There was vitriol in Jared’s voice, but Axel did not flinch. If anything, he seemed amused by his cousin’s attack. “What’s done is done. If it’s any comfort to you, I did not launch my conspiracy because I lacked faith in you.” He smiled softly. “I simply saw an opportunity and took it.”
Yes, Jared thought. That makes complete sense. That was how people like Axel and Koel and the Princes of Paddenburg were wired. They saw the opportunities—for power, for promotion, for expansion and glory—and seized them, whatever the collateral damage. The same, though, could be said of his own mother, he supposed, and his dead brother too. Maybe it would serve Jared better to be like them—but he suspected that, even if it was what he wanted, he could never achieve such a metamorphosis.
“Time to go, don’t you think?” Axel said, extending his hand. “Travel safe, cousin.”
Jared reached out and took Axel’s hand in his own. “Look after things while I’m gone,” he said. The words seemed pitifully inadequate, but they were enough.
The two cousins shook hands. Then Prince Jared, deposed ruler of Archenfield, turned toward the door of the Council Chamber and braced himself to make the necessary preparations for his exile.
FORTY-SIX
The Stables, the Palace, Archenfield
ONLY A FEW DAYS BEFORE, JARED HAD COME TO the stables in the early morning darkness to embark on the mission for alliances; now, he was back again, preparing for a very different journey. Some of his companions were the same: he found the faces of Kai Jagger and Bram Gentle in the crowd. He derived not inconsiderable satisfaction from the fact that of the comrades on his previous expedition, only Hal was now missing. Axel had put a good case for keeping Hal as his own Bodyguard, and Jared had reluctantly agreed, thinking it lent the story of his forced exile greater credence.
The group was enhanced by additional members, starting with his mother and his brother. He had expected high drama from his mother at the thought of leaving the palace, but though her face had initially paled at the idea, she had quickly agreed that it was their only option. He had momentarily contemplated telling her the truth—but decided, on balance, that it was safer to wait until they were far from the palace, in a place of greater safety. When they had crossed the border and regrouped where Rohan’s troops had retreated to, Jared would tell the entire company the truth of his covert agreement with Axel and their plans to regain full control of Archenfield.
This morning, Queen Elin’s mood seemed stoic as she spoke to Lucas Curzon, another of their comrades, about which of the horses he had assigned to her.
As well as Lucas and Kai, two other erstwhile members of the Twelve were within their ranks—Nova Chastain and, of course, Asta Peck. Jared knew that it had been hard for Asta to bid goodbye to her uncle, but perhaps less hard than it might have been, had their last week together not been marked by deep enmity. Asta had never been in any doubt that she would be riding out in Jared’s company and she had tried, in spite of their rift, to persuade Elias to join them. But on this, as on so much else, he had proved intractable.
Jared smiled to see Asta and Nova both settled on their horses, talking like old friends. He was grateful for everything they had done for him—everything they had tried to do to fight his cause. They bore no blame whatsoever for being duped by his duplicitous cousin Lady Koel. In spite of himself, he felt worried for Koel. He had always had a certain fondness for her. He found it hard indeed to reconcile what he now knew of her maneuverings about court with the warm and lighthearted cousin he had always enjoyed spending time with. Who was the real Lady Koel? It did not seem so long ago that he had been giving her advice on how to shoot arrows; now it seemed that she was far more ambitious than he, and that she had always had a keen eye focused right on the center of her target.
The friendly, almost impossibly handsome face of Lucas Curzon appeared at his side. “I don’t want to rush you, Your Majesty, but everyone is ready now.”
Jared smiled. “You’re not rushing me, Lucas. I’m probably the keenest of anyone to begin this journey.” He paused. “And you really have no further need to address me as Your Majesty. Plain Jared will do.”
Lucas shook his head. “You are still the rightful ruler,” he said. “So until you expressly command me not to, I intend to address you as Your Majesty or Prince Jared.”
“All right,” Jared said, touched by this affirmation of loyalty.
“Let me help you onto your horse,” Lucas offered. Jared willingly accepted his hand. Within moments, he was back in the saddle of Handrick.
Moments later, Lucas had settled himself on his own mount.
As they began walking the horses out from the shelter of the stables, they felt the first flakes of snow falling upon them.
“I think Archenfield has always looked most beautiful in the snow,” he heard Nova say. Her voice was tinged with the sadness of departure.
“At least,” came his mother’s tart riposte, “the invaders did not do us the insult of coming to bid us farewell.”
“No,” Jared agreed. “I don’t think I could have borne that.”
“Although,” Elin added, “I still think it was rash of you to disregard Axel’s offer of an escort to the borders.”
Jared wrinkled his nose as a snowflake fell on its tip. “Who needs one of Axel’s cronies, when we have the might of Kai and Bram in our company?”
“You hear that, young Bram?” Kai said, his voice as rich and mellifluous as ever. “Looks like it’s down to you and me to repel enemy advances.”
Bram nodded, his cheeks already pink from the frigid air. “I shall do whatever is asked of me,” he said.
Kai chuckled at his young comrade’s unswerving seriousness. “You always have, Bram Gentle. And I’m sure you always will!”
As they turned the corner into the palace gardens, the talk swiftly died away. It was as if each of them needed to say their own silent farewell to the palace, and as if, too, they were each aware of the need to give one another space to do so.
This is a good company, Jared thought. We will look after one another.
He turned to find Asta now riding alongside him.
“No regrets?” she asked.
“No regrets,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m only looking forward now.”
She nodded. “You’re nervous, though—admit it. I can see the signs.”
He grinned. “I should know better than to even try to mask my feelings from you. Of course I’m nervous. Nervous as hell. About any number of things.” He thought of the secret he was keeping from her—from all his companions. He was getting used to keeping secrets. Still, it did not sit comfortably with Jared to be withholding the truth from Asta and the rest of his company.
Aware of her eyes still on him, he added, “I shall feel better when I have spoken to Prince Rohan and asked him formally to shelter us while we are in exile.”
Asta nodded. “From what you have told me, Prince Rohan is a good man and a strong ally of yours. I have no doubt he will grant your request.”
Jared frowned. He thought so. He hoped so. He hadn’t always been straight with Rohan, but surely his friend would not turn against him now, at this moment of need?
“Whatever lies ahead of us,” Asta said now, “I know we can get through it together.” She grew suddenly flustered. “I mean all of us, obviously,” she clarified.
Jared reached out his gloved hand to hers and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you,” he said. “You have a gift for making everything better.”
He wasn’t sure if she blushed at that, or if her cheeks were merely reddened from the cold. The snow was falling more thickly now.
Suddenly, they heard the sound of drumming hooves. Eyes turned back toward the sound. Had Axel dispatched an escort, in spite of Jared’s specific instructions to the contrary? Or was this some kind of trick? Had the new rulers of Paddenburg let them think they could ride away, when in fact they were to be rounded up and reclaimed as prisoners?
T
he Prince’s company drew their horses to a standstill, allowing the lone rider to catch up. Jared sensed a fatalism within the group—they were all in this together now.
The lone rider was, like the rest of them, clad in a hood and layers of fur to protect against the harsh weather. His horse—for this was definitely a man—was loaded with packages and bags, like theirs. At last, drawing up before them, he drew down his hood and revealed himself.
“Uncle Elias!” Asta exclaimed.
Elias nodded. “Asta, Prince Jared, Queen Elin, my erstwhile friends and comrades… I have been a fool, I fear. But I humbly beseech you to let me join your party. I want no more of Archenfield or what it is bound to become.”
Jared could see the tears of relief in Asta’s eyes. That was the only answer he needed.
“Good Elias,” he said, “of course you are welcome to join us. We will ride all the more securely, knowing that we have a medical man in our ranks.”
Elias bowed his head, then drew up his hood. He brought his horse in line with the rest of the company and they resumed their journey through the falling snow.
Axel stood at the window watching the caravan of exiles making their way across the palace grounds. Snow was falling thickly now and the figures had already become only gray shadows to him. Just before he lost sight of them, Axel could not resist lifting his hand and waving, though of course there was no way they could possibly see him.
“Bye-bye, Prince Jared. Bye-bye, Queen Elin!”
The voice was disturbingly close. Turning, Axel found himself looking into the amused face of Logan Wilde.
“It’s not the best weather for an expedition now, is it?” Logan said, with a shrug. “But, when push came to shove, I suppose they really had to go.”
“Yes,” Axel agreed, with a nod. And you’ll be next, he thought. You might think that you’ve got your hands on the greasy pole now, just because Prince Ven has a strange fascination with you, but you’re on borrowed time, Wilde. I’ll find a way to take you out of this picture once and for all. You and your equally ambitious sister. You’re not the only one with secret alliances.
He realized that Logan had been watching him. “What are you thinking about?” the disgraced Poet asked.
Axel shrugged, in no rush whatsoever to answer him. “Everything. And nothing.”
Logan smiled. “I know just what you mean,” he said. “I suppose in our own ways, we have each waited for this day to come. And now that it has, though it is piquant with possibilities, there’s also a strange sense that it might all simply be a mirage. Of no more substance or power to endure than this falling snow.”
“Ever the wordsmith,” Axel noted.
Logan smiled again. “I like words well enough. But I like power more.” He turned to glance over his shoulder.
Axel followed Logan’s gaze toward the Prince’s Table. It was a surreal sight, with the axe still buried in its surface, as if wielded by an invisible axeman. And there, in the center of the table, sat the Prince’s Crown; the ancient blue-steel helmet, bound in leather with the golden stag’s head rising from the top. Logan must have brought it in with him. Perhaps it was only the shift of light created by the dark skies and driving snow outside the window; perhaps it was something more, but the crown seemed to emit an unearthly blue glow.
Axel found himself—of course he did—drawn toward the crown. Leaving Logan’s side, he walked over to the table. His eyes skimmed the glimmering titles of the Council of Twelve—the Bodyguard, the Poet, the Priest, the Woodsman… two of the Twelve were dead now; several others were in the party of exiles. What was the future of the Twelve? Everything was uncertain.
Axel’s eyes moved from the carved names of the Twelve to the crown itself. He reached out his hands toward it but as the tips of his fingers made contact with the cold steel, he heard a loud tutting from over by the window. Glancing back across, he saw Logan, eyes wide, arms folded, shaking his head.
“That’s rather presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”
Axel frowned. “I suppose it does beg the question, Logan. Which one of us bastards is now Prince of All Archenfield?”
Logan nodded.
“Well,” Axel said, his fingers cradling the golden antlers. “Which of us is it? You or me?”
Logan shrugged and, smiling enigmatically, turned his back on Axel to direct the full focus of his attention toward the thickly falling snow.
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
The Prince and Officers of Archenfield
Maps
Prologue
Chapter One: The Black Palace, Paddenburg
Seven Days Until Invasion… Chapter Two: The Council Chamber, the Palace, Archenfield
Chapter Three: The Gardens, the Palace, Archenfield
Chapter Four: The Queen’s Quarters, the Palace, Archenfield
Six Days Until Invasion… Chapter Five: The Prince’s Dressing Chamber, the Palace, Archenfield
Chapter Six: The Captain of the Guard’s Villa, the Village of the Twelve, Archenfield
Chapter Seven: The Physician’s House, the Village of the Twelve, Archenfield
Chapter Eight: The Dining Chamber, the Black Palace, Paddenburg
Chapter Nine: The Dungeons, the Palace, Archenfield
Five Days Until Invasion… Chapter Ten: The Palace, Archenfield
Chapter Eleven: The Captain of the Guard’s Villa, the Village of the Twelve, Archenfield
Chapter Twelve: The Fencing Court, the Black Palace, Paddenburg
Chapter Thirteen: The Palace, Archenfield
Chapter Fourteen: The Palace of the Four Winds, Woodlark
Four Days Until Invasion… Chapter Fifteen: The Fjord, Archenfield
Chapter Sixteen: The Falconer’s Mews, the Village of the Twelve, Archenfield
Chapter Seventeen: The Royal Bedchamber, the Black Palace, Paddenburg
Chapter Eighteen: The Physician’s Surgery, the Village of the Twelve, Archenfield
Chapter Nineteen: Rednow
Chapter Twenty: The Prince’s Apartment, the Canyon Palace, Rednow
Chapter Twenty-One: The Canyon Palace, Rednow
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Palace Gardens, Archenfield
Three Days Until Invasion… Chapter Twenty-Three: The Palace, Archenfield
Chapter Twenty-Four: The Council Chamber, the Palace, Archenfield
Chapter Twenty-Five: Baltiska
Chapter Twenty-Six: The Queen’s Library, the Palace, Archenfield
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Palace, Larsson
Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Stables, the Palace, Archenfield
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Border Camp, Paddenburg
Chapter Thirty: The Office of Prince Séverin, the Palace, Larsson
Two Days Until Invasion… Chapter Thirty-One: The Chapel, the Village of the Twelve, Archenfield
Chapter Thirty-Two: The Palace, Archenfield
One Day Until Invasion… Chapter Thirty-Three: The Market Square, Galvaire, Archenfield
Chapter Thirty-Four: The Council Chamber, the Palace, Archenfield
Chapter Thirty-Five: The Council Chamber, the Palace, Archenfield
Chapter Thirty-Six: The Canyon Palace, Rednow
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Border Country
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Archenfield
Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Fort, Mellerad
Chapter Forty: South of Kirana
Two Days After Invasion… Chapter Forty-One: Archenfield
Chapter Forty-Two: The Dungeons, the Palace, Archenfield
Chapter Forty-Three: The Council Chamber, the Palace, Archenfield
Chapter Forty-Four: The Queen’s Quarters, the Pala
ce, Archenfield
Chapter Forty-Five: The Balcony, the Palace, Archenfield
Chapter Forty-Six: The Stables, the Palace, Archenfield
Copyright
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Justin Somper
Map © 2015 by Phillip Norman
Cover design and photo illustration by Sammy Yuen
Metal texture, leaf filigree © Thinkstock
Cover © 2015 Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at
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First ebook edition: May 2015
First published in Great Britain in 2015 by Atom