Scrivener's Tale (60 page)

‘Darcelle never suspected?'

‘Darcelle,' she gave a mirthless chuckle, ‘wanted to go more than I did on that occasion, or at least our stepmother wanted her to. Darcelle could be so persuasive and — oh, what does it matter?'

‘It matters that even in something as important as love you permitted Darcelle to usurp your heart's desire. Imagine what could have been if you'd gone to Cipres instead of her.'

‘She didn't do it deliberately. And she had no idea of my feelings. She met Tamas and they found enjoyment in each other. It seems both sisters were stricken with the pleasure of loving an older man.' She smiled sadly in the dark, knowing he couldn't see it.

‘There is nothing in your way now.'

‘Don't, Cassien. Tamas does not think of me in this manner.'

‘I wouldn't be too sure of that,' Cassien advised.

‘I can't think of it,' she dismissed, eager to banish talk of her heart and its love for one man. ‘It's too painful from every angle. My sister …' She stopped. There was no point in traversing old ground. ‘All I care is that he remains safe and free from the demon's touch. That we
all
do.'

They left Micklesham behind, soft candlelight from its dwellings feeling far more cheery than the landscape stretching out before them. As if it could hear their prayers, the moon chose that moment to emerge and instantly the way ahead was cast into a ghostly road.

‘The forest awaits; let's ride, your majesty,' Cassien urged.

He kicked his cantering horse into a gallop and Florentyna followed suit, a thought nagging on the rim of her mind. It felt as far from her grasp as the moon that lit their way.

Princess Darcelle caught the Cipreans just past Hynton, a neighbouring hamlet of Harpers Riding and its tithe barn, where Gabriel had made his entry into Morgravia. Behind her raced three dozen well-armed, hardened soldiers from the famed Morgravian Legion, who had been ordered to follow the princess. She'd given Stoneheart's gatekeepers a fright the way she'd suddenly taken off from the bailey — alone and in pursuit of the Cipreans, who had also left mysteriously swiftly and with no prior warning.

The senior commander happened to be in the gatehouse at the moment of Darcelle's departure and when he had asked why the princess had no minders with her and received no satisfactory explanation, he had acted on his instincts. Without waiting to find out more he gave orders for three stems of the Legion to follow the princess and bring her back safely. He sent Lieutenant Tyle as his representative.

Tyle had tried but failed to slow the princess enough to discover the reason for her hellish pursuit … she refused to converse with him on the gallop. With no other choice he'd had to keep up, urging the men to do the same. They had their orders and their role was to protect Princess Darcelle.

She arrived at the Ciprean camp, with Tyle on her heels, galloping so fast she could barely stop the horse, and shocked the Ciprean Guard as much as Tyle by carelessly leaping from the slowing beast into the area where the soldiers were congregated. Men dodged out of the horse's way and two gave chase to prevent the animal harming itself or the men. Darcelle clearly couldn't care whether the animal lived or died.

Tyle was off his own mount just as fast while the princess was grabbing a man who wore the giveaway gold buttons on his cloak, suggesting he was a senior member of the Ciprean guard. He reared back from the snarling expression on her face.

Tyle came up behind her, loathe to interrupt until he could gain her attention and follow the right protocols. She ignored him.

‘Do you know me?' she demanded of the Ciprean.

The man bowed. ‘Your highness, Princess Darcelle.'

‘Then tell me where I can find King Tamas.'

‘The king is …' He looked around, seemed embarrassed. ‘He's —'

‘Where?' Cyricus boomed in the man's face, using Darcelle's voice as best he could to inflict fear.

‘He's in Pearlis, your highness.'

‘Pearlis?' she snarled. Cyricus didn't understand. Aphra sensibly remained silent, although he could feel her tension skimming through Darcelle's body. ‘I saw the king leave with you,' Darcelle continued.

He shook his head. ‘No, highness. We were sent ahead.' He glanced Tyle's way and nodded. ‘Let me take you to Captain Wentzl.'

‘Do that!' Cyricus snapped, his mind racing. Back in Pearlis? That couldn't be right. He saw it … clearly saw the king mount the pearl-coloured horse and ride with his men.

‘Your highness?'

Cyricus turned and eyed the Morgravian officer standing before him. ‘Yes?'

The man blinked. ‘Er, Lieutenant Tyle, your highness.' He said it in a way that suggested Darcelle should know him.

‘Well?'

‘My orders are to accompany you. Is there … um … anything I can help with?'

‘Unless you can help me find King Tamas, I doubt it.'

‘Let me stay with you, your highness,' he said and Cyricus could see the officer carefully eyeing her with confusion.

‘As you wish,' Cyricus said and stalked away. He let Darcelle's body follow the Ciprean officer, who led him to the shade of a tree where a man with a neatly trimmed moustache and grey, intelligent eyes gazed at him. The man quickly stood politely from where he'd been crouching to take a drink from a ladle. Cyricus watched the man wipe his lips hastily and immediately sweep into an elegant bow.

‘Princess Darcelle.' Cyricus noted the man's eyes dart behind him. ‘Lieutenant Tyle,' he said in greeting and nodded.

‘Captain Wentzl,' Tyle acknowledged and Cyricus observed that the Morgravian drew level.

‘Your highness, your arrival is most unusual.'

‘Your man said the king is not with you?' Cyricus said, ignoring the pleasantries.

Wentzl nodded. ‘Yes, your highness, he gave you the truth. King Tamas ordered me to take the men back to the ship. I was given no further information. I anticipated that he would join us.'

‘Did you?' Cyricus snapped, his mind reaching to the possibility that he had been tricked. Darcelle's gaze settled on a familiar cloak, worn by someone standing close by and listening to the conversation. Its wearer, who should have been Tamas, was clearly not; Cyricus accepted now that he had been outwitted by the Ciprean king. Wentzl was still talking, apparently responding to Darcelle's last query.

‘… with so much death in the palace, he thought it best, your highness.' He stopped, cleared his throat, glanced at Tyle.

Cyricus knew he was wasting his time here. He felt the violence erupting, certainly wanted to answer its call even though it was pointless.

Ham rode unhappily alongside King Tamas. ‘Your majesty, please, we should not do this.'

‘We must.'

‘Cassien would not —'

‘Hamelyn, my boy,' he said gently. ‘I am a king. Kings make their own decisions, are answerable to no-one but their god. If I don't do this, our future — especially that of Florentyna — is even less certain than it already is.'

Ham sighed audibly. ‘I think you like our queen.'

‘Of course I do.' And when Ham eyed him, it was the king's turn to sigh. ‘More than I should, perhaps. One daughter of Morgravia is lost. We cannot risk the only other member of the imperial Crown's family. I would never forgive myself.'

Ham sighed resignedly. ‘Then let's ride, your majesty!'

‘Lieutenant Tyle?'

‘Highness,' he replied, snapping to attention.

‘Seize that man over there.' Darcelle pointed.

‘Er …' Tyle looked torn.

‘Don't look at Wentzl for permission, lieutenant. You were sent to escort me, keep me safe, I presume?' Tyle nodded and looked to be holding his breath. Cyricus liked it when people were unnerved, and even better when they were fearful like Tyle, who was trapped between duty and a clear desire to bundle the princess back to Pearlis and let someone else sort out what must look to be an emotional explosion. ‘Well then, lieutenant, I presume also in those orders was the inherent instruction to obey your princess. Am I not right?'

‘You are right, highness,' he murmured. ‘But we —'

‘Have your men seize that man now!' Cyricus roared in Darcelle's voice.

Tyle took a long slow breath through his nose. Cyricus could see his nostrils flaring with anger and confusion.

‘There is no need for this, your highness,' Wentzl said. ‘Ranker! Over here,' he called, and the man who Cyricus could now see shared a similar build and colouring to Tamas, limped over. ‘Why do you need to see him?'

‘Because, Captain Wentzl, I believe this man wore the king's cloak when he rode out of the Stoneheart bailey.'

‘As you can see, your highness, this is not who you seek,' he said, ignoring the point Cyricus was making.

‘Tyle?'

‘Yes,' he answered unhappily.

‘Have your men draw arms.'

‘Your high—'

‘Do it, Tyle, or I'll have your neck swinging from the palace gallows faster than you can stammer out an apology.'

The Ciprean guard murmured as one, many reaching for weapons, but Wentzl put a hand up. ‘Cipreans, stay your hands. Remember, we are guests in Morgravia and our king is here. Ranker?'

‘Sir?' the man stood to attention.

‘As her highness demands, man,' Wentzl said, not taking his gaze from Darcelle. It glittered defiantly and Cyricus couldn't fail to be impressed by the man.

Ranker stepped forward, knelt, and bowed his head before Darcelle.

‘Cyricus, my lord,' Aphra finally murmured, ‘this would not be a wise move.'

‘Do not presume to tell me what I should or shouldn't do, Aphra!' he growled, knowing almost one hundred men were watching Darcelle, holding a collective breath.

‘It's just, if you —'

‘Quiet!' he roared privately at his acolyte. He regarded the lieutenant. ‘Tyle,' he said aloud in Darcelle's voice, ‘draw your weapon.'

The Morgravian's expression told Cyricus that he knew it was hopeless to object any longer or further. Tyle drew his weapon and the ring of the metal resonated around the camp, which was quiet enough that Cyricus could hear a lone bird chirruping nearby. A moment later, though, that sound was drowned by the jarring ring of thirty-five other swords being drawn. The Morgravian men stood ready and armed. But on Wentzl's order not a single Ciprean drew his weapon.

‘Did the king ask you to deliberately trick me?' Cyricus asked.

Wentzl shook his head. ‘I don't know what this man is doing with the king's cloak, to be honest, your highness.' Cyricus — and probably every other Ciprean, he assumed — knew that Wentzl was lying.

‘Let's ask him, shall we?' Darcelle offered, her words polite, but her tone as acid as lemon juice on a wound. ‘Ranker, explain to us why you are wearing the cloak of King Tamas? Please don't deny its ownership. I know it is his, because he wore it only this morning when I was with him. It is far too distinctive to be any other cloak than his.'

Ranker did not change his position or raise his head. ‘I do not deny it, your highness. King Tamas asked me to carry it for him as he no longer required it.'

‘Really?'

The man said nothing.

‘Why would he do that, Ranker?'

‘Your highness, I am a simple soldier. When the king of my country bids me carry something, I do it without question.'

‘You did not think it curious?' Cyricus pressed, his fury at being tricked intensifying. He needed to take his rage out on someone.

‘I do not think much at all, your highness,' he said, and even though it was a humble response, Cyricus felt it like a slap of sarcasm.

‘I know you are lying, Ranker. I suspect your captain is lying too. But here, let me give you something that you, he and your whole company can think about …' Without pausing for breath, Cyricus reached out Darcelle's arm and snatched the sword that Lieutenant Tyle held unhappily at his side. With the inordinate strength that Cyricus piled behind the action, the sword was raised in the hands of the princess and with a hammering, double-handed blow it was brought down on Ranker's unprotected, bowed head.

It split like a soft, vasha melon but first made the noise of a nut cracking. A sound like the distant roar of a wave moved through the Ciprean Guard but Wentzl had raised his hand again and they obediently followed his silent order to do nothing.

Ranker had looked up, wearing an expression of total confusion, before his body slowly toppled, crumpling to Darcelle's left as blood spumed from the mighty blow. His body writhed while his heart caught up with what his brain already knew. And then Ranker began to convulse but Cyricus was already moving Darcelle's attention away from the spasms of the dying soldier to focus on Wentzl.

‘Your sword, Tyle,' she said, without glancing his way as she held out the bloodied blade to her offsider, needing both arms to do so. Cyricus knew every man present was wondering how a woman of Darcelle's stature could wield a blade of that size. He didn't care. He didn't care about a single one of them or what they thought — he would gladly kill them and enjoy watching each suffer his death throes … if he'd had the time. But he had a king and queen to catch, for it seemed someone, somehow, had informed both that their young princess was not all that she seemed.

‘Fetch me a horse,' Cyricus snapped.

‘Would you not prefer to take a —'

‘You surely aren't deaf, captain Wentzl, and I'm surely not so stupid that I can't make my own decisions. I will return to Pearlis and I will find King Tamas on my own. You and your men had better weigh anchor as soon as you reach the port at Ramon. I am sending Lieutenant Tyle and twenty-five of our men to ensure your departure.'

‘We cannot leave without —'

‘Without Tamas? Fret not, Captain. I will provide a ship for the king, should he require it. Either you leave Morgravian soil or our countries will be at war. I can have ten times the number of men hunting down your small force within hours. Leave, captain, and leave by nightfall or I promise you, more Ciprean blood will be spilled.'