The Cutthroat Prince (William of Alamore Series Book 2)

by C. J. R. Isely

  “Hold on, hold on,” Will hissed through gritted teeth, looking around. He knew he was speaking more to himself than to her. “Don’t let go.”

  “Thank you, I had no idea,” Eldin snapped.

  Will gritted his teeth. Leave it to her to still have breath for sarcasm at a time like this. His eyes roved along the wall, his mind racing. They needed a way out, something to grab onto or rest on before his arm fell off his body.

  There! Several feet below them and further to his left was a darkness different than that of the wall, deeper in its blackness. An open window. He glanced back up, feeling the rope tugging him. They wouldn’t make it. His arm wouldn’t, he knew. No. They needed down.

  He pushed off the wall with both feet, letting his full weight and Eldin’s tug on the rope. He heard Eldin scream, someone above them howled in pain, and he made a note to apologize to Niet for the rope burns he could imagine on the older squire’s hands.

  They were jerked to a halt, the rope cutting into Will’s fingers with the force of their stop and the muscles in his shoulder screaming from Eldin’s weight. Below him, she was whispering a string of Kelkorian that sounded like panicked song but that didn’t matter. The window was now at their level and to his left. But, holding Eldin and his rope, he didn’t have a way to reach for it, to stretch that tantalizing few feet between them and a solid castle floor.

  “We need to get to the window.” Will turned to Eldin. “We have to swing over there, but you have to let go of that rope. Grab me with both hands. Your rope won’t let us swing out that far. Do you think you can do that? Can you trust me?”

  “No!” Eldin hissed, petrified. “I don’t trust you, I don’t want to fall, I…”

  Will clenched his jaw, fighting the retort he wanted to throw back at her. He should have known better than to ask. Part of him felt a mad urge to let her drop a few more inches, truly scare her, but the idea made him instantly feel ill. That would be enough to give her a reason to despise him. And, if he dropped her, then he would be proving himself no better than Marl.

  “Please, Eldin, I swear I won’t drop you.” Will’s muscles were jumping in his arm, up his shoulder to his throat. “But if we stay here, I will.”

  She hesitated and he squeezed his eyes shut a moment. They were going to dangle here until either their strength gave out or the strength of those holding them from above failed.

  The feeling of her other hand grabbing his arm made his eyes fly open. Next to him, the empty rope made a dull thud against the castle wall. Looking down, he could see her pale fingers tightened around his arm, clinging to him as her feet dangled above the nothingness, the endless space that separated them from death.

  He turned away again, fighting the pain in his arm, and began to inch sideways, walking along the wall. Each step was an eternity, threatening to slip him sideways, to give away. His hand gripping Eldin was starting to sweat, their grasp becoming weaker. Her fingers were shaking, a muscle in his arm was jumping. If they didn’t reach the window soon…he couldn’t let his mind think that way. No. one more step and…there!

  The solid feel of the window ledge sent relief flooding through his body. His second foot met the ledge and he twisted, letting go of his rope to reach down with his second hand and grab Eldin’s arm. Muscles screaming, his breath snarling through clamped teeth, he pulled upward with all of his strength. She was trying to climb with her feet, lift her body, and he braced himself, lifting harder, certain his shoulder would dislocate. Then her feet were on the window ledge and she was falling backwards, knocking both him and her through the window.

  With a sickening thud, they crashed onto the unforgiving floor of the dark corridor they’d entered. The pain in his arms was immediately matched by the pain in his head, back, and leg. For a moment, he wondered if he had broken bones, but he was struck with a new worry as the rope tightened around him, pulling him back toward the window. The others thought he needed help, that he still needed pulled up!

  Will scrambled to sit upright but Eldin was already on her feet. In a flash of silver, her knife sliced the rope. With a lazy movement, the rope drifted from the window and out of sight.

  “Hold on? Really? That was your amazing advice?” she demanded, spinning round to stare down at him, brows raised. “Do you think I’m daft or did you think I’d decided to take up flying lessons?”

  Will snorted, pushing himself upright. “A thanks would have been fine.”

  She gave him a strange look, somewhere between a grin and a grimace. “Well, thanks for not letting me fly. I might have deserved that.”

  “Honestly, I can’t blame you,” Will muttered, detangling himself from the remaining rope. He glanced out the window and a thrill of dread that had little to do with the drop rushed through him. “This explains a lot at least then.”

  “So, you really didn’t know?” Eldin asked tentatively.

  Will wheeled round. “Of course I didn’t! Do you think I’d want Kelkor to fall?” He glowered at her with enough intensity that she took a hurried step back.

  “No, I,” she was babbling.

  Guilt flooding his insides, Will shook his head. “I’m sorry. I just…” Running a hand through his hair, he glanced around the unfamiliar passage. “Look, we better find the others. Kalia needs to be in her chambers.”

  “You’re right,” Eldin agreed“Let’s go.”

  They ran, rushing along the dark hallways, pausing at doorways to listen for approaching voices or feet. Will found that the harder he ran, the more he focused on his burning lungs, his aching muscles, the less he had to dwell on the reality. The reality that even now his father might be King of Kelkor. That he might be Prince of a Kingdom he had never wanted or seen.

  A door to their side flew open and he and Eldin both leapt sideways in alarm as a pale haired someone crashed through it in the pool of torch light beyond it. He staggered into the hall and spun toward them, relief vivid on his face.

  “Will!”

  Colin grabbed him in an embrace, his own muscles shaking as bad as Will’s had been on the side of the castle.

  “Let go, Colin!” Will grunted, pushing him off. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

  Colin stepped back, white faced and trembling but grinning embarrassedly. “Alamore, you scared us! Eldin, Niet and Kalia might murder you. Will, I might kill you as well, come to think of it.”

  “Where are they?” Eldin asked, doubling and clutching a stitch in her side.

  “Niet’s coming right now. We sent Kalia back in case Serena comes looking for her. Once we realized Will’s rope was cut, we knew you had to be in the castle.” Colin explained. He turned to Will, brows raised. “Well? What did you find out, what happened?”

  “Yeah, we did,” Will muttered. He was relieved by the distraction of Niet stumbling into sight, panting and swearing.

  Shoving past Will and Colin, Niet launched himself toward Eldin, lifting her in a bone cracking hug and ignoring her string of protest. “You idiot! I thought you were dead!”

  “Let me go, Niet, I’m fine!”

  He released her and stepped back, his hands visibly shaking as he crossed his arms and glowered at Will and Eldin. “What happened?”

  “Rope slipped, my knot was wrong,” Eldin mumbled. “I really thought I had it, I really thought it was right.” She glanced at Will, giving him the shadow of a smile. “But I guess it’s a good thing that Alamore squires have at least some brains in their heads.”

  Colin laughed darkly. “Some of them…”

  Niet turned to Will and, to Will’s surprise, stepped forward and embraced him as well, his arms feeling like iron vices. “Thank you, thank you for not letting her fall. You’ve saved her life. I thought…”

  Will struggled to budge free of Niet’s grip, throwing a desperate look at Colin. To his immense relief, Colin cleared his throat pointedly. “Perhaps we should stay on task? Remember what we were doing and get out of here before we’re all found out?”

  “Right
.” Niet stepped back, grinning sheepishly. “What happened? Did you hear anything about Kelkor? About the King? Are we sending Alamore troops?”

  Will swallowed hard, not sure what to say. Niet’s face was transported still with the relief that Eldin was alive. Now he would have to end that. He would have to fill that face with the loathing Serena had for him, to explain that his father, Will’s own father, had killed King Azric. And then he will want to hand me over, just like Serena.

  “Niet.” Eldin stepped into the pool of golden light still pouring from the open door at Niet’s back. Her jaw jutted with forced defiance, but her eyes were overly bright. “Niet, Kelkor has fallen. The King is dead.”

  “What?” Colin wheeled on Will. Niet turned to him too, the relief morphing to horror when Will didn’t deny it. Colin stared a Will a long moment before asking. “Is that true?”

  Will nodded, the pain in his aching body rushing back at the small movement. “And, what’s more,” Will muttered. He ignored Eldin’s panicked look, her shake of the head. They had the right to know. Niet had a right to know. Meeting the older squire’s dark eyes, Will pressed on doggedly. “King Azric was killed in a battle of Right of Blood, by his own cousin.”

  Understanding washed over Colin’s face, his mouth falling open, but Will refused to look away from Niet’s gaze. He wouldn’t hide from it. He couldn’t.

  “That cousin is Tollien’s brother, and my father. I swear, I didn’t know…but now Marl is King of Kelkor.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  None of them wanted to return to their chambers. Instead, Colin led the way to the Hall of Records where they sat in near silence, staying at the orange glow of embers dying in the hearth. Eldin curled, cat-like, in a chair while Niet stared unseeingly at the sinking flames.

  That was how Rowan discovered them sometime after midnight, splattered in food from dishes. He looked between the four of them in bewilderment. “You lot look like someone died. What’s happened?”

  Colin explained their adventure to Rowan in an undertone. Will was glad of this. He didn’t want to go through it again. It was hard enough the first time.

  It was a mark of how terrible and serious the matter was that Rowan didn’t even joke. He couldn’t even bring himself to swear, only sinking into the chair next to Will, cupping his face in his hands, and groaning.

  To Will’s tremendous disbelief and relief, Niet didn’t shoot him the cold looks he had expected. Instead, he started breaking the silence with simple questions about Will–how he had come to Alamore, his life there, his past, and Marl. How Marl had hidden the truth, how he had acted as spy, as Tollien’s warrior.

  It was astoundingly easy to tell Niet and Eldin everything. The story of the last year poured from him without much effort; from his first suspicions of Marl betraying the Ranger, to Marl attacking him, Rowan, and Colin, and then finding out the truth for himself. Niet’s face turned to stone but Will understood. The anger brewing behind black eyes wasn’t for him. It was for Marl. Each story he told, with assistance at times from Rowan and Colin, was another reason to hate the man that had raised Will. The hate he could see was the same loathing he felt for Marl, only lacking the fear Will had.

  “So,” Rowan said after Will had finished telling of the last time he’d seen Marl, when he had saved Haru in the battle of the crypt. “What we can all agree is that Marl is the worst.”

  “That we can,” Colin muttered hoarsely. He groaned, running a hand over his face. “I should have realized, with the Right of Blood in that book, what was going on.”

  “What book?” Niet asked, sitting upright curiously.

  “Eh…” Colin’s face burned red, and Will grimaced at him.

  “We thought…I thought,” Will said, and shifted as Niet and Eldin both fixed him with stern gazes, “that Serena might be the spy,” he finished, somewhat sheepishly. When neither of them interrupted, he hurried to add. “But that was just because of the Inanimus that The Cutthroat Prince used on my horse, since it’s from Kelkor.”

  “What book?” Eldin asked, cutting across him with a faint smile. “You don’t need to explain that part, just tell us about the book that I’m assuming you stole from Niet’s knight.”

  “What?” Niet looked between Will and Eldin, clearly torn between confusion and disapproval. “Serena’s?”

  Colin pulled the book from his pocket, face bright red with embarrassment. “This. We’ve been trying to translate it, but I don’t know much Kelkorian and those two don’t know any. All I made out was Right of Blood…”

  Niet took the book, flipping through the pages with a frown creasing his brow. “It’s a book of family blood.” He flicked through another page. “All she has in here are the ties of the royals and a list of the powers that turned traitor to the crown before she left.”

  “Alright, but what the blazes is Right of Blood?” Rowan demanded. “And how does Marl have any right to anything? He’s a git!”

  “Right of Blood is when an heir can challenge a rightful King,” Colin explained in a low voice, face grim. “If an heir has a following and the ability to turn the country to civil war, then he can issue what is known as a Right of Blood challenge to the rightful King. This is done to avoid the bloodshed of a country, the theory being only the King and the challenger might die. Well, one of them at least.”

  “But how can Marl challenge Azric?” Rowan pressed.

  “Revlan and Azric are both sons of King Paradon,” Colin continued patiently. “Paradon’s brother, Temrod, challenged him to Right of Blood when he was crowned. Paradon won but didn’t kill Temrod. Temrod fled to Thornten, where he married the Princess of Thornten and had-”

  “Marl,” Will finished flatly. “So, they’re cousins.”

  “Which gave him that Right of Blood,” Eldin muttered. She shivered. “After all you’ve told us, he sounds like he’s awful. I can’t imagine him as King of Kelkor.”

  “He’s an arse, alright,” Rowan huffed, scowling. “Not sure why any of your people would follow him.”

  “Because he’s bloodthirsty,” Niet said bluntly, straightening in his seat and, at long last, shifting his eyes from the book to their faces. “Our country has been uneasy for years. Shadow Dale has always pressured the bordering lands. Neither Giltor nor his father have been able to control them well, nor saw issue with that control. It didn’t matter to them.” His musical accent was shot through with venom now. “And Marl approached that border first. He promised what Azric didn’t promise–he used a sword to lead rather than diplomacy.”

  “And they don’t know the truth of Marl either,” Colin added, grimacing. “I mean as far as they are concerned, he’s Tollien’s lost brother. He’s related to one of the most powerful Kings in the lands. That promises well for them and probably causes fear in Shadow Dale.”

  Niet snorted disgustedly. “Disloyal cowards unwilling to have a backbone for their throne. Should I get the chance ever, I’ll go back to Kelkor and kill every last Lord, Duke, and Count who has ever turned their back on the crown…and I’ll kill that King.”

  “Go for it,” Will said, grinning. “Save me a lot of headache if you do.”

  “No one is killing anyone tonight though,” yawned Eldin, stretching from her curled position in one of the cushy chairs. “We should go to bed before someone comes looking for us.”

  They had agreed and left the Hall of Records, Niet giving Will a one-armed hug as they parted at the stairs that would take him, Rowan, and Colin to the squire chamber.

  “Get some sleep,” Niet muttered. “And thank you, again. Eldin’s like my little sister. Paxrin would have been so thankful for you. I know you’re nothing like him, just by what you risked to save her.”

  Will had no words and left in silence. But, even after the three Alamore squires returned to their rooms, he laid awake. He stared at the ceiling until Rowan and Colin’s breathing had deepened to peaceful slumber.

  Tonight was supposed to bring him answers but, lying in the
dark, more questions were chasing themselves through his mind. This must have been the Ranger’s reasoning for trying to hide who Will was from Serena. But what about what she had said? About how he shouldn’t be so fast to trust the Ranger? That the Ranger had his own agenda? Was this what she’d meant? That she thought he would use this shift in power…for what? For bargaining Will to Marl? But the Ranger wouldn’t do that. He had been one to advocate in Will’s protection tonight, he and Ross especially. But how well do you know him? said an unbidden voice in Will’s mind. He hid all of this from you. Perhaps he does have motives he’s using you for. He might just not share them with you.

  He didn’t tell me this because he was trying to protect me, Will thought fiercely. He wanted to keep me alive.

  What he wanted more than anything now was to speak with the Ranger. He glanced out the window beside his bed. Night was still gripping the castle, the grey of dawn not yet starting to fade the eastern sky. Would there be a guard there now? Probably. No, he’d risked enough for one night. Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced himself to breathe evenly, to try to fall into sleep.

  All he found, however, were the twisting nightmares of old. Marl leered from the darkness, blood oozing down his face from the crooked crown he wore.

  ***

  A hand gripping his shoulder made Will start from his uneasy sleep, sitting upright and diving for the dagger at his bedside.

  “Easy, mate!” Haru said, stepping back in surprise. “Don’t go killing me quite yet.”

  Will blinked, breathing to slow his racing heart. “Sorry, bad dream.”