Will sat in stunned silence, the Ranger’s words sinking in. “But I don’t want to be any King,” he said slowly, shaking his head. “Surely they could find another heir or…”
“They won’t ever believe that you don’t want to be King,” the Ranger said, waving a dismissive hand. “They only see you as they themselves were when your age–power hungry from the start, willing to murder for a crown, and with your tie to the thrones.”
“I don’t want any of this!” Will shook his head. “I don’t want a tie to the crown, and I don’t want to be King. I don’t-”
“They don’t care what you want!” the Ranger raised his voice, wheeling round on Will. “They won’t care! You are either with them or you are against them. Until either you lie dead or sit on a throne, they won’t be satisfied. The only way of winning would be to see that you take the throne of Thornten. Only if they’re dead can,” the Ranger stopped, and Will knew he had said too much.
Staring at the face shrouded in shadow, Will saw the lips press into a thin line and icy understanding settled onto his shoulders, pressing him down. “That’s why Serena said you’re trying to use me…because you are. You want me to take the Thornten throne.”
“I didn’t say that,” the Ranger countered. But his voice shook slightly, the lie transparent in the dimly lit and deserted room.
Will ran a hand through his hair, feeling his fingers shaking. “That’s why the King let me stay here to train then, isn’t it? You told him I would be your pawn instead of Tollien’s, that you’d be able to put me on the Thornten throne because I’m Marl’s son and I have a tie to it.”
“That’s not true,” the Ranger started but Will pressed on, the rage growing in his chest, dark and suffocating.
“You haven’t cared about me, have you? It’s been about you this entire time! How you can use me to get power! You thought you’d be my right hand or something if Tollien fell and Marl? You could put me on that throne and control me and still live how you want to because you’d shirk the royal line.”
“You’re being a child,” the Ranger snapped. “That’s not why it has to be you.”
“Has to be me? Has to be me?” Will gave a slightly hysterical laugh. “It won’t be me!” He felt his legs shaking beneath him but couldn’t recall standing. “You want Thornten to be in an alliance with Alamore? You want Tollien off the throne? That’s fine. But you better be ready to wear that crown yourself because I’m not going to. I won’t be your puppet any more than Marl’s or Tollien’s.”
“Will, it’s got to be you. I can’t, it’s not my-”
But Will was already turning away. He cleared the distance between the Ranger and the door in a few bounds, throwing it open with such force that it crashed off of the wall. He heard the Ranger say something, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t listening. Instead, he was leaping down the steps two at a time, rushing into the entry hall where he nearly bowled through Niet at the foot of the steps.
“Will, what’s happened, what’s?”
He didn’t answer. He pushed through Niet and out the double doors wishing for the first time that he could leave the castle and never see the blue and silver pennants atop the walls again.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Will took refuge in Visra’s stall, his back pressed against the wall, watching the bay horse move stiffly over his bedding. The stitches had been removed but the scar was still vivid, the hair barely starting to grow. The bay turned his large head to survey Will between mouthfuls of hay, a curious concern in the dark eyes.
The calm presence of his fiery horse made Will’s heart rate steady, his breathing even. Even so, his mind still was tormented with what the Ranger had said, this newest truth. The Ranger was using him. He wanted Will to take Thornten’s throne. Despite his fury with the Ranger, his anger that anyone would want to use him like this, Will knew that the Ranger had a point. It would be best for Alamore, but he didn’t want it. He didn’t want a crown and, clearly, the Ranger didn’t either or he wouldn’t be trying to push it off onto Will.
“Are you wanting to talk about it?”
Will looked up, startled. He hadn’t heard Niet enter the barn and Visra had, uncharacteristically, not pinned his ears at the older squire’s approach. He was leaning against Visra’s stall door, watching Will with a faint frown.
Will grimaced, pushing himself to his feet and brushing the straw from his tunic. “Not sure if I want to talk or if I feel more like punching something.”
“Well,” said Niet, laughing and opening the stall door for Will, “That’s a benefit of being a squire, isn’t it? We can talk while you throw punches. Come on, I’m supposed to be training you anyhow. It’s a good distraction.”
This seemed an inviting compromise and Will nodded, following Niet from the barn and back toward the jousting field. He was relieved to find it was still deserted. No doubt the other squires were just sitting down to breakfast.
“Footwork is the first thing with any training tactic,” Niet explained, vaulting the low fence into the arena. “Make sure you always keep a bend in your knee. A locked leg is a good way to hit the ground hard and get hurt in the process.”
“I know that one,” Will grumbled, climbing over the fence with less grace.
He was glad when Niet didn’t press with talk but rather pointed to his stance, correcting it only slightly, before raising his hands to chest height and lifting his brows. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
Quick as lightning, Niet sprang forward, lifting a hand to block Will’s first strike and grip his wrist. With a spin, he twisted Will’s arm up and behind his back, knocking his knee into the back of Will’s so he crashed to the earth.
“You sure you’re ready?”
Panting in annoyance and surprise, Will wriggled free of Niet’s grip and straightened, flexing his fingers. “Blazes, I thought I was till you turned into a bloody assassin.”
Niet chuckled and stepped back, nodding to Will’s stance again. “You have to keep your eyes on my movements. You tried to think of my move before seeing it. So, step back, and we can try again.”
Will managed to get one strike in the next round before he was flat on his back, more annoyed than ever. Niet held out a hand to help him out but he ignored it, waving his own hand dismissively and climbing to his feet. “I’m fine.”
“Whatever happened with the Ranger has you too distracted to practice with your head,” Niet commented coolly, frowning. “If you don’t manage to shake it off, you’re going to get hurt, even if it is only practice.”
“Well, not exactly something I can just shake off,” Will snapped. Niet took a step back, surprised, and Will immediately felt a pang of guilt. “Niet, I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright.” Niet shook his head. “It can’t be easy to be in your position, with Marl and this Cutthroat Prince after you.”
“Wish it was that simple,” Will said, sneering at the dirt and placing his feet again.
“Did he mention where Marl was?”
Will looked up to see Niet had paused, his dark eyes narrowed, his face rigid.
“Well, he doesn’t really know,” Will said, shrugging. “He said he figures he’s on his way to Thornten from Kelkor but that’s not much help now, is it?”
“No,” Niet said slowly, seeming to mull it over. He shook himself and gave Will his wolfish grin. “I suppose not. Now, come on. If you’re not going to talk about what’s bothering you, why don’t you start actually getting in a punch or two? I promise it will make you feel better.”
***
It did help. By the time that Haru returned from his patrol two hours later, Will was sweat-soaked, bruised, and too exhausted to feed his own fury at the Ranger. A small amount of shame was even gnawing at the edges of his mind, reprimanding him for his attitude to the Ranger. He shouldn’t have been surprised and shouldn’t have attacked. The Ranger was, after all, probably acting on Revlan’s own orders. But he couldn’t shake the pit of anger that stil
l rested in his chest. No. He’d talk to the Ranger but not now. He needed a chance to collect his thoughts.
“Blazes, Niet, did you drown him in dirt?” Haru laughed when Will and Niet met him in the courtyard as he dismounted from his roan. He took in Will’s appearance, grinning and reached to brush the dirt out of Will’s hair. “You look a mess, Will.”
“Knock it off,” Will grumbled, batting away his knight’s hand.
“He learned how to fall with grace,” Niet offered, shrugging and shooting Will a smirk. “Maybe someday you will learn to strike with it, too, eh?”
“Shut up.”
Haru laughed again, shaking his head. “Well, get yourself ready for more training. Ross said we can train with him and Colin this afternoon and Rockwood should be about done torturing Rowan with court manners by now. They might join.”
“Court manners?” Will asked, frowning.
“Yeah, Rockwood decided he should teach Rowan the proper ways of conducting conversation,” Haru explained, his grey-green eyes dancing with mischief.
Laster, passing on his way to the barn, snorted derisively. “By which he means that Rowan is learning not to launch unprovoked attacks on the knights.”
“Unprovoked is questionable when it’s Laster,” Haru muttered but not loud enough for the older knight to hear. “Right then, thank you for training with him this morning, Niet. I appreciate it. Will, come give me a hand getting Thunder tended then we can hunt down the rest of them.”
“Right.” Will nodded and made to leave with his knight. He caught himself and turned to Niet. “Thank you, Niet…” he hesitated, trying to find the words to express his gratitude to the other squire without giving away what had happened.
Niet seemed to understand however and only inclined his head. “Thank you too, Will. I needed the…practice.”
For the span of a second, a shadow crossed Niet’s face, darkening his features, stiffening his jaw. Will faltered, bewildered. There wasn’t time to ask, however. Haru was calling for Will to catch up and Niet had already turned away, striding toward the double doors of the castle.
Wheeling round to chase after his knight, though, Will couldn’t shake the feeling that Niet, like himself, was hiding something more about that morning’s meeting with the Ranger.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Throughout training, Will’s mind kept flitting back to the conversation with the Ranger. The idea of challenging Tollien for his throne sent a sick feeling through him, weighing on his mind and distracting him several times so that he was knocked off Admere twice by Rowan when practicing with swords.
“Pay attention, Will,” Rowan hissed, reaching from his own saddle to help Will up. “You’re making me look good and it’s suspicious.”
“Sorry,” Will mumbled, clambering to his feet again. At the fence, he saw Ross, Haru, Laster, and Rockwood watching him. Embarrassed, he brushed the dust from his tunic and picked up his practice sword. “Sorry,” he repeated when he realized that Rowan was still watching him.
Several strides away, Colin gave a hoot of victory as he disarmed Vancely. It was enough to distract the knights attention and Rowan leaned in again, frowning.
“What’s going on, Will?”
Will hesitated. He was still torn if he wanted to tell anyone but, at the same time, it felt like the truth might strangle him if he didn’t. He was on the verge of speaking when Ross clapped his hands together, making them both start and turn toward the knights.
“That’s enough for this evening. If Will takes another fall like that he might get hurt,” Ross barked, scowling. “Get the horses tended, all of you, and get into the castle. It’s about time for dinner anyhow.”
Will glanced upward. He hadn’t noticed time passing, too preoccupied in his own thoughts.
“Oh, sweet dinner, how I love thee so,” Rowan lamented, clapping his hand over his heart and pretending to swoon from his saddle.
“Do you ever think of anything other than food?” Will asked, grabbing up Admere’s reins and pulling himself onto the small horse again. Admere reached round to grab gently at Will’s boot, pinning his ears a moment when Will shoved his face away. “Knock it off, horse.”
“I think of food and swords, like a true man,” Rowan announced proudly, sticking out his chest.
Will gave a grudging snort of laughter, turning Admere toward the gate. “Yeah, that sounds about like you.”
“What were you going to tell me anyhow?” Rowan said, trotting Naja to Admere’s side. Will tightened his reins as the small red horse reached to nip at the larger animal. Naja bared his teeth threateningly and Admere arched his neck. “Quit it, tiny horse. Naja could eat you for breakfast,” Rowan snapped at Admere. “But what was it?”
“I’ll tell you and Colin later,” Will muttered. They were approaching the fence and he could see Rockwood watching them closely. Catching Will’s eye, the dark-haired knight gave his usual grin and turned away. Still, it made Will’s chest tighten. Was this going to be his life? People knowing secrets about him first?
In the barn, Vancely began telling them about the patrols along the Western Forest, which he had just been permitted to join that morning with Laster, Robin, and Haru. “It’s crazy how silent the woods are over there now,” he was saying, brushing down his large chestnut. “I mean, nothing is stirring, not even the bird, but there aren’t tracks of the Cutthroats either. Laster thinks that they’ve moved on to another part of the forest, that we’ve realized they’re there, you know? But, I don’t know, it feels eerie. Like I just know that they’ve been hiding in that wood so well. We rode to the town and tried talking to people there about him, but they seem scared. They seem to think that The Cutthroat Prince is some dark ghost or something.”
“He’s a fart, that’s what he is,” Rowan grumbled.
Colin tried and failed to look disapproving, owing to his own snort of laughter. “That’s disgusting, Rowan.”
“The truth is gross at times.”
“What are the town people afraid of?” Will asked, turning from Admere, the saddle cradled in his arms.
Vancely shrugged. “I guess he’s been harassing them, riding through the streets at night. The city guard has implemented a curfew to see if that can keep people safe but at least once a night, they get reports of hooded figures riding or walking past windows. People are terrified and they don’t even seem to know why.”
“Makes you wonder what they’re up to,” Colin muttered, voicing Will’s thoughts. “Like why are they in the village?”
“Beats me, but rogues will be rogues,” Vancely said, shrugging.
By the time they had put away their horses and stepped out of the barn, the sky was turning indigo shot through with brilliant reds and fiery orange in the west. Their shadows stretched before them on their way to the double doors. Will lapsed into silence, barely listening to Colin and Vancely, now on the topic of border security and defense.
Defending the border of Thornten and Alamore wouldn’t be an issue if Tollien wasn’t King, an unbidden voice hissed in Will’s mind. He quashed it, gritting his teeth. He didn’t want the stupid crown and responsibility for Thornten, he didn’t want to be destined to kill Tollien or Marl. He wanted to be an Alamore knight. That was all.
In the dinner hall, the smell of food made Will push all other thoughts to the back of his mind. Rowan beside him gave a groan of longing and started to walk faster. “Come on, Will. I need to eat before I get called back down to the kitchen for my completely ridiculous punishment. Seriously, it’s absurd.”
“You did tackle Laster,” Will pointed out, sinking into his customary seat. He accepted the plate of roast venison from Gabe with a nod of thanks and started to pile food in front of him. In his focus of training and thoughts, he’d somehow forgotten about eating almost all together that day, with the exception of the single piece of toast that might as well have been in another lifetime.
“You lot hear that the King turned down the request of a bounty
hunter to search the forest for The Cutthroat Prince?” Jerram asked, wide-eyed. “A real bounty hunter! Came here! Asked if he could hunt The Cutthroat Prince in exchange for payment. Said he had all sorts of traps he could set but the King said no.”
“Why would he do that?” asked Vancely, frowning.
“Probably because he’s worried someone else like one of these fine young idiots would stumble into it and get killed,” Airagon said, sinking into a seat and ruffling Jerram’s hair. “Or Rowan,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
Everyone except Rowan laughed. “Rude, Airagon,” Rowan huffed, scowling. “Are you saying I’m not young? Is that it?”
“You’re a nitwit,” Colin commented dryly.
“Where are your Kelkor friends?” Airagon asked, frowning at Will, Rowan, and Colin. “You were training with them today, weren’t you?”
Will noticed his two friends shift uncomfortably but managed to keep his own features bland as he shrugged. “Not sure. I trained with Niet this morning, but I haven’t seen the Princess or Eldin today.”
“Well, speak of the crown,” Gabe said, climbing up to kneel on his seat, the better to see the double doors. “Isn’t that them now?”
Will twisted round. Eldin and Kalia were stepping into the hall, both dressed in simple tunics, though he noticed that Kalia wore a black sash around one arm and Eldin’s eyes were shadowed with exhaustion. Will expected Kalia to join the knights’ table but was surprised when she nudged Eldin toward the squires, smiling faintly.
“Coming to sit with us? Hasn’t anyone told you yet that we’re trouble?” Airagon said, rising and pulling a chair out for the Princess.
Kalia smiled, the expression not quite reaching her sad brown eyes. “I’ve survived this long amongst squires such as Niet and Eldin, I think I can handle you all.”
The Cutthroat Prince (William of Alamore Series Book 2) Page 24