’t there.”

  “Where were you?”

  “I was with the King. Bringing him back here. His arm was burnt.”

  “So where is he now?”

  Ginata takes a deep breath, steadies her voice. “He’s tied up in his rooms. Hidden. We took his crown.”

  “You took his crown? We won? Where’s Everleigh?”

  “Taken. By Brett. We think. After he hurt you. We don’t really know. It’s such a mess.” She sits down on the stool and puts her head in her hands. “Ceryn followed me here. Do you remember her?”

  “Yes. Archer’s friend. The girl with the mark.”

  “Yes. She followed me up here and hit Millard over the head, twice. We tied him up and then moved him to his rooms. We figured that whoever hurt you and took Everleigh would take her to the King.”

  “Have they?”

  “We don’t know. Ceryn has gone looking for Everleigh in case we were wrong. Weaver’s taken Addyson, Della and Finn back to the cottages. I’m looking after you.”