Page 34

This was not a garden party. The sheer numbers and the mood of the crowd gave it more of a carnival air… or perhaps a witch-hunt.

The aristos had come in droves to the Palace, scenting drama and scandal were in the offing. Word had gotten around about the Prince’s antics last evening.

Rumours flying that the Prince was cleaning house. Or about to make an engagement announcement. Or both. So many in attendance they were having trouble hearing the whispered speculations of those closest to them, and worse, making themselves be heard.

The crowd surging left, then right, at the first hint that something interesting might be occurring across the other side of the once upon a time perfectly manicured lawn. Then everyone rushing at once to the elaborate fountain in the centre of the large garden. Only to be disappointed. It was nothing more than Lady Tolbeth and Lord Linnate billing and cooing, and a wet Sparkles being too inquisitive, needing to be fished out of the water.

Leaning against the trunk of a large tree that made up the immaculately maintained yet sparse woodland that bordered the garden, Alia observed the crowd with interest. None of the Royal family had yet to make an appearance. Which meant everyone’s attention was fixed upon the remaining four candidates and their families. The crowd agog with curiosity. Did any of the candidates look too smug? Too happy? Had one of them already been approached in private and accepted the Prince’s pledge?

Miss Delish Kikmain, looking lovely in a soft pink flounced day dress was blushing an awful lot. Whilst Lady Parkour Sensch stood amongst her siblings, they in muted colours so their sister would shine in her bold daffodil yellow confection. And then there was Miss Freer Barton, always on the move that one, but never the less looking like an apricot flower had stepped from the garden bed itself in her silk waterfall gown.

Alia had circulated upon arrival. Heads turning. Many a person trying to trail her seemingly aimless movements before she disappeared, ducking under a trailing willow branch and stepping into the shadows to take up her silent sentry position.

Everyone looking for her, no one finding her, but assuring their friends and family that Alia was over by the white roses, or by the terrace steps, or any number of other places.

“You know why she keeps ducking and weaving like that?”

Everything in Alia unclenched, Talac was here, behind her, on the other side of the tree trunk. She blamed the noise of the crowd and nerves, no one else could have snuck up on her like that.

“To whom are you referring?”

“Freer. It took me a while to figure out why she is either statue still for long periods, or acting like a rabbit raiding a carrot farm. She’s forever chasing the most flattering light in which to repose in.”

No. Really? Alia’s gaze went to the dark haired beauty, who was looking a little hot and bothered on this overcast cloudy day, chasing elusive sunbeams.

“And just whom do you intend to matchmake her with?”

“I haven’t thought very much about it… someone who fancies themselves an artist perhaps.”

“Your lack of research into your subjects makes me shudder.”

“No need to worry, I promise to choose someone considered handsome and with very deep pockets. Don’t sigh like that. Almost no aristos get a choice in whom they marry, and this way she’ll have a lifetime cache of being able to boast the Prince of the Realm blessed her marriage.”

“Do not even think of coming near me with that heavy matchmaking cudgel of yours, or I’ll snatch it away and beat you bloody with it.”

Talac laughed under his breath, things low in Alia’s body tightened, heating in response.

“I would never dare. Are you ready to depart? Despite the clouds, the sun is almost at its peak.”

Alia didn’t bother replying, just casually moving, sinking backwards into the darker, deeper, woodland shadows to join Talac. Both of them wearing dark colours she noted, Talac having chosen to don his Captain of the Guard uniform. A sparkle of anticipation lightening his flint coloured eyes. No sign of the haughty arrogant Prince today. Good, she much preferred it that way.

Together they moved off, silent, heading in the direction of the river that edged the far side of this wooded area. Staying off the paths. Ensuring they didn’t startle any game. Or alert any posted guards that anyone was moving about in the woodlands.

They were both armed. Alia silently praying that Perri’s plan would work. Pausing at the tree line some twenty minutes later, looking out at the clearing beside the riverbank where Brandth had proposed the meeting with Regal take place, she bit back a resigned sigh. Cruddy hell. Just once, Gods above, just once, it would be nice if a plan devised by a Gloomenthrall came to fruition.

This was not going to be that day.

Damnation.

Regal was early. He’d brought four men with him. Which was to be expected. What was not expected lay crumpled, tied up and gagged on the ground beside the swiftly running water; Deacon and Levi.

* * *

“Steady.”

Brandth’s muttered warning gave Perri a brief moment. A chance to take a breath. Assess the situation. Push away panic and a host of other unhelpful emotions and reach for calm. Perri was a healer. She was used to things turning to churned manure within a blink of an eye.

Discovering Regal had managed to kidnap Levi and Deacon, hog-tying the duo, a burly man with a sword looming over them acting as their guard – it was beyond ghastly… but things weren’t hopeless. Alia and Talac were in the woods, her sister would be coming up with a clever strategy to rescue the boys right at this moment. All Perri needed to do was buy Alia time to put her plan into action.

Surprisingly, it was Regal’s smug superior dimpled smile that helped to settle Perri’s nerves the most. She remembered that smile all too well. Had spent days… nights, twisting herself inside out trying to coax that smile out of him. Trying to please him. Make him happy. Wearing things that he preferred. Eating his favourite foods although none were to her taste. Keeping a fixed pleasant smile always upon her face, or otherwise people might question the veracity of their perfect blissful union.

When he got his way, Regal had always smiled just like he was doing now.

Taking another deep breath, Perri reached determinedly for that calm headspace… tamping down hard on the urge to run at him, claw that cruddy evil smile from his lips with her fingernails. Calm. Breathe. For Levi. For Deacon. Perri could see both of them were struggling, testing the ropes, they were alive and safe for now.

“Considering why we’ve gathered here, it seemed a little foolish to exclude the boy.”

Regal drawled as Perri and Brandth came to a halt some twelve feet from where he stood.

“I say, Levi, have you met your mother yet?”

Oh, crud, Perri’s stomach threatened to revolt. Thankfully she’d been too nervous to eat. Noting out the corner of her eye that Levi had gone completely still.

For once Regal allowed his true inner feelings to shine forth and she saw seething hatred and gut deep disgust for just a moment or two. Annoyingly the emotions failed to dull his still beautiful features.

“Bilg, turn the boy over, I’d like to introduce him to his long lost Mama.”

With a nudge of a boot, Levi was rolled over. His gaze unerringly fixing upon Perri. He was gagged. From this distance she couldn’t read his expression. But he barely blinked, staring at her intently.

“Monstrous, isn’t she? I know of men wounded in war and on the ships, who’ve taken less damage but after seeing their own visage in the mirror chose to end their lives rather than continue to haunt and horrify those around them.”

“I always thought your obsession with perfection and beauty would someday be your downfall.”

Perri taunted, taking courage from Brandth’s unwavering presence beside her. Leaning his weight on one crutch, Brandth eyeing Regal like any moment he was going to leap forward and tear the man’s shrivelled heart out of his chest. Unconsciously, the edges of Perri’s lips tilted upwards in a smile, reaching over to give Brandth a placating pat on the arm. Soon, she silently promised, turning her attention back to Regal.

“Haven’t you realised that the tide is already beginning to turn? You think yourself on top of the heap, the pinnacle. But surely you’ve noticed the deepening wrinkles around your eyes of late? The slight thickening of your waist? Soon the ladies gazes will turn to younger, prettier, fitter men. I wonder, as you age, Regal, whether your outsides will begin to reflect your insides. Then we’ll see who is deemed monstrous I think.”

“Look at you, having grown a backbone… finally. It would have been my pleasure to beat that out of you had you ever shown a glimmer of it when we first wed.”

“Lucky for me our marriage ended long ago… when you abandoned me for dead.”

“And just like always, you had to be contrary and fail to die. I must say, Perri-winkle, you are without doubt one of my greatest disappointments. And that’s including my brother Maraak, who unwittingly survived five covert murder attempts unscathed. Now, enough with the time wasting.”

Regal raised his voice.

“Bring them out.”

Perri’s stomach shrivelled, turning into a rock, as first Alia, then Talac, stepped out of the tree line, arms raised, both weaponless, followed by Elliott Heathscote, a notched arrow in his taunt bow aimed at the back of Talac’s neck. A large burly man similarly close on Alia’s heels, holding a glinting knife to her throat. He looked familiar for some reason.

Pushing aside the question of why the burly man appeared familiar, Perri concentrated on damning the Deities above instead. Why, oh why had they forsaken her? She’d come up with the perfect plan, and suddenly everything had turned to grutling manure.

“Is this him, then?”

Regal enquired, distinct disinterest edging his tone.

“Yes. Finally.”

Elliott kicked Talac in the back of the knees hard, sending him crashing to the ground.

“Stay down. I’ve been searching for you high and low since I got here.”

Perri struggled to keep her expression blank… did Elliott and Regal not realise that Talac was Prince Zariffe? It appeared not. Attired in his guard uniform they only saw what they wanted to see.

Alia issued a small protesting sound as the knife at her throat dug in a little deeper, blood trickling down her bared décolletage.

“Hold.”

Regal snapped out the instruction. “Not yet.”

“What are we standing around for?”

The large burly man spoke, poking his head out from behind Alia. Perri recognised him now, Wilton, the one-handed man recently ejected from the Lair. And that wasn’t a knife at Alia’s throat, somehow, he’d gotten hold of a hook.

“We’re not all here yet.”

They weren’t?

Wilton’s brutish face looked nothing but petulant and predatory.

“Then whilst we wait, I’ll just entertain myself with Lady Beast here.”

An arrow suddenly appeared from nowhere, striking an inch or two from Wilton’s left boot. The man clutching Alia closer still, his head swivelling, searching the trees behind him for the archer.

“About that.”

Regal sighed, sounding thoroughly put upon.

“I know we had an agreement. I take care of the scarred bitch and the brat. Elliott gets the guardsman who cost him the hunt prize and we murder his cousin. And you get to end the giantess… but you see, plans change.”

“What are you saying?”

Elliott demanded, he likewise was casting wary glances into the woods at his back. Disliking having who ever had fired that arrow standing in his blindspot.

“I’m saying after you two failed to kill her at the masquerade ball, our professional bowman requested a boon in exchange for continuing to provide me with his services. And since it appears he’s much more capable of delivering on his promises than either of you, I decided to grant him his wish.”

“And you promised to have my cousin killed. Yet he’s currently supping broth and recovering all too speedily from his light injury.”

“You can’t blame our friend that my former wife was on hand and is a skilled healer.”

“If the shot had been fatal, we wouldn’t be discussing this.”

Elliott snarled.

“You were the one that said to make it look good for the crowd, requesting lots of blood and providing you with the opportunity to pledge your loyalty to your cousin on his death bed.”

“I don’t understand.”

Wilton gritted out, his gaze shifting between the two bickering men, though his grip on Alia never lessened.

“What are you poncing on about?”

“Haven’t you guessed? Our bowman came in with skills we need, continue to need, and all he wants in return is her.”

Regal’s gaze landed upon Alia for a moment.

“But you said I could have her.”

Wilton glanced Elliott’s way, but received no indication of support from that front.

“You promised.”

“And now I’m saying you can’t. Don’t make me repeat myself. Heathscote, rein your thug in.”

“He’s not the boss of me.”

Wilton, his face flushed with anger, raised his elbow, his intention clear, given the sharp point of his hook was positioned against Alia’s throat. “She’s-”

They would never know what Wilton intended to say, as suddenly the man was sporting an arrow from his left eye. His body taking two seconds to realise he was dead, his knees buckling, the large man falling to the ground with a thud.

Blinking, Perri stared down at the dead man. It had all happened so fast. But who had done the deed? As far as she was aware all the evil doers were present and accounted for, dead and alive.

She noted Alia was staring off to the left, the direction from which the arrow had been fired. Silence hanging heavily in the air, interrupted only by the rush of the nearby river.

“So Gods damn dramatic.”

Elliott Heathscote muttered under his breath. His bow slightly less taut now. It was difficult to hold it stretched and ready even for the most gifted of archers for long periods of time. Normally this would be when Alia, and probably Talac, would make a move to disable Elliott and at the very least remove one enemy number. But both remained still and patiently waited. Because whoever had killed Wilton, clearly was a gifted archer.

How many minutes since Wilton had drawn a breath? Two? Five? Even Regal was showing signs of restlessness, but surprisingly he made no demands on the mystery archer. Then, between one blink and the next, the fellow was standing at the edge of the tree line. Arrow casually notched, though not aiming at anyone. Dressed all in black, he made a chilling silent figure. The expression on his face hard, ruthless, deadly. There was something familiar about him. Perri knew him, didn’t she? His raven hair clubbed back in a queue. Green eyes hard, like polished unflinching jade.

“Cadell?”

Alia named him, astonishment tinging her voice.

Cadell. Cadell? Perri found herself just as shocked. The bard was the mystery deadly archer? The one her sister had rejected and banished from the Lair?

Gloomenthrall women were cursed, this was the last proof Perri needed. Thankfully, historically, the cure for the curse had always proven effective… kill the men cursing them.

* * *

Why that cruddy lying little oink. The young ones back at the Lair had been of the right mind. Alia should have killed Cadell and disposed of his body in the woods when she had the opportunity.

Well, as her third cousin, once removed, the eighth Beast of Gloomenthrall had always said – never put off killing a man, you’ll generally only live to regret it.

Time to rectify her oversight.

But how? Alia could tell by the overly casual way Cadell held his bow at his side, with the arrow already notched, and the impressive bullseye that took Wilton out, that the bard was a crack shot and probably fast as lightning. And unfortunately, he was standing too far away to tackle to the ground.

Time to start chatting and see if she could edge closer. Signalling Talac discreetly with three quick hand gestures to stay put. He had Elliott Heathscote at his back to deal with. Not to mention Regal’s meandering goons. One standing over the tied and gagged boys. A big nasty fellow shadowing Regal, acting as his personal bodyguard. Whilst two others, who were supposed to be watching the tree line, kept glancing back to watch the action or see if they were required.

“Tell me, bard, was all the golden wheat fields of ponderous sunshine edged with glittering veins of diamond coloured love a ruse? Or is this the real you, archer assassin for hire?”

“Either, or, neither… keep still Lady Giant.”

“You should just kill her now.”

Elliott advised.

“Given her reputation, you don’t want to tangle with her.”

“Killing her would defeat my purpose. I’m not saying never, just not right now. I have to get her before a priest first, how else will I make her my bride?”

“Please.”

Alia laughed.

“That’ll never happen. I’ll never agree to marry you.”

“That’s the wonderful thing about the laws of this land, you can be bruised and bloodied, unable to speak because of a broken jaw, but I, as your beloved fiancée, can speak on your behalf. Even sign your name. I know just where to find an amenable priest to wed us. Unfortunately, he demands proof of life before the ceremony. Bit of a spot of bother with the cardinal a while back has made him annoyingly cautious.”

“And what would marrying me accomplish?”

Half a step closer, still too much distance between them.

“Having sung and courted aristo women for over eight years now, looking for a way up into the echelons, I’ve come to the conclusion it will never happen. Even if I find a rich, infatuated furdove, her family will cut her off the moment she says I do.”

Alia shared a confused look with Perri, taking another half step closer to Cadell.

“The same will happen if you marry me. My father would soon as kill you than acknowledge you.”

A smirk tilted up the edges of Cadell’s mouth.

“Who would want dreary Gloomenthrall Keep when I could be Lord of the Lair? Sitting on a goldmine, with scads of underlings to obey my every command.”

“What?”

Alia was genuinely confused, taking another half step, slow and steady would see this crowing cockerel dead.

“Why would you think we’re exempt from the laws of the land? The inhabitants of the Lair choose to follow me. And Baron Gloomenthrall and I have an agreement. I pay a hefty monthly stipend to him for use of his land. In exchange, he allows our female kin to have some say in whom they do or do not marry, and what direction their lives will take. My position is not inherited. I fought for it. And every day I prove I’m worthy of remaining… Lady of the Lair.”

Another half step.

“If you turn up, claiming you married me and announce yourself Lord over them, first, the Lair inhabitants will laugh. “Another half step. “Then they’ll kill you.”

Alia smirked mockingly, taking another half step, shaking her head.

“Lord of the Lair.” Perhaps it was time to cause a little dissension. Looking in Regal’s direction. “You knew of his ambitions and didn’t think to correct him?”

“He was proving skilled and useful… and he can hardly place the blame on me that his plan is based upon false assumptions he’s erroneously made.”

“Hah.”

Elliott laughed, amused also at the blunder by his cohort.

Cadell’s face tightening into a grimace of anger as he shot a look of loathing both at Regal and then Elliott’s way. Good, they had no love for one another.

Of course, as with all plans Alia had devised of late, this one like every other, took a distinctly quick and wrong turn.

“Then there is, as you say.”

Cadell acknowledged Elliott.

“No point in keeping the golden giantess alive any longer then.”

Crud.

“…Although, there is still the matter of the outstanding money you owe me for shooting your cousin.”

“He didn’t die!”

Elliott spat out from between clenched teeth, eyes blazing with anger.

“The agreement we had was that I would mortally wound the man, which I did. I cannot be held accountable for miraculous healers being present to bring him back from the brink. You will hand over the money we agreed upon…”

Cadell’s tone icy cold.

“…immediately, or there will be a reckoning.”

The bark of laughter that erupted from Elliott sent nearby nesting birds skywards.

“With what monies, you idiot? I’m still only the heir, and I may not even be that for too much longer if my cousin’s wife births a boy. I live from card game to card game. If he was dead, I could have delivered… but you didn’t kill him!”

“That wasn’t the agreement!”

Cadell lifted his bow and arrow, his attention upon Elliott. Who was at the same time shifting his target, straining to stretch his bow and swivel so he could return aim at Cadell.

Finally. Alia broke for Cadell. Out the corner of her eye she noted Talac, still on his knees, swivelling fast and lunging for Elliott.

She prayed hard, so very hard, that for once, just cruddy once, a plan she was instigating worked… miracles did happen she’d been told. Just usually not to her.

Still, she prayed, leaping forward, silently bargaining with the Gods. It didn’t matter what happened to her, just please, please, let Talac emerge from this encounter unscathed… please.