Page 15 of Seven Ways to Kill a King
Cass looked ahead, toward the widening gaps in the trees, the low rolling hills, and the first signs of worn paths. “I cannot do it for you, in any case. I wouldn’t succeed. I know those who’ve been better suited to the task who have tried.”
Miri did not ask who or what had happened. She was clever enough to know it was a trap. And clearly, those attempts had failed. “I’ll not use a bow,” she said. “Nothing so obvious. If they realize what’s happened, the rest will immediately protect themselves.”
He tried not to let his interest show, but gods, she’d truly planned it through. It was not some rash attempt—only foolish and destined to fail.
“When possible, I plan to play those who are already inclined to suspicion and hatred against one another.”
He felt her glance at him, but Cass didn’t look away from the horizon.
Miri shrugged. “I’ve enough experience at that, at least.”
She would make it look like an accident or as if the attack came from one of the other kings. It would give her precious time for another move. “And when things get heated? When they begin to protect themselves and their borders?”
“Then I will work with what they give me. I don’t expect it to be easy, Cassius.”
He tried to ignore the way it felt to hear her say his name and to be so near to her after so long standing in the shadows as her guard. He’d wanted to break protocol in Smithsport, but he’d been expressly forbidden. It didn’t matter that he’d known her since she was a child or that he might be able to offer comfort. It mattered that the two of them together—a queensguard and a princess of Stormskeep—might draw recognition where one of them would not. She wasn’t Princess Myrina any longer. She was Bean. And Bean was not in the habit of accepting social calls.
* * *
They cameinto Pirn late in the day, to a private residence that accepted them as weary travelers looking for a few days’ work. Cass felt uneasy about risks to Miri’s cover, but the queensguard did not hold traitors within its ranks, let alone a soul who might consider loyalty to treasonous kings. Henry had provided his bloodsworn with knowledge of those who could be trusted, should anything go badly, and things had gone nearly as badly as they could go. The queen was dead, Henry was gone, and the true heir was locked in a fortress tower.
“Evening,” the stable hand said as Cass handed over their reins. “What a pair of beauties.”
Cass smiled, patting Milo on the shoulder and brushing off a fleck of mud. “They’ve had a rough bit of riding. They’ll be grateful for a break.”
The stable hand gave Cass and Miri a once-over but managed to resist noting that they looked quite the same. Cass chuckled and handled the man a coin.
“I’ll have your packs sent up,” the man said and clicked his tongue to move the horses toward a stall.
Up, apparently, meant the second floor, as the entire layout of the manor’s first floor consisted of a massive kitchen, a ballroom, and a maze of halls and corridors. Cass had managed to quickly request dinner in their room as they’d passed through the kitchen while they were led by a young maid to the small suite that would be theirs.
“The third floor,” the girl said, “is only for the lord of the house, but you may freely use the bath and the study down here.”
Miri made a small sound of relief behind him at the mention of a bath, but she was too busy eating a cake she’d been offered in the kitchen to address anything else.
“Thank you,” Cass told the girl. “I believe we will both be ready for a bath and good rest. Please see that we are not disturbed after dinner.”
The girl gave him an appraising look, but Cass only smiled politely before slipping her a coin. They could think what they wanted about the newly wed pair, but he needed to pin Miri down on the details of her plan. And seven hells, they did need a bath and good rest.
“The steward said you’d be expecting a package. It’s been brought up—oh, and here are your bags.”
She backed away as another young girl paced the corridor, passing Miri and Cass with her gaze downcast—not avoiding a look, Cass thought, but annoyed at the weight of her burden. She hefted the packs higher as Cass opened the door, and the girl made quick work of settling them before leaving.
Cass thanked both, passed them two more coins, and sagged in relief when he finally shut the door.
Miri stood in the center of a very small parlor, staring down at a twine-wrapped parcel. “You were expecting a package?” she asked incredulously.
He crossed the distance to draw the handwritten note from the parcel.You are never alone. Cass felt something squeeze in his chest, and Miri leaned closer to read the note.
Her honey-brown eyes slid to his face. “They were expecting you?”
Her words were only a whisper, but Cass found he could barely speak. He shook his head softly. “There are only a few of us, but Thom had sent word ahead. Everyone was ready, should they be needed.” He saw in her gaze the hope that they meant to help in her plot. “To hide you again,” Cass explained. “To help us escape.”
Her chest fell with her expression, but Cass nudged her. “Open it.”
Miri eyed him suspiciously for one moment before leaning over to tug the twine free. Beneath the plain paper were new clothes—woven shirts and leather vests in the style of Pirn—and a small satchel Cass suspected was filled with coin. Miri peered inside then asked, “Where do they get the money?”
She knew it wasn’t hers. The queen’s stores had been taken with her throne.
