Page 30 of Seven Ways to Kill a King
Cass looked his brother-in-arms straight in the eyes, letting Terric see the promise in his gaze and how much his brother’s vow meant. “I hope to see you again,” Cass said. “By the grace of the maiden.”
“By the will of the gods,” Terric said.
As he turned to go, the clang of a massive steeple bell rang through the streets, shuddering against Cass’s bones. When Terric’s gaze snapped to Cass, he’d gone as pale as snow at the sound. The bells echoed into the peal of half a dozen more, the alarm spreading in a series of bells across the castle grounds.
The princess had been found. The kingsmen were on alert.
* * *
Cass ranthrough the street with Terric hard on his heels. He was not certain which way Miri might have gone when she found trouble and could only follow the sound of the bells. If they rang still, then surely that meant she was not in their hands and had a chance of escape.
His heart beat so strongly that he wanted to clutch at his chest, but the fear only pushed him harder. His booted feet crossed the cobblestone of the path that led to the gate, and Cass watched with dread as the kingsmen slammed it shut. The metal landed with a hollow clang, the sharp ringing of the bells still echoing off the stone.
At their approach, the kingsmen took note of Cass and Terric, their speed among the chaos drawing attention they didn’t need. Cass moved his hand away from his sword belt, forcing his racing pulse to slow. He needed to think. They’d laid plans for so many outcomes, but from outside the gate, he could not know where Miri truly was, only where the kingsmen were.
Two smaller bells rang in quick succession on the north side of the castle, followed by the muffled shouts of running men. Cass let his gaze meet Terric’s, and they each gave a nod without acknowledgment that it might be the last time they saw one another. Then Terric was gone, and Cass was on the move, each intent on foiling the kingsmen where they could.
Calls of “What’s happened?” echoed quietly among the black-garbed laborers. Their voices were no more than whispers to avoid notice from the kingsmen.
Cass made his way toward the sound of the bells, hooking the edge of a basket to spill fruit so that it rolled over the stones. He kept moving, as if he’d been entirely unaware of the commotion behind him as several black-clad figures moved to pick up the mess. His palm itched for a sword hilt, the feel of his dagger handle, or for any sort of action. But that was not his duty yet.
He slipped closer to the wall, passing two half-helmed kingsmen close in conversation, their words clipped. He heard “Stabbed him in the thigh,” then “Broke his jaw.” Miri had been smart. She’d left her assailant so that he couldn’t chase her. And no doubt the jaw had not been an accident, either, not when the man’s words would have her found out faster. But something else must have gone wrong, because Miri had not killed him. She’d not left him unable to sound the alarm. Maybe more guards had turned up, or worse, someone who might be able to identify her in detail or might have recognized her for who she truly was.
Cass swerved near two more kingsmen as they ran past and heard “Covered in blood. Short. Female. A maid.”
There it was. They thought her still dressed in black. It would give her the chance to escape, if she could.
Cass moved faster, toward the sound of the bells, and felt his hope drop to the pit of his stomach at the sight of a mass of horses approaching at speed. It was a dozen kingsmen, swords drawn, and between them, as if the demon needed protection, a sorcerer dressed in the long black robes for which they were known. The robes hid their bodies, scarred from the drawing of blood. They had been paid for by the deaths of Cass’s brothers and were rich fabric trimmed with gold.
As the horses neared, the gates opened wide, and Cass spotted the familiar figure of Terric, swift on his feet and somehow already dressed in kingsman garb, as he edged toward the entrance. Gods, he meant to slip inside. Cass drew one long breath before he could change his mind then pulled the sword from his belt, shouted an obscenity about the king’s men, and waved the blade toward the sky.
The kingsmen only gave him the briefest glance, but that was all Cass would need. The group on horseback didn’t give chase, but three on foot certainly did. Cass turned to run, leaped toward an alley he hoped was not a dead end, and prayed his brother-in-arms had made it inside.
Chapter 17
Cass would much rather have dispatched the three kingsmen and hidden their bodies in a dark, unfindable place instead of evade them. But Miri had, as near as he could tell, only stabbed a single kingsman before she ran away. The castle guard was on alert, but there was no reason for them to think it was anything other than a rogue attack. It was just a single maid who’d had it out with a guard. If he killed any more, they would know the truth, and Miri’s plans would all be spoiled.
He leapt to a perch on a rooftop, high enough to see over the castle wall. Below him, in the courtyard, stood two dozen black-clad figures around the man in the sorcerer’s robe. The kingsmen were some of the best-trained men in the lands. Coin was scarce, and though most didn’t favor the kings, the guard was a place of status that paid well enough to gather skilled men. But that did not mean the men of Kirkwall were as capable as those at Stormskeep. They housed a single sorcerer and an ineffectual king and lacked the stores to hold much sway among the six other lords who’d taken the realm. Kirkwall was the least powerful. Stormskeep had surpassed it not due to its own king but because of the port. And Blackstone was constantly on the edge of rebellion.
If Miri couldn’t execute her plans at Kirkwall, she would succeed nowhere else in the realm, particularly not if they realized who she was.
As servants were rounded up in the courtyard, Cass scanned the street, searching for a figure moving swiftly away. He searched for the color of her hair, the set of her shoulders, and the way she moved, that familiar surety in her step, the way she held her head high with her gaze straight.
Cass drew a sharp breath at the sight of her long, loose brown tresses, those he’d held in his hands. She’d peeled the outer layer of her clothing away to reveal the soft linen in brown and green, but she held something wadded in her arm, balled just right so that it helped cover what might have been a stain. He hoped it was not her blood.
She strode down the street, along the castle wall where, on the other side, stood the sorcerer and so many kingsmen. Cass felt sick at the nearness of that sorcerer and the memory of Miri’s face only weeks before, when they’d crossed paths with one in Pirn. He edged closer, searching for any sign of distress, but Miri only crossed behind a row of carts, making her way toward the opposite side of the street.
He crept backward, shuffling carefully over poorly kept thatch and onto another rooftop, then scurried down to run after her again. He realized, too late, that she meant to go back to the inn.
Kingsmen trailed after her, three silver half helms glinting in the late-day sun, and Cass let slip a whispered curse.
His feet moved swiftly over stone, following as the kingsmen drew their swords. The far one gestured to his side, in the same area where Miri’s wadded bundle poorly concealed a stain of blood. They would know it was her.
They would be able to identify her the moment she was brought back to the other guard. Or worse, they would not question her at all. They’d no idea she was a princess and thought her a lowly maid.
Cass leaned against a building, glancing down at his hand as if distracted, and cut a sharp whistle. The kingsmen’s glares were swift, but Miri had turned too. She had looked backward and saw them advancing.
Cass wanted to face the soldiers and incite them instead to give chase to him. But he knew they would not. They’d seen the blood on Miri’s side. It was only by the grace of the maiden that they’d not already called an alarm.
