Chapter 35 Alarm
Check behind us – not like that, easy, casually as if you’re simply looking – see that pretty girl who’s still reddish-brown? She’s my girlfriend. My mother said that we’re too young to be in love, so we’ve kept it a secret, just between the two of us. I wanted to run away together, but then I was picked and she wasn’t. I’ll never see her again. We can’t even say goodbye. – Prince Eater #34
“It’s an abomination, that’s what it is,” a man at Annie’s meeting interjected. “Combining species together like that is bad science.”
“Not just two animals,” a second man interposed. “Animals and humans. They call it holy when it’s a complete sacrilege.”
Annie let the crowd work itself up before continuing, “The Contingent believes that the monarchy is on its last legs. Three of Harrison’s five sons are dead. Our intelligence indicates that he killed one of them himself. Both Jon and Seán have completely renounced any right to the throne. Although the Most Revered either doesn’t know yet or doesn’t care.”
“Let’s go after him and get him back,” Mrs. McCreesh demanded.
“We will,” Annie agreed. The crowd cheered and stomped for several minutes before quieting so she could go on. “We believe it’s time to go all the way – eliminate the magi completely. The Most Revered, her priests, and all of her soldiers. After that, we’ll get rid of the Prince Eaters. We have the fighting strength. We have good intelligence about the unrest within Hilltown. It’s time.” Annie paced the length of the room making eye contact with various people in the crowd, and then paced back, doing the same. “It’s time.”
The crowd burst into rowdy celebration again, forcing Annie to wait until they calmed before she explained, “Jon, Alec, and Gil have already left.”
“Rory joined the Grays,” Kenzie contributed. “He’s gone, too.”
“And my Liam,” Mrs. McCreesh spoke up. “I’m so proud of him.”
“The Unclaims!” someone shouted. “They both should be whipped.”
“That large Gray and the Most Revered have been seen enjoying sex with each other more than once. I doubt that Gunnar was even a prince,” someone said harshly.
“They will be joining up with Jon and Alec to rescue Seán,” Annie shouted over the din of the argument so she could garner the crowd’s attention.
“We have a plan in place to rendezvous with them outside of Hilltown whether or not they can find and extract Seán from danger. If they are not able to get to him, our first priority will be to rescue the boy. If they have him, we head straight into battle.”
“What about our allies inside Hilltown?” someone in the crowd asked. “How much do they know about all of this?”
“We sent red messaging birds about Seán immediately,” Annie replied. “They’ll be ready the moment we vote for the fight.”
“Figgict voting,” one of the men called out. “Let’s burn the entire place to the ground.”
Three of Annie’s Rebels strolled along the rough streets of SnakeIn near the wharves, talking and laughing, but never losing track of what was happening around them. Two prostitutes who were standing on the corner of the street and a shadowy lane smiled at the men. One of the three companions broke off, spoke softly to one of the women, and then disappeared down the lane with her. When they were securely out of sight, the man leaned to her ear and whispered, “It’s time.”
The other two men continued walking but soon paused to joke with a group of sailors milling outside a wharf-side pub. After greeting each other heartily, one of the two men said, “It’s time.”
The sailors nodded in agreement, spoke hastily, and then split off into pairs, each pair strolling down separate streets, pausing at the doors of shops and the entrances to pubs and saying, “It’s time.”
The man and woman emerged from the lane and rejoined their companions. The woman casually smoothed down the front of her unmussed blouse and said to her friends, “It’s time.”
They moved away from the corner and then, like the sailors, they broke off in different directions. The three men continued down the street, greeting people, and telling various ones, “It’s time.”
The castle in Hilltown was unusually quiet, with only a few servants awake, some in the kitchen, some moving from room to room stoking fires and preparing for the morning. When the delivery wagon from the bakery stopped by the kitchen door, the cook’s assistant hurried outside, collected their purchases, and smiled when the driver leaned over and said, “It’s time.”
The cook’s assistant brought an assortment of the baked goods inside, paused beside the young scullery maid, and whispered, “It’s time.”
The scullery maid found a reason to dart outside to where a group of servants had gathered, and said to a footman, “It’s time.”
He nodded and strolled leisurely toward the stable until he turned a corner out of sight of the castle. He quickened his pace until he’d caught up with the stablemaster. He greeted him and said, “It’s time.”
From the wharves and tenements of SnakeIn to the mansions and castle of Hilltown, the same two words were repeated and carried forward. “It’s time.”
Alec shifted in his saddle and gazed over the land stretching out to the horizon. The two suns made it difficult to see even with a sturdy brim protector shading three sides of his eyes. In the distance, Hilltown looked small and insignificant, like something out of a dream rather than the place he’d lived almost all of his life.
Gil rode at his right, and Jon at his left. Beyond Jon rode Rory and Liam. Alec turned his head when he heard Jon’s quiet moan of pain and noted how Jon rolled his neck and shoulders and rubbed the damaged side of his face. When Jon reached down to rub his leg, Alec turned back to Gil and suggested, “We have to rest. The ride has been too hard on Jon.”
“I’m hurting,” Jon admitted as he stopped his horse.
“Keep riding! No one said you can stop,” Gil bawled and then, noticing the anger boiling on Alec’s face, softened his tone. “We’re too exposed to stop here. We’re close to shelter. When we get there, we’ll be safe and can make additional plans. It’s late enough in the day that we can hold tight there until morning. Nothing will happen to Seán before we get there. Ava needs him too much to let him be hurt or abused.”
He signaled his horse to move forward and led the small band of rescuers along a path not visible from the hilltop. As they descended to the small glen winding between the hills, Alec wondered where they were headed. A camp just beyond the edge of the woods? A hunting shed? His jaw dropped open as the woods parted, the glen widened, and the gates of a sprawling estate greeted them. A pleasant fountain babbled in the front garden. Multiple rows of stables wrapped from one side to the back of the manor house. Alec imagined the two tall towers rising behind it would give a sentry a clear view all the way to Hilltown. The approach was wide, designed to be easy on the horse’s hooves, and lined with shade trees. Mounted on each side of the drive, the forty-eight Grays waited at attention as their commander approached.
“Welcome to Braeford Estates,” Gil said expansively. As he spoke, several grooms came hurrying from the stables to care for the horses.
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Gil paused his horse in front of one of the officers, waved Liam and Rory forward, and continued, “Declan, these noble gentlemen wish to join the Grays. Liam, Rory, meet Sargent Declan Connolly. Go with him and he’ll get you oriented. We’ll sign your contracts and induct you formally after First Sun dawns tomorrow. That’s our tradition. New beginnings when First Sun comes up. Executions when Second Sun goes down.”
Alec swung off easily and then turned to help as Jon lifted his leg to move it over the horse’s back. Jon’s horse shifted its weight unexpectedly, causing Jon to lose his balance and tumble sideways from the saddle. The startled horse darted forward with one of Jon’s feet wedged in the stirrup. A groom raced to catch the horse’s bridle while Alec caught Jon and ran full-tilt beside the horse holding him so he wouldn’t be dragged across the ground.
When the groom stopped the horse, Alec plucked Jon’s foot from the stirrup and then carried him up the steps to set him down near the front door. Instead of releasing Alec, Jon embraced him harder, buried his face against Alec’s shoulder, and mumbled, “He needs me, and I can’t do the simplest thing. He needs me — I have to.”
“Are you all right?” A voice asked from inside the house. Alec looked up to acknowledge the greeting and saw a woman much younger than Gil, wearing fine, expensive clothing, and exquisite jewelry even though her eyes looked exhausted. From time to time she would reach up unconsciously and rub her upper arms as if she were cold. When Jon didn’t lift his face from Alec’s shoulder, she continued, “My name is Colleen. Colleen Raedwald. Gil is my husband. Welcome to our home. Please come inside.”
“Jon?” Alec asked softly. “Let’s go in and sit down.”
Jon nodded but didn’t speak and pulled away from Alec’s embrace sufficiently to walk.
As they moved through the ostentatious main door, Gil came up the front steps two at a time calling out, “Is Prince Jon all right?”
“Since when has he been Prince Jon?” Alec asked suspiciously.
“Since we crossed the border of Midhe Thiar,” Gil said. “In the kingdom, he is the prince.”
“If the kingdom knows he’s Prince Jon, they’ll kill him,” Alec replied. When Gil laughed, he asked, “What?”
“Your optimism, Mulrian, your optimism,” Gil laughed. “Few of us, Jon included, are likely to come out of this alive. We have Harrison’s blessing, but not necessarily his cooperation because of Ava and her poisons. And if it comes to that, I will sacrifice you in a heartbeat to ensure the safety of Prince Seán.” As an afterthought, he added, “Or Prince Jon.”
Alec drew in his breath and responded, “I’d sacrifice myself, too, for Jon. But don’t think you’re going to trade Jon for his brother because you’ll die trying.”
“I just told you –” Gil began, before Alec shut him down.
“At my hand. In your home, in the castle, along the road, at the base of Holy King Harrison’s throne, in the Great Hall of Tara Citadel. Here and now if I need to. If you hurt Jon, or I learn that you are planning on hurting Jon, you’re a dead man,” Alec finished.
“Enough of all that bravado, both of you,” Colleen interrupted with a flirtatious smile for her husband. “Let Prince Jon get inside and rest. He’s hurt.” With that, she tugged on Alec’s sleeve so that they would follow her, and she led them through to a drawing room. She rearranged the pillows on a long sofa and said, “He can sit here. That way he can put his legs up. He may have strained a muscle, or worse.”
Jon allowed her to fuss over him as he settled onto the sofa. He was able to move his feet and bend his knees with what was for him relatively mild pain and inconvenience. There was a tender area on his head where he had smacked it into the horse’s haunches, however, his most serious wound was his revulsion at himself.
“Here, this will help,” Gil said, producing a decanter of brandy and several glasses. After offering a short glass to Jon, he presented another to Alec with a smile and then poured one for himself without offering Colleen a glass. He savored his first sip and said, “Let’s give ourselves fifteen or twenty minutes to rest, and then we’ll talk about what’s next. Jon, it’s important that you are part of the plan, not only because he’s your brother, but also because you’re on the list for the throne, as is any male member of the royal family. As far as I know, there are no others left, but if I’m wrong, this is the time to speak up about it. Family secrets need to take a back seat here.”
Gil drew in a long drink of brandy, refilled his glass, and then topped off the others’ glasses even though he was the only one actually drinking.
Jon studied Alec’s face, searching for an answer to a question he didn’t know whether or not to ask, and then said, “Rory.”
“The new recruit?” Gil asked in surprise.
“He’s royalty,” Alec answered. “And Callen, too.”
“The innkeeper’s wife is my father’s sister, Princess Mackenzie,” Jon explained. “I don’t know if my father even knows about Rory and Callen. Aunt Kenzie was going to tell us what happened to drive her from Hilltown, but she never had the chance. Rory is the heir presumptive to Seán. If nothing changes, Callen will follow Rory.”
“Figg’t. That explains why Craig’s wife never seemed to be around at the same time I was. He was figgict hiding her,” Gil grumbled. “She should not have been allowed to give birth to sons and if I had known she would not have. Well, what’s done is done. We can get Rory in on the discussion easily enough. Does he know?”
“We have no idea,” Alec said. “As Jon indicated, we never revisited the subject.”
“He can’t be a Gray either,” Gil said. As he walked to the hallway entrance, his thoughts processed the ramifications of the world learning that Rory was a Prince of the Realm. Aloud he exclaimed, “Figg’t. He was so excited, and looking forward to being part of the rescue party going after Seán.”
He looked down the corridor, saw Declan Connolly passing at the far end, and called to him, “A moment of your time please.”
The sergeant strode over to where Gil stood and the two of them talked quietly.
“That sure adds a wrinkle to things,” Declan commented. “He won’t be able to stay with the others in the soldier’s wing either.”
Rory entered the parlor hesitantly, confused as to why he alone was summoned. Alec stood, slid a chair into their circle for him, and said, “Rory, please come in, sit here beside Jon.”
“I heard that you have been hurt again, Jon. Are you okay?” Rory asked.
“Mostly embarrassed by my inadequacies,” Jon replied. “We asked you here because we have to discuss rescuing Seán, but before we do that, we have to discuss something with you.”
“I’m not a prince,” Rory said confidently, anticipating Jon’s next words. “Callen and I knew that sooner or later you would get around to asking us about it. We discussed it right after you and Alec arrived. We don’t want anything to do with it.”
Gil tilted his head to listen to Rory’s declaration, rose to his feet, and walked to the brandy decanter. He poured a short glass for Rory and then strolled back to the others.
“I admire your practicality, Son, but you have no choice,” Gil Braeford said as he shared the tiny amount of sustaining alcohol with Rory and then sat. “Being a prince is different from deciding what coat you’ll wear on what day. Your mother is sister to the king. That means you’re a prince.”
“Princesses are nothing,” Rory contended. “Ava Most Revered sells them or gives them away. If she can’t do either of those she sends them away to die alone. The only way they matter is if they become magi, and then they become the most powerful individuals in Midhe Nuae. My mother did none of those things. She is unimportant and her children are even less so.”
“He’s right. The magi proclaimed me dead. They even produced an official death certificate. They probably did the same to Mackenzie,” Colleen agreed.
“The Magi had nothing to do with that. Harrison arranged for the death certificate,” Gil corrected. “He wanted to keep the magi from tracking you down and killing you. You have too much knowledge about the magi and the Tara Citadel.”
“My mother wasn’t a mage,” Rory pointed out. “She was simply a princess who loved a soldier. The Royal Archers put a quiver’s worth of bolts through his brain.”
Jon coughed, while Alec rubbed his eyes uncomfortably and muttered, “I’m so ashamed of my profession. Ashamed of myself.”
“Who did you kill, Alec?” Rory asked.
“Me, no one,” Alec answered. “Well, I’ve fought against mercenaries sent by angry nobles, and against armed rebels, but never what you’re talking about. The first time I was asked to do so was with Jon. I thought my heart stopped beating when I received the orders.”
“My mother kept running,” Rory added as he nodded his acceptance of Alec’s answer.
“No, she didn’t,” Gil interjected. Everyone in the room looked at him in astonishment. “Harrison carried her from the Courtyard.”
“How do you know that?” Jon challenged.
“I was there,” Gil answered. “Jon, you’ve seen the scar that cuts across the center of Harrison’s face?” When Jon nodded, Gil explained, “He received that when he risked his own life to protect mine.”
©2022 Vera S. Scott