Page 441 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Chapter 44

When Rossa and Boris returned to the audience chamber, it was like they'd never left. Father and the king had a jug of wine between them, as they laughed over something one of them had said.

"Where's Igor?" Rossa asked.

Both men shrugged, and the king sent a servant in search of the boy. When he arrived, flanked by two guards, they said they'd found him in the castle kitchens. He'd remained in the throne room after everyone else had left, and when the guards had tried to throw him out, he'd told them he was the squire to the prince currently meeting with the king, so they couldn't, and one of the serving maids took him to the kitchens, where he'd eaten enough for three men and was well on his way to finishing a fourth portion when they found him.

When Igor saw the king, he fell to his knees. "Please, Your Majesty. I brough him back, and the crown jewels, just like you told me to. Please lift the curse."

King Bela frowned at the boy. "That is not an order I recall giving."

"But it was you. You're all old now, and fat, but you're wearing the same crown and you're still the king," Igor persisted.

That's when Rossa knew that an old man's deathbed ramblings had not been ramblings at all, but a confession. Which meant all these years, Boris had blamed the wrong brother, and the one who'd been called wise had deserved to die more horribly than the one they'd called cursed.

"I can do it," Rossa blurted out. "I just need a drop of your blood, Your Majesty. To break the spell."

It would take his blood and some of hers, and possibly the crown, for djinn were enslaved to an object, and for Igor to recognise a crown after so many years…it fit, in a dark, twisted way. The crown that had belonged to the brother Boris had trusted, who had betrayed him and the rest of their family…

"And I need to touch your crown, if only for a moment."

The king's eyebrows rose. "Do you hear that, Zoticus? Your daughter asked me to give her a crown. I believe I win that wager." He took off the coronet and held it out to her.

She refused to take it. "Blood and your crown, King Bela. Your ancestor enslaved this boy for two centuries, after he stole the throne he passed down to you. This is not about you or me, but about righting wrongs that never should have happened."

Father drew his dagger, and held the blade out to the king. King Bela pricked his finger on the point, then let a dark drop fall onto the hammered gold. Then a second, and a third, before he stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked it. "Now will you show me some magic?" he mumbled around his finger.

Rossa fought down her laughter. "Yes."

Father held out his dagger to her, and she ran the back of her hand across the blade, until a line of blood beaded her skin. She swiped the bleeding cut across Bela's crown, blending the king's blood with her own. Now she held the crown, she could feel the magic threads that tied it to Igor. One by one, she severed them, until the boy was free.

Igor drew in one great, gasping breath. "I can't believe it! Is it really gone?"

"Igor, take out your dagger, and stab yourself in the arse," Rossa said.

"No!" Igor snapped.

Rossa tossed the crown back to the king. "It is done. If the spell had not been broken, he would not have been able to refuse. Now, I believe the throne owes this boy a debt. Especially as he is partially responsible for restoring the crown jewels to you."

King Bela's frown deepened. "What would you ask of me, boy? What is it that you want?"

Igor stared at each of them for a long moment, before he turned to face the king. "All I ever wanted was to be a knight. I'd only just begun to be Prince Boris's squire. I thought I would only spend a few years as a squire, with some training, and then I'd be allowed to become a knight."

"Perhaps Prince Boris…" the king began.

"NO!" said Igor, Boris and Rossa, all at the same time.

"Your Majesty, Igor has spent two hundred years hunting Prince Boris so he could bring his head back to…your ancestor, and Boris has spent the same amount of time fighting him off. As Prince Boris is still firmly attached to his head, he might not be the best teacher for the boy. Perhaps another knight…" Rossa suggested.

King Bela nodded. "I believe I can find a suitable knight to train you." He turned to the guards, who hadn't yet left. "Take him to the barracks hall, where the other squires are quartered, and see that he has a bed."

Out they went, leaving only four of them in the room.

The king leaned forward, his eyes on Rossa. "What would I have to offer you, for you to give me an heir, Lady Rossa? Name it, and it shall be yours. Your father refuses to bargain on your behalf, even wagering that you will not agree. That a crown is not enough. So, assuming I will already give you a crown, what else could you possibly want?"

Rossa glanced at her father. He met her gaze, looked at Boris, then winked at her.

She hoped he hadn't wagered anything he didn't want to lose.

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