A Royal Guide to Monster Slaying

by Kelley Armstrong

  “I don’t think—”

  “How is a few months of training going to prepare Rowan? That is a gryphon. Armand died facing one. Jannah died facing one. Both were fully trained adult hunters.”

  “Jannah did kill one, and so will Rowan. She’ll be with me and all the hunters. We will not leave her side. With the proper training and battle planning, we can do this, Mari.” He pauses. “Unless you wish to give up your throne to Heward. That’s where it will go. Not to his children, but to him. The power of both throne and sword in his hands.”

  My heart seizes imagining Heward in control of our kingdom. My mother would never complain to me about him, but I hear the stories of how he mistreats the tenants on his lands, overtaxing and overworking them. I’ve met his staff and seen how they look at him, like whipped dogs fearing their master. Even his adult children flinch when he raises his voice.

  My mother cannot interfere with the running of Heward’s lands and household. That is forbidden by clan law. But what if all of Tamarel becomes his?

  Inside, it’s gone so quiet that I hear the hands of the clock ticking.

  “If…” Mom says slowly, quietly. “If that happens—”

  “No,” I say as I push open the door. “It won’t happen. Berinon is right, Mom. I can do this.”

  Her mouth sets, and I know she’s ready to argue, so I hurry on. “Please. Let me train. Allow me to try. Give me time.”

  “Time…” she whispers. Then she straightens. “Yes, I need time, and your training will buy me that.”

  “I—I don’t understand.”

  She smiles at me. “Boring politics. The sort of thing that never interested you. So we will both do what we do best. You will train, Rowan. You will take action and prepare, while I try to get us out of this ridiculous situation.”

  She pulls me into a hug. “With any luck, you will never face this gryphon. Instead, you will only be training for your future…as the royal monster hunter.”

  * * *

  I’m in my brother’s room. He’s in bed, his leg elevated. I’m curled up on a chair. The jackalope is curled up, too, on my lap, purring. I’m petting him, and the warmth of his body relaxes me. Malric has joined us, watching me like a nursemaid who hates children.

  “Maybe I can release Malric,” I say. “Send him to the mountains.”

  “He hasn’t been in the mountains since he was a pup,” Rhydd says. “Releasing him would be cruel.”

  “You’re right. But maybe I could free him from his duties. Let him go…do warg stuff.”

  “Kill chickens and terrorize villagers?”

  I sigh. “It’s just…he doesn’t like me.”

  Anyone else would lie and say Malric likes me just fine. Thankfully, I don’t need to worry about that with Rhydd.

  “He tolerates you,” my brother says. “Which is more than he does for anyone else. Including me. Jannah may have gifted him to you, but he’s with you because he knows…”

  “That I’m the new royal monster hunter.”

  Rhydd’s gaze drops. He’s been told about the switch. I wasn’t there for that, and when I see his gaze drop, I know I was right to stay away.

  “You don’t need to take the sword,” he says.

  “I know. I want to take it.”

  He shifts, pushing up on his pillows. “I might be fine. Even if I’m not, a limp won’t slow me too much.”

  “As royal monster hunter, you can’t be slowed at all.”

  “I could try—”

  “I want this, Rhydd.”

  He shifts again. “I know, but it feels wrong. Like I’ve stolen something from you. You should be queen. A ruler, not a servant.”

  “A queen—or a king—is as much a servant of the people as a royal monster hunter. You’ll just get the bigger chair.”

  I smile, but he fusses with his blankets.

  “I’m fine, Rhydd. This is what I want. What I’ve always wanted. You’ll make the better monarch. I’ll make…”

  “The better hunter. You can say that, Ro. We both know it.” He nods at the warg. “Malric knows it. Your jackalope knows it. Everyone does. You are Jannah’s true heir.”

  “But can I fight a gryphon? That’s the question.”

  He makes a face. “It’ll be years before that. No one’s going to expect you to…” He catches my expression. “Ro…?”

  I tell him what the council has decreed. Before I even finish, he’s scrambling to rise. I accidentally upend the jackalope as I fly across the room to stop my brother.

  “The doctor ordered bed rest,” I say. “Get up again and I’ll order Malric to keep you there. By lying on you.”

  “He’d probably smother me. On purpose.”

  “Well, then, don’t make me do it. Stay in bed.”

  I turn back to my chair to see the jackalope reaching one front paw over the edge…and tapping Malric’s snout. The warg snaps, bearing teeth as long as the jackalope’s entire leg.

  I race back and scoop up the jackalope. “Really? Is that my new job? Forget protecting everyone from monsters. I need to save them from their own foolishness.” I waggle a finger at my brother. “Stay in bed.” Then at the jackalope. “Don’t tease the giant death-wolf.”

  I slump into my chair. The jackalope settles back on my lap but not before chattering at Malric. Then he snuggles in, preening himself, and gives the warg a smug look.

  “Oh, believe me, Malric isn’t jealous,” I say. “He doesn’t want to be on my lap.”

  The jackalope keeps preening.

  “I know you’re changing the subject, Ro,” Rhydd says. “But we need to talk about this. You are much better at hunting than me, but killing a gryphon? That’s madness. I’m not even sure Heward’s son has a chance of success at his age.”

  “Is that the answer, then?” I ask. “Let his son try, knowing he’ll fail?”

  Rhydd considers and then shakes his head. “No, there’s a reason Mom hasn’t suggested that. Because Heward will cheat. He’ll find a way to make sure his son succeeds. I just can’t believe Mom would…oh.” A smile lights his face. “She’s buying time.”

  “That’s what Mom said. For what?”

  “To sway the council. Make promises. Negotiate. There are ways—many ways.”

  “See? This is why you should be king. I had no idea what she meant. The only solution I see is action. Defeat the gryphon. Which I…”

  I pull my legs up and tighten my grip on the jackalope. “If you’d asked me two days ago, I’d have said I could. But I’d never seen a gryphon. I’d never faced one. Now that I have…”

  I start to shake. At first, it’s just one shiver, but then it won’t stop. I’m shaking so hard my teeth chatter. Rhydd pushes up, as if to rise again. When I hurry to stop him, he grabs my hand and tugs me over. The jackalope follows, squeaking in alarm.

  “She’s okay.” Rhydd pulls me into a hug. “She just needs this, whether she wants it or not.”

  “I—I just have a chill,” I say.

  “And I’m just warming you up.” He gives me another hug and then motions for me to sit on the bed beside him. The jackalope perches on my lap, front feet planted on my chest as he chirps into my face.

  “Gotta admit,” Rhydd says. “He is kinda adorable.”

  The jackalope bares his teeth and chatters at Rhydd.

  I sputter a laugh. “I think he understands you, and he does not appreciate being called adorable.” I pick up the jackalope. “He is a fearsome warrior bunny. Not cute at all.”

  The jackalope chirps again, as if satisfied.

  “No wonder you two get along so well,” Rhydd says. “Hey, bunny, watch this.” He turns to me. “You are an adorable princess—” I raise my free hand, as if to punch him. He wards me off. “Sorry! I meant, you are a fearsome monster hunter, who happens to also be a princess.”

  I ease back. “Fierce enough to fight a gryphon, though? That’s the question.”

  “You won’t have to. Mom will solve this. In the meanti
me, you get an adventure.” He sits up. “So, let’s talk about that. Princess Rowan’s great monster-hunter-training adventure. Got your field journal packed yet?”

  I scoop up the jackalope and settle in to answer.

  CHAPTER TEN

  om still isn’t thrilled about me training with Wilmot. I get the feeling she liked him just fine, once upon a time, but that changed when he left to become a lone monster hunter.

  When people in Tamarel have a problem with monsters, they come to the castle for help. If it’s a serious problem, the royal monster hunter responds herself, alone or with some of her troop. For the minor cases, a member or two of her troop will answer the call. That’s a free service, of course.

  But coming to the castle could mean riding for days, and if it’s a minor problem, wealthy landowners would rather hire someone. By law, the only people they can hire are retired monster hunters.

  There are a few of these retired hunters in Tamarel. Wilmot, however, is different. He quit the troop when he was still a young man. I’ve heard that Mom wanted to stop him from selling his services. The royal family had raised and trained him, only to have him abandon the troop and become a monster-hunter-for-hire. I can see why Mom wouldn’t like that. But if the rumors are right, Jannah begged Mom to make an exception for Wilmot, and she did, for her sister.

  Jannah and Wilmot used to be friends, and I don’t know what happened between them, but obviously Jannah still thought a lot of him if she wanted me to train under him. So I will.

  The question is whether Wilmot will accept me as a student. He’s refused all contact from the castle for years. If I show up with a royal entourage, it’ll be easy for him to send me home. So I won’t. I will take two guards, who will wait for me while I visit the hunter and convince him to come back to train me. This is Berinon’s idea. Mom doesn’t love it.

  She loves it even less when Heward insists my guards wait outside the Dunnian Woods, where Wilmot lives. I must travel the rest of the way alone, as part of my training. The council agrees. It’s only a day’s walk through the forest, and I’ll have Malric with me. After my nighttime ride to join the hunting party, this is an easy test that I’ll surely pass. Or so I hope.

  “It also makes sense,” I say to my mother afterward. “It will be harder for Wilmot to refuse a royal princess if she comes alone, a helpless child…”

  “No one is going to mistake you for a helpless child,” Mom says. “But yes, there is an advantage to going alone. Wilmot will be impressed by your bravery. He may also feel some impulse to watch over you, as Jannah’s niece.” She inhales. “It’ll be fine. Just fine.”

  I only wish she sounded as if she believed that.

  * * *

  At dawn the next day, Mom and I prepare Jannah’s body for her funeral. Family always does this part. Mom says I don’t have to, but I insist. The royal monster hunter–elect is supposed to help prepare her predecessor’s body as a way of acknowledging the danger of her position. This could be me one day, lying on the ritual slab, being washed by my loved ones, my hair being styled as I wore it in life, my body dressed in my favorite clothing and jewelry. If I’m going to be the royal monster hunter, I need to face this reality. So I do.

  I cry a lot, too. I’m not the only one. That’s another reason Mom and I do it together, with no help from our maids. We have these moments alone with Jannah and our grief and each other.

  Once Jannah’s body is prepared, Rhydd and Berinon join us. They bring Malric and Courtois, who nudge and nuzzle Jannah before Malric goes to lie below the slab and Courtois to stand beside it.

  Jannah’s hunters enter next, and we leave them alone with her. After we return, the palace gates are thrown open for anyone who wants to pay their respects. People have traveled all night to be here and tell us about the time they met Jannah. There’s the farmer who had called her to chase off a warg that turned out to be a regular wolf—but she’d told all his neighbors it was a young warg, so he could save face. There’s the trader whose daughter snuck off during a trade mission to see a hoop snake, only to find herself chased by a warakin—Jannah rescued the girl, and then found a hoop snake to show her. There’s the laborer whose dying wife dreamed of seeing a unicorn, and when Jannah found out, she rode all day to show her Courtois.

  I’m still recovering from my wounds and standing all day sets my legs on fire. I refuse to sit, though, even when Berinon threatens to plunk me into a chair. Rhydd stands, too, on his crutch, accepting only a stool for his injured leg. This is important. These are the last memories we’ll have of our aunt, these stories from strangers, reminders of the kind of person she was, and the kind of royal monster hunter I want to be.

  Dusk comes, and the line of mourners does not end. The law decrees that the ceremony must stop before the sun sets, but Mom waits until the last possible moment before halting the procession and promising to throw open her doors tomorrow to anyone who still wishes to speak to her about Jannah.

  The ceremony begins with a new bard’s song celebrating the highlights of Jannah’s career. I imagine her rolling her eyes and whispering to me the true stories behind these “legendary feats.” I swear I hear her voice at my ear, smell the musk of her furs, but then I see her body on the slab and I have to lean on Berinon before I collapse in tears. His arm goes around me, and Rhydd takes my hand, gripping tight, and the rest of the ceremony passes in a blur.

  When the songs and the speeches are done, Jannah’s hunters take her body into the courtyard, where she’s placed on a funeral pyre. Rhydd lays her hunter’s pack at her feet. I tuck rolled-up pages at her side, sketches I made of her greatest deeds. Then we pause for one last look at her, dressed in her hunter’s garb, the ebony sword at her side.

  As Rhydd and I step back, Mom moves forward. Her hands slide under the blade. From the crowd, I hear a sharp intake of breath. I follow it to Heward. He rocks forward, as if to protest. Mom’s lips curve in the faintest of smiles.

  This is the final funeral rite for a fallen royal monster hunter. One I’d forgotten until this moment. Apparently, so had Heward.

  Mom lifts the sword lengthwise over her open palms. She turns to face the throng of subjects. The massive crowd murmurs, like the sighing of wind. She steps toward me and Rhydd. Another sound rises from the crowd, this one a buzz of uncertainty, even discontent.

  All eyes fix on Rhydd. Our subjects presume he’s still the royal monster hunter–elect. They see him on a crutch, his leg badly injured, and are concerned for their future.

  Mom lifts her hands, raising the sword over her head. Then she steps in front of me. She lowers the blade and whispers, “Take it.”

  I grip the handle, my fingers wrapping around ebony worn smooth from generations of royal monster hunters, wood that feels warm, as if Jannah had just held it herself. I lift the sword as my mother says, “I present Princess Rowan of Tamarel, your future royal monster hunter.”

  There’s a heartbeat of silence that nearly stops my own heart.

  Then the crowd erupts in a thunderous cheer.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  e eat a late dinner in Rhydd’s quarters. Mother has set out a table by his bedside so that we may still eat as a family on my last night home before I leave. I was supposed to stay home another day, but Mom made a statement giving me that sword. One that Heward is fuming about. She wants me safely away on my quest. I’ll leave at dawn.

  Berinon joins us, as always. He doesn’t dine with us. That would be scandalous. We might consider him family, but there are boundaries we cannot overstep. He stands by my mother’s right side, guarding her. He also tests her food. The cooks are always pleased by how much my mother eats. It is a tribute to them…and not at all because Berinon devours half.

  The maid comes in and refills my mother’s cup. After she leaves, Berinon takes a deep drink. When he makes a face, Mother only lifts a brow.

  “If it’s poisoned, please collapse in that direction.” She points behind her. “I’d like to finish enjoying m
y meal.”

  He rolls his eyes.

  “Yes, I know it’s not poisoned,” she says. “It’s cider, and you’d hoped for mead. Such is the price you pay for being the royal bodyguard and not”—she looks over her shoulder at him—“the royal queen.”

  “Why did Wilmot leave the monster hunters?” Rhydd asks.

  Silence falls. Mom stops, with the cup to her lips. She lowers it and says, “That isn’t important.”

  “I think it is,” Rhydd says evenly. “Rowan should understand what she’s getting into.”

  More silence, awkward now. Berinon says, his voice soft, “May I explain, Mari?”

  Mom nods.

  “As a baby, Wilmot was abandoned in the castle forest,” Berinon says. “One of the hunters raised him. Wilmot was a year older than your aunt, and he had a knack for monster hunting, so they were natural training partners. Wilmot, Jannah, your parents and I were all roughly of an age, all friends. Jannah and Wilmot, though, were particularly close.”

  “It became a romance, didn’t it?” Rhydd says. “One that ended badly.”

  Berinon and my mother glance at one another. Then Berinon nods.

  “That’s why Jannah said to tell him she was sorry,” I murmur.

  My mother bristles. “She had nothing to be sorry about. He left, and she apologizes to him?”

  “We don’t know the full story, Mari,” Berinon says gently. “But yes, it ended badly, and they were both hurt. That happens sometimes. You should tell Wilmot that Jannah was thinking of him at the end, Rowan. Tell him what she said. That will help win him to your side.”

  * * *

  A week ago, I stood in the courtyard and watched my brother leave. Now I’m the one leaving, and he’s in the courtyard to see me off. They’ve fashioned a chair for him, one that leaves his leg straight out. He still tries to stand.

  “Sit,” I say. “Or I’ll call the guards over to hold you down.”