Poison (7 page)

The soldiers were certainly eyeing the Queen’s Guard with a healthy dislike. The huntsman lay back and breathed hard into the dirt, happy just to have a moment of respite after being dragged so far.

Shadows fell across him and he looked up to see one of the soldiers in blue – an old dog with battle scars cutting across his weather beaten face – standing over him. He reached down and, with one strong tug, pulled the huntsman to his feet. The world spun madly for a moment as the agony in his arms became almost sweet in its exquisiteness, but as it faded to an excruciating throb he was pleased that, although he was swaying, his trembling legs hadn’t failed him. It wasn’t just dwarves who were hardy. The men of the hunt were born tough too and he would not let them down while so far from the forests of home.

‘He killed a white stag. He deserved the ground,’ the captain snarled. ‘He’s the queen’s prisoner. One of ours. You have no right to touch him.’

‘He may well be a traitor, and if so, then I’m sure he’ll pay the price.’ The second soldier remained where he was at the huntsman’s side, defying any of the soldiers in black to knock the prisoner back down again. ‘But our king, the Commander of
all
the guards, queen’s and otherwise, respects bravery in all. This man hasn’t screamed on the road. Not once. We’d have heard him.’ He turned his head and spat into the dusty ground. ‘We normally do. The king would allow him to face his fate on his feet.’

‘The king isn’t here, or haven’t you noticed?’

‘But he will be back. And I still outrank you, little brother.’

‘So you do, Jeremiah, so you do.’

The huntsman looked from one to the other. Even though the captain’s face was mostly covered by the lines of his helmet, he could see the two men had the same eyes. The same chin.

Although the captain still looked defiant, the huntsman knew he would stay on his feet for the rest of the journey. As the gates opened and they left the king’s guard behind, he nodded slightly to Jeremiah. The soldier didn’t respond and the huntsman hadn’t expected him to, but thanks had still been required. He now owed the man a debt, just as he owed the white stag a life.

The city was full of life and energy, as were all the kingdoms this close to their castles. Merchants hurried this way and that with carts laden with cloths and fruit, from side streets came the clang of metal as blacksmiths worked on the ore from the mines and children ran between adults, ignoring the shouted reprimands and laughing as they chased each other. It seemed the city of his kingdom’s enemy was not so very different in spirit to the city of his own. No wonder his father always shook his head and laughed quietly when they heard new stories of war. Their kings might have their battles, but a huntsman could talk to a huntsman and a baker could talk to a baker happily enough no matter what flag they served under.

He walked wearily forward as the small entourage took the centre of the road, no matter if there was someone already in their path or not. As quickly as the pedestrians cleared out of their way, so laughter died as they passed. One man spat in his face as he walked by, the warm thick liquid, rancid with tobacco, stinging the cut on his cheek, even though the man couldn’t know what crime, if any, the huntsman was being dragged in for. As he stepped back the man looked to the guards for approval and then glanced upwards. A small twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his fear.

The ravens perched so still on the rooftops were out of place against the brightness of the wealthy city, filled as it was with ornate buildings and shiny clear glass windows. This kingdom was winning its skirmishes and it had the mines, and therefore plenty of strong metal which so many of the kingdoms lacked. No doubt much of the metal scraped from the heart of the earth made its way to his own alliance. Traders didn’t let wars get in the way of business and kings didn’t let wars get in the way of revenue. There was affluence here. The market squares were lined with pale sandstone and the closer they drew to the white castle at the core of the city, the richer the stones became, glinting with shards of crystal in the sunshine.

He let his hair fall across his face to shade his eyes as he studied the ravens above them. There were too many of them, perched every twenty yards or so on a turret or chimney. They made no noise and their eyes, shining like the tiniest black pearls from the Meridian Sea, darted this way and that. They were watching the activity on the streets below. One met the huntsman’s gaze as he walked beneath it and the bird stared back, coldly fixated. Despite the events of the past months the huntsman still didn’t really understand the politics of cities and princes, but he did know wildlife. This behaviour wasn’t natural. He had no fear of ravens – they had done nothing to deserve their reputation as a bad omen. It was just a bird of a differing feather to a dove. This bird’s feathers though, were decidedly unruffled.

The huntsman dropped his gaze, having seen all he needed. The ravens were enchanted. He was sure of it.

* * *

It felt like they marched up hundreds of stairs before they reached the highest tower of the castle, where the queen was waiting. The huntsman had lost count by the time they got to the top, but as the soldiers’ boots echoed on the black marble floor all the huntsman could see through the arched windows was the sky. A cool breeze, much sharper than the warm wind below, caught him and he shivered. Were they so high they were almost among the clouds? And why would the queen of such a rich land have her throne room so far above her people?

Finally they reached a vast circular room high in the tower. The walls here were as black as the stone beneath their feet, but the solid colour was broken up by patterns and streaks of crimson red, the decoration sharp and jagged like winter branches that had stretched up through the floor, far from wherever their roots might be in the castle below. It looked like unnatural veins on black skin to the huntsman.

In the centre of the room was a solitary throne made of cast black ore and lined with luxurious red velvet cushioning. The huntsman took in a deep breath. Everything here was new. Opulent and impressive as it all was, these had not been the queen’s rooms for long. There were no scents in the crisp and brittle air as if even the summer outside didn’t dare venture in.

At the back, an ornate archway led to a smaller room and as the guards threw him to the floor and he slid forward a few feet, he caught a glimpse of strange objects laid on soft cushions and locked in sparkling glass cases. A shadow fell across his line of sight and behind him the guards stood to attention. The queen had arrived.

Her footsteps were delicate and her stride short as her heeled feet tapped over to stop before him. The huntsman’s dark eyes rose from the cold floor and for a moment his aches and pains were forgotten. She was beautiful. Her hair was like the ice on the sheer walls of the Far Mountain. Her lips were pink hearts from the highest branches of the blossom tree and her eyes were so blue and cold they stung him to look into them. He’d seen winter wolves who looked like that just as spring began to ease the rest of nature’s suffering but start their own. Pure defiance, even though they knew their time to chase the frost to a different kingdom or die had likely come. Winter wolves, so much smaller and more ethereal than their grey rough brothers, were beautiful, delicate and dangerous. This queen was no different.

‘I see you’re still taking orders from your big brother,’ she said, her eyes on the captain.

‘I had to, your Majesty. He’s the senior ranking officer. What else could I do?’

‘You’d do well to remember that the king will not be returning home soon. I’m told his campaign is doing well and he’s pushing towards the sea. He says he might not be back for another two years.’ The soldier shuffled awkwardly under the intensity of her icy gaze.

‘That’s a long time. Terrible things can happen to people – or their families – in that time. The dwarves always need ore sorters, and sadly, as we all know, only dwarves’ lungs can cope with the dust for very long. If you feel uncomfortable serving in my guard then I’m sure I can find a use for you elsewhere, Captain Cricket. And remember, in his absence, I am the voice of the king himself.’

‘It won’t happen again, your Majesty.’ The captain quickly tugged open the huntsman’s rough hemp bag. ‘The prisoner had these on him. I thought you might want them.’

The diamond slippers. Of course. The huntsman watched as the queen’s irritation with her servant vanished at the sight of the sparkling shoes. As the light hit them and refracted, all the colours in the rainbow dazzled in their surfaces. The queen’s beautiful eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. He knew why. The slippers were warm to the touch. They tingled with charm and charisma. He’d felt it when he’d taken them from that very different kingdom, and he’d heard their story since. There was more than precious stones in their making.

‘Slippers for a ball,’ the queen whispered. ‘And with such magic in them.’ She looked down at the huntsman again, this time with far more curiosity. ‘And he killed a white stag?’

‘In the heart of the forest. I ordered my men to throw it into Ender’s Pit.’

‘Not a fitting burial for such a beast. But at least no peasant will eat it.’

The huntsman could smell the relief in the sharp tang of the captain’s sweat, but it was overwhelmed by the warmth radiating from the queen’s skin. How could someone so cold on the surface have so much heat inside her? His own heart beat faster. He was a huntsman, after all, and proximity to danger always excited him. How old was she, this queen? Younger than him, for sure. He met her gaze.

‘You can leave us,’ she said, still not looking up at her men. They didn’t protest, and the huntsman wondered what kind of weapons this delicate beauty had in her arsenal that made her men sure they could leave her with a killer and she’d be safe. Magic, it had to be. He’d learned a lot about magic in the past few weeks – it was more powerful than any blade. Not that he had a blade. Even if he did, he’d find it hard to use on this exquisite creature.

As the soldiers left he got to his feet, regardless of a lack of permission. The queen didn’t comment, merely studied him as he rose. He stood several inches taller than her but she didn’t step back. She was not afraid of him, that was for sure.

‘Where did you get these?’ She held up the slippers and the sunshine they reflected danced across her flawless face.

‘I earned them.’ It was the truth in a way. She was watching him thoughtfully and he examined her in turn. She was even younger than he’d thought, a second wife to the king perhaps. How did she like that? Was it the cause of the hardness in her eyes

‘The words of many a thief. They have magic in them. Did you know that?’

‘I don’t hold with magic.’

‘I can see that. If you did you wouldn’t have killed my stag.’

‘It was the forest’s stag, not yours,’ the huntsman said. ‘We’re all just beasts. We all breathe. No one creature is more valuable than another.’ He paused, the memory of the stag still fresh. ‘And no death must be wasted.’

‘All life is equal,’ she finished, stealing his unspoken words from him. ‘All death is equal.’ She smiled at his surprise, her white teeth small and perfect. ‘We had tribes of huntsmen like you in my homeland. Men who lived by the code.’ She took a step closer to him and his heart beat faster. Could she sense his rising excitement? What game was she playing with him?

‘What about your own life?’ she asked, looking up at him and standing so near that he could feel her warm breath on his skin. ‘Are you so casual about that?’

‘That one,’ he smiled, ‘I have to say, I am more careful with than others’.’

‘That tends to be the case.’ She held up the slippers. ‘I shall keep these for now.’

‘The words of many a thief.’ The atmosphere between them was charged and the huntsman’s blood rushed hot through his body. The ache in his muscles was almost forgotten.

‘You should watch your mouth.’

‘If I’m going to die I’m not sure what difference my words could make.’

‘I was going to offer you a deal.’ This time she did take a step back and he saw the slightest shift in her posture as her spine stiffened. She was the queen again. What was she hiding? Why were there so many layers of defences around the queen in the clouds?

‘What kind of deal?’

‘The kind where you do as you’re told and you get to keep your life.’ Her mouth twisted; tight with bitterness. ‘But it does involve taking another one. Something you seem to be adept at.’

‘But you have a whole guard for that.’

‘There are some lengths,’ she turned away from him and moved towards the window, ‘that I wouldn’t ask my men to go to. For some tasks, you need an outsider. I also want it done cleanly and with respect.’ She didn’t look at him as she spoke, her voice dropping until he had to strain to hear her.

‘She hasn’t been in the castle much. Not for a while. Not since I banished the dwarves from the inner city and replaced her maids with some of my own. Now she comes in late at night and goes out in the early morning. I hear whispers about her, though. Helping the poor, riding through the streets and distributing her father’s alms. The kindest, the most gracious, fairest princess in all the kingdoms. That’s what they say. They’re running out of superlatives.’

The huntsman wondered how much she was talking to him and how much to herself. She was lost in her own thoughts, and as the light caught her face for a moment he thought he saw another animal beneath her cool surface. A rare creature, one who had been hidden so long that perhaps she’d forgotten that she even existed. He felt himself stir despite his torn muscles and aching body.

‘She’ll be in the forest somewhere. I hear that’s where she spends her days.’

‘You seem to hear a lot for someone who prefers the top of a tower to having the warm grass beneath her feet.’ He moved closer until he was standing only a foot or so behind her.

‘I have eyes everywhere,’ she said. He thought of the ravens sitting so still on the rooftops. Ethereally beautiful she might be, but she was damaged and dangerous. He wanted her, he couldn’t deny that, but this would be no conquest. There would be no love in it. Not from her.