Harrowed Heir

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Harrowed Heir Page 7

by Sarah E. Burr


  George took it from her, brow furrowed, and began to read. The lines in his forehead deepened as his chocolate eyes scanned Carriena’s fluid script. “Could these providence documents be real?” he finally asked once he handed the parchment back to Jax.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. What troubles me more is the secrecy behind them. Why are Master Gautherd and Headmaster Ezarath hiding them away?”

  George stroked the thick stubble on his strong, chiseled chin. “Perhaps they are worried Savant will somehow get wind of their existence. Savant could try to refute your claim to Hestes. Even if the papers are false, it could still cast a shadow over your ascension.” George’s brow furrowed. “And if they are real, Savant could easily revive the Coalition of Right with a vengeance by using Hestian resources.”

  A surge of triumph flooded Jax’s gut now that her initial instinct to be concerned over Carriena’s note had been confirmed, but gloating to Uma or Sabine would be childish and unhelpful. “I was thinking—”

  “I’ll lead a small squad out to the Academy to inquire further,” George said as if guessing her next words.

  But he hadn’t quite hit the mark. “I thought I could travel to the Academy and speak with Ezarath and Gautherd, myself.”

  George cocked one eyebrow. “I don’t see why your presence is needed, Duchess,” he said in formal reminder of her role. “I am perfectly capable of asking a few questions to gain a better understanding of the validity of these documents.” The corner of his lips twitched.

  “All right, I’ll admit it.” Jax folded her arms with a harrumph. “I’m curious about this intriguing new collection, and I want to investigate things myself. Besides, do you really expect me to stay cooped up here, preparing for a coronation that Savant might have the right to overthrow?”

  He chuckled. “I suppose knowing your history, it would be asking a lot for you to restrain yourself from sticking your nose into other matters.”

  Jax rolled her eyes, not appreciating being the butt of his joke. “I want to confirm for myself that things at the Academy are all right. Carriena is there, after all. We can disguise the whole matter as a social visit.” She glanced at George with a conspiratorial glint. “Besides, I could speak to the headmaster about the legalities of certain plans I have for the realm.”

  At that, George bowed his head in secret understanding. He was the only person who knew of her true desire to unite the realm under one sovereign and one treasury, with every duchy led by elected leaders, all of whom reported to said sovereign.

  “I’ll ready a team of men to escort us to the Academy, then.” He didn’t sound too thrilled to acquiesce to her request, but likely knew it would be fruitless to protest once her mind was made up.

  Jax clapped with victory. “Well, that was easy. I thought I’d have to work a little harder to convince you.”

  George’s dark gaze narrowed. “If these documents do turn out to be genuine, perhaps we can use them as bait to lure Savant out into the open. He and I have unfinished business, after all.”

  Jax shuddered at the unleashed venom pulsing in his eyes. She knew George blamed himself for Savant’s escape and was desperate to right such a wrong. The only thing stopping him from searching for Savant and bringing him to justice was his loyalty to her and unwillingness to leave her side for more than a few hours. But with her being so set on going to the Academy to inspect these providence documents, no doubt George would make good use of his time there, as well.

  “If we leave within the hour, we can be at the Academy well before noontime. Can you be ready that quickly?” George tossed the question over his shoulder as he strode toward her apartment door.

  Jax nodded before glancing at Uma, who had begun shuffling around the suite, gathering Jax’s scattered belongings. Her friend was already packing for the journey. “Yes. I doubt we’ll be there long, but I’ll pack an overnight bag, just in case. Have the horses ready in the courtyard. I’ll send word to Carriena that we’ll be there by midday.”

  “No.” George’s command rang through the air. “We don’t want rumors circulating that you’re leaving the confines of the Hestian castle. I want your enemies and allies alike believing you are safe and sound within the fortress.”

  Jax sighed at the subterfuge. “Well,” she said with a cavalier grin, “Carriena always did love a good surprise.”

  ‡

  “I’m counting on you both to ensure everything here runs smoothly while I am gone.” Jax squeezed Uma and Sabine’s hands, willing them to accept her unspoken apology.

  A pout had cemented itself onto Sabine’s lips. “We come all this way to be reunited, only to have you rushing off, leaving us behind in your wake.”

  Jax treasured the young woman’s indignation at being asked to stay behind in Lamartre. It showed how deeply she cared. “Your being here has lifted my spirits more than you will ever know. I will do everything in my power to return to you both, and soon.” She cupped Sabine’s chin in her palm. “Until then, I am entrusting the plans for my coronation to you both.”

  Uma placed a comforting arm around Sabine. It was clear that during Jax’s time away at the War Council, the two had grown close and relied heavily on one another. “We promise it will be an event to remember.”

  “Virtues, there’s no need to threaten me.” Jax chuckled and hugged her lady-in-waiting one final time.

  Leaving Uma and Sabine behind to manage the coronation still scheduled for the end of the week, Jax, George, and Ziri managed to depart Hestes unseen with twenty elite members of the Ducal Guard in their wake with the assistance of High Courtier Dellathorne. The High Courtier had escorted Jax’s entourage and their horses to an impenetrable underground tunnel system that stemmed from the palace, allowing Jax and her guards to escape the confines of the capital unnoticed.

  “These tunnels were built to allow the royal family safe passage, should the city ever fall under attack,” Dellathorne had explained at the gaping underground entrance. “The route I’ve drawn for you will place you about two miles outside Lamartre, along the coast. From there, it will only be a twenty-minute ride to the Academy.”

  “Thank you, Dellathorne.” Jax squeezed the woman’s forearm. “With any luck, we’ll be back here by nightfall.”

  The High Courtier nodded, although she didn’t look quite convinced. “Please send word if plans need to change.” In the strictest of confidence, Jax had explained to her about the Hestian providence documents. Like George, Dellathorne had understood the potential challenges this news from Carriena presented.

  Jax smiled reassuringly as she climbed onto Mortimer’s leather saddle. She hoped changing their plans wouldn’t be necessary, but they’d brought one of her crowned falcons along, just in case. Perhaps once they arrived at the Academy, they’d discover the documents were simple forgeries and be on their way back to Hestes before teatime. But why would Master Gautherd make such a claim to begin with? He was a skilled enough scholar to spot any inauthentic documents, so if these papers were really false claims, they’d been created masterfully. While she wanted to be optimistic, she worried about the proverbial storm brewing up ahead.

  Just as Dellathorne had described, the end of the underground tunnel opened out onto a blissful stretch of beach, the Kind Sea lapping quietly against the white, silky sand. Lamartre stood out as a dark shadow against the western horizon, slowly disappearing among the rolling slopes of the Hestian seaside.

  George led the large group along the coast, their horses moving steadily at a fast pace. With Jax’s coronation less than a week away, time was of the essence.

  As they rode, a familiar silhouette grew on the eastern horizon. For a moment, Jax’s eyes swam with memories of her time at the revered Academy, where she’d come to escape her suffocating role as the Crown Princess of Saphire. As memories took shape, her throat constricted. Her former lady-in-waiting and close childhood friend, Lady Aranelda, had been by her side for nearly every adventure. How would it feel to wa
lk the halls that she and Arnie used to scamper down, knowing all that had happened since their matriculation?

  Slowing Mortimer’s pace, Jax swallowed back her emotions, cementing her regal, stoic mask into place. She refused to let Arnie’s traitorous actions ruin memories of her beloved Academy. The woman had taken so much from her already. Jax would not allow her recollections of this famed institution to be spoiled, too.

  Jax fondly assessed the palatial structure with her amethyst gaze. Built on a small peninsula, the majestic building appeared to rise from the serene sea as they rode along the beach. A lone tower rose from the massive compound. I wonder if Mistress Siripin still studies the stars from there? She pictured the eccentric professor who had spent more of her time with her eyes glued to a telescope than with any of her students.

  Ziri maneuvered her mare to Jax’s left, squinting at the building in appraisal. “It seems sturdy enough.” She gave Jax a sly smile.

  “It’s one of the most secure places in the entire realm,” Jax explained. “When the leaders of the realm founded the institution to serve as a place of learning, they gave the Academy complete independence from the political arena. Because of its neutrality, it quickly became a place where treasures from around the continent were stored and cared for, and soon, its archives had no equal. But the priceless documents and artifacts housed at the Academy made it a target of thieves and bandits. To ensure the realm’s preserved history would be kept safe, the headmaster at the time created the Praesidio, an elite group of warriors who protect the institution.”

  Ziri raised an eyebrow. “I have heard the Praesidio mentioned with great respect among my brothers from the Knights of Grace.”

  Jax nodded. “It is said that the lowest-ranking member of the Praesidio is comparable in skill to a Captain of the Ducal Guard. No one else would be considered fit to guard such a wealth of knowledge and history.”

  Ziri’s glinting bronze gaze shifted to George’s form up ahead, as he rode about fifty paces in front of them. “That must be reassuring for Captain Solomon, then, knowing his Duquessa will be well-protected once we reach the fortress.”

  Jax wrinkled her nose. Was there a twinge of jealousy in Ziri’s tone? Her emphasis on the phrase “his Duquessa” made her wonder if something sour had transpired between the two. “George was actually once recruited by the Praesidio himself,” she countered. “Back when I attended the Academy, my father would often send George down to check on me. While he was here, he spent his time training with the knights. The Lord Praesidio became so enamored with his skills, he offered George a posting.” Jax’s cheeks heated. She still vividly remembered the nighttime stroll when George had told her about the offer. “Obviously, George declined.”

  A flurry of questions danced in Ziri’s quizzical gaze. “He must have had a very good reason to turn down such a coveted position.”

  Jax swallowed. Had George told Ziri about their romantic past? Or did Ziri simply suspect something intimate between them during their youth? Regardless, it was clear from Ziri’s coy demeanor that something had changed since yesterday morning. Ziri had spoken about her growing interest in George, yet now, she appeared rather cavalier when talking about the man.

  A call from the group up ahead interrupted Jax’s chance to ask Ziri if something had happened between her and George. One of the Ducal Guard approached Jax on horseback. “Your Grace, Captain Solomon has gone ahead with a few men to declare the approach of our delegation. He suggested you stop here and enjoy the beach while the Academy prepares for our arrival.”

  Jax smiled her thanks to the weathered guardsman. Inwardly, she acknowledged her throbbing head, which she had been trying to ignore since setting out from Lamartre. She needed a moment to regain her strength, or she would be useless once they arrived at the Academy. Happy to slide off Mortimer’s back, Jax dropped to the ground, the sand shifting beneath her riding boots. As she covered her eyes from the blinding, late morning sunlight, her stomach growled with hunger, lunchtime suddenly feeling like it was too far off. “Now, if only we’d thought to bring along a light picnic.”

  With a smirk in Jax’s direction, Ziri reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a wrapped parcel. “Sabine had this packed for you, Duquessa. She told me you could not possibly endure such hard labor without revitalizing sustenance.”

  Jax giggled. “She knows me far too well.”

  As she began unfolding a gooey, glistening pastry, Jax’s heart swelled at Sabine’s thoughtfulness. How she had missed her dear friend all these weeks. Although, goodness, the way I’ve acted, she probably doesn’t know that at all. Jax frowned. Both Sabine and Uma had traveled a great distance to be reunited with her, only to have Jax order them to remain behind to tend to the coronation preparations in her stead. Her actions had hardly displayed her joy at their long-awaited reunion. I must return to them soon, she silently vowed, eager for her business at the Academy to be resolved swiftly.

  Chapter Five

  It had been nearly ten years since George had last seen the Lord Praesidio. The hardened warrior hadn’t aged a day.

  “Captain Solomon.” The Lord Praesidio’s formidable voice rattled like crunching gravel against the enclosed ivy-wrought courtyard. “I can only assume the Duchess of Saphire must be nearby. You two never could stay very far away from one another.”

  George bristled at the blatant hint of romantic suggestion in the Lord Praesidio’s sly comment. Nevertheless, he kept his tone level and respectful. “You assume correctly, Lord Praesidio. I see your analytical skills have not withered with old age.”

  The Lord Praesidio’s lips drew into a line so thin, they disappeared into his silver-streaked black beard.

  The two warriors stood tense for a moment, palpable silence passing between them before the Lord Praesidio let out a hooting fit of laughter.

  “George, my boy,” he said as he fondly slapped George’s back, “it has been far too long. Why, it must be nearly a decade since we last crossed paths and swords. You look well, lad.” He folded his arms across his burly chest. “You’ve been quite busy, it seems. Word has reached us that your army had a bit of a dust-up with this wretched Coalition of Right in the north.”

  George grinned, finding the distinguished man’s laughter contagious. The Lord Praesidio was now in his late forties, but still embodied the spirit of the roguish brute who loved nothing more than a good fight and a good time. As much as George had treasured seeing Jax during his visits to the Academy, he also enjoyed the engaging friendship that had grown between the Lord Praesidio and himself over the years.

  Yet, George’s laughter suddenly died in his throat as he recalled gory memories of their “dust-up” with the Coalition of Right. Many good men had lost their lives due to Duke Savant’s treachery, and it curdled his stomach to make light of it now. “I’m afraid, old friend, it was more than a mere skirmish.”

  At George’s sudden change in demeanor, the Lord Praesidio straightened, his amber gaze hardening. Born Lord Ashcroft Carthington, the fifth son of a Crepstian Viscount, the Lord Praesidio had studied at the Academy in his youth before enlisting in the Crepstian Ducal Guard. Considered by many to be the greatest warrior his nation had ever seen, it was expected that Ashcroft would take over the position of Captain when the time came. However, his first love in life was the history housed within the Academy, and he swore to protect it, opting instead to join the famed Praesidio when the invitation arrived. But spending the majority of his military career protecting historical treasures didn’t mean he had no understanding of the horrors of battle. “Then the rumors are true. The Realm of Virtues is at war.”

  George relaxed his stance, leaning against an ivy-covered trellis that adorned the spacious, serene courtyard. “The peace of the realm balances but on the edge of a knife. Duchess Jacqueline is working to secure an everlasting peace while Duke Savant remains on the run.”

  Ashcroft once again folded his brawny arms, his opal-encrusted chest plate gleaming in the m
idday sun. “How has his army managed to evade detection?”

  George sighed as he reached for the back of his neck. A piercing knot of tension had taken up residency there full-time. “In the aftermath of our clash, Savant’s men scattered into the wilds of Cetachi. Our armies were able to capture a great deal of them. However, I’m afraid some escaped our grasp, along with Savant himself. We’ve been monitoring the Savantian border for signs of activity, but to no avail. I fear the enemy has gone underground.” George knew the Praesidio maintained an extensive spy network that rivaled that of the duchies and assumed Ashcroft already knew most of what he had shared with his old friend.

  “How many men does Savant have left, do you suppose?”

  George shrugged. “We estimate, given the numbers we captured or killed, less than three hundred.” Three hundred men made for a pitiful army, but they could cause chaos throughout the realm if they continued to evade detection.

  “I see.” Ashcroft cocked a thick eyebrow. “And Duchess Jacqueline plans to bring peace to the realm by forcibly asserting herself atop Hestes’s throne?”

  George’s eyes narrowed into slits. “She need not assert herself by force when the throne is hers by right of the Code of Succession.”

  At Ashcroft’s confused expression, George shared with the Lord Praesidio the incredulous events during the War Council that led to Jax being the rightful sovereign of three of the realm’s duchies. For now, he kept Jax’s news about Darian ceding Cetachi to her a secret. She had confided in George about her uncle’s incredible gift, but was eager to keep the news under wraps until she had claimed her three other thrones.

  Ashcroft remained silent throughout the whole tale, his stoic composure cracking slightly at the mention of Duke Henrik Crepsta’s passing.

  “So, now,” George concluded, “the Duchess’s armies are searching the continent for remnants of the failed Coalition to ensure their oppressive force is snuffed out once and for all.”

 

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