Page 3 of A Kiss of Healing & Honor (Darkstone Academy #4)

All around me, the Great Hall buzzed with tense speculation in the wake of the momentous news we’d just received.

I sat at the head table, my heart pounding, hardly able to believe my luck.

After two long years on this Mother-forsaken island, the Duke de Norhas has finally arrived to save me from my exile!

Next to me, the new castellan, Antoni Guisbald, twisted in his seat to talk to Captain of the Guard Ondine, who stood behind Guisbald’s chair.

I glared at Guisbald’s back. How dare that vulgar, low-born man turn his back on me? I was a dowager baroness and scion of the House of Parrish, daughter of the late Duke of Frankia and sister to the present duke!

Amidst all the other unpleasant surprises on this tumultuous day, I still couldn’t believe that the Mage-Instructors and students had actually voted for him to fill the late Lord Roderigo’s role.

It doesn’t matter, I told myself. Not anymore. I just have to keep pretending for a few more hours. And then I’ll be free.

I looked over to where the red-headed abomination sat with her friends.

Princess Jacinthe looked worried—as she well should!—as she spoke with the collection of misfits and monsters she’d befriended.

Worry all you want, Your Highness, I thought, fighting a triumphant smile. It won’t save you.

However, it bothered me to see my nephew and niece both sitting at Jacinthe’s table. Even worse, Ilhan was watching the bold trollop with a lovesick expression.

I couldn’t understand it. Until this autumn, my nephew had been a polite and dutiful youth. Inexplicably, he’d fallen under Jacinthe’s spell while the wench was still presumed to be nothing more than a common drudge.

As for his sister… well, I blamed the domina-regent’s cruel orders to wrench the girl away from her home in Parrish after my brother Cahill and I were both arrested. That explained Alondra’s willful disobedience and mischief-making over the past two years.

“—Lady Margitts and I will secure all the supplies while you muster the guards to patrol the wall-walks and secure the gates,” Guisbald was saying to Captain Ondine.

Then Guisbald turned to me. “Speaking of which, Lady Margitts, we need to inventory our provisions—grain, water, medical supplies. Everything must be accounted for in case the duke lays siege to our castle.”

As if I don’t know how to manage a castle! But I swallowed my outrage and nodded, playing along for now.

“Of course, Castellan Guisbald,” I replied crisply. “Head Chef Vollkorn keeps excellent accounts for the kitchen storerooms. I’ll request her ledgers and order my assistant, Potts, and the castle stewards to round up the livestock and bring them into the main courtyard.”

The chickens, pigs and cattle would quickly make an unholy mess in the confined space and destroy Chef Vollkorn’s precious rosebushes, already reduced to bare, thorny branches this time of year. But after tonight, it wouldn’t be my problem.

“I’ll have a complete list of supplies for you by breakfast tomorrow,” I finished, folding my hands demurely in my lap.

Hopefully, no one suspected where my true sympathies lay.

My mind drifted back to the first time I had met Beltràn de Norhas, back when my late husband Arnau had still been alive. The duke had been everything that Arnau was not—gallant, handsome, and utterly charming.

My arranged marriage with Arnau had started well enough, but had quickly soured in the isolation of Margitts Castle, located deep in the mountain pass that divided the provinces of Norhas and Espola.

The fortress and town of Margitts sat on a vital mountain trading route, and the barony had grown wealthy from the highway tolls and taxes collected on the goods traveling from one side of the continent to the other. Arnau of Margitts had been one of the wealthiest lords in the Dominion.

Alas, my late husband had also been a miserly soul. He’d kept his baronial court bleak and threadbare, with battered furnishings, meagre food, and clothing a decade out of fashion. It had felt a universe away from my father’s refined, luxurious ducal court in Parrish.

“Tell me, Lady Margitts,” Mage-Instructor Miray Ysandre broke into my thoughts. My fellow Frankish exile was a tall, middle-aged woman with bright golden hair nearly the same shade as my nephew Ilhan’s. “How may the teaching staff assist you and the castellan in defending the castle?”

“Let me think on it,” I replied. “The duke has yet to signal his intentions. Perhaps he wishes only to replenish his supplies—a request we’ll refuse, of course.”

Ysandre and I both knew what the duke really wanted. And her offer told me she stood ready to assist me in delivering Princess Jacinthe to Duke Beltràn when the time came.

“It’s too bad about what happened to Lady Erzabetta, especially with her uncle so close to the island,” Mage-Instructor Enguerrand Guibert chimed in.

Like Mage Ysandre and I, he’d been exiled to Darkstone Academy for supporting the Duke de Norhas’ cause.

He added with a fawning smile, “But we’re so lucky to have someone of your experience and wisdom step in to manage this crisis, Lady Margitts. Especially with an imperial princess in residence.”

“You’re too kind, Mage Guibert,” I demurred. “And it’s not a crisis… yet.”

“And hopefully it won’t be. We’ll do our best to minimize any trouble,” Guisbald added confidently. “And protect the princess, of course.”

Things had been easier for Duke Beltràn’s cause when we all thought the imperial heir dead and the succession open for the strongest contender to seize it.

Now, we were threatened by the prospect of a half-Dragon abomination sitting on the imperial throne someday.

Someone with human interests at heart—like Duke Beltràn—needed to take charge of Princess Jacinthe the way he’d already taken charge of her deviant mother, Princess-Royal Jonquil.

Time for me to move the vital pieces into place. And I’d just figured out what I needed to do.

I turned back to Guisbald and Ondine, who were deep in a discussion with Mage Esparito about the best way to use Earth and Water magic to secure the island’s freshwater springs against the duke.

“Castellan, Captain,” I said, injecting a note of leadership into my tone, “we must secure the princess in case the worst happens.”

Both common-born men looked annoyed at having a woman interrupt. I raised my brows and stared back at them. They needed reminding that I outranked them both.

After a long, uncomfortable moment, Guisbald cleared his throat. “Good idea, Lady Margitts,” he said stiffly. “What did you have in mind?”

“The infirmary building where Her Highness currently lodges is too close to the castle wall for my comfort. What if we moved her to my old apartment in the donjon?”

“Excellent idea, my lady,” Guisbald said, with a note of condescending approval that set my teeth on edge. “Easier to defend if, as you say, the worst happens.”

I was certain Guisbald and Ondine weren’t aware of the secret escape tunnel leading from the donjon’s cellars to a wool-shed outside the castle walls. Both Erzabetta and Roderigo had kept it a secret from everyone but me.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Captain Ondine said dismissively. “Our walls are ten feet thick and made of basalt. Even if the duke’s men bombard us, none of their artillery is going to do more than knock out a few chips.”

My eyes met Mage Ysandre’s. She nodded, understanding what needed to be done.

“Very well. I’ll inform Her Highness of the move.” I rose from my seat and set off in Jacinthe’s direction.”

After half a beat, Guisbald and Ondine followed me down from the dais.

∞∞∞

When I returned to the head table a short time later, my heart was fluttering like a bird trying to escape the tight cage of my formal bodice.

To my surprise, Princess Jacinthe hadn’t protested her imminent move from her dormitory in the infirmary, though it clearly displeased the Dragon and that dead-eyed fish-man she’d brazenly taken as her lovers.

I shuddered at the depth of her depravity. The duke will know how to handle her, I assured myself.

Scarcely had I settled back into my seat when the grand doors of the Great Hall swung open once more.

“The Duke de Norhas sends his messenger,” announced a guard.

A thrill of excitement shot through me. “Admit him.”

The guard stepped aside to let the messenger enter.

The newcomer, clad in a mage’s dark robes, strode into the hall with a confidence bordering on arrogance. He was a young man with sharp features and dark brown hair lightened with sun-streaks. He wore a messenger’s thick silver chain draped across his shoulders, with a large enameled plaque of the double-mountain badge of the House de Norhas hanging from the chain.

The hall, still buzzing from the previous upheaval, fell into a hushed focus as the messenger halted at the foot of the dais.

“Maksim?” It was Lady Karminn, her face bleached a stark white that showed every one of her freckles.

His contemptuous glance swept the rows of tables crowding the vast hall. It paused on Lady Karmin before moving to Princess Jacinthe.

She stared back at him, wide-eyed, while the giant Dragon seated next to her glowered menacingly.

Then the messenger surveyed the head table. His gaze settled first on me and then flicked to Castellan Guisbald and Captain Ondine.

“I am the castellan of Darkstone Castle. State your business, messenger,” Guisbald snapped.

“By the order of His Grace, the Duke de Norhas,” the messenger announced in a voice that carried to every corner of the hushed Great Hall, “I am sent to escort Princess-Royal Jacinthe di Severieri to His Grace’s flagship, so that the princess may be reunited with her mother and escorted to Neapolis Capitola. There, she will be presented to the dominus and domina and take her rightful place in the succession.”

A surge of elation swept through me. The duke’s plan is unfolding just as I expected!

Outwardly, I did my best to mirror the shocked and appalled expressions of those around me.

Castellan Guisbald shoved back his chair with a loud screech and rose to his feet. I followed his cue.

“Absolutely not.” Guisbald glared down at the messenger. “Tell His Grace we do not negotiate with traitors, nor will we obey the orders of a would-be usurper.”

I nodded firmly in agreement and added, “The princess will remain under our care until we hear otherwise from the domina-regent or the imperial council.” I turned to Captain Ondine and hoped the duke would forgive my next move. “Captain, eject the duke’s messenger from the castle, and do not allow anyone else from the duke’s fleet to enter.”

“Yes, m’lady.” Ondine snapped a brisk salute and barked orders to his men.

The young messenger glared at me as Captain Ondine’s guards seized him and dragged him unceremoniously out of the hall. But I dared not give him any sign of my true loyalties because of the watching students and staff.

Their faces were a mosaic of fear and fascination as they waited to see what Guisbald and I did next. The tension in the hall was palpable, like a tight string ready to snap.

Once the doors had slammed shut behind the messenger, Guisbald turned to me, his expression grave. “It’s as we feared, my lady. We’re in for a siege.”

I nodded and rose once more to my feet. “All students and non-essential personnel are to return to their quarters immediately,” I announced. “Captain Ondine and his guards will enforce a curfew until further notice.”

The hall immediately began to empty, a buzz of speculation trailing the departing students like a cloud of bees.

Catching Mage Ysandre’s eye, I said, “Mage Ysandre, please assist me in ensuring Princess Jacinthe’s safety in my former quarters.”

“Of course, Lady Margitts.”

∞∞∞

With Princess Jacinthe safely delivered to my former apartment and locked in for the night with two men loyal to the duke’s cause guarding her door, I settled into the comfort of my new quarters to wait.

Just a few more hours until everyone except the sentries was asleep.

I was surrounded by the late Lady Erzabetta’s furnishings. Though luxurious, they weren’t to my taste. After the chatelaine’s unexpected demise this morning, I hadn’t had time to do more than move my clothes, jewelry, and a few treasured family portraits from my old apartment.

Just as well. If everything went to plan, I wouldn’t be returning here… ever.

And if things don’t go to plan tonight, I thought ironically, then I still won’t be returning to this apartment because Guisbald will throw me into the dungeon.

I should be terrified. But I wasn’t. Everything was falling into place so neatly that the Mother of All had to be on our side.

I wasn’t even nervous. Instead, I felt almost giddy with joy and relief.

How long had it been since I’d last felt this way?

It was the day Arnau met his demise, I thought.

After ten long years of tiresome marriage, I’d been shocked—and immensely relieved—when he’d suddenly dropped dead while hunting chamois in the mountains with his friends.

By the time our court’s mage-healer arrived at the remote hunting lodge, it had been too late to do anything but prepare Arnau’s body for burial.

In the year that followed, I was the happiest I’d ever been. I ruled Margitts as Dowager Baroness during my daughter’s minority, and used some of Arnau’s hoarded wealth to turn the baronial court into a place I was proud of.

It all ended too soon when imperial troops marched into Margitts with an arrest warrant signed by the new domina-regent. The commander appointed Arnau’s sister as my daughter’s guardian, then took me into custody for treason against the imperial throne.

The judge who heard my case at the Imperial Courts of Justice in Neapolis Capitola actually told me I was fortunate to be sentenced to exile on Darkstone Island instead of going to prison like my older brother Cahill, who’d become Duke of Frankia after Father’s death.

Despite my arrest and exile, I knew I was right to support the Duke de Norhas in his bid for the imperial regency after Dominus Victor Augustus the Eighth humiliated himself at a state banquet and publicly revealed his shocking mental decline.

Like all my fellow nobles, I’d believed the old dominus and his grasping bitch of a domina-consort were doomed, since they had no surviving heirs.

And Duke Beltràn was not only the Dominion’s most admired military commander, he also had an heir. Count Fernan de Norhas of Lutèce was a fine young man, fit to sire a new imperial dynasty.

My faith in our cause had never wavered during my long months of exile at Darkstone Academy. Roderigo, Erzabetta, and I had hoped, waited, and worked toward the day when the aged dominus went into the Mother’s embrace and Duke Beltràn finally regained his freedom.

And then Duke Beltràn’s supporters had found the supposedly dead Princess-Royal Jonquil alive and well. The Mother of All was surely smiling down on him and favoring our cause!

If the Duke de Norhas was willing to sacrifice himself by wedding the tainted princess-royal for the good of continued peace and strength in the Dominion, then I, too, was willing to endure anything for the greater good of humanity.

Our human realm could not be allowed to collapse, not while treacherous Fae and Djinni, voracious Dragons, and lethal Sea-People threatened to lay waste to the peaceful provinces.

A soft knock at my door interrupted my thoughts. “My lady,” called a familiar voice. “May I enter?”

“Of course!” I responded.

The door opened to reveal Mage Ysandre, still dressed in the black academic robes she’d worn to the banquet.

She curtsied respectfully. “You wanted to see me?”

“Mage Ysandre, I have further need of your skills tonight,” I said.

∞∞∞

After I’d issued my instructions to Ysandre and sent her away, I began packing my belongings.

My fingers trembling with equal parts fear and exhilaration, I burned all incriminating documents, then filled a small leather trunk with my favorite gown, underthings, jewelry, and a few books.

The last thing I packed was the betrothal contract that bound Jacinthe to Fernan de Norhas with a blood seal. I’d found the contract among Lady Erzabetta’s papers this afternoon, and immediately recognized it held the key to our ultimate victory.

By now, the heir to the imperial throne, Princess-Royal Jonquil, might be too old to bear more children. But Princess Jacinthe, despite her polluted bloodline, was young and healthy. Properly managed, she might bear Lord Fernan many healthy children.

I tucked the folded contract carefully between layers of velvet and silk in my trunk.

In the fireplace, the last batch of incriminating papers and ledgers crackled and sparked, their secrets consumed by hungry flames.

As I watched them curl to glowing ash, my heart ached at the thought of abandoning my furniture and paintings, still sitting in my old apartment one floor up.

It’s a small price to pay for the greater good, I told myself. Once the duke restores my position and estates, I can replace everything I’m leaving behind tonight.

I thought of Roderigo and Erzabetta, whose loyalty had cost them their lives. Their sacrifice only strengthened my resolve.

What are a few paintings and chairs compared to making the ultimate sacrifice?

As the hours remaining until midnight ticked away with excruciating slowness, I paced my rooms like a caged animal, my thoughts racing in tandem with my footsteps.

Soon. Soon I’ll be free of this miserable castle and desolate island!