Page 29 of Seven Ways to Kill a King
Miri snuck through the castle corridors, her head bowed in the posture of a maid, one hand wrapped about the scratchy rope of a bucket handle, the other holding a dirty rag. She had studied each of the castles in hand-scratched maps she’d made when devising her plans, alone in her room at Nan’s, a single candle lighting her work. But actually being there was different. It was real. The hard lines she’d drawn as walls had sometimes been slightly wrong, and the short, sharp hatch work of doors faded with ink, always open, were sometimes blocked by man or construct or wrong by a few lengths. She knew the layout, though, and which direction would get her where she needed to be. No one paid her mind, just as she’d expected, and the corridors were filled with the early-morning busywork that the upkeep of the castle required.
Eventually, the sweat on her palms dried, and her racing heart gave way to a steadier beat. She found the rooms where the king’s ointments and potions were stocked.
Two guards moved through the doorway, and Miri dropped to her knees, sloshing water over the rim of the wooden bucket and onto the stone-tiled floor. They did not even glance at her, but she kept her head low, her knuckles white at the pressure with which she brushed the floor.
It was a long while before the patterns of movement through the room became apparent and longer still before she managed to pick the lock. Once inside, though, she worked quickly, and she found each vial of the black glass shipped from a sandy isle far away, the tonic Lettie’s maids had tittered so brutally on about. They had not been wrong. Thom’s notes had not been wrong. Simon was stocked with more of those vials than a man needed water.
The lock was what saved her, because Miri knew the tonic had been tested the day it arrived. The shipments could not be tampered with without being discovered by the king’s taster, but the mixture was too valuable to the king and taken too often to test every one, every time.
As Miri stared at the overly full shelf, she knew Lettie’s maids had not been exaggerating. The worse Simon began to feel, the more he would take. It would work.
Miri wiped her palms on the fabric of her makeshift uniform then shook them out to release the tension that made her fingers tremble. She had never liked the idea of poisons, but weapons would draw attention that she wasn’t ready to attract. She carefully unstoppered each vial and tilted a single drop into each of the tall, narrow containers, thanking the gods that they’d been sealed with wax. The oil inside was not particularly costly or particularly rare. It was only that Simon believed the single place to source it was from a sole island across the unnamed sea and his witch-worker of a supplier the only one who could trade those locals for it. Simon was a fool, just like the others.
With her work done, Miri turned, her empty containers of poison tucked into her inner layer of clothes. She dipped her hands into the bucket, carefully washing each clean, and meticulously brushed beneath each nail. She dried her hands on the outer clothes, pressed her ear to the door, and listened for the pattern of footsteps so she might make her escape.
When the room outside was quiet, Miri came cautiously through the door, closed it behind her, and set the bucket on the stone floor as if she meant to work. Two more guards came past and found Miri on her knees, scrubbing the floor with the single determination of someone who had nothing else in the world. The moment they were gone again, she went back to the lock and worked the mechanisms back into place.
She did not hear the approach of the kingsman, only felt his sword on her shoulder and heard his whispered words.
“Trying to pick a lock, girl?”
Chapter 16
Cass stood in the shadow of Kirkwall Castle, completely helpless to aid Miri in any way. She’d been right, but that did not make it any easier to let her go alone.
He’d been watching her for years. He knew her skill with a blade, the way she could land a solid kick, and exactly how clever she was with maneuvering through tight spaces and around heavily laid rules. But the past weeks on the trail, he’d seen another side of Miri—hesitation, doubt, and the distant look that came over her when she remembered what she’d lost.
Miri was too good to be a killer. Her heart was perilously kind. He’d watched her stop to hand the last of their supplies over to the sick and the poor and noticed how she’d seen their suffering for what it was. Miri’s gaze had not skirted that pain but took it in with steady determination and well more than her share of evident guilt.
She thought it her fault, all of it, that it was somehow her responsibility to repair the damage done by seven kings who had done their level best to put themselves before the realm and had murdered its one true queen.
That was why Miri held Cass’s concern—because that heart could be her downfall. Not because of anything else, he was certain.
Cass jumped when a hand rested on his shoulder, and he spun before the man had a chance to move fully away. Terric’s grin was slow, maybe the only slow thing about him, and it said all that he did not speak aloud.Nearly got you,Cass could almost hear.
In fact, he had. Cass knew better than to let himself get distracted. It was the very reason the men of the queensguard were not meant to court until their service had ended.
Terric’s brow drew together. “Gods, brother, what’s with the face?”
Cass shook his head, utterly disturbed that the thought of courting had even risen. He stepped forward, grabbing the hand of his brother-in-arms, and tugged him closer with a relieved sigh. “Thank the maiden you’re well.”
Terric slapped his free hand hard on Cass’s shoulder and held him tight in his grip. “You’re never alone.” His voice was low, his words a vow, and Cass thought he’d never heard anything more welcome. Terric used the grip to pull Cass even nearer. “Does this seem like a good idea?”
Cass frowned. “It was obviously not mine. She’s got a will of iron.”
Terric chuckled. “She is her mother’s daughter. I’ll give you that.”
Cass glanced toward the street. He kept his voice low as they let go of their grip and he asked, “How goes the strategy?”
“Support is steady. As you’ve likely seen here, conditions have become worse for most. Those who rememberbeforewill rise. But we build back support as we speak.”
The words were purposefully vague, but Cass understood. Nearly all who’d lived through the Lion Queen’s reign would relish the chance to have prosperity back. They would follow the true queen the moment they were given the chance. But the queensguard had been unable to act before. The sorcerers had ensured as much.
Timing would be critical. Miri had been hidden for years because the sorcerers would have come for her the moment they found out she was alive. Or they would have used Lettie to draw her out. And Cass knew Miri. She would be caught in that trap all too easily. It was the fault of honor and duty and those who upheld all they believed was right. If, while in search of support, the queensguard let Miri get found out or let slip to the wrong person that a second daughter of the queen lived, they would only hasten the death of both daughters. The last of the true bloodline would be lost.
They had tried before and failed. The queensguard was betting all on their last chance. They believed in Miri—not because she’d actually managed to kill a king—though she had—but because they’d had faith in her all along and in the plans in place to restore her line. They were queensguard. Their duty was to protect her. And she would need them now more than ever.
“Should she make it out,” Terric said, “you’ll have friends in Ironwood Forest.”
