The Cutthroat Prince (William of Alamore Series Book 2)

by C. J. R. Isely

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Waiting was a form of torture. Will was certain of that by the time night fell. The only good thing was that the waiting had been full of training and, after the training, a night of helping Rowan in the kitchens cleaning dishes. Rowan hadn’t made any friends in the kitchen due to his unhelpful habit of randomly quacking like a duck and splashing water over passersby. This meant that by the time they had washed all the dishes on their own, it was late, and Will was drenched from head to toe.

  “Don’t look so grumpy, you should feel honored,” Rowan said, climbing the stairs from the kitchen next to Will.

  Will glowered at him, wringing the hem of his tunic. “Honored?”

  “Yeah, you got to see a Rowan Duck in the wild. Pretty rare creatures.”

  Half snarling, half laughing, Will took a swipe at Rowan’s head with one hand but Rowan had already bounced up two steps, out of his reach. “You’re a prat,” Will called up, grinning for what seemed the first time since the Ranger’s disappearance.

  “I am amazing!” Rowan bounded up the remaining steps, waiting for Will at the landing that would lead into the dinner hall.

  “Yeah, well, amazing one–you’ve got a potato skin in your hair.”

  “Oh, gross,” Rowan groaned, shaking like a dog and spraying the landing with water and the single potato skin. “This is ridiculous. Laster is a real prat for making me do this. All I did was check that he was on his guard. I’m keeping him alive, really.”

  Once they’d changed into dry clothing and climbed into their beds, Will was glad for the exhaustion. His eyelids grew heavy and pulled him deep into sleep before the nightmares had a chance to plague at his mind.

  ***

  When nightmares did arrive, Marl leered above the Ranger’s crumpled form. The Cutthroat Prince’s laughter rang through his head and the forest, dark and empty, spun around him. He couldn’t stand to fight Marl, to help the Ranger. Marl was lifting his sword and…

  Will woke with a start to the sound of a horn being blown. Rowan in the next bed swore and fell to the floor in surprise while Colin was sitting upright, reaching for his boots.

  “The blazes is that?” Will demanded groggily, reaching for the dagger on his side table.

  “Royal messenger,” Colin snapped. “Seriously, do you two study anything ever?”

  “Why bother? Studying hasn’t yet made me happy as food does,” Rowan grumbled, pulling himself back onto his bed.

  But Will was awake and scrambling into his boots, grabbing up his cloak, a sick knot in his stomach. The Ranger. Colin seemed to be having the same thought and was hurriedly buckling his dagger belt over his sleeping tunic. “Come on, Rowan.”

  “You can’t be serious right now?” Rowan demanded. When neither Will or Colin answered, only continued to dress while other squires blinked in bewilderment, Rowan pulled himself out of bed with a groan and grabbed up his own boots.

  The three ran across the castle, through the corridors, and into the courtyard. A party of riders was standing on the bridge, a white banner of parlay fluttering feebly beneath another banner–the sea green fabric with a bronze kelpie. In front of the riders, blocking their way forward, were four Alamore knights. They stood to either side of the King, their hands resting on their weapons, faces set– Laster, Ross, Haru, and Rockwood.

  Will slid to a halt, staggering a step forward as Rowan collided with his back. Colin came to a halt at his side and the color fled from his face.

  “Blazes, why’d you two stop?” Rowan demanded.

  But Will wasn’t listening. He couldn’t break his gaze from the rider in the center, astride a fine black horse. His chest plate gleamed silver even in the feeble light breaking through the clouds above, his black eyes dancing in triumph above his black beard. He was speaking to the King of Alamore, a humorless smile showing white teeth. On his black hair, a thin bronze crown glinted with green and blue stones, giving the sense that the crown was alive with the water of an ocean. The man paused, seeming to sense squires’ gazes on him, and his eyes shifted past the King, resting on Will.

  “Well, if it isn’t my own heir,” hissed King Marl of Kelkor.

  “Oh, damn.” Rowan grabbed the back of Will’s tunic as though expecting him to rush forward but there was no need. Will’s legs had turned to lead, and he couldn’t move a muscle. His mind was screaming for him to turn away and run from this man, the monster, while the part of him that had driven to hunt The Cutthroat Prince, was the same part of him that wanted to dive forward for an attack. But Marl seemed prepared for a fight, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword, the riders on his either side alert and armed.

  “He’s not your heir,” Ross growled, stepping sideways to stand between Will and Marl.

  Marl laughed coldly, raising his brows. “And you intend to stop me from reclaiming him?”

  Ross nodded and Haru moved as well to Ross’s side. “You’d have to go through me as well.”

  “Boy, don’t think spilling your blood would, for a heartbeat, bother me,” Marl sneered. “I’ve no problem killing an infant knight.”

  “Yeah, well you’ve got to get by me and Laster as well, and I doubt you’d manage it, but I welcome you to get off that horse and give it a go. Believe me, we’d love the chance to tear you apart,” Rockwood snarled.

  “This is enough,” the King snapped. “Marl, I decline your offer of an alliance negotiation. Alamore will not side with the man who murdered my brother.”

  The dark eyes shifted from Will to the King. “No? You would rather war between us than see sense? Lives will be lost, Revlan, if you don’t step down from pride and see reason instead.”

  One of the riders behind Marl gave a snort of derisive laughter. Colin gasped and Will felt his elbow dig into his ribs.

  “What?” Will hissed, glancing toward his friend.

  Colin wasn’t looking at him but rather the rider to Marl’s right, his face taut. “Look at that rider.”

  Will didn’t get the chance as something large and solid barreled past him, nearly knocking him to the ground. A moment later he realized that it was Niet, bounding toward Marl.

  “No!” Will’s cry made Haru spin. The young knight grabbed Niet before he could reach Marl, struggling to hold him back as he snarled and kicked, eyes fixed on the man that had murdered his King.

  Marl let out a bark of humorless mirth. “One of my own subjects seems too eager to greet me!”

  “Niet, knock it off! Quit!” Haru was struggling, red faced, and straining to keep Niet from springing at Marl. “Will, Rowan, Colin, help me!”

  Will broke the ice that had frozen him to the spot, sprinting to Haru’s side and grabbing one of Niet’s writhing arms. He was nearly lifted from the ground with the force of Niet’s struggle. A moment later, Rowan was clinging to the arm on his other side. Then Colin’s hands were grappling to help Haru.

  The riders were laughing at the struggle and the grief stricken Kelkor squire battling the four of them to get to Marl. Will felt himself dragged forward several inches and planted his heels in the ground, pulling back with all of his strength. “Niet, he’ll kill you!”

  “I don’t care, let me go, I want to kill him. He killed Azric, Paranella, Paxrin…” Niet was grunting between breaths, white faced with fury.

  “That’s enough, lad,” Ross growled. He pushed past Will and Rowan, grabbing Niet’s shoulders in a pincer grip.

  “Marl, get your circus out of here.” Laster sneered, amber eyes flashing. “If you think you can intimidate us into an alliance, then you clearly are more of a moron than you look.”

  Marl’s face contorted with hatred and for a wild moment Will felt certain Marl would strike down to kill Laster where he stood. But, after a long pause, he gave a forced and horrible smile. “How no one has killed you is a miracle, Laster. That is one thing I will consider to be a benefit if Revlan decides against alliance with Kelkor’s new rule.”

  “I have decided against it,” the Ki
ng said coolly.

  “You would rather risk this country falling in war than form an alliance with the new King of Kelkor?” Marl laughed coldly. “You value the life of that boy.” He waved a hand toward Will. “And the death of your brother more than the lives of your people? Perhaps you are more like your brother than I believed… only difference is that you have a pulse, for now.”

  “They are among my people,” King Revlan growled. “And I value honor and trust, two things I could never believe you have. An alliance with you is postponing an inevitable betrayal.”

  Marl’s face darkened. “I wouldn’t be so hasty in making your decision. Not until, of course, you know what’s at risk.”

  “And what would that be? The chance to see you make a fool of yourself firsthand?” Laster asked, smirking.

  Marl spun toward him, dark eyes flashing, and reached to draw his sword. Laster was faster, his blade drawn and pointed toward the earth. Marl didn’t move, sword half drawn, torn between attack and composure.

  “Draw the sword, Marl. Draw it and you break the parlay,” Laster snarled. “Then we can see which of us is the better swordsman once and for all.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Marl hissed, shoving the sword back into its scabbard. He turned to the King and the malice in his smile made Will want to recoil. It was a look that promised suffering. “I will have you know that your failure to be more progressive, your failure to see that perhaps an alliance would suit you, will cost lives. The first of which will dead in five days with the execution of your precious Ranger of Kings.”

  “What?” Will didn’t realize he had spoken until Marl’s black eyes flitted to him instead and the leering smile stretched broader over his face. Rowan grabbed Will’s arm with a death grip.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Will,” Rowan hissed.

  “Yes, boy. The Ranger of Kings will die at the celebration that King Tollien is hosting for my coronation. Perhaps if you would see sense, take your duty as my heir, swear your loyalties where they are due, then he might live. But you seem as daft as the King you follow. Perhaps one day you’ll be a proper heir, like my brother’s son. If you’re not, you’ll meet the same fate as my other brother, won’t you?” He waved a hand to the rider on his right and Will noticed the young guard that Colin had been trying to point out to him before. Beady eyes were gleaming with cold humor, his round freckled face red with excitement. The young rider was sixteen or so, but Will recognized the sandy hair and that leer. He didn’t need to glance to the saddle to see the jagged edged sword. He knew this rider. The blood in Will’s veins turned to ice.

  “Have you met my brother’s new squire?” Marl asked, dark eyes dancing with suppressed mirth. “He seems a bit more loyal than the last, doesn’t he? He was one of those who helped capture the Ranger after all.”

  “And what proof do you have of that?” demanded Ross.

  Marl nodded to the boy at his side. “Show them, Draccart.”

  The Cutthroat didn’t respond, only reached into his saddle bag and withdrew a length of black fabric. Will’s heart stopped in his chest as he watched the Ranger’s cloak slip from Draccart’s hand and flutter to the ground.

  “If you want your Ranger of Kings back alive, then I think it only fitting we trade him for another royal,” chuckled Draccart, his mouth twisting into an evil smile.

  Will moved to grab the dagger at his side and Rowan’s fingers bit harder into his shoulder. Draccart spat on the ground, his horse shying slightly sideways.

  “Seems fair enough, doesn’t it?” Marl offered, his black eyes boring into Will’s even as he addressed the King.

  “Leave,” King Revlan said, his voice low and dangerous. “Get out of here.”

  Marl snorted, wheeling his horse in a tight circle. “The offer stands, Revlan, for four days. You have five days to change your mind or it’s the Ranger’s blood on your hands.”

  And with that he dug his heels into the sides of his dark horse, the other riders spinning to follow. In a thunder of hooves over the drawbridge and a deafening silence that followed, no one moved. They could only watch as the King of Kelkor and Draccart vanished from sight.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  For the second time in as many days, Will found himself sitting in the council chamber, shifting uneasily. This time, however, it was Rowan on his left side instead of Haru, while Colin sat stiffly to his right. Niet, his expression still murderous, sat hunched in a seat beside Serena.

  The door snapped open again and Will looked up, his heart leaping as, for one wild moment, he was sure it would be the Ranger sweeping through it, sneering at the gullible nature of knights. For the first time, he didn’t notice the power that emanated from the King as he strode into the chamber, slamming the door behind him and glowering around the room.

  “How did this happen?” he asked and, though his voice was low, Will could hear the note of raw fury shaking beneath. “How have we been played for fools to this extent by Tollien? His own squire and the rest of these so-called Cutthroats have been running amok in Alamore and done this much damage. How can this have happened? And to the Ranger?”

  For a long moment, no one moved, everyone staring at the King with mixtures of apprehension and foreboding. Finally, Laster stood, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “I think we all would like to know that, though we shouldn’t be too surprised.” His amber eyes flashing in Serena’s direction and his lip curled into his custom sneer, “there are those who are so determined to be blinded by their own theories that they will go to any extent not to see the truth or help others see it.”

  “If you are saying this is my fault,” Serena started, half rising.

  “In part, yes,” Laster snapped. “You have been pushing from the start that it is that boy there.” He pointed toward Will. “That is our biggest threat. You have been so determined that you get revenge from the Ranger that you are blind and keep pushing discord and issues that have nothing to do with you because you’re blaming Kelkor on the Ranger rather than Marl. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if you are the spy, the reason he was caught.”

  “How dare you!” Serena sprang to her feet, teeth bared in a snarl, her hand reaching for the curved sword on her hip. “You think I had anything to do with this? It’s bold of you to assume I’m the one holding these petty grudges when we all know about your history. Or did you think that story never traveled to Kelkor? About Marl killing Sir Dasroch because of-”

  Laster launched himself to his feet and reached for his sword. Before he could draw the blade, however, Ross and Kalia had sprang to their feet as well, stepping between Laster and Serena. “Sit down, Laster!” Ross barked.

  “Serena, take your seat,” Kalia commanded.

  “Laster, that does nothing for us,” the King snapped, striding across the room and lowering himself into his seat. “So, what is it we know then?”

  “That the Ranger will be dead in five days,” said Laster and Will could tell he was struggling not to roll his eyes as he lowered himself into his seat.

  “I mean,” the King said, his tone betraying a snarl, “what do we know that might help.”

  “I know my way around Thornten,” Robin offered, raising his eyebrows. “I mean, I lived there until last year. I could sneak in, try to rescue him.”

  “That would be a death sentence,” Ross snapped. “Laster and I know our way around that castle as well. Even if the three of us go in, there’s not much chance of getting him out alive. We would have to somehow sneak in with the crowd on execution day. They’ll make it a spectacle for certain–how often do you get to kill a traitor Prince?”

  “You know they’ll be expecting that,” Sir Don said, shaking his head. “They’ll be guarded with an army and that path from the city to the castle is empty of trees. There wouldn’t be any sneaking toward them, just a mad charge in which time he’d slit his throat.”

  “We could attempt to ambush one of the royals in the city, trade hosta
ges,” Ross retorted.

  “That’s impossible as well,” Sir Henry said doubtfully.

  “No, it’s not.” Sir Miller shook his head. “We did it last year, don’t you remember? Laster, the Ranger, Rockwood, Ross, and I. We got into that city and saved those three!” He waved a hand dismissively at Will, Rowan, and Colin. “We could do it again! Those royals are bound to ride out between now and then and we’d just have to ambush them.”

  “Just have to ambush them? Do you hear yourselves? And of course, you could make it then, you said it yourself,” Sir Henry said evenly. “You had the Ranger. We don’t stand much chance there without the Ranger. He has more influence in that city than any of us can ever truly explain.”

  “We don’t need influence, we need swords!” Haru snapped. “And I’d go too. He got captured saving our squires, I want to help.”

  “I don’t doubt you would all love to volunteer,” Laster said, sinking back into his seat and eyeing Serena, still glowering at him, “but that leaves a little matter of an undefended castle. In case you’ve forgotten, I’ll remind you that is exactly how they struck over the winter. If we all gallivant to save the Ranger, we are setting ourselves up to die here. We’ve lost twelve soldiers in a single night. If we all leave, the castle will be left wide open for attack.”

  “So, you’re saying you won’t save him?” fired Haru, eyes flashing.

  “Did I say that?” This time Laster didn’t resist rolling his eyes, a contemptuous look on his face. “I believe I said we can’t all go parading off to save the Ranger. If there is to be any party going to save him, I will be with it, if only for the joy of holding it over his head for the rest of his life. Not to mention, as Ross already stated, I’ve been in that castle. I know my way around well enough.”

  Haru said nothing in response but Will saw his knuckles whiten as he gripped his knees.

  “You aren’t serious right now!” Serena demanded, turning to look from the knights to the King, every eye on her. “You can’t be considering throwing away more lives in an attempt to save the Ranger! We are talking knights swarming in and attacking when outnumbered? Listen to reason!”