Orphan's Blade (5 page)

“I’ve set aside a plate for you.” Brax pushed a plate of soppy ribs in front of her. “It is the juiciest part.”

Valoria covered her mouth, stifling the urge to choke. How could she tell him she only ate vegetables and grains? What would he think of her? “Thank you. But I am not hungry this hour.”

Dismay settled across his blunt features.

“I mourn my lost countrymen.”

“Ah. Of course.” He nodded as if losing men on the battlefield was something he understood deeply. He took the plate away. “I will make sure the raiders pay.”

Valoria folded her hands in her lap lest the urge to slap him overcame her. “Wouldn’t it be more suitable to deal them a forgiving hand?”

Brax smiled condescendingly. “Dear Valoria, you are naïve to the follies of susceptibility. We must secure this kingdom’s future for only those with noble hearts.” He spoke as if she were a milkmaid being taught to squeeze the teat of a cow for the first time.

She bit her tongue. Did he mean to cast out half the populace? “Surely every man suffers from vagrancies at some point in his life. And these people have lost everything.”

Brax’s hand clenched and a vein in his forehead protruded. “That is no reason to murder and pillage, and to attack innocent princesses.”

Valoria gritted her teeth. He had a point, but she was far from the idiot adolescent he thought her. “Innocent princesses can fend for themselves.”

He spit out a piece of bone and it clanged on the china plate. “If that were true, you wouldn’t need Ebonvale, now would you?”

Fury broiled inside her. Talking to him was like talking to a wall. A sweaty wall. She picked up her glass hoping the cold water would smite her temper. “We need each other.”

“So our fathers believe.” Brax bit off another chunk of meat.

Was that resentment in his voice?

Valoria stiffened in disbelief. All this time she hadn’t given a thought to what Brax wanted. She’d always assumed he adopted his parents’ wishes. But, it was clear he didn’t want her just as much as she didn’t want him.

She’d finally found something they had in common.

* * * *

Nathaniel watched the princess stiffen from across the room. What had Brax said now? He hoped his brother hadn’t been too blunt. Valoria could fend for herself, but she also had a softer, kinder side. She hid her vulnerability from the world, but not from him. He’d glimpsed it when she’d faced Ebonvale’s people for the first time, when she’d leaned over that old, wounded music teacher, and when she’d asked about Brax.

He longed to go to her, but she wasn’t his charge.

“Excuse me, lieutenant, an important matter needs your attention.” Kent, the medic in training, stood beside him still wearing his bloodied apron.

Nathaniel stood, blocking him from the ladies lest he spoil their dinner. “What does it concern?”

Kent wrenched his hands in a ball in front of his chest. “The prisoner. The boy with the red hair.”

Guilt spread through him. He should have interrogated the boy while he had the chance. But Nathaniel couldn’t bring himself to torture someone in such great pain. “Horred’s temple. Is he dead?”

“Not dead, sir. He’s gone.”

“Gone?” A wave of relief passed over him. Why he should care so much about a boy—the enemy—he had no idea. “But, he could hardly breathe.”

“Or so he led us to believe.”

A fork clanged on a glass, and the conversations muted around them as the king stood to speak. Nathaniel ushered Kent to the back of the hall. “Show me the last place you saw him. The gates have been closed for the night, so there’s a chance he’s still in the city.”

“As you wish, lieutenant.” At least a little color had returned to the young man’s face.

“Do not fret. We will make this right.” Before he left, Nathaniel glanced back at Valoria. She met his gaze with a questioning raise of her brow. Her eyes held a flicker of desperation. Could he leave her?

He had to. She was his no more than the claim to the throne. If he were wise, he’d do his duty without any more thoughts of her. Resolve hardening inside him, Nathaniel turned from the dinner and followed Kent into the corridor beyond. He found two soldiers guarding the entryway and dispatched them to gather the others off duty and search the thoroughfares.

“Why did you not bring this to Commander Brax’s attention?” Nathaniel whispered as they exited the temple and walked across the city square.

“The Commander seemed busy at the moment with his intended. Besides, I know you will find a way to…soften the blow.”

No one wanted to be the target of Brax’s fury. But, Nathaniel couldn’t keep his superior ill-informed for long. “If we find the prisoner, I may not need to.”

A light bell chimed as they entered the apothecary’s shop. They walked past the shelves of medicines and hanging, dried herbs to the barn in the back. Most of the patients slept wrapped in white sheets and thick bandages. The older man Valoria had attended to sat propped on a pillow reading a scroll of parchment by candlelight.

Kent led Nathaniel to the back. “We moved all of the seriously wounded patients here.” He pointed to an empty bed. The cords used to tie the boy’s arms and legs had been cut. “He laid here.”

Nathaniel picked up the broken cord. “He must have stolen a scalpel when the medics weren’t looking.”

Unease stirred in Kent’s gaze. “With the bustle from the influx of minstrels, I couldn’t watch each patient.”

Nathaniel placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. He wasn’t much older than the boy who’d run away. A mistake this early in his career would send him back to the farms where he’d come from. “No one will blame you.”

“Commander Braxten will, as he should.” Kent hung his head, looking at the old planks on the floor. “I am supposed to keep track of all medical equipment.”

“Then, I will leave his means of escape in question. It is not important.” Nathaniel scanned the rafters above. The barn had no back door, and every floor plank was in place. A single white dove sat by a cranked window. Even in prime shape, that climb would be difficult.

Nathaniel approached the older minstrel. The candlelight reflected a staff with notes on the parchment. What manner of song did he read? Tragic or sweet? Hopeful or sad?

“My apologies for interrupting, sir.” Nathaniel bowed. “I regret I did not introduce myself earlier. I’m Lieutenant Nathaniel Blueborough.”

The old man glanced above the parchment. “You may call me Echo.”

“Echo.” An honorable name for a minstrel. Nathaniel wished he could learn more about him and his connection to Valoria. But, they had more urgent matters to speak of. “A prisoner has gone missing. He lay back there in the bed in the far right corner. Have you noticed anything unusual?”

Echo rolled the parchment and brought the candle forward. Admiration shone in his eyes. “I remember you now. You saved my life earlier on the battlefield.”

A flash of memory lighted Nathaniel’s mind. Raiders swarmed around him, and he cut through the front line, pushing them back. A voice sang in his head, promising him honor. “One man outnumbered deserves a second chance.” He spoke the words, but they were not his own.

“Eloquently spoken for a soldier.” Echo raised his brow, peering deeper into his soul.

Nathaniel shook his head. “I cannot take credit for my actions. A force pulled me in your direction.”

“Indeed.” Echo looked away in frustration when Nathaniel had expected surprise. “A force I cannot seem to control however much I try.”

The old man gestured toward the empty bed. “The boy was here when the sun set. I woke up a few hours later to the medic’s shouts that he’d disappeared.”

“Then he couldn’t have gone through the front gate.” Nathaniel massaged his chin in thought. “He must be in the city.” He checked over his shoulder. “The boy couldn’t have found many places to hide. Most inns, taverns, and shops are locked after sunset. Patrols march the cobblestone. My guards should have spotted him.”

“What of the back gate?” Echo spoke as if he tempted fate.

Nathaniel gave him a chastising stare, as if silencing a child asking to be told a frightful bedtime story. The minstrels hadn’t been in Ebonvale for decades, but they should know better. “Contrary to rumor, the back gate hasn’t been opened since King Artemis Rubystone’s army returned from their triumph at Sill. In the spring, it floods from the mountain pass. The poor lad would have to slosh through the muck of the moors, not to mention the stories of the voices calling from the mountains, and all of those awful bones of the lost travelers and castle runaways...” He closed his eyes, blocking the thoughts from his mind.

Echo lay back, propping his head on the pillow. “Tradition, superstition, and a little bit of muck may not supersede one’s desire to be free.”

“The gate will be the last place I check.” Nathaniel gave the man a steady glance. “Thank you for your help.”

“I’ll do anything to ensure our kingdoms’ unity. These are trying times.”

“Indeed. With half the countryside a charred ruin and raiders running amok. At least the wyverns haven’t returned. Many thanks to your kind.”

Echo raised his finger. “It was the unity of both kingdoms that defeated them.”

Nathaniel nodded and turned toward the door. Another reason to support Brax’s union with Valoria. “I will never forget.”

Flight

Nathaniel rounded the corner of the apothecary’s shop with a lantern in his hand. The silver rays of the quarter moon barely penetrated the shadows. He knelt down and raised the lantern above the cobblestone. A single drop of blood speckled the amber rock. He touched it with his finger. The blood was cold, but not entirely dry.

Seems the boy had some acting skills. He wasn’t as near to death as he’d led Nathaniel to believe.

Nathaniel checked the area and found another drop on a storage crate in the alley out back. The bloodied path continued through the empty gin kegs behind the Wild Boar Tavern
and stopped at the back door. Unlike most of the village, this tavern stayed open through the dark hours of the night.

A perfect place to hide.

Nathaniel came around the front, not wanting to raise suspicions. Two men stood by the door, chewing black root. They were farmers from the countryside, probably stopping by to drop off their goods and have a drink before the journey back tomorrow. They straightened as he approached, and he waved them back. “At ease.”

“A strange place for a lieutenant on duty.” The younger of the two men called after him with a teasing tone.

Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder. “We are all on duty every heartbeat of our lives.”

The inside of the tavern glowed with golden light from three giant hanging lanterns and a roaring fire in the back. Several men sat at the bar, and most of the tables were taken. Loud conversations provided a din of cheers and shouts.

Barmaids pushed through the crowd with trays of ale, bowls of some sort of thick, brown stew and loaves of bread. No one looked any younger than twenty summers, and nowhere did he see a head of red hair.

Timber sat in the corner by the fire, spooning the thick stew in his mouth and looking off into the distance as if reliving an epic battle from years past. Nathaniel edged his way across the room and sat in the empty chair across from him.

“Seen anything out of the ordinary tonight?”

Timber raised his gray brow in surprise. “I cannot remember the last time I saw you in a tavern, never mind the Wild Boar.”

Nathaniel leaned forward and broke off the end of the loaf on the table. “Necessity dictates my actions.”

“Well, if you’ve come to speak to an old man like me, you are truly desperate.” He raised his mug and drained the last sip. “No one seeks my council these days.”

“Am I no one?” Nathaniel smiled. If King Rubystone had survived the battle at Sill, he’d have sought Timber’s council until his dying day. Bronford Thoridian was too proud to ask, and Brax followed in his father’s footsteps. Perhaps a good old chase would console Timber. Nathaniel pulled his chair closer and lowered his voice. “I need your help. A certain young raider has gone missing, and the trail leads here.”

Timber’s gaze changed from dreamy to alert as he scanned the room. “You don’t say?”

Nathaniel nodded. A barmaid asked him if he wanted anything and he waved her away.

“You should order a drink to keep up appearances, in the least, sir.”

“I do not intend to be here long.”

“That table over there has been here for quite a while.” Timber pointed to a rowdy bunch of young men by the bar. “And that man over there has a friend who hasn’t moved all night. He shields his face with his arm.” Like any great warrior, Timber had been keenly aware of his surroundings and who was in them even though he didn’t show it.

Nathaniel shook his head. “Too burly.” A hooded figure sitting alone in the far corner caught his eye. The man’s frame was slight, his shoulders narrow like a boy who hadn’t completely grown into his own. He gripped his right arm over his stomach, as if nursing a wound. “But over there…”

Nathaniel nodded in his direction, and Timber took the cue, placing his empty bowl on the table by the fire. Together, they approached the lone figure.

Heads turned as they grew closer. Nathaniel placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. He’d rather not draw it out in front of civilians, but he’d wield it if he had to. The figure turned in their direction, revealing a pale cheek, a red curl, and a fearful blue eye. The boy leapt from his seat and startled a barmaid. Her tray toppled, ale glasses breaking on the floor. The boy pushed a man aside and ran toward the door.

“Make way!” Nathaniel shouted. Everyone cleared his path. He bolted toward the door and followed the boy into the darkness.

* * * *

Servants cleared the third course from the table as the first couples took to the dance floor. Unfortunately, it was venison stew, another plate Valoria couldn’t stomach. All she’d had to eat was a roll and a lettuce leaf garnishing the chicken wings of the second course.

“Your minstrels play well.” Brax mentioned it as though they’d trained their whole lives to play background music at a feast.