Knight devoted, p.2
Knight Devoted, page 2
“I do know a place…” she murmured.
His eyebrows arched. “A place where one could be a fly?”
“In a sense, yes.” She bit her lip again, trying to read his steady, interested gaze. Was he interested in eavesdropping—or sniffing out a traitor? Or simply playing games of words?
Sometimes, she wondered if he cared for anything other than trading clever barbs. She’d seen him delay his duties many times with various excuses so he could engage in wordplay. But that had been one of the few nice things about the last few years. She had her books and her squirrel friends who could climb the tower and chat with her, but it was nothing like having a genuine friend to talk to.
“I have always said you know this castle better than anyone.” He glanced around them, which gave her the freedom to do so as well.
There was no one nearby.
“Would you…” Here went nothing. “Would you like to be a fly with me for a day?” She put on a polite smile to hide her nerves at what he might say.
Instead of raising his eyebrows, he treated her to a devilish grin. “Lead the way.”
Chapter 2
Secrets
They left the upper mezzanine and hurried up the slick steps where rain runoff ran from the eastern tower. She had devoured the apple by the time they reached the landing and the hall toward the south. Between two old, dusty tapestries, behind the bookshelf, through the narrow opening. His chain mail just barely fit through.
Then down, down again, down a rickety set of wooden stairs. Three planks had collapsed, and it had never occurred to her to repair them, so perhaps bringing a man in chain mail hadn’t been the smartest idea. But the boards held this time, even with the weight of both their steps moving quickly through the darkness.
At the bottom, she held a finger to her lips to indicate they were almost there. Hopefully, he could see her in the tiny bit of light that slipped between the cracks and tiny pinholes in the walls. She carefully sank down, silent as a cat, as he joined her, easing into the final, small space between walls. His eyes were wide as he glanced at her, and she hoped she was reading the expression right. Because it looked like delighted amusement.
Iseris didn’t know what strange trickery or forbidden magic graced this tiny secret passage, but there was a tiny hole in the outer wall. An image of the outdoors was somehow projected into the dark room, emblazoned across the far interior wall. This meant that she and Jav could sit in the darkness and see the portico outside where the king and queen were just settling in for a chat, wine in hand.
Both air and light flowed through the pinhole. Every word the monarchs spoke carried to their ears. Whoever had built this little spy hole had been a genius. Oddly, the image reflecting on the wall was flipped upside down. But they could easily identify what was going on.
Having no knowledge of who this genius had been or how he achieved what seemed like magic, she’d searched the library for some reference to this phenomenon. The only description she’d found similar was in a book how to observe an eclipse, but the connection to such rare events only made her more worried that magic was at work here, so she’d stopped her research, afraid of her efforts being noticed.
A little mouse had helped her discover this secret passage, however inadvertently. Mice, rats, and spiders knew every nook and cranny of this place. That was the real reason why she truly did know many parts of the castle no one else did—the creatures shared their knowledge with her.
“I can’t believe Demikin fell to them,” the queen was muttering.
“The war’s not over yet.” The king waved her off yet again. A wonder he didn’t get a cramp in the wrist. “I can believe it, though. He was an idiot of the highest degree.”
“At any rate, Priestess Ilnu is right. You must marry her off soon, or we will eventually need to deal with her ourselves. Alekur has been telling me… stories. She makes no effort to hide.” Some unseen servant refilled both of their glasses with wine.
Iseris bit her lip again. That was patently untrue, as she made every effort she could imagine to hide her abilities. Apparently, she wasn’t succeeding, though. It figured that her fool half-brother would be the one to push the issue. She had no claim to the throne, and no interest in it, and yet still he persisted, convinced that, someday, she might change her mind.
The king sighed. “I suppose you are right. Yes, yes, we will deal with it. I’ll not risk souring an ally, though—or even an enemy. Marriage is no solution to this. If I’m anything, it’s not a hypocrite.”
“True, my lord,” the queen replied.
“And I clean up my own messes. I’ve too long overlooked this one.”
“Indeed.” The quirk of the queen’s mouth must have looked cruel to Javarin. Or anyone who thought Iseris was truly the queen’s daughter. But this was much more ordinary and banal—a competitive mother bird pushing a rival’s egg from the nest.
The only thing that surprised Iseris about the situation was that the queen preferred to appear to hate her own daughter rather than admit to the mundane, somewhat sympathetic truth. Kings had indiscretions all the time. Iseris didn’t need to travel the world to be sure of that.
The king threw back the rest of his wine. “Fine. Proceed as you proposed. Let us be rid of her.”
Her stomach dropped. Although she’d expected this news would herald some change, even her worst expectations hadn’t imagined it being set into motion so quickly. And she realized abruptly that if they talked about her magic openly—thinking they were alone—her secret would be revealed, not just to the servants who had perhaps already been threatened into silence, but to Jav. Her nails dug into her palms again, and she willed herself not to start shaking.
The queen’s grin was wicked. “Excellent, my lord. You won’t regret this.” Setting down her goblet, she rose and strode away, off to initiate whatever plan she had, leaving the king to drink alone.
Iseris was frozen at Javarin’s side, both just staring at the silent king drinking his wine.
There might still be a little time. She could run to her room and grab the bag she’d packed. Or she could try to escape the castle now, via the secret passages. But then, she’d have nothing. It was beyond intimidating… and possibly a good way to get caught or die. She’d stick out like a sore thumb, wandering streets she didn’t know, without even a cloak on her shoulders.
She’d have to risk the trip back to her room to get the bag.
But it was easier said than done to tear herself away from her friend. A friend she would never see again. She caught his eyes. He saw the fear there and seemed to understand it, if not the reason for it.
In one last, insane rush, she reached down and took his hand. She squeezed it once, then again, a moment longer. His fingers were warm and strong as they squeezed back.
And then she left him, and she ran.
Chapter 3
Cats
Javarin Dormsher had served the Order of the Knights Devoted for nearly his entire life.
His earliest memories were of scampering through the halls of the black marble temples, chasing the many cats that thrived under Nefrana’s shielding light. The white ones had always been the easiest to catch, but his favorite had been a black, green-eyed one, whom he’d befriended over the years. Eventually, she’d broken his heart when he lost the sweet, cuddly girl to old age when he was fifteen.
Princess Iseris had always reminded him of that cat.
Partly because of the way her curls shifted as she dashed away from him now, more quickly than a proper lady should, like a shy feline skittering from an eager young child anxious to play. No matter how gracefully she moved, he always had the sense that she was running away. Skittering. Afraid.
And it was partly because those curls were dark like his cat’s had been, and her eyes were a similar lovely green. Her coloring did not resemble the queen’s, except perhaps Her Majesty’s blue eyes. And her looks didn’t share overmuch with the king’s either. He’d never, ever mention such an inconvenient thing, though, to her or anyone else. There was no benefit to pointing this out.
Iseris also reminded him of that cat because he’d always held the conviction—somewhat irrationally—that the princess would also someday break his heart.
He had a bad feeling as she fled from him toward her secret tunnel that it was happening right now, in fact, but he didn’t know how or why.
He just felt his heart reaching out of his chest, commanding him to follow her. Again. And in this moment, he listened.
He glanced back at the strange, upside-down projection of the king. This room was highly suspicious, probably used for spying or some similar treachery. He should report the existence of this place to the knight captain immediately. Who could have built it?
Not hands as soft as the ones that had just brushed his. And the stairs they’d come down were old, rotten. Not recently built, then. Whoever had devised this eavesdropping room was probably long dead. So there was no urgency in mentioning this to anyone.
Iseris’s steps, however, had had much urgency.
He rose as silently as he could and followed her, wincing at the slight chink of the chain mail. Iseris had managed to be perfectly quiet. She already had a significant lead. He had a feeling he knew where she was going, but if she got too far away, he could still lose her.
Truth be told, the idea that she would break his heart might not be so irrational. The troublesome fact of the matter was that he’d been in love with Princess Iseris for a very long time.
And Devoted Knights, no matter how loyal or well-regarded or heroic, did not marry princesses. He’d earned no accolades to speak of, had no special social rank or merit.
What had the king meant when he’d said Let’s be rid of her? Would they send her off to be married to the Akarian prince? The king hadn’t seemed interested in marrying her to either his enemies or his allies—but how else could he be rid of her?
Surely, he must have misunderstood. She’d soon be married off, and if he could find a way—if he could be so lucky—he would go with her, stay by her side as her protector.
Even that much would be a feat of both great luck and deft machinations on his part if he could pull it off. His own marriage to someone else? Irrelevant. Unthinkable. Unlikely.
The thought of losing her entirely seemed worse than watching her marry someone else, though. What was a burn wound compared to a lost limb?
He’d meditated many an hour asking for peace from Nefrana about all that. None had arrived yet.
But certainly, it should be here any day now.
He exited the secret passage and followed his ears, shadowing her footsteps through several hallways, turns, and doorways. Finally, he paused at the bottom of the tower stairs that led up toward the royal bedrooms, listening to her soft slippers pad up the cold stone stairs. She’d hear him and his chain mail the minute he started up, so he’d wait until she reached her floor.
She was going quickly. What had the king and queen meant? Why did the news from Kavanar seem to set all this off? What was he missing?
She was afraid of something. But what exactly? His stomach tightened. It didn’t make sense.
He would follow, though, and protect her from whatever they had planned. He’d never felt so earnestly called to a duty by Nefrana in his life.
And it wasn’t the first time he’d felt her call. Some nights, he even dreamed about it.
In his dreams, a golden-haired woman on a white horse would rush up to him in the middle of the forest, pines looming all around them. It was always night. Always snowy, always cold.
But the woman on horseback was beyond the elements, no cloak, eyes flashing with lightning. He would have thought Nefrana’s eyes would be more like the sun, more golden and warm, but these were sharp, almost angry.
Then she’d rush toward him on that horse, almost hitting him, but then he’d dodge. Roll away—or he’d try to. She’d bump her horse into him just enough to spin him around.
He’d steady himself in her wake, but by then, she’d have vanished, and in her place, there would be Iseris, alone, lost in the snow, arms outstretched in the darkness. Looking for him.
The dream came at least once a month, and it was a sign; he was sure of it. Knights weren’t supposed to have visions, but he didn’t want to be a priest or a seer, locked away in a temple, told he was mad and fed potions and asked questions and mined like the mountains. No, he was a knight. So he never mentioned it.
But of all the responsibilities he’d sworn to carry out, this one most often sang in his heart. He would never hesitate to fulfill it.
Through the arrow slits on the outer wall of the stairs, his eyes caught on the snow outside as he listened. Snowy, cold. Today, just like in the dream.
The soft padding of her feet ahead quieted after she’d gone three flights of stairs. She’d reached her rooms. He raised a foot to start after her.
“Knight Dormsher.” He jumped at both the voice and the hand that clamped down on his forearm. Knight Captain Teuin. “You are wanted by the queen.”
Javarin froze. “That’s… unusual, sir.” He had never been summoned by the queen once, in all his years of service. There was no reason for it, either. There were a dozen knights senior to him, maybe more, that served her directly. It took all his self-control not to gaze back up the empty stairwell. “For what?”
“Do I look like a queen to you?” Teuin said flatly.
Javarin swallowed a clever remark—something he’d learned the hard way in Teuin’s case with more than one backhand and at least one black eye—and gave a slight bow. “Understood, Knight Captain. Where am I summoned to?”
“The royal meeting chambers.”
By Nefrana, could they know he’d been eavesdropping? Had the clink of the chain mail given him away? Or had someone seen him emerge from the secret passage? He considered telling Teuin about the tunnel immediately, but if he then reported it to the king and queen, they might realize their private conversations had been overheard. And he’d likely get Iseris in trouble. Instead, he simply nodded and strode off—away from the tower and toward the meeting chambers.
His heart thundered against his ribs as he made his way there, all the while straining not to turn and follow his princess. But he couldn’t protect her if the queen threw him out of the castle’s service.
Why in the world would the queen, of all people, summon him?
Except, when he arrived, the queen wasn’t there. Only one person waited for him.
Alekur’s man, his assistant, eyed him drolly over tiny spectacles. Javarin realized with horror he couldn’t remember the man’s name. But it was the queen’s son’s drunk lackey. Javarin could smell the wine in the air and fought curling his lip.
“I was summoned?” he said, voice gruff.
“Yes. You’re to wait here. By the order of the queen.”
He frowned but kept quiet. Why on earth would he get an order to simply sit and wait? This was not good, not good at all.
Chapter 4
Caught
Relieved no one had noticed her exiting the secret passage, nor followed her from the hall or up the stairs, Iseris hurried down the hall to her rooms as fast as she could manage. At least, as fast as she could while clinging to some shred of decorum. Maybe she could pass it off as simply late for something—tea with the queen?—if anyone asked.
As if the queen—or anyone but squirrels—ever had tea with her. That would fool no one at all.
Luckily, none of the servants she passed on the journey to reach her door cared two wits about where she was running off to. The old slab of wood and iron creaked rudely open as she went inside, as if the door wished to sound an alarm, but no one was listening. She hurried toward the wardrobe in the bedroom. The bag she’d prepared was hidden behind a back panel, and then it was just one more secret staircase to the—
She stopped short.
Alekur stepped into view, his fair hair catching the firelight. Her tapestries were still drawn over the windows against the winter cold, so there wasn’t much more illumination, not so different than nighttime, though it was midday.
His smile was a mirror of his mother’s and just as cruel.
“Alekur.” It was barely a breath, let alone a word said to communicate anything. No. He couldn’t stop her, so close to the end. There had to be a way out of this.
If there was, she wasn’t seeing it.
“Iseris, Iseris. Darling sister!” His smile widened as he stepped closer. “You look out of breath. In a hurry?”
“Just a small one,” she said quietly, ducking her head. Her instincts always said to placate him. Not that it had ever worked yet.
“Wherever are you going?”
She groped for a reasonable excuse. “My moon time has started—to the bath and the wardrobe.” That ought to be rid of him.
“Then where are your attendants?” He gestured at the empty room around them.
“On their way,” she lied.
“Ah.” He sat down casually on the padded arm of a heavy chair. “Shall I wait for them then?”
He was calling her bluff. She fought the urge to bite her lip. “If you wish to displease the queen by ruining this dress. And rug. And slippers.” She kept her voice mild, in control, despite the panic raging in her chest.
His elbow resting on his knee, he propped his chin on his fist and held her gaze. His smile grew smug and bordered on a sneer, even as she kept her features flat. She was the picture of calm patience. He’d always had a twinkle of dark amusement in his eyes, but there was a confidence there now too.
He knew he’d won. Even with no cracks in her armor. She was outmaneuvered. Not just in this little dance of hers to get him to leave. In all of it.
She’d be hanging from the gallows tomorrow, surely. Or would they burn her?
He was smarter than she’d given him credit for. He’d realized she would run, hadn’t he? Or he wouldn’t be here now.
