Fall of Thrones and Thorns Read online

  I don’t know Clift well, but I’m so relieved to see him here. He and Meddie have made it out of the capital, and that, in and of itself, is a harbinger of hope to me. He watches Meddie and Liam with a look of vague amusement and starts when I fling myself bodily at him.

  When he tentatively wraps me in his big, hairy arms, I let myself bury my face in his chest, hiding tears. He pats me on the back, his voice gentle in my ear. “There, there, lass. We’ll manage through somehow.”

  I pull away, swiping at the tears beneath my eyes. “Meddie told you? About Caden and Tregle?”

  He nods, expression grim. “Aye. And the other lass with you.”

  Aleta can’t disguise the note of hope in her voice. “Have you heard anything from your sources in the Underground?”

  “None of them are as reliable as the prince himself, of course,” he says. He shuffles his feet. “But I did hear tell that they’d seen…something.”

  My heart leaps. “And? Are they well?”

  He hesitates. My heart buries itself below the sand. “Not well then,” I say quietly.

  His big hand lands on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I believe they are alive,” he says. His voice is soft. “More than that, I cannot say. My sources were…” He stops, struggling to find the words. “It was nothing they’d ever seen before. They were frightened, disturbed. They said that a great tree had been planted outside the dungeons, among the rose garden. And among its branches hung the prince and two others, swaying amidst the leaves like fruit.”

  A tree bearing human fruit. That sounded like Everett’s work indeed.

  “How do you know they’re alive?” Aleta asks. Her fingers thread together anxiously.

  “Sources say their chests were moving.” Clift rocks back on his heels, looking regretful. “Nothing is for certain. I can’t pretend that I have a guarantee. But they believed the prince and the others were still breathing.”

  I grasp onto that shred of hope and clutch it for all I’m worth.

  They’re alive. Now we just have to save them.

  And Clift and Meddie hold the key to that as well. If they can provide us an entrance, we can get to Caden and Tregle. Get to Langdon. End all of this.

  “How did you get out of the city?” I ask. My eyes traverse the dark, sandy plain before us, and I’m not comforted in the slightest by the foreboding wall surrounding of the city that peers back at us from the distance.

  “Bribed a guard and slipped out at night,” Clift says, shrugging.

  Not a great help. It will take more than a single guard looking the other way. I turn to Meddie as Liam sets her gently back down onto her feet. “And how did you get in?”

  She shrugs. “You saw me. I moved at night. Wore dark colors. Whoever Langdon has manning the wall either needs better eyesight or to stop sleeping on the job. Not one arrow flew my way. I’d been thinking I was going to scale the wall, but when I got there, that seemed too risky. I could see the shadows of the guards patrolling. I knew Langdon had to have increased the amount of guards on watch.

  “I moved along the perimeter at the bottom of the wall until I found some loose stones. Took hours, but I finally managed to wiggle them loose and get inside. When I was done, I put the stones back the way that I found them, too, no one the wiser.”

  Clift gives her an affectionate glance, like a proud father. “Like a rat squirming through a hole in the wall, you are.”

  She grins. “Langdon’s got a positive infestation of vermin.”

  My heart flops feebly from its position down by my toes. I’m glad that Meddie got in and out safely. Glad that Clift made it with her. But how are we going to smuggle an army inside the walls when—as a general rule—no one can get in or out of the city? The guards could be asleep, disloyal, or blind, but if we march up to their gates, determined to do battle with nowhere to hide in the expanse of the Leeched Desert, their arrows will pick us off one by one.

  “I’m relieved you made it safely, Medalyn. However, that doesn’t solve the problem of how we are to gain entrance to the city?” Aleta’s voice is an echo of my thoughts.

  “I had a thought on the matter," Liam says and turns to Clift. “You mentioned you still have sources inside the palace.”

  Clift scratches idly at his belly, thinking. “Well, in a matter of speaking, yes. Servants and the like. They bring me scraps of information when they return home after the day’s work. Guards keeping a sharp eye out for things that may interest me. Nothing like what Caden was able to obtain, though. Nothing from Langdon’s inner council.”

  “Have you heard any reports of knights who’ve turned against Langdon?”

  I see where this is going. He’s wondering if Langdon knows that Liam, a knight of the realm, is working against the king.

  Meddie’s no fool, either. She swats Liam sharply on the arm, tugging him down to meet her scowling expression. “Are you mad?” she demands. “Even if Clift hasn’t had reports from his sources that specifically say that ‘Sir Liam has betrayed the crown’—”

  Liam is so close to her that her hair wafts in the gently bitter breath he releases. “Do you have a better idea, lass?”

  Meddie’s stumped for words. Her mouth opens and closes, a series of small sounds escaping her. Finally, she releases Liam, throwing him away from her with a final, disgruntled growl. “No. But whether I’ve got one or not, it’s still a damned stupid notion.”

  “Wouldn't say it’s stupid, if you asked me.” Clift’s brows furrow in thought, but an amused grin twitches at the edges of his lips, eyes flicking from Liam to Meddie and back again. “If you were to ask me, I’d think we could get a few of you in that way.”

  He looks back at the camp, where we can see the lines of tents, just visible in the paltry light of the moon.

  “A few,” he repeats. “But not an entire army, which is what I think you have here. You can’t pretend they’re all captured traitors to the crown. No one will believe that your few loyal knights had enough steel and sinew to subdue hundreds of rebel arms. Especially not for a long enough period of time to haul them back across the country to reach the castle.”

  Liam’s eyes glint in the moonlight. “We don’t need all of them,” he says softly.

  I’d been with Liam up until this point, but now I frown. “What’s your plan, then?”

  He turns to me, eyes alight with a cunning fervor. “We bring you in. You and Lady Aleta. You’re prizes that Langdon won’t be able to resist.” He turns around, gaze roaming the people who have gathered around us, and follows Clift’s stare back to the camp. “We can bring a few of the Nereids; we’ll say they joined your cause. And we may be able to bring the Jospuhr troops with us as well. If my loyalties haven’t been revealed, there’s no reason Langdon should believe Jospuhr’s betrayed the crown. We’ll act the part of loyal knights, returning home for supplies, triumphantly delivering valuable prisoners of war. It’s everything Langdon wants, everything he expects of his soldiers.”

  Liam’s lips turn sharply upward. “And then, when we’re in the heart of the palace, we strike.” He begins pacing, hands moving as he continues working out the details of his plan aloud. “You’ll break free from your bindings while my forces and I engage the guards. We’ll find the prince, open the city gates to let the others in—”

  “—and let the Underground get to work in the city.” Clift nods, approving. “Smart lad. Langdon’s forces will be split. They’ll have to be, trying to put down a city rebellion and subdue an unexpected palace siege at the same time.”

  Aleta turns to me. Her expression is treacherously calm; the depths of her green eyes, still. “What do you make of all of this?”

  “I think it’s dangerous.” I swallow, then force a tremulous smile. “But then, what part of this has been safe?”

  ~~~

  Over the next few days, we make our hurried preparations.

  We’ll move at nightfall; that strategy has served us well, thus far. Hopefully, in the tim
e that we’re brought to the palace, Clift will be able to slip back into the city to rally the Underground and spread the word.

  Aleta and I will be bound, gagged, trussed up like gifts for the king.

  We’ll use the fact that Langdon’s already made a move against the Masonstones, so Lilia can be with us among the traitor “prisoners.” We’ll dress some of the Clavish fighters and Nereid Wielders in ordinary Egrian garb. Langdon will be none the wiser that we made it to Nereidium, and we’ll have an additional element of surprise.

  Makers, I can’t wait to see the bastard’s face.

  Elena will remain behind with the troops, waiting to gain entrance to the city, though we weigh, for a moment, the idea of bringing her with us and attempting to use her resemblance to her sister to our advantage. But no. Aleta and I had left Katerine for dead. The king knew it, we knew it, and it was more than likely word had spread throughout the palace. It may disconcert them, certainly, but it wouldn’t allow us to pretend that things were ordinary. Just business as usual. They'd know immediately that something wasn’t as it should be.

  Meddie will come with us as well. Her lips quirk up as we discuss it. “Seeing you lot to safety has been my mission this long,” she says, looking at me and Aleta. “I’ll not abandon my duty now.”

  Liam puts his hands on her shoulders and looks down at her intently. “When we get to the castle, stay behind me.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Why? So I can have a good view of your ass?”

  He grins down at her in response. “You know, I’m glad the plan is to gag you,” he teases.

  “You won’t be when the gag blocks my warning for you to duck before I throw a knife in your direction.”

  “That’s all lovely and grand,” I interrupt. Their mentions of the gags have brought my mind back to our preparations. “But should there perhaps be some sort of plan to remove our gags? So that we can effectively communicate once the fighting begins?”

  “As well as untie us,” Aleta says. “I know that I can’t Torch properly with my hands bound. It would severely limit our abilities. I also believe that we should devise some manner of signal for when we should burst into action.”

  Elena nods. “You should. Lady Lilia can come up with something discreet.”

  “Oh, I am skilled in the art of discreet,” Lilia smiles lasciviously.

  Not as skilled as she thinks. Aleta and I share a look of commiseration, and Liam waves his hands, as if pushing the moment aside for later. “You work out the signal when you have a spare moment. The bindings are a more pressing matter.” He turns to Izador. “You lot—the Nereids— you have quite the formidable navy, I’m told.”

  Izador crosses his arms, not disputing this fact. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for Liam to ask a question.

  “You must be good with ropes, knots, things like that. Think you can craft some bindings that look convincing? They need to stay together under the eyes of the guards, who I’m sure will wish to see us safely into the castle, but our prisoners need to be able to easily undo them when the moment is right.”

  Izador nods confidently. “We can construct such a thing. If Her Majesty wishes it, we’ll get to work at once.”

  He eyes me in question, and I nod, granting permission. “Please.”

  Our plans continue long into the night, and we get little sleep, making the preparations in haste and at a safe distance, where the only things that could spot us from the capital’s walls are hawks and birds of prey. We sweat beneath the beating, punishing sun, and our sweats turn to shivers as it sinks below the horizon.

  When at last, another night is upon us, stars winking out at us from the sky as the purple twilight gives way to black night, we decide that we’re as ready as we can be.

  I let Izador bind my wrists, furrowing my brow in concentration as he points out the gaps in the knots and demonstrates the angle I should use to tug myself free. Aleta’s beside me, Lilia and Meddie next to her. Elena holds Lilia’s chin between her palms, and Lilia dashes a kiss upon her wrist before Elena slips the gag over her mouth and walks away, into the camp.

  I watch her leave. She doesn’t look back as Izador slips into his place at my other side.

  Those of us playing at being prisoners are strung to each other like pearls on a necklace. Liam and his soldiers move down the line, securing the rest of our gags. Just before it’s my turn, I catch Aleta’s eye and mouth, talk to you later, with a wink that feels forced.

  The gag’s cloth is scratchy against my tongue.

  Liam manages to scrounge up a banner with his house crest on it. From where, only the Makers know. The Jospuhr troops unfurl their own banner as well. The soldiers lift them high into the air, so that it will be the first thing any observing guards spot: the banner of a loyal Egrian troop, flying high over our heads. Liam nudges us into position, surrounded by his men and Jospuhr’s soldiers.

  And finally, we begin to move toward the wall, a shadow even darker than the blackness of night that is all around us. Our feet shuffle over the sand blindly.

  I’m unable to tear my eyes from the shape of that wall. We’re leaving a lot to chance here. The same darkness that covers us, that we’ve used to our advantage for Meddie and Clift to be able to move across the Leeched Desert, undetected, could betray us. Suppose all the guards choose to see is an approaching squad. Suppose their eyes skip right over the raised banners. They would know not whether our troop is friend or foe.

  And although we are foes, we need them to let us through under the guise of friendship.

  Something whizzes through the air, and Liam puts a hand back to stop us. I wobble on my feet, trying to keep my balance at the sudden halt. I swallow hard. It’s difficult, around the gag in my mouth.

  “Sir Liam.” One of his men calls for his attention and Liam’s head snaps toward him. The man points at an object in the sand. “There, Sir.”

  It’s an arrow. Squinting through the darkness, we can all see its fletching pointing toward the moon, several feet ahead of us.

  They’ve seen us, then. I suppose I should be grateful they’ve sent only a single arrow, rather than a hail of them.

  Liam steps forward himself to retrieve the arrow and pulls the letter looped tightly around its shaft free once he’s returned.

  “‘Send a single rider to the gate’s entrance to state your purpose or we will be forced to launch the trebuchets,’” he reads. He taps the arrow agitatedly against his hip and lets out something between a cough and a laugh, shaking his head in mild disgust. “They’re just trying to intimidate us. But if that’s what they want…”

  He turns toward the wall. My eyes follow, lifting to the tops of it, where I think I can barely make out dim shadows skulking along its edges, rimmed in torchlight. Watching. Waiting.

  Liam seizes his banner from the hands of one of his soldiers and, gritting his teeth, kicks his heels into his horse’s side, spurring the steed forward. We wait as he disappears into the darkness. The moon inches higher into the sky while we wait for his return.

  I watch the figures on the wall converge and converse, and I try to slow the pulse galloping beneath my gag as I grow more anxious. Why hasn’t Liam returned? Why hasn’t the gate opened? Are they on to us? Will they let us in? Makers, this was a stupid risk for us to take…

  But finally, he comes back with a guardswoman in tow.

  “As I said, Guardswoman,” he says, waving his hand toward us. “Princess Aleta of Nereidium. Lady Breena of Secan. Lady Lilia of Masonstone.” He goes through our names like he is ticking off items on a list, sounding convincingly irritated at having to trouble himself like this. “As well as a slew of other traitors to the crown that I’m certain His Majesty will wish to punish for their crimes. Will that do? May I continue with my duty unmolested now?”

  “Hmm.” The guardswoman looks unconvinced, leaning closer to me and Aleta to inspect our features. “They do match the descriptions… All right. You may proceed. I trust you won’t object to an esco
rt?”

  Liam bows mockingly. “Please. Lead the way. I wish only to reach His Majesty without wasting further time.”

  The guardswoman lifts her torch in a complicated pattern, and the shadows atop the wall scatter.

  We stride toward the gate. I hear its clink, clink, clink as it opens, getting louder and louder as we get closer.

  Then, we’re inside. Back in the capital.

  That gate might as well be around my heart. I bite down hard on the gag to contain my emotions, but when I hear the gate thump closed behind us, I can’t help but gulp.

  For it has the strangest toll of a death knell.

  The guardswoman sets her hands on her hips and purses her lips, looking over Liam, his men, and the Jospuhr troops. “Ready?”

  He nods.

  And she starts off, setting our course straight for the Egrian palace—and our reunion with King Langdon.

  At last.

  Concurrent

  Nereidium

  The breeze that strokes Lady Helen’s face should feel refreshing, but it cannot alleviate the lump in her throat. Nor can it assuage the stone, sitting heavy in her stomach. Or loosen the vice around her heart.

  Her hand skirts the affected areas before they settle around each other, folding fingers within palm.

  She surveys the surrounding areas. From this vantage point, the land appears quiet. Peaceful.

  But then, Helen’s balcony only remains standing by the grace of Kyrene. And from this vantage point, one cannot see the jagged cleaving of the city’s streets. Any glimpse of the buildings from here is deceptive; not like the rubble Helen knows them to be. Buildings that have stood for centuries, reduced to piles of rocks.

  Her hand clenches around the innocent fingers of its mate.

  “Your Highness?” One of the Wielders assigned to survey the city’s damage approaches Helen with regret in his voice, treading forward as if tiptoeing around a crypt.

  Helen braces herself. That is not the tone a harbinger of happy tidings utilizes. What now?