Hadrian, Royce, and Scarlett rode back in Wagner’s buckboard after pouring out the poisoned beer to lighten the load. On Royce’s suggestion, they kept one full, just in case. What he’d meant by that Hadrian didn’t know — didn’t think he wanted to find out.

They’d cleaned up everything down to the splinters left by the broken keg lid and stuffed it all — bodies included — into the prison wagon, which they drove into the trees well off the road. The slaver’s horses were unhitched and tied to the back of the beer wagon. With luck, no one would come looking for the men or their animals. According to Royce, slavers working for Manzant were independent freelance abductors. If anyone did come looking for them, odds were against it being anytime soon.

Royce’s knowledge about slavers and Manzant reminded Hadrian of something Scarlett had said while Royce had her pinned against the side of the wagon. At the time, Hadrian was concerned he might kill her. Later, as they bounced their way back toward Dulgath, Hadrian had the time to remember.

“What did you mean when you said Manzant couldn’t hold Royce?” he asked Scarlett, who sat beside him on the bench, driving the team. The horses had been driven hard to catch up with the slavers, and she was giving them an easy plod back for succeeding.

Hadrian looked over his shoulder to where Royce reclined on the bed of the cart, his hands resting carefully in his lap. “Were you in Manzant?”

Scarlett raised her eyebrows in surprise but didn’t say a word.

“You already know that,” Royce said.

“I do?”

Hadrian thought a moment and realized he did remember something. He’d been introduced to Royce by a professor at Sheridan University, and at the time Arcadius had mentioned a prison where he had found Royce. He couldn’t recall the name of the place. “That was three years ago. You expected me to remember?”

Royce reached up with his better hand and tugged his hood over his head. “Taking a nap.”

“Did you ever tell me why you were there?”

“Sleeping now.”

“Did you mention what you did after you got out?”

“Hand hurts. Leave me alone.”

Hadrian frowned, then glared at Scarlett.

“Don’t look at me,” she said. “I’m not getting in the middle of this.”

They traveled until well after dark, then pulled clear of the road. Royce continued to sleep in the wagon while Scarlett and Hadrian bedded down beneath it, using blankets taken from the slavers. Six men — six blankets. This left them extras to place underneath and to use as pillows.

“You didn’t happen to bring anything to eat, did you?” Hadrian asked, wadding up a blanket behind his head. The two lay side by side beneath the axle with the wheels flanking them. “I’m starving.”

“Was in sort of a hurry,” she said, pulling the blanket up to her neck even though it wasn’t cold. “When I came to work, Wag said you guys had gotten grabbed up.”

She wiggled a bit, then pulled a rock out from underneath. “Then I had to make the poison. Don’t have that stuff lying about, you know? And I had to get it in the barrels and roll them on the wagon.”

“You did all that yourself?”

“No, Gill and Brett got the wagon hitched. Tasha helped with brewing the poison, and Wag rolled out his beer — was real sad about that — you would’ve thought I asked him to kill his dog. Brook and Clem helped get the barrels up on the buckboard.”

“Bull Neck and Orange Tunic?”

“That’s them. Nice guys when you get to know them, all of them, really. ’Course Brook’s still mad at me, but he’ll get over it about the same time as his leg heals.”

“You stabbed him? I thought Royce did that.”

She shrugged. “Seemed like the thing to do at the time. Anyway, given my late start, you’ll forgive me if I forgot to pack up supplies for a cookout.” She dropped her head onto her blanket pillow with an exhausted huff.

The horses, which were tied up to a stand of birch trees a few yards away, loudly ripped up grass, shifting their feet and whipping their tails. Crickets and katydids trilled, and a soft breeze made that comforting rain sound again as it brushed the fields.

“Thank you,” Hadrian said.

“I didn’t do it for you.” Scarlett stretched and yawned at the same time. “I did it for me. So I wouldn’t have to worry about Royce. I told you that.”

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

Hadrian looked up at the underside of the wagon, where bits of mud and old grass had gotten stuck.

“It had nothing to do with you,” Scarlett said with more force, more volume.

“We should get some sleep,” he told her. “Royce will be waking us before dawn. He does that — like he can hear the sun or something.”

They lay together, listening to the night. He heard her breathing, soft and steady — a nice sound. He was tempted to touch her, reach out blindly with his fingers searching for hers. He didn’t. She might get spooked and take her blankets and leave. Be a pretty poor way of thanking her for saving his life.

When he turned to sleep on his side, the pain stabbed him. He let out a grunt and set his shoulders on the grass again. He hated sleeping on his back.

“Need to have that wrapped up,” she whispered.

“What I need is a stiff drink that isn’t laced with something for a change.”

“And sleep,” she said. “You need that, too.”

Hadrian took a deep breath and sighed. “Good night, Scarlett Dodge.”

“Good night, Dog-with-a-Ball.”

Hadrian chuckled, which caused his side to ache. “Don’t do that.”

“You deserve it.” Scarlett turned over on her side, her back to him. “And I didn’t do it for you.”

Yes, you did, he repeated to himself, but let it go with that.

----------------------------------------

Brecken Dale hadn’t changed. Not that Hadrian expected it would in the few days they’d been gone. The thought was larger than that; Hadrian didn’t think the dale ever changed. Leaves might turn color and fall, snow might blanket fields, and the names of people and some of their faces might be different, but the dale remained as it always had been. He saw all this as they came down the road, as he got a clear bird’s-eye view of the village from the trail above.

Timeless was the first word that popped into his mind. Eternal was another.

Why he thought that was harder to nail down. Then he realized that he saw no forgotten foundations of abandoned buildings, no blackened husk of a burned-out mill or barn, no grass-overgrown cart or wagon orphaned in a pasture. No fallow fields, either.

Hadrian wasn’t a farmer, but he’d grown up with them and knew that a third of the land had to rest for a season or face exhaustion. Not so in Dulgath. Pastures looked to be permanent, and while every inch of cultivated land was sown, it all thrived. Rules that governed the rest of the world didn’t seem to apply here. Hadrian hadn’t seen any construction, either. In Medford, scaffolds were everywhere as buildings went up or came down. Bridges were in constant need of repair — and the roofs! No day passed that Hadrian hadn’t heard the pounding of hammers on roofs. But in Brecken Dale the decay of time took a holiday.

Maybe it really is blessed.

Just a few days ago he’d felt uneasy in the little village. All the ivy and the talk of it never raining had put him on edge. Dulgath was different, even odd, but he no longer felt out of sorts. If anything, it seemed proper. His initial impression of tranquility had been the right one. Either that or the stretch of road coming into Dulgath, just before reaching the dale, was enchanted.

The sun insisted it was still morning when they entered the dale. The last time he and Royce had come that way, they’d arrived in the middle of a tarring. This morning, the village was empty. They rumbled past the peach orchard, which Scarlett said was owned by the Beecham family. With thirty head of dairy cows, they were also the largest producers of milk in the area. Clem was their third son and had once courted her with a basket of peaches and cream.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“He thought he was being clever,” Scarlett said. “But I’d only been living in the village a few months, and it just reminded me about how much I stood out.”

They passed through the market, where the stalls were shuttered and not even a single cart was parked. Hadrian didn’t bother asking, since the confusion on Scarlett’s face told him it wasn’t expected.

Wagner burst out the door to Caldwell House when they were still heading for the stable. “You did it!” he called to Scarlett, shaking that same dirty rag at her. Clem and Gill spilled out after him, along with a woman with short brown hair, a friendly smile, and a fetching hat. Brook brought up the rear, favoring his right leg.

“You doubted me?” Scarlett smirked.

“Worried, darling, that’s all. Guess I shoulda known better. All went well, then?”

“The one in the back has a broken hand and finger, and Hadrian has cracked ribs, but other than that everything’s fine.”

“I’ll tell Asher he’s got patients,” the woman with the hat said and hurried off through the deserted market.

“Thanks, Tasha.” Scarlett climbed off the wagon. “What’s going on? Where is everyone?”

“King arrived yesterday. They’re down at the ceremony.”

Scarlett nodded as if understanding this.

“What ceremony?” Hadrian asked as she helped him down. He didn’t really need the help, the pain in his side wasn’t that bad, but he accepted her hand just the same. He liked the way her little fingers fit inside his.

Peaches and cream, he thought, and realized he would’ve made the same mistake as Clem, if he’d been smart enough to think of it at all.

“Lady Dulgath is paying homage,” Scarlett said. “She’s pledging her loyalty to King Vincent, and in turn he gives her a kiss and officially declares her to be Countess Dulgath.”

Royce climbed off the wagon by himself, clutching his right hand to his chest. “People from Brecken Dale went to see this?”

“Sure,” Wagner said, patting the necks of the horses and looking them over. “Folk from all the villages and countryside, I’d imagine. Not every day you get a new ruler. ’Course lots of folk just want a look at the king or an excuse to get out of the fields.”

“Gill, take care of Myrtle and Marjorie. I ran them ragged,” Scarlett said. “Oh, and Wag, here’s a few new horses for you. That ought to pay for the beer and your trouble.”

“Where’d they come from?” Wagner asked.

“You don’t want to know. As far as you’re concerned, they were lost and you took them in.” She winked.

As Gill worked on the buckles, Wagner turned back to Scarlett and slipped an arm around her waist. “You sure everything is good?” His voice had an added tone of concern. Maybe it meant something, maybe it didn’t, but he pulled her close while looking at Hadrian.

“Everything’s fine,” she replied with enough of a sidelong glance to convince Hadrian she noticed the behavior, too.

Is that annoyance in her glance?

“With so many people coming to watch, I’m guessing they’re not holding this ceremony inside the castle?” Royce asked.

“Out in the courtyard is what I’ve heard.” With his arm still around Scarlett’s waist, he looked at Hadrian again. “You owe my Scarlett a huge debt of gratitude. You know that, right?”

“We do indeed,” Hadrian replied.

Wagner looked to Royce, as if expecting to hear a thank-you.

Instead, Royce asked, “When does this ceremony take place?”

“Little after midday,” Wagner replied with a frown.

“Why you so interested?” Hadrian asked.

“Because there’s a bigger debt we need to repay, and I know just how to do it.”

----------------------------------------

Asher, the dale’s physician, had arrived with Tasha. By then, they were all inside the main room of Caldwell House, which was devoid of customers. Everyone had already left for the ceremony at Castle Dulgath.

After a sneer from Royce, Asher had decided to treat Hadrian first, which didn’t take long. Not much could be done for cracked ribs other than wrap them tightly and frown a lot. Afterward, he sat across from Royce and looked at the thief’s hands. That was all he was able to do, as Royce refused to let him touch either one.

“I need to examine your hands,” Asher said. “And to do that I need to touch them.”

“Touch my hand and I’ll take yours as payment.”

Asher, a friendly-looking man with a big bushy-bear beard and a sunburned nose, threw up his hands and looked to Scarlett. “Nothing I can do if he won’t let me.”

“You’re right,” Royce said. “Go have a drink. There’s a barrel of ale in the wagon.”

“Do not have a drink,” Wagner told him. “I need to dump that thing.”

“We need to get going,” Royce said.

“Why?” Hadrian asked. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Lady Dulgath is still alive.”

“So?”

“So, I told the countess to cut down her ivy,” Royce explained to Hadrian as Asher remained sitting across from him. “Since she’s still alive, I’m guessing she listened. That means Fawkes has switched to plan B.”

“What’s plan B?” Scarlett asked.

“You said plan B isn’t possible.” Hadrian put his shirt back on over the stiff cloth strips Asher had wrapped him in. “You said he’d need Tom the Feather or that other guy, but he was in Manzant. Wait — you don’t think they got him out for this, do you?”

“What’s plan B?” Scarlett asked again.

Royce shook his head. “Couldn’t have. They didn’t know the man existed until I told them. Wouldn’t have had time to get there and back. Besides, Hawkins has been in Manzant for years. After so long, if he’s still alive, he’d be in no condition to do more than drool. But Fawkes might have dug up a crossbow.”

“Crossbow?” Scarlett looked at both of them, concerned. “What are you two talking about?”

“I told Fawkes and Payne that if they could get Lady Dulgath outside at a prearranged place, a place where they could hide an archer with a bow, then —”

“They’re going to kill her at the homage ceremony?” Scarlett’s eyes went wide.

“Be my guess, but with a little luck I think we can catch Fawkes, Payne, and their beloved church with fingers on the trigger — right in front of the king.”

“We have to go. Now!” Fear filled Scarlett’s face.

“He can’t go anywhere with two mangled hands,” Asher declared. “At the very least, I have to set the bones. If I don’t, that hand will be a worthless claw the rest of your life.”

“He’s right, Royce,” Hadrian said.

“You do it,” Royce told him.

For a moment Hadrian thought he was joking — another way of saying, You think so? Go ahead and try! But Royce’s expression was wrong. Hadrian wasn’t foolish enough to think he could read the man’s mind through his expressions. If so, he’d have concluded long ago that Royce wanted to kill every man, woman, child, and dog he encountered. For a time, Hadrian believed that might be true, but Royce had surprised Hadrian enough times that he came to realize this tree had roots no one could see.

Clues were there, but difficult to spot and harder to decode. The man didn’t like being read. Every truth that slipped out was cursed. It was why their rides together were so one-sided. People always gave parts of themselves away when they talked. If Royce was going to sacrifice a clue about himself, it wouldn’t be over idle prattle. Still, Hadrian had discovered some signs — he’d had to. Living with a man-killing tiger, you quickly learned the difference between a growl and a purr — or else.

Royce wasn’t growling.

“The doctor here is —”

“I don’t trust him.” Royce didn’t look at the doctor — hadn’t done so since he’d arrived. Maybe if he had he might have reconsidered. Asher, doctor of the dale, was a big fluffy man with a concerned brow and helpful eyes. But then Royce didn’t trust anyone. That he admitted — if only by assumption — that he trusted Hadrian didn’t go unnoticed. Needing help was an admission of defeat. Doing so in front of an audience was unprecedented.

Hadrian sat down beside Asher. “I’ve set bones before, but not in a hand. What do I do?”

“First, just have him hold his hand palm-down and extend his fingers all the way out.”

Everyone in Caldwell House was looking at Royce. His jaw was clenched, and he was breathing with irritation through his nose.

“Scarlett, Tasha, can you go ask Gill and Wagner to saddle our horses?” Hadrian asked.

“The two of you can’t ride busted up the way you are,” Scarlett said. “I’ll hitch Midnight and Mack to a wagon. They’re not as friendly as Myrtle and Marjorie, but they’re fresh and are used to pulling as a team. C’mon, Tasha, the boys want to be alone for a while.”

It took a second after they left, but Royce put out his hand and, with a wince, opened it as best he could. Two fingers and his thumb straightened out; the other two hung limp.

“Okay,” Asher said with his warm, reassuring tone. “I can see from here it’s not the fingers, but the bones in the back of the hand that need setting. So, Hadrian, what you need to do is gently lift the fingers — one at a time. Pull them out straight. Stretch them — don’t yank or anything, just a gentle pull. As you do that, press down with your other thumb on the bone that’s out of place. You’ll need to feel around for the break. You’ll find it. Just apply pressure until it lines up again. And Royce, try to leave your hand limp. You know, Scarlett can brew up something for the pain. She —”

“No!” both Royce and Hadrian snapped.

Hadrian shook his head. “We’ve had our fill of her recipes.” He looked at Royce with a grim smile and took his hand. “You ready for this?”

“Just shut up and do it.”

Hadrian guessed Royce was silently debating which was worse, the pain or the humiliation; he settled on the latter. Royce didn’t ask anyone for anything. Hadrian found the protrusion he was looking for and wanted to be as quick as he could. Asher offered encouragement as Hadrian squeezed and pulled.

Royce made no sound at all. His eyes squeezed shut; he breathed harder, more forcefully.

The bone slid down, and Hadrian moved to the second one. When he had both in place, Asher asked Royce to extend his fingers again. This time all four came up.

“Great!” Asher grinned, that big beard bristling. “Now take these splints and put one on the back and one on the front. Wrap them tightly. Secure the fingers, too; the less movement the better.”

The other hand was easier, just a matter of aligning the finger and splinting. Hadrian was wrapping it when Scarlett came back.

“All done here? Wagon’s ready to roll,” she said, moving behind the bar. “Looks like we have two, maybe three hours before the ceremony, but there’s no sense cutting things close. I’ll pack a meal for us; we can eat on the way.”

“You’re not going,” Hadrian told her.

“If you’re going to save Lady Dulgath, I want to help.”

“I don’t see what you can do.”

She looked nettled by the comment but forced a smile. “For one thing, I can vouch for you. Might need someone to speak on your behalf to Lady Dulgath.”

“Why would she listen to you?” Royce asked. “You’re not even a native.”

“I know her.” Scarlett tore a loaf of bread in half and wrapped it in a cloth.

“You do?” Hadrian asked.

“Yes. Don’t look so surprised. The countess visits the monastery a lot, and so do I. We’ve talked a few times. She’s very . . . different. If given the choice among Fawkes, Payne, you two, and me — she’d listen to me.”

“Okay, you can come,” Royce said.

“What?” Hadrian glared at him. “This is going to be dangerous.”

Royce tested the movement of his wrapped hands. “She’s a Diamond, not a debutante.”

“Great.” Scarlett grinned. “What do you want me to do?”

“Watch the horses and wagon for us while we go in,” Royce said.

“You got it.” Scarlett continued to fill the basket.

“You got it?” Hadrian asked, dumbfounded. “He tells you to wait outside and watch the pretty horses and you’re fine with that? If I’d said that —”

“I would’ve called you an ass.” She dropped in some cheese.

“Why?”

“Because you’d be trying to protect me. Royce doesn’t give a damn if I live or die. Besides, the first thing you learn in the Diamond is to never disagree with a mission lead, and never, ever question a guild officer.”

Hadrian finished wrapping Royce’s finger and looked at him, puzzled. “You were a guild officer?”

Scarlett picked up the basket and made a pfft sound as she swung her hair out of her face. “Seriously? Have you two even met?” Her face was incredulous. “You didn’t know he was in Manzant. You obviously didn’t know he’s the only person to have escaped, and you didn’t know he was an officer of the Diamond. What do you two talk about on all those long hours riding together?”

Hadrian started to laugh.

Royce shot him a glare. “Shut up.”