They took the high road for some time, all of them losing themselves in a meditative sort of silence, letting the cool breeze and brilliant moon overhead freshen mind and body as their horses trudged on through the night.
Abruptly, Eloquin stopped near a grove of evergreens, some distance away from the college.
Jess blinked, in a daze no longer. “Sir?”
Eloquin merely smiled, making sure all were in the grove, glancing toward Jess who flushed self-consciously, even as dozens of trees subtle shifted branch and needle so that their entire band was all but invisible to any travelers that might be passing along the main road in northern Erovering in the dead of night, of which there were none.
Jess glanced at Neal who shrugged, flashing his hands, before grabbing one end of the rope Eloquin handed him, darting across the road, to huddle down by the slope.
It was then that they heard the faint drumming of hoofbeats, and what appeared to be a messenger hurrying from the college at a gallop.
Eloquin flashed his hands. Malek, Mord, and Jess immediately readying themselves even as Eloquin let loose a cry much like a night owl, and Jess sensed the line her mentor had tied off grow suddenly taught.
A startled whinny as horse and messenger crashed to the ground, and Jess was racing towards the man as fast as thought, Malek and Mord by her side, estoc unsheathed and aimed for the messenger's stumbling form, Jess leaning into the tilt, blade at angle as Eloquin had instructed, habits ingrained now to finest instinct, before Eloquin's roar forced Jess to a stumbling halt, her deadly sharp estoc but inches from the terrified messenger's face.
Jess swallowed, waiting for her heartbeat to ease its stallion's pace, pretending she hadn't been a heartbeat away from running the man clean through.
“Please, don't hurt me! I am just a messenger, I'm no one!” The man huddled, kneeling. “I know not your faces or manner. Please, take my steed, she is worth fine silver, and all I have! Only let me live, I beg of you.”
Mord laughed cruelly. “So good at instilling terror, aren't you, my dove?”
Jess frowned, shaking her head, momentarily unable even to speak.
“Rope!” Malek hissed, Jess giving a length of twin with trembling hands Malek used to securely tie the messenger's stunned hands moments after clocking him hard behind the ear, the man collapsing to the ground and twitching.
Mord chuckled at that.
“I wasn't going to give the fool the chance to draw steel, Mord,” Malek snapped.
“Oh, I'm not saying anything, Malek. Despite your flaws, you can be surprisingly effective.”
Malek rolled his eyes at that, but forbore to say anything, merely handing Jess the dagger and saber the man had upon his person. The saber sheath was of exotic sharkskin and the hilt was of shiny inlaid brass. The steel of the blade was of decent quality, but unlikely to be able to slice through anything heavier than winter clothing, Jess cynically determined after examining the edge, grain, curve, and balance. Exceedingly light and balanced near the hilt, it was good for flashy whipping cuts against an opponent who wore nothing heavier than thinnest cotton. Though a master would score quite well, should he snipe wrist and neck with perfect timing, Jess suspected it would be all but worthless on horseback against any save completely unarmored troops, and would crumple should one be foolish enough to try to give point with it. It could not be any more different from Eloquin's sabers, fearsome and almost unique in their ability to cut through even the boiled rawhide plates of elite infantry. The dagger, however, was long and of good quality steel, and quite unusual for its half basket hilt, plated with silver, no less.
Jess frowned, glaring at the late night rider. He wielded not the weapons of a struggling freeman or a serious soldier, but of a noble who preferred salon fencing with a dueling saber as opposed to rapier.
His skin was that of a man who ate well and had never suffered malnutrition or serious illness, rich curling locks of platinum, scented with exotic oils. Jess swallowed. He had far more in common with Lady Putrice's noble guests than a lowly servitor forced to run midnight errands of whatever sort. Jess felt a curious lurch in her chest. He looked familiar. In fact, Jess was almost certain that she had seen him at Putrice's gala. Soft green eyes gazing her way, a gentle smile upon his lips.
Jess frowned, wondering why she hadn't approached him, before remembering how thoroughly Javiar had swept her off her feet. She hoped he was peacefully sleeping even now, with no part in the dreadful games now being played.
Within moments their captive was fully secured, dragged into the heart of the evergreen grove some feet from the road, empty as it was.
The crack of palm against cheek had the dazed man groaning to consciousness soon enough, mumbling with a thick drawl before hitching his breath and blinking, gazing about himself in confusion, and growing terror.
Soft green eyes, just like she had remembered. Bloody hells.
“Please, don't kill me,” the man pled.
Eloquin's smile was cold. "I am going to ask a series of questions. You are going to answer them. Compliance earns you laudanum. Failure earns you pain."
The man hitched his breath, even as Neal tightened the arm lock he had on the man, constrained as he was, ungloved fingers pinned between Neal's powerful hands.
“Yes, yes, ask what you will, sirs. I'm just a humble messenger, that is all!”
“Neal.”
"Yes, Commander."
“First joint, small finger.”
Neal abruptly wrenched his hand. Jess swore she could feel the crack of bone in her gut as the man screamed.
“What is your name?”
Screams abruptly broke off in desperate gasps. "Why, why did you do that? It's not necessary to do such, I swear to you!"
Eloquin gazed at Neal.
Neal nodded, his hands wrenching again.
The man's screams gained a desperate pitch.
“Please! My name is Gaines Highgrove! I am a simple messenger, that is all!”
Jess shivered before her master's smile, for all that she was not its focus.
“It is awfully late for any messenger to be heading out on any but the most serious of matters, Gaines... Highgrove. I think you had best tell me the nature of your business. But first, Neal?”
Neal grunted, face a dark cold mask so different from the bemused fellow tactician who would gaze at Jess with solemn warmth and friendship when they trained together under Eloquin. This was the face of a young man who had looked within himself and found the icy resolve to do whatever was necessary to see his missions through. At school, Jess knew the face of her friend. Here? The pitiless face she saw was that of a ruthless soldier.
A Squire of War.
This time Jess clearly heard the crack as the man writhed and screamed in Neal's powerful grip, writhing and twisting desperately as Neal slowly ground shattered finger joints together.
Eloquin's icy gaze caught Jess like a blow to her chest as the man's screams rung through the tiny grove.
“Jess?”
A trembling nod, those screams slowly dying away in endless groves of trees stretching as far as Jess's eye could see, not a single whisper leaking from their tiny grove. “No one will know,” she whispered.
Eloquin nodded, turning to their terrified, begging captive once more.
“Please, my lord. Please, have mercy! I beg of you!”
“I have no mercy for liars, Gaines. And I know you were about to lie to me. And you do as well.”
Gaines shook his head in abject denial.
“Gaines. Look me in the eye.”
Trembling, the man did, paling at what he saw.
“You were about to lie to me, weren't you?”
"No...yes, my lord. Yes, I was. Please, I beg of you, forgive me!"
“We are done with lies, are we not?”
“Yes, my lord.”
A smile as bleak as death.
“Good. Now answer my questions. You were going to meet with someone, were you not? Someone most curious to know how things are developing at this college. Is that not so?”
Eyes widening even further, their captive gazed at Eloquin in horror.
Jess's breath hitched, their worst fears coming true.
"What is the name of your contact, Gaines, and where were you to meet? Don't think it, say it!" Eloquin roared, Neal immediately snapping yet another one of the man's fingers as he gave a piteous wail.
“Agent Cornelius at Whiteracer Inn, my lord!”
The man's complexion had turned ghastly. On the verge of a faint. He trembled under Eloquin's gaze. “Agent Cornelius at the Whiteracer Inn. And what were you to tell this Agent?”
The man sobbed and trembled. “Please, my lord. I beg of you, don't kill me, I was just following orders!”
Eloquin nodded. “I understand. Neal?”
The further cracking of bone. Shattered fingers cruelly ground together. The man's desperate wail turned to a high-pitched scream as he bucked and thrashed under Neals ministrations.
Erica shuddered and looked away. And underneath Neal's icy gaze, Jess saw something in his eyes that broke her heart.
A moment later, desperate high pitched keening sobs. “Please, please, stop! I beg of you, stop hurting me!”
“Gaines.”
A shuddering gasp. “Yes, my lord. Anything. Anything at all I will do for you. I will be your man in all things, just please, please let me go!”
“Gaines.”
“Please...”
"You were coached, less than an hour ago, on the report you were to give." Words cold and measured, and suddenly Eloquin was in the terrified man's face, roaring, his powerful hands covering the desperately struggling man's mouth and nose. "Who did you talk to? What were there names? Tell me, tell me now, or death will be your only reward!"
The man struggled for breath, eyes bulging, trying desperately to breathe, to scream, to speak.
"Who was it? Who did you talk to? Give me their names! Give it to me now!"
Eyes bulging, Jess saw the tiny flecks of darkness, vessels bursting, knowing the man was well and truly starving for air as he bucked and thrashed. Eyes pleading so desperately for precious sweet, sweet air, even as every fiber in his body burned and screamed from horrid, choking death.
And like a gift of sweetest grace, Eloquin lifted one hand, allowing the young man one gasp. “The name!”
“Putrice!” A shaking Gaines wheezed, gasping and sobbing for air. “Lady Putrice! I am Lady Putrice's man!”
Eloquin's smile, a truly awful thing. "I know." He turned to his Squires, locking gazes with all of them, even Mord gazing at the general with something close to awe, before Eloquin turned back to their desperately gasping captive. "We all already know you work for her. We already know the true purpose of this gala. This consortium. You but flitter over points already clear. It is only when you deviate that we shall let you taste the dark maws of death, clamoring for your soul. Let you taste sweetest agony yet again. Do you understand, Gaines?"
A shuddering sob. “Yes, my lord! Yes I do! I am yours, your in all things. All things, I swear it!”
Eloquin nodded. “To what clan do you belong? What Velheim clan will claim you for ransom, should I choose to let you live?”
A grateful sob, crying with relief Jess pitied to see. "Oh my lord, my lord, the Talbroch clan will pay you sweet silver and gold both, to see me home safe and sound. Oh could I undo these last few weeks, I swear to you I would, sir, I swear to you! My role is only the most peripheral, the most peripheral! I would never harm a soul. I could never harm a soul! All I am is a messenger, I don't even want to be here, I swear it!'
Eloquin nodded. "I know, lad. You are no doubt the thirdborn son of a struggling family looking for favor in Velheim's court. It was easy for associates of Lady Putrice to recruit you. You and several dozen scions of various noble families."
Jess swallowed, chilled. Eloquin's tone had turned almost... fatherly.
Her commander bent down, stroking the boy's brow. "What I want to know is why aren't you at the gala, carrying on, trying to seduce a beautiful young nobleman's daughter and claim her for your own? You are a fine looking specimen, and will no doubt fence in salons once again, when your hand is set by our healers, I'm sure. Why would Putrice waste one such as you, riding into the night, when you could be drinking spiced wine even now with the most eligible ladies in the kingdom?"
Gaines flashed a smile almost painful in its hope. Filled with relief and a boyish desire, a desperate need to trust. "Oh by all the gods I wish I were, General. I wish I were. In truth, I had caught sight of a peach that would have touched my heart to court... but, well," Gaines sighed, now every bit a young hopeful man speaking of dreams and desires, as innocent as any noble could be. "The girl I fancied had been snatched up by another before I could gather up my courage and say hello."
A soft, rueful chuckle. "Oh, the twisted game the gods play. If Javiar hadn't made a beeline for the baron's daughter, maybe I would have given her cause to smile. I, unlike Javiar, actually like to fence."
Jess felt a jolt of horror wash over her, biting back a sob, so dizzy she feared collapse, catching sight of Erica's startled gaze, feeling Malek's powerful squeeze despite their armor, centering her. Consoling her.
Eloquin's strong laughter filled the tiny grove. “So you know of our Calenbry, hey? No more beautiful a girl in all of Highrock, and as fine a fencer as a man could want for a wife.”
Gaines flashed Eloquin a brilliant smile. "Oh yes, sir. Yes I do. Fierce, beautiful, her father a named lord with properties the equal of any duke's. She would be a fine prize for any man who could win her heart!"
He caught himself, shuddering once as he remembered his position, desperate to keep Eloquin's warm bonhomie, the desperate hope that friendship and alliances, not a cold lonely grave, might be his reward for this evening's folly. "But of course, any thirdborn son can only hope to make as strong a match as he can. Please believe me when I say that the moment I caught sight of her, I truly thought that if I could win her heart? It would be a dream come true."
Jess shook at those words. There was no malice behind them. So fervently he spoke, Jess could sense his candor and desperation both. No matter that it tormented her even to look at the trembling youth, knowing what was to come.
"It's okay, Jess." Malek's softest whisper, as Eloquin spoke once more.
"Of course, lad. Any man with a sense of duty to his clan will try to arrange as profitable a marriage for himself as he can." He winked at the boy. Jess caught sight of that, sickened by what it meant, how far her mentor would go. "This gala, it's all about marriage alliances is it not?"
Gaines gave an animated nod. “Yes, sir. It really is! Lady Putrice, she comes from fine stock, a child of both our nations, I guess you could say. She, she and Duke Arbingion thought, what a fine thing, what a fine thing it would be if we could mend the rifts between our nations, to allow love matches and trade alliances to ease away tensions and... confusions that have caused such turmoil between our nations for so many years.”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
"A fine sentiment," Eloquin opined, patting the lad on the shoulder. "I take it Lady Putrice and our Duke Arbingion are neither fools, that they have been laying the groundwork, courting alliances so that folks from both sides of the fence would see the benefits of just such a union?"
The boy nodded enthusiastically. Hope now clearly written upon his features, for Jess could no longer look away from the face of a doomed lad who had thought he could love her.
“Oh yes, my lord. For the last few years, I am given to understand, Putrice and Arbingion have been working to mend bridges and suggest alliances... each from their respective sides of the mountain passes, one could say. Lady Putrice has hopes that this is but the first among many such soirees.”
Eloquin actually chuckled at that. "Our Lady Putrice does have spirit, doesn't she? To mend such a sore wound upon the heartstrings of idealistic children, siring families of mixed heritage and love for kin on both sides of the divide."
“You understand perfectly, my lord!” Gaines declared. “We all hope for many future parties and galas, cherishing the opportunity for love to flourish and blossom between the noble houses of both our nations! And truly, Lady Putrice has spared no effort to bring the most eligible of Velheim's youth to delight Highrock's finest students. Ladies and lads such as myself, of uncommon wit, beauty, and grace, all of us eager to find love, forge alliances, and share marvelous adventures with our new friends!"
His gaze was hopeful and anxious both. “You do understand, yes, my lord? I came here hoping to find my heart, not offend such a powerful man as yourself. This, I swear to you, I would never want to do.”
Eloquin's smile was as hard and unmoving as granite. “It was unfair to the point of horrific, for Lady Putrice to force you out into the cold, bitter air of folly and death, when sweetest wine and even sweeter companionship awaited you back at the gala. And all because you were not so bold and callous as to try simple seduction, when you had hoped for a kinship of the soul. Is that not so?”
Gaines swallowed and nodded, a tremble in his voice. “Yes, yes sir! Why, by the gods, must I be out here running awful errands when all I wanted to do was find a girl I could fall in love with?”
Eloquin's nod was strangely sympathetic. "She should have had one of her own blackened daggers run these little errands of skullduggery. Not have the innocent son of a lord who had trusted her with your care take on this terrible burden, yes?"
Tears flowing freely from eyes squeezed shut, Gaines nodded furiously. “Yes, sir. It is so.”
“I know, lad, I know.” Hands upon each shoulder. Almost fatherly. Yet the grip, so close to the throat. And a father's rough sympathy did not completely erase the agony of a mutilated hand, the horror of agonizing suffocation but minutes back. “You owe this woman who had so clearly thrown you away no loyalty, lad. Far better if you show that loyalty to me. The payoff will be immediate and give you succor beyond her power, I promise you that.”
The boy shuddered at those words, gazing at Eloquin like a son desperately hoping to earn his sire's smile, and not be sold at auction like chattel.
Jess shuddered, not knowing where the thought had come from, yet knowing, somehow, that such practices had been common, centuries ago.
“Lad, you are no blackened dagger, to keep dark secrets and dark intent tied to your heart. You are an innocent noble. A square peg hammered into a round hole, at this moment forced to play games that sicken you. Is that not so?”
Tears flowing freely, the boy nodded desperately.
“You would do anything to redeem yourself, to be worthy of the mantle of innocent lad guilty of nothing more than a desire for love at a gala, would you not?”
“Yes, my lord. By the gods, would I ever!” The boy sobbed.
“Then would you like a chance to be lifted free of that burden? The bloody stain of darkest conspiracies lifted like magic from your soul? To prove yourself no enemy of those under my care?”
“Yes, my lord. Yes. Oh so desperately I would!”
Eloquin lowered himself, gently stroking the boy's chin. Gaines shuddered and sobbed under the general's touch.
“Then tell me, boy. Tell me what Putrice really intends with her messages this night.” His smile was bleak and cold as death once more, and Gaines could see it, Neal gripping his broken hand still, death but a horrific heartbeat way. The young noble sobbed, too exhausted to handle horror once more after being given such sweet moments of succor and hope, even fatherly camaraderie.
"Tell me what her serpentine hand holds behind her back, even as the leftmost one bears fruits of sweetest friendship."
The boy trembled and sobbed. “Oh gentle sir, gentle sir, please understand, please understand that I detest this, all of this, that I just want to be courting love, that I have no interest in bloodshed or war!”
Eloquin's gaze was strangely gentle. "I know, lad. Believe it or not, I credit your soul with that innocence at least, and that is why you are not screaming with both eyes gouged out, and every bone in your body shattered, even now."
The boy paled and sobbed, and what he saw in Eloquin's eyes made him wail.
“Gaines.”
Instantly the boy's sobs stilled. Frozen by terror. Gazing at Eloquin like a mouse, hypnotized by the snake that would strike with venom coated fangs before devouring him alive.
“Gaines.”
A trembling sob. “Anything, my lord! Everything I have is yours!”
“If you would be worthy of continued mercy... you know what you must do.”
Shuddering, the boy nodded. “Yes, my lord... yes... I will tell you. Lady Putrice, she demanded. Demanded that I, a son of Talbroch, convey mysterious missives in the dead of night like a common courier! I swear to you, sir, I don't even want to be here. All of us, all of us that came were assured, assured! That we would be exposed to no ugliness.” he grimaced a smile. “No lord is so foolish as to think that peace does not come at a price, but it was sworn that none of us would be exposed to diplomatic exigencies, no matter their nature. We, we want only what's best for our nations, no matter what else happens behind the scenes!”
Eloquin nodded. “And yet treacherous Lady Putrice pulled you most firmly behind the scenes of the sweet play you were expecting, forcing you to look at the jaded rotting corpse behind the innocent beauty of her scheme.”
Gaines paled at those words. “I... I fear it is so, my lord.”
Eloquin pinned the boy with his gaze. “Now tell me what you were to convey.”
“I was to tell Cornelius, to tell Cornelius, that the doves have left the coop. That the... entire flock had fled the coop.”
Eloquin frowned. “What else were you to say?”
Gaines shook his head furiously. “Nothing, sir. That's it. Just those words. Those very words!”
Eloquin's icy gaze held the boy's before he slowly nodded. “I believe you.”
The boy let out a trembling sigh of relief.
“But there's more, isn't there?”
“Oh please, my lord,” the boy sobbed. “I've told you everything!”
Eloquin gave the gentlest nods. “To a point, lad. Now tell me this. When you and your fellow... courtiers made your way down from the mountain passes to Erovering proper, you had armed bodyguards, didn't you?”
The boy gave a trembling nod.
“One could even call it...a royal escort.” Eloquin flashed a cold smile.
The boy paled. “They were Sir Kettil's escort, my lord. Part of his diplomatic coterie. Perfectly legal, I assure you!”'
“Oh, I'm certain they assured you of just that. How many were in the coterie?”
“Only a score, my lord,” Gaines assured.
Jess and her friends exchanged knowing glances. No diplomatic envoy representing a foreign power was allowed more than a quartet of troops to accompany him under any circumstances. Particularly not Velheim.
“And how do you know of the Whitehorse in?”
Gaines frowned. “All of us stopped there on our way to Highrock. It has the best accommodations outside of Krona, I am given to understand.”
Malek and Jess exchanged glances. “That's not true by a longshot,” Jess whispered.
Malek shrugged. “It is if you discount all Inns with Guild ties.”
Jess raised her eyebrows at this.
"You know, the Adventurer's Guild? People chasing figments of dream, legends come to life, and somehow making a fair bit of coin doing it, for all that it's probably delusion and fancy? We all know it's a cover for darker games. They probably have ties to the Crown, and so are subsidized. Lady Putrice is playing dark games of her own, so chose an inn outside that network, less likely to be housing spies that will report on her activities."
Malek's soft voice was completely covered by the sound of rustling branches overhead, so Eloquin spared him his icy stare as Jess nodded her growing understanding, though Malek did gaze up and frown, before smirking at Jess.
“Useful talent.”
Jess grinned back. “I know.”
Eloquin squatted before Gains once more. “And now onto another topic, lad. Has Lady Putrice ever discussed seized chattel with you or your fellows? Spoils of intrigue or conquest, perhaps?”
Gaines' brows furrowed, now looking truly confused. “I am sorry, my lord. I am afraid I don't quite follow.”
“Slaves, fool.” Mord spat. “Our commander is asking if your associates have any truck with bandits that kidnap or simply purchase from jaded lords the most comely wenches upon their properties, the daughters of serfs and freemen any father would seek to hide from his master's eyes, lest the girl suddenly go missing, only to show up in the care of grim-faced men heading on to southern ports or Velheim brothels.”
Mord's lips curled into a cruel grin as the young lord blanched and lowered his gaze. “Ah. I see you have savored the nubile flesh of a trembling girl before.”
"I didn't know, I swear it!" A desperate plea. "Julius and I were drunk, we went to the brothel we always do, full of girls sweet and gracious who know how to please a noble's appetites, fetching and graceful enough for dining and conversation as well! We were told that delights awaited in the backroom. Fresh caught delights! Julius laughed, declared it spoils of war. I... I had no idea what to expect, what game my friend was playing, but when I saw, truly saw the girls that awaited, I immediately turned around and left!" He paled, trembling, unable to bear their stares. "I left. I did not touch any girl that night, I swear it. There... there was nothing else I could do."
“Bastard,” Lucas growled.
Eloquin locked gazes with Lucas. Locked gazes with them all. "Such things are common, in Velheim. Jaded nobility savoring the delights of terrified flesh. Never their own serfs, only those brought from far afield." His look for a trembling, sickened Gaines was almost pitying. Almost. "Gaines couldn't do anything save suffer scorn and censure from his peers. It is an open secret, and no one on their Council is likely to do a thing about it, since they all savor those prizes of war. All except for your priesthood, is that not right Gaines?"
Gaines nodded desperately. “Nothing I could do at all! I went straight home, told Father I would no longer be drinking with Julius, and he said not a word in protest.” He swallowed and shook his head. “That is one brothel I have always since avoided. I promise you that.”
Eloquin nodded. "Is Lady Putrice working with Duke Arbingion, bringing in fresh... prizes of war?"
Gaines paled and looked away. “I promise you, I want no part in such things!”
Eloquin grabbed sweat-soaked hair with force. The boy cried out.
Eloquin's gaze was pitiless and cold, for all that his voice remained soft. “Nothing brutal, lad, I understand. Lady Putrice, Duke Arbingion. They have... arrangements with various lords here in the northern provinces of Erovering. Do they not?”
Gaines trembled under the general's gaze. Eloquin nodded. “And Sir Kettil as well, I take it?”
Gaines squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “I swear, sir, I did all I could to pay her innuendo no mind. Only Kettil's escort laughed. We nobles are of a better cut. She could tell by our glares that we wanted no part in such things. No part at all!”
Eloquin frowned. "Then why are you acting as her pawn, even now, in the dead of night?”
Gaines chuckled bitterly. “My father owes her clan a considerable sum of money. And she promised to do her part to see that I... married well. Carrot and stick firmly put before my father and I both, it was made quite clear that I had no choice but to serve as her lackey... light as she swore my duties would be.”
Eloquin nodded. “Of course. And you want to survive just a bit longer, don't you?”
The boy began to sob, bravado completely shredded. “Oh please, my lord. Please... let me live, let me serve. I despise Lady Putrice. I detest that woman!”
Eloquin's smile was bleak. “I have no doubt that, at this very moment, you believe every word you are saying.”
Gaines gulped, Eloquin speaking over his desperate protests. “Tell me the names and give me descriptions of every man under Putrice's thumb, Gaines. Now!”
Gaines sobbed, his thready voice leaving Jess and Malek chilled at the names they heard. Jess glanced Erica's way, surprised and pleased to see her applying one of the college's arcane pens to tightly spooled scroll. Worth a fortune and envied by many a lord, only the richest, like Raphael's father, had access to such, as well as the most favored of future scribes, and of course, professors and Squires of War in the performance of their duties. Exotic a tool as it was, Jess was glad it was Erica scribbling away, and not her.
She hated note-taking with a passion.
Eloquin waited until the boy had whispered the last of five names. “How many have you met?”
“The guard and the stableboy, sir. They... made sure you had left some time ago before... oh gods...before they saw me off.”
Eloquin nodded. “Are the lads and lasses at the gala even now in any danger?”
The boy desperately shook his head. “No, my lord. The plan is for love to blossom, to flourish, as I hoped it would for myself! Lady Putrice, for all her vile flaws with the purchase of...merchandise, has nothing but love for the nobility of Erovering and Velheim both, dreaming of the day we are both one country once more!”
Eloquin nodded. “And what do you know of Squires, boy?”
The sudden pallor, the way his terrified gaze flickered to all of them, made it quite clear he knew of them perfectly well. “Please, my lord... please...”
Eloquin gently placed his hands on the boy's trembling throat. Almost, a comradely squeeze of the shoulders. Almost.
But the boy was no fool.
Now sobbing openly. “Please...”
“Lady Putrice took such an interest in the fillies under my care. And I believe you know why.”
Panicked crying filled the clearing.
“It's time we finished this, don't you think?”
“Please, my lord!”
“Answer the damned question!”
“If... if we had found love... what girl would want to strike at the family of her husband? If... if we had seized the grandest prize...”
Eloquin nodded. “If you had captured the queen, the board would be yours.”
A breathless pause.
Jess blinked in utter confusion, swallowing as more than one of her fellows looked her way.
“I'm no damned queen,” Jess whispered.
“They know of your gifts.” Neal. His voice utterly cold.
Gaine's head jerked up. Soft green eyes met her own.
By all the gods. He looked frightened.
Frightened for her sake, as much as his own.
“You're supposed to be at the gala. Lady Putrice swore you'd be safe,” he whispered.
Neal snapped another of Gaines' fingers.
The young lord writhed and screamed. “Please! I am yours, utterly and completely!”
Eloquin nodded. “You will never betray us. This I know, Gaines, so cease your sobbing and face me like a man.”
The boy forced himself to silence, for all that tears streaked down his cheeks, the rustling leaves muffling all other sound.
“Who else knows?”
The boy grimaced and looked away. Then gasped when Neal squeezed his hand. "Please! All I know is that Putrice declared Calenbry the greatest of prizes! One hundred gold crowns to whoever captured her heart. But please... it wasn't what you think! When I gazed at her, saw her smile, I was in love. The gold meant nothing!"
Cold eyes glared into his own. He shrunk. "Well, not nothing... but if we had married, the gold would have made both our lives so much sweeter. We would have spent it, together! Both of us rich and happy!"
Jess shook her head, unable to bear gazing at such naked terror as she choked down tears of pity. His were the eyes of a young man that, had fate laid down a different card, she could have been so easily charmed by. She sensed no malice, only the panicked desperation of someone who knew he was savoring the final moments of his life.
Jess shook away a bitter tear. Maybe she was a prize, but there had been no malice in Javiar's gaze either. What was a hundred gold but a dowry of sorts? His affections had felt so real.
“What do you know of Jessica, Gaines?”
He swallowed, turning his attention to Eloquin once more. “She comes from a powerful family. Her father fought beside you during the Erovering Wars. And...”
“Say it!”
“She's a Druid. One of the last living Druids. That's what they say. The healers pay top coin for her cuttings, no arrow would dare mark her flesh.”
Jess felt her heart begin to pound. Unable to utter a single word.
Eloquin frowned. "Do Duke Arbingion, Sir Kettil, or Agent Cornelius know of these rumors?"
Gaines paled, then screamed as Neal wrenched shattered fingers once more. "Yes! The Duke does, though he normally keeps his cards close, only gloating to my friends and I that he will soon have a prize to share with the king! But over the last few days, we heard just a whisper, a rumor, me, Javiar and several of the girls, and we figured it out! The legends are true. There really is a girl who can dodge any arrow shot at her. Druids still do flourish in Erovering, and if we can bring them to Velheim, we will never want for food again, we will never have to trade for another nation's surpluses!"
Eloquin nodded, eyes blazing like frozen fire. "You, Javiar, the ladies accompanying you, of which I spotted three; Lady Putrice, Duke Arbingion. Does anyone else suspect?"
Openly sobbing, Gaines shook his head. "It is rumor only. Lady Putrice witnessed nothing. None of us did!" he paled and swallowed. "I will tell you a secret, one that not even Lady Putrice knows! For some reason, the duke took me into his confidences. Me alone, I know not why. He told me his speculations, that he had hired on several groundskeepers who had once worked at Highrock. He even told me that he thought I had a role to play!” Gaines shook his head ruefully. “I halfway think he hoped I would be the one to win Jessica's heart. And Lady Putrice was so animated in her whispered conversations with Sir Kettil. You could barely make out what they were saying but, after putting the pieces together, it became obvious. And, well, we heard a few students chatting... near where... where... the Squires train.”
He shuddered and swallowed. “Perhaps, perhaps they are the source of the whispers that reached our ears? None of us really took it seriously, you have to understand! A delightful fantasy, but our goal was the gold purse!”
Jess shut her eyes tight as she dismounted, Eloquin gazing at her so intently, wishing she could take back the last hour, even the last several, wondering what it would be like if there had been no pair of mad brothers intent on killing her in the hallway, if she had given herself fully to the sweet noble son who had courted her. Spent the night in rapture, entwined in his arms. These thoughts raced through her mind as she sunk to the ground beside a confused Neal and a sobbing Gaines.
Certainly she would not be shuddering even now as a short sharp snap marked a tragic end to a terrified life, beautiful green eyes blinking in confused panic before glazing over in death.