Seven Ways to Kill a King Page 2

  Her eyes met the shadowed figure by the barn as she considered the gestures he’d made toward the cloaked man and the words that had been whispered into her ear. Ever faithful. They were not Thom’s men. They were hers. And Myrina, daughter of the Lion Queen, would not be cowed by dirty, thieving kingsmen.

  Her boots landed softly on the hay-strewn ground, and the evening light cast a strange hue across the path. Nothing in her would cave to the desire to run. She would not show fear in front of the men who had saved her. They were her guard, even now, after everything.

  At least three other forms waited somewhere in the shadows. There would be more. Whatever had happened to their brethren, their families, or themselves, her mother’s guard—the ones who’d lived—had stayed true to their word and their duty. Miri wanted nothing more than to be worthy of the price they had paid. She was afraid she might never get the chance.

  She crossed through the garden gate of Nan and Thom’s back lot. She passed the barns and the shed, her boots hitting the wobbly planks outside the back door a moment before it rushed open.

  Nan yanked her through the doorway then slammed it shut to draw Miri into a too-tight hug. “Maiden save us,” she whispered into Miri’s hair. Her breath came out in a rush. “But you do smell a bit of a nanny soaked in ale.”

  The tension in Miri’s chest released with a broken chuckle, and Nan eased her grip to look at her face.

  “All well?”

  Miri managed a shrug. “Seems to be, aside from the drunken goat stink.” Her throat was dry, and she wanted to drink a pitcher of water before dumping a second over her head. “Why are they here?”

  Nan’s expression went wretched. “Looking for sympathizers, I’m told.”

  A sick feeling swam up from the pit of Miri’s stomach.

  Nan shook her head. “Rounding them up to take to the square.”

  For the festival. Miri fell heavily into a kitchen chair. “They’re going to celebrate it. Make a show of them at the festival of moons.”

  Nan leaned down to put a hand on Miri’s shoulder. “They’ll be protected, Bean. They always have been.”

  But that wasn’t true. Sympathizers had been captured time and again. They’d been dragged behind wagons, tied onto gates, and burned by sorcerer’s fire. How many more will be killed? How much longer can I let them get away with it?

  Miri stood, the action bringing her too close to Nan, but she held her ground. “I have to stop it. I won’t risk another murder in her name. I won’t let—” The word stuck in Miri’s throat. She couldn’t say her sister’s name and could barely think it. “They will not keep her captive another day.” Miri let the vow ring in her voice. Let Nan see it clear in her gaze. “I’m going to put an end to this. And it has to be now.”

  “You aren’t going to try to stop me?”

  Nan’s eyes were soft, and in them were all the memories of the years Miri had been under their care. “I wish with all of my heart I could.” Her hand came up to cradle Miri’s cheek. Her fingers were cold and the wrap covering her palm soft and tattered. She smelled of fresh dough, sweet ale, and the citrus oils Thom’s men brought from across the sea. “It was only a matter of time. You were never my child. Not my sweet, fragile Bean. You’re the daughter of the Lion Queen. I know what waits inside you. As much as I might want to hold you here, honor prevents me.”

  Miri put her hand over Nan’s, her own fingers still trembling while her heart was a feral beast in her chest. Nan never spoke of the Lion Queen or dared to whisper of Miri’s true birth. Since she was a child, she had been Bean, a poor cousin’s orphan come to earn a living to keep off the streets, hidden away with scars of a tragic past, too damaged for marriage, unfit for society. Miri watched the sadness wash over Nan’s features. She was the woman who had protected her when no one else could. But something else was there too: pride and duty.

  “My family is sworn to the throne,” Nan said. “The true throne. To the rightful queen and all who are hers.” She straightened. “It is not my place to command you, Myrina, but to follow your command.”

  Miri opened her mouth in a rush to protest and vow that she would never command or make demands after everything they had done.

  But Nan continued, “To keep you safe.”

  Miri’s heart felt a stab of guilt. What was happening was her fault. It was her fault that they were all in danger.

  “To that end, we have always known you would leave us. One day, you would no longer be our little Bean.”

  Nan’s thumb brushed over Miri’s cheek, but Miri had not shed a tear. Miri hadn’t cried since before—not since the darkness while fleeing Stormskeep and not since seeing her mother killed.

  “What has been in your heart all these years is too strong to be hidden, sweet Myrina. While I may wish for your safety and that you remain out of harm’s way or foolish plans, I cannot stop you. All I can do is offer my support.”

  Miri swallowed, but before she could speak again, a clatter came at the door. Her hand shot to her waist, but the hidden blade would do her no good against a dozen kingsmen or—if it was truly a hunt for sympathizers—the king’s sorcerers. She didn’t know why she bothered to carry the weapon when killing a man would draw the guard faster than anything else, but that didn’t stop her from reaching or from wanting to fight.

  Nan’s hand fell to Miri’s shoulder, steadying her. “It’s Thomas. But the guard will not be far behind.”

  A massive cloaked form shouldered through the door, bringing with him the scent of smoke and sour ale. Thomas was not much of a drinker, but it was hard to supply the ale house without being covered in the warm yeasty scent. The sourness had not come from proximity to spills, though. It was for keeping guards away.

  Thom shoved his hood down, face grim. “They’ll be along soon. Best get going, Miri.”

  “I can’t—” Miri’s words caught in her throat. She was close to arguing that she couldn’t leave them when they were in danger, but staying would only mean a more certain death. Her eyes flicked between Nan and Thomas. They had both known her intent. Neither of them meant to stop her. She pressed her lips together. It was time. She was truly, finally, going to go and repay her debts. “Will you be safe?”

  Nan gave her a soft smile. “We’ve made it this far, dearie. Nothing can hurt us now.”

  The words were light, but Miri heard the emotion behind them. The thing that could hurt them was Miri. She had to stay safe, at least until she was out of their hands and they could no longer accept blame. They’d done more than enough through the years.

  “Is everything ready?” Nan asked Thomas as she tied on a clean apron.

  He nodded, gesturing with a thumb over his shoulder.

  “In the stable. Hurry along now. Say those goodbyes.”

  “Pshaw.” Nan pushed Miri toward the old man. “‘Tis you who’s put off saying what needs to be said for too long.”

  Thomas gave Nan a look but tugged Miri into a massive hug. He squeezed her tight against his barrel chest, and his cropped beard scuffed Miri’s cheek. “You’ll do well, little lion. You always have.” His words were no more than a whisper, but they hurt far worse than Nan’s had. Thomas had always held his feelings close to his vest, so his show of affection seemed larger and more severe. It seemed like an end.

  “Off with you,” he said, spinning Miri out of the hug to rush her through the kitchen door.

  It was a short sprint to the stable. The windows were shuttered so that the last few stalls were dark. Nan followed them, the sparse light from her lantern casting across Charlie’s scattered hay.

  Miri reached up to pat the horse before she grabbed his bridle, but a figure shifted in the shadows, and her hand froze in midair.

  “Hurry,” Thomas said to Miri, leading her forward with a heavy hand on her back. “We’re not sending you on Charlie. He’s too old, and the beast knows the way home from any tavern within a six-day ride.”

  The shadowed figure shifted aside, allowing the
m past as Nan’s lantern light crawled across the barn floor and the edge of the stranger’s cloak.

  “These are Wolf and Milo,” Thom said of two geldings that came into the light. “They’ll be taking you on from here.”

  Miri was nudged toward the nearest horse and unceremoniously tossed astride. She nearly gasped at Thomas, but every sound she might have made seemed to be tangled in the mass of emotion that vined from the pit of her stomach to her throat.

  “You’ll be watched after well,” Thomas said, and Miri had the strange sense that the words were less a promise than a threat.

  That was when she realized the cloaked figure was meant for the other horse. “What?” she snapped, surprised at the loudness when her words had finally broken free.

  Thomas patted her leg. “You’re no fool, girl. You know as well as any of us what can happen to a woman traveling alone through the neighboring kingdoms.”

  She opened her mouth to protest again, but he was right. Miri did know. She’d thought of it before, of how each of her plans would require an ally to be properly seen through to the end. She understood strategy as well as the laws. But she’d gotten used to her guards being at a distance, not riding at her side.

  Nan reached past Thomas to squeeze Miri’s hand. “He’s bloodsworn, Bean. He’ll do naught but protect you.”

  The figure went still—though he’d barely moved before—and Miri’s hands went slick with sweat. He was not merely a queensguard. He was bloodsworn, a member of the queen’s personal guard. If they were caught, he would be killed after lengthy torture on the square in front of cheering crowds—like the others.

  Nan’s hand slipped out of Miri’s fingers, and Thomas gave one final squeeze to Miri’s leg. The cloaked figure leapt onto the dark horse beside her, his scruffy, square jaw momentarily coming into view.

  Nan whispered, “Hood up, dear. And Maiden protect you.”

  The man beside her kicked his heel into his horse’s flank, and Thomas smacked the one he’d called Wolf—the one beneath Miri—on the rear. Both horses shot forward just as the doors to the stable opened, and Miri and her bloodsworn raced into the night. Nestled behind Miri were packs of food and supplies, what would be the last mementos of her time with Nan and Thom. Before her, patches of darkness stretched from the edge of town into a forest that was as black as a starless night. She was heading into the beginning of the end.

  Chapter 3

  The horses drove through the thick forest at speed, their steady hoofbeats the only sound that reached Miri through the roaring in her ears. The drumming was muffled background noise to the memories from so long ago that were assaulting her: running, darkness, terror, pain, the wetness on her cheeks that was her mother’s blood and her own tears, and the way her sister had screamed.

  “Bean,” her guard said sharply, and Miri jolted to realize it was not the first time he’d said it.

  In the darkness, he grabbed her reins, pulling the horse to a juddering stop. The gelding, Wolf, let out a soft grunt and tossed his head. The horse was out of breath, while Miri’s was tight in her chest.

  The guard leaned in close. “Bean,” he said again.

  Miri nodded, her grip easing on the reins. She had herself under control.

  The man let loose his hold on Wolf’s reins then drew his horse a step away before dismounting. In one swift motion, he pulled the bridle and saddle to the ground then raised a hand to smack the bay on the rump.

  “Wait,” Miri whispered, glancing at the darkened forest for a sign… of what, she wasn’t sure. “What are you doing?”

  The guard’s head turned, and his hood fell, but his features were unclear in the darkness. She could just make out that he was giving her a look.

  Thom had said that she could not go on Charlie because Charlie knew the way home. He’d meant for them to ride farther than just the forest between the town and the cliffs. “Thom said—”

  “Thom did not know our plans. Keeping them secret is the only way to assure you’re safe.” She opened her mouth to argue, but the man stepped closer. “He was only providing for whatever route we chose to take. We are not bound to any paths aside from those free of kingsmen.”

  Miri’s mouth went dry at the reminder. Then she realized what his words meant. “We’re going to the port.”

  “No,” he said levelly. “The port isn’t safe. Too many kingsmen are searching the ships.”

  She gritted her teeth. “I’m no fool. There is only one way out of this town, and if it’s not by ship—”

  “I did not say it was not by ship. I said the port isn’t safe.” He was silent for a moment then added, “We do not have time for this. Dismount.”

  Her fingers tightened on the reins, and for a heartbeat, Miri had the urge to kick the beast hard and run away. The man meant to take her down the cliffs, load her onto a ship, and escape to sea. A spare bit of moonlight glinted in the man’s eye, and Miri knew he would be too fast for her. He would catch her. He could force her, if Thomas had ordered it. But she took a breath, because that was wrong, and she knew it. Thom had protected her since she was a child. Miri trusted him with every part of her being. If he’d sent the guard to protect her, that was what the man would do, even if the cost was his life. He was sworn to it.

  She threw her leg over the back of the horse and landed softly in the tall grass. The man before her was bloodsworn. He was not Thomas’s man. He was hers.

  Metal glinted in the moonlight. It was the edge of a sharpened blade, and Miri’s hand went to her hip, fingers around the handle of her dagger before the man’s words registered. He’d said, “We need to cut your hair.”

  She stared at him, her eyes finally adjusting to the sparse light filtering through the canopy. It was dark in the forest but not as dark as Miri had ever seen—not as dark as the places she’d hidden. “Why? No one knows me.”

  His voice was low, as quiet as Wolf’s and Milo’s purring breaths. “It will be easier if you present as a man.”

  She understood then, suddenly and with a sickening jolt in her gut. “They don’t know I’m a woman. The men on the ship.” Gods, that meant he didn’t trust them. It meant they were not his men.

  His mouth drew down at the corners, a strange and familiar motion. Miri stepped closer, turning so that when he looked at her, his face reached more of the light. Her hand came up to her throat. The curve of his jaw had gone square and stubbled, his nose was straight and sharp, and what had once been a boyish crooked smile had formed into a hard line. His face was full of the angles of a man, but it was him.

  “Christopher?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.

  His dark eyes flicked to the forest then back to Miri’s own. “It’s Cass now.”

  Cassius, she remembered. That was the boy’s middle name. But he was not the child she’d grown up with, not the boy who’d played at swords in the gardens at court. He was a man, broad and brooding, and by all appearances resigned to his duty at the cost of his life. Thomas had not sent Miri off with merely a queensguard. He’d sent her off with one who’d been raised by the Lion Queen herself.

  “Gods,” Miri whispered. How long has it been? The memories crashed into her, the way they always did, drowning her in heartbreak and remembered blood.

  “That life is gone now.” Cass’s voice was still low but filled with resolve. “Please do not say it again.”

  That name would get him killed. He’d gone into hiding, like her.

  She nodded slowly. This is all my fault.

  He raised the knife once more, but Miri held up a hand. The fear and sickness had given way to something else. Cassius was a queensguard. To him, her word was law.

  “I’m not going by ship.”

  He squared off to face her. “How else do you expect to escape?”

  Miri’s hand twitched but did not tighten to a fist. “I’ve no intention of escaping. I’ve run from this long enough. Too long.”

  He stared at her, possibly reconsidering his oath. He l
et out a breath and tucked a thumb into his knife belt. “What, exactly, Bean…” He let the word linger, a reminder of who Miri was and who hiding had made her become. “Do you intend to do?”

  In the close darkness, Miri waited, letting him see the tilt to the corner of her mouth and the seriousness in her eyes. “I intend to kill the bastard king.”

  Cass’s mouth went slack, but she needed him to understand it was not just the single treachery she would repay. Her mother’s rule had been stolen by more than that king. The Queen’s Realm had been split into kingdoms to be ruled by seven men. It had been treason—and murder.

  All of it would be repaid. Miri didn’t mention what they had done to her older sister or how she would try to break the true heir free. Some wounds had still not healed, after all those years, and as long as an Alexander, particularly her captive sister, the heir apparent, remained hostage, the cut would feel fresh.

  Miri took a steadying breath before she climbed back onto her horse. “Not just the king of Stormskeep. Every one of the treasonous curs will die by my hand.”

  Chapter 4

  Miri had been right. Her word was law. Cass had not been in a position to argue her demands, though he’d certainly managed to make it known his opinion was counter to hers. He attested that a better course of action awaited and what she was suggesting seemed rash, but in the end, he’d done as she’d asked. He’d abandoned his strategy in favor of hers.

  But nothing about Miri’s plans were rash. She’d been plotting since she was no more than a girl.

  So, she had not dressed as a man and dropped over a cliff into a dangerous sea to be hauled away from those threats in a raggedy ship by men who feared her. Her long hair was, in fact, still intact, though she’d twisted it into a quick plait as her guard pointedly took his time resaddling his horse. She’d had her hair chopped in the past, when she escaped as a child and gone to live with Thom and Nan in the bustling town of Smithsport. It had been a traumatic and grueling journey, and she did not relish the idea of ever again being hidden in a damp, dark box on a boat, blood streaming from her busted nose, and having the sense that she couldn’t breathe. Her chest had been so tight and her heart so torn that she was convinced she might never draw a full breath again.