Page 48 of King's Warrior

Rufe released the mule, jumped to the ground, and had his knee against the captain’s throat so fast Niam scarcely followed the action.

The others in the captain’s party bolted. Hoofbeats pounded as half of Cass's men rode in pursuit while the rest rallied around Niam, except for Vihaan, Rufe, and Casseign, who focused on the captive and wouldn’t leave Niam unprotected.

One of the missing men from the reports had been a captain. Killed for his uniform and loyalty, no doubt. Rage swept through Niam. How dare this man?

“Let me through,” he ordered his guards, urging his mule forward. He dismounted, striding toward the downed captain. Casseign and Rufe kneeled over him. Blood poured from the imposter’s split lip that likely matched the blood on Rufe’s busted knuckles.

“I don’t know!” the man shrieked in Cormiran as Casseign held him down, and Rufe inched a dagger toward the man’s groin. Cormiran wasn’t a common language among Delletinian soldiers.

“You’re wearing a dead man’s uniform, approaching the king with lies on your lips,” Rufe growled. “I don’t believe you know nothing. Where were you supposed to lead him?”

“I don’t know!”

Rufe dug the dagger’s point into the man’s thigh, a hair’s breadth from his balls. “Who are you afraid of? What can they possibly do to you that I won’t?” His sinister grin sent unpleasant chills up Niam’s spine. “Have you ever heard of barbaric Cormiran interrogation techniques? We’re taught to be brutal from a young age. In fact,”—Rufe dug the dagger a bit deeper, making the fake captain cry out—“I killed my first man at age twelve. Racked up quite a few kills. You’ll be just one more in a long line. You’ll be forgotten by nightfall, your body left here for the wolves to find. I might even leave you alive enough to hear them growling as they rip you apart.”

The man whimpered. Niam might have, too. He’d never seen this side of Rufe and hadn’t wanted to think of how brutal the man he loved could be.

“I work for Lord Whreyn,” the man sobbed. “I’m supposed to lead King Niam toward an old coal mine, a shortcut only taken in the summer.”

Rufe leaned closer to the man’s face, teeth bared. His guttural words barely reached Niam’s ears. “What was supposed to happen there?”

“I don’t know. I swear I don’t know.”

Niam met Casseign’s troubled gaze. “Call your men back. Send scouts to the mine. Find out who’s there, and how many, but tell them to use utmost caution not to get caught.”

Rufe, Vihaan, and Casseign huddled, leaving the prisoner with two of Vihaan’s men but remaining close enough for Niam to hear their words.

“If I might make a suggestion,” Rufe said. “Chances are, we’re being watched. How about sending an imposter with the main party to Dellamar while others escort King Niam through a different route? Casseign, do you implicitly trust one of your soldiers familiar enough with the area to take us cross-country?”

“Us?” Casseign arched an eyebrow. “If you’re taking the king, I’m going with you. I grew up near here, though the closest village is abandoned now. My father was a woodcutter. We can stay the night in his cabin if it’s still there.”

Rufe held Casseign’s stubborn glower a moment before dipping his chin in agreement. “You, me, King Niam, and Vihaan. From now on, let's address His Majesty as Ned.”

Casseign blew out a breath, cocking his head to the side. “You’re not here merely as a diplomat, are you?”

Rufe shook his head. “My fighting skills might prove useful. Vihaan’s, too.”

Vihaan grinned. “I’m from Glendor. I fight dirty. If you think Cormirans are barbaric, they’ve got nothing on us. Even our sweet ole grannies would gut a man as soon as look at him.”

Casseign studied Vihaan. “I agree with the plan.” He turned toward Niam, his hardened soldier façade softening. He gestured for Niam to precede him and, once alone, said, “Your Majesty, they recognized you. Exchange clothing with a guard of about the same height and build.”

Should Niam feel relieved or alarmed by what he overheard? Either way, he’d soon be alone in the mountains with a contingent of three, though he couldn’t think of anyone he trusted more than Rufe and Casseign. A shiver ran down his spine. May the gods and goddesses grant them safe passage.

Chapter Eighteen

Niam felt useless, watching travel preparations without being allowed to take part. Casseign took charge while Rufe and Vihaan organized for their departure like any other soldier. Some high-ranking military leaders would balk at taking orders from what many would see as a subordinate. More to admire about the two men.

A flurry of activity whirled around him, soldiers adding some items to bags to accompany Niam while keeping others.

Zanial approached, huffing and pink-cheeked. “Your Majesty! My place is with you. You shouldn’t go off with these—” he curled his lip—“ruffians.”

Ruffians? Niam barely kept a snarl from his voice. “Theseruffianshave proven themselves to me repeatedly. However, if you’re questioning my judgment…” Niam raised a brow, letting his words trail off. Let Zanial insert any rebuke his mind conjured while recalling whom he spoke to.

Zanial backed away slowly, shoulders hunched. “N… no, Your Majesty. I just—”

“You just were about to follow my orders and proceed to Dellamar without me, doing your part to make the decoy look as believable as possible. Do I make myself clear?”

The cowed advisor nodded, grumbling as he rejoined the larger party. More and more, Niam questioned Zanial’s position and his loyalty.

---