Page 100 of King's Warrior

Draylon winked. “Make sure you’re both capable of sitting in a saddle.”

Rufe kept a straight face with some effort. “That’s left to be seen.”

A knock sounded on the door.

“Enter!”Draylon called.

A harried sergeant rushed in. “Your Majesty. We’ve just received word. Whreyn's men have captured Countess Exa.”

“About leaving….” Rufe prodded.

They left before dawn, leaving the comfort of the castle for the wilds of the mountains.

Chapter Thirty-nine

Rufe shivered, blowing on his fingers in a futile attempt to restore feeling. Oh, to be inside the modest house they surveilled instead of outside, smoke from the chimney taunting him with the possibility of comfort within. At least his padded leather travel armor added some warmth, though he’d left his cloak behind with Princess to free his sword arm.

The one-story stone and wood dwelling appeared totally unremarkable save for the noticeable guards—mercenaries, by their unkempt, ill-equipped look. This wasn’t Whreyn’s estate, so the men weren’t his trained forces but lackeys he’d involved in his plot.

Draylon, Rufe, and Niam lay on their stomachs on a ridge overlooking the grounds, their presence hidden by thick undergrowth. If not for several layers of clothing, Rufe would have a frozen cock in his trousers. The wind bit the exposed skin of his face. Long icicles trailed from a ridge nearby, slowly dripping water onto a frozen stream below, where the droplets promptly refroze in fascinating shapes. The rumors about spring approaching must be wrong.

Two men in front of the house spoke animatedly, waving their hands as they argued. Rufe couldn’t make out the words.

Niam stiffened.

Rufe sidled closer. “What is it?”

“They’re speaking Craician.”

Craicians. Rufe pulled in a deep breath.That was long ago, and the ones who hurt you are dead.

According to the new treaty, Delletinians conspiring with Craicians meant treason, adding one more offense to Whreyn’s tally. Either by legal means or the sword, the asshole was living on borrowed time. Rufe wanted to do the honor of escorting the poor excuse for a man to the afterlife for the Unnamed Goddess to deal with.

Two more guards strode a circuit around the grounds, a little better dressed, with the bearing of trained soldiers, though whether Craician or Delletinian remained to be seen. Organized Craician forces were the last thing they wanted. Cormira’s last spy hadn’t reported back in two seasons, meaning no information on the enemy's current fighting capabilities. Craice wasn’t large but boasted a dense population. Still, their military couldn’t hope to match Cormira’s, composed of the best fighters from five kingdoms.

Draylon motioned with two fingers. Rufe nodded. He and Draylon crept toward the back of the building. Four guards stood outside. If intelligence proved true, Lady Exa and Niam’s two sons were inside, with possibly another guard or two. The boys were too young to have received anything beyond rudimentary training. Although Yarif vouched for the ferocity and skill of Lady Exa, they’d have to depend on the dozen soldiers they’d brought withthem, some of whom had already captured the horses housed in the barn, making a retreat difficult for the enemy.

Rufe rose to his haunches, staying low, creeping behind bushes. The blood sang in his veins. How long since he’d faced an enemy with the threat of brutal combat? Illa’s survivors notwithstanding. He’d been made for this since the moment he’d defeated three older recruits for the honor of facing Prince Draylon in training as a stripling lad. He exchanged his sword for a dagger, counting the footsteps of one of the patrols. The timing had to be right. The muscles in Rufe’s legs jumped as he prepared for action.

Tap, tap, tap came boot heels on hard-packed earth. Their surveillance said the guard would reach the corner of the house, turn, and retrace his steps.

The moment the footsteps stopped, Rufe sprung, slapping a hand over the sentry’s mouth while securing his blade against the man’s throat. He spoke a few words of Craician but tried Delletinian instead. “You move, you die.”

The man nodded.

“Are there two boys and a woman inside?” Rufe kept his voice to a low growl.

Again, the man nodded.

“Are you loyal to Lord Whreyn?”

Rufe felt the “who” forming on the man’s lips beneath his palm. Right. A mere sentry wouldn’t deal directly with Whreyn.

“Are you loyal to King Niam?”

The man tensed, then shook his head. Either he lied to preserve his life, not knowing who held him, or he told the truth. Theman threw back an elbow aimed at Rufe’s stomach, making the decision easy. Rufe slit his throat, letting the man’s body fall to the ground.

One down. Steady footsteps announced Draylon’s approach. He glared down at the dead guard. “I got two,” he said matter-of-factly.

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