Page 23 of The Thief’s Lord (Catkin Trilogy #3)

Dorset

T he sun rose. The sun set. Morning turned to evening, day after day after day. I kept count. Eleven sunrises passed by with no sign of Gareth.

Every morning, I woke stiffly on the hard narrow cot, uncertain if this day was to be my last. Outside the narrow slit of my window, the world continued on its merry way.

Birds flew past the tower, chirping gaily.

The courtyard bustled with the traffic of staff, courtiers, and visitors.

The gardens, on the few occasions I was allowed to stretch my legs, was beginning to blossom.

In many ways, the world felt as though it were going on without me.

Thankfully, my guards were more than a little sympathetic to my plight.

They told me all of the latest news. According to Rolf, the court was in a tizzy for a variety of reasons.

Preparations were being made for the king’s historic treaty with the kingdom of Estellia.

For the first time in decades, Sumarene would finally be able to reforge the old bonds it had with its northern neighbor.

There were also a variety of summer events that the young King Landis was expected to attend.

Ordinarily, that would be challenging enough to handle, but on top of that, there were matters afoot.

Rolf, one of the few Munni in Corrin’s confidence, told me that Gareth had lit out the same day he had spoken with me.

Where he had gone, no one knew. I was instantly worried and stewed for a moment at the news.

Where has he gone? I wondered. Did he not tell me that we ought to do things together?

Did he not warn me about attempting things on my own?

But you practically put yourself here , another more sensible part of myself pointed out.

You might have been able to help him if you hadn’t rushed off half-cocked to attempt an assault on Lord Morne’s mansion on your own.

No doubt recognizing how distraught I was, Rolf offered me a sympathetic smile.

The older, grizzled tom clapped me on the shoulder.

“Worry not, Dorset,” he said gruffly. “From what Ser Corrin tells me, the Duke of Baywaters is a tough tom. Not your ordinary highbred. I wager he knows a thing or two. That and he has his hidden cadre of King’s Blades.”

“So it is true then?”

“Aye. The Blades had been disbanded before the war, but right after, he founded the order again. Particularly, when, ahem, when news of the Night Blades first emerged.” Rolf winked at me.

“I reckon he had hoped to… Well.” The guard sighed gustily as he made his way to the tower’s door.

“That’s neither here nor there. Let’s just try to survive the month. ”

Rolf’s words sent a chill to my bone. A reminder that my days on the earth were counted.

Lord Morne was pursuing my trial with vigor, determined to remove the “threat on his life.” According to my guards, when rumors of my Munni background were spread, many other nobles also supported Morne’s push to see me hanged.

Ever since my youth, I had lived like a ghost in Sumarene—ignored and silenced.

Now, I felt more exposed than ever, feeling the eyes of the entire country on me, despite how I had been sequestered away.

Thankfully, my guards were the most reliable toms of Ser Hugh’s guards.

Since the day Gareth left, I was no longer treated as a suspicious captive.

After Gareth talked with me, leaving me with hope and the comfort of his signet ring, Alan and Aileen showed up with poultices and elixirs.

Both were determined to ease my discomfort as best as they could.

A day later, one of the guards begrudgingly arranged for hot water and a cloth to be brought, allowing me to wipe myself of any remaining dirt and grime.

For the first time since my failed attempt at burglary, I felt as though I was returning to the land of the living. Not that it would last.

“Dorset?”

A familiar voice called through the thick door of my cell. I rose to my feet as the locks clanked noisily and the door creaked open.

“Gods. Are you alright in there, Dorset?”

My eyes nearly bugged out. King Landis? Landis is here?

It was hard to see since the large shadowed figure that stood in the doorway was the great, muscled bulk of Landis’s mate, Ser Corrin Stonewarden.

The now famous Munni had rocked the country when he took the king to bed.

Son of the infamous warrior Ser Jan Stonewarden and the Seeress Meera, Ser Corrin had been sent to Rimefrost as a token of goodwill from Velamere.

Ser Corrin. Even now, after the few times we met, it was hard for me to think of him in any other terms. The tom was imposing with a neutral expression set on his pale face. His green eyes flashed a little as they darted around the room. Only when he had double-checked the room did he step aside.

Just over his left broad shoulder, I could see the tips of Landis’s gold ears flicking back and forth.

Judging from the rise and fall of his voice, Landis was just a little exasperated with Corrin’s protectiveness.

I watched them gently bicker with each other, and my heart warmed at the sight, reminded of how Gareth treated me.

No sooner had Corrin stepped aside than Landis bounded forward.

There was only the slightest hesitation before he drew me into a warm embrace.

“You… look…”

The king trailed off as he eased back. As usual, Landis’s tail betrayed his emotions, flicking back and forth nervously. There was a look in his blue eyes, something less like pity and more like compassion.

“You can be honest, your highness,” I said softly with a small wince. “I’ve no doubt seen better days. It could be worse.”

“Could it?” asked Landis curiously. Then his tail fluffed out as he remonstrated: “And it’s Landis, remember?”

“Yes. Landis.” I offered him a small smile and added a bit more soberly, “I could be at the mercy of my masters… or Lord Morne. All in all, Rolf and the others are taking good care of me.”

Landis relaxed a little. Sitting opposite me across the small table Rolf had left in the room, Landis and I sat and talked about the state of affairs at the castle.

Just as I had surmised, everyone was preparing for the long trip to the north, where Landis and King Norran would renew their commitment to peace.

I asked about the Lower Rime, recalling the changes I had seen.

This sent Landis into a long discussion about his campaign to bring Lower Rime to new heights of glory.

Those last words were his not mine, but his enthusiasm was infectious.

Just hearing his plans had my own tail flicking with excitement.

Ser Corrin stopped prowling about and gazed at Landis with doting fondness.

My heart skipped a beat. It brought to mind the look that I had caught on Gareth’s face the few times I caught him looking at me.

I was hit with the sudden realization: Gareth must truly be fond of me.

So obvious , I scolded myself. Of course, he is fond of me! Why else would he be fighting for me? I felt a little silly, looking back at my actions. If I had asked Gareth for help, he would have gone with me as he said. He loved me. Gareth… loved me.

That night, as I drifted off to sleep on my narrow cot, I dreamed of Gareth saying those words. His full lips whispered his desire in my ear, driving me wild. I woke up aching and alone, but, for the first time in a long time, I truly felt hope.

Two days later, I was escorted down to the castle’s great hall.

Unlike usual events, all of the doors along the sides of the galley had been opened for the general public.

Surrounded by a heavy escort, I was taken to a square box that had been set up on the edge of the dais several feet from Landis.

In full sight of the crowds, I was put on a high stool.

I winced, realizing that, for the first time in my life, my face was on display for everyone to see. I was no longer hidden in the shadows.

Glancing sideways, I noticed that Landis was flanked by an equally well-equipped guard.

A combination of Sunna and Munni, which explained why the trial was being held so early in the morning.

Along one side of the hall, the most powerful nobles sat, accompanied by one guard.

The galley was filled with the well-to-do catkin of Rimefrost as well as the lesser nobility.

On the other side of the hall, stuffed into the portico outside and underneath the overhanging galley, the lower classes thronged.

From the murmurs and whispers that swelled within the grand hall, my appearance was already sparking strife.

It seemed as though all of the catkin folk—both Munni and Sunna—were looking at me with some rancor.

I forced my back to stiffen and attempted to ease any tension from my posture.

While the charges were read, my eyes wandered the crowds.

I noted Ser Hugh and his most trustworthy guards had taken up vantage points about the room.

Ser Corrin was also making his way to King Landis’s side.

Of course. That was no surprise. Lord Morne, surrounded by his fellow nobles, was seated closer to the dais.

He looked at me with triumph and malice glittering openly in his eyes.

My fists clenched in response, but I kept them down and hidden, raising only my chin in responding challenge.

Not all of the words filtered into my mind.

I was too busy trying to figure out who in the crowd might be a familiar face, a hidden Night Blade.

And where is Alan? I glanced over at Ser Hugh, but the knight was busy with a clerk.

Sheaves of paper were carefully escorted to Lord Elthorne.

Reports of great significance, apparently.