Black Hellebore (Wraith Kings)

Excerpt from THE BLADE MAIDEN

Excerpt from

THE BLADE MAIDEN

Blade and Dagger, Book 1

“ Be prepared,” Hadassa warned as she jogged next to Solunada toward the crown princess’s suite of rooms. “The servants are saying Her Unbearableness has been on a tear since word reached her that she wasn’t the only candidate the lim king considered for the position of Royal Consort. I hear she sent one maid to the physicians when she threw her hairbrush at the poor girl.”

Solunada sighed inwardly. This was going to be a long afternoon if Faelde’s behavior was anything to judge by. She prayed whatever tantrum the Crown Princess might be throwing at the moment, she’d wrestle it into submission by the time everyone gathered for the wedding.

They were almost to the princess’s rooms, and Solunada reached for the mask she’d tied to her waist cincher before she and Hadassa had left their rooms. She stopped abruptly when her hand landed on her belt clasp with its collection of small weaponry tied to the ends of thin leather straps. No mask. Her breath rushed over her lips in a tiny wheeze of horror.

A few steps ahead of her, Hadassa pivoted, eyes narrowed. “What? What’s wrong?”

Solunada patted the cincher front to back in the fading hope she’d somehow chosen to tie the mask in a different spot than usual and simply didn’t remember. One clear memory followed on the heels of that thought, along with a shot of panic.

She’d had the mask in her hand, but laid it down on her bed to wind her scarf around her shoulders. As usual, she and Hadassa had been in a hurry to leave. The mask still lay where she left it.

Solunada stared back at her twin’s paling face, certain she looked much the same. “I left my mask in our room.”

Hadassa’s eyes rounded. “Oh bollocks, are you sure?” She didn’t wait for an answer, quickly offering her own mask. “Take mine.”

Solunada backed away as if she’d been handed a live viper. “Are you mad? I’m not going to let you take a backhand because of my stupidity.”

Hadassa shrugged. “We’ve both suffered harder hits in training and lived another day. Her Beastliness always reserves her worst cruelties for subtler revenge. You know that.” She shoved the mask toward her. “Take it.”

“No.” Solunada glanced down the hall behind her, judging the distance to their shared room and the time it would take to get there if she sprinted as if her life depended on it. And in this case, it just might. She held up a hand to forestall further argument from Hadassa. “Go ahead of me. I’ll meet you there. If I’m right, Faelde will only notice any tardiness if we’re not present when it’s time to leave for the presentation chamber.”

She didn’t wait for an answer but turned to race back the way they came, taking endless stairs two at a time before vaulting over the railing to the fourth-floor landing, then taking the narrow corridor toward the small room she shared with her twin.

“The gods have mercy, let it be on the bed” she said between pants, terrified the mask wouldn’t be where she’d remembered leaving it. If it wasn’t, she was doomed to taste Faelde’s displeasure.

She threw the door open, uncaring that it hit the opposite wall with a resounding bang. Were she outside, she would have shouted her triumph at seeing the mask perched on her pillow. She snatched it up by the ribbons and flew out the door, slamming it behind her.

While descending the stairs was easier than climbing them, she risked breaking her neck, leaping the treads three at a time. It took almost no time to reach the third floor, and she began to hope she’d make it to Faelde’s chambers not only on time but even a tiny bit early. That hope faded as quickly as it appeared.

A young maid, hardly out of childhood, squirmed in the grip of a Sunrise guard. The monstrous brute dragged her toward him, undeterred by her struggles or the pewter serving plate she repeatedly bashed against his arm.

None of the elite royal guard had any reason to be in this part of the palace. Their sole purpose was to protect the Usurper. If they weren’t doing that, they were training at Herensuga Mansion. This one wore the uniform of a new recruit. Either he was hopelessly lost or tricked by his seniors into coming here. Whichever it was, he didn’t belong here, harassing palace servants.

“Let go!” the maid yelled, scrabbling to find purchase on the slippery marble floor as she pulled away from her assailant.

Solunada forgot her panic, disregarded the consequences of offending her mistress, and embraced the cold anger settling in her gut. She unwound the scarf she wore, holding onto one end as she swiftly twirled it into a tight rope. The brass beads woven into the fringe at the other end gave a clattering hiss. “Let her be, Sundog.”

Both guard and servant paused, startled by her presence. The girl’s eyes were wide and black with fear that lightened to relief when she saw Solunada. “Blade maiden,” she whispered before renewing her struggles against her captor with even greater fervor.

The Sunrise guard ignored her, focusing instead on the new arrival. His upper lip curled in distaste when his gaze landed on her face. “Aren’t you an ugsome thing.” He tilted his chin toward the stairs. “Move along, girl. This is no business of yours.”

Definitely a new recruit. Every Sunrise guard who’d been on palace grounds for a fortnight knew of or had trained with the Crown Princess’s blade maidens. Solunada took advantage of the thug’s ignorance and continued twirling the scarf, noting how his gaze shifted to the motion, then disregarded it as unimportant. “Let her go,” she repeated. “And return to your commander. You aren’t allowed in this part of the palace.”

The guard snorted out a disbelieving guffaw. “And you’ll be the one to stop me?” He yanked the maid closer, enveloping her in a meaty embrace. She gave a muffled squawk, and continued beating him with the plate.

He swatted it out of her hand. The disk sailed toward Solunada, landing with an ear-ringing clang at her feet. She bent to pick it up with her free hand, hiding a triumphant smile. The time for negotiation was over.

She snapped the scarf toward her opponent’s face—once, twice. The first strike laid a red line of divots across his cheek, the second caught him in the eye. He screamed, let go of his captive, and staggered backward, clutching his face. Solunada leaped forward, grabbed the maid’s hand and yanked her out of reach. “Run,” she ordered.

The girl didn’t have to be told twice. Solunada watched from the corner of one eye as she flew down the stairs and disappeared from view. With any luck, the maid would alert the steward or housekeeper who’d send a contingent of guards to deal with the intruder. Otherwise, Solunada would be stuck here playing warden for who knew how long.

Half-blinded and maddened with pain, the sundog rushed forward, his massive fist raised to bludgeon her. Solunada anticipated the attack, stepped to one side and slung the plate she held. The rolled edge struck her opponent in the neck just above his collarbone with a solid thunk.

His eyes widened, then rolled back as he fell to his knees, before collapsing, unconscious, on the floor. Solunada watched him for a few moments, noting the steady rise and fall of his chest. The hit from the plate hadn’t been hard enough to kill him, but she had no intention of shortening the distance between them to check his breathing. The image of his raised fist flitted across her memory. A single hit from one of those hams would cave in the side of anyone’s face.

Solunada looped her scarf back over her shoulders and nearly jumped out of her skin when a deep voice spoke above and behind her. “Well done, madam.”

She spun around, hand on the hilt of the dagger at her waist. A tall figure stood on the landing above her, leaning casually on the banister. Sunlight filtering in from a nearby window illuminated his features, and she caught her breath.

An Azordian half-lim stood there, watching her. She recognized him as one of the delegation members sent to Stido by King Lucelyn and tasked with overseeing the successful marriage-by-proxy between Lucelyn and the crown princess Faelde.

Solunada had noted this particular delegate during the initial introductions. Imrys ban Arve, or so he’d introduced himself to the Usurper and his daughter. Like all the visiting half-lim, he was striking. Tall, graceful, with refined features that reflected the dual heritage of human and lim. He’d caught Solunada staring at him during the introductions. A tiny smile had curved one corner of his mouth, and she’d looked away, mortified that he’d noticed her regard.

He observed her now, once again wearing that faint smile. Why was he here alone in a part of the palace reserved for the servants?

She didn’t get a chance to ask him. The thunder of numerous feet pounding up the stairs caught her attention, and she breathed a relieved sigh at the sight of one of the Sunrise commanders rushing toward her, a half dozen of his subordinates behind him. When she glanced up, Imrys ban Arve was gone.

Solunada gave the commander a quick explanation of events on the landing, assured him that no, she hadn’t killed his newest recruit—for which he thanked her—and bid him a hurried farewell before tearing down the remainder of the stairs to reach the second floor.

Mayhem greeted her as she navigated an army of servants who hurried in and out of Princess Faelde’s suite. Maids and soldiers alike bustled past her, and Solunada had to squeeze through the wide doorway amidst a mob of jewelers, dressmakers, milliners, and cobblers, all there to assist Her Highness in readying for her wedding.

She paused at the entrance to Faelde’s solar to tie her mask in place. Here, the noise wasn’t so deafening, but the frenetic sense of controlled chaos had increased. Her Highness, dressed in an embroidered night rail and silk robe, sat amidst it all, her vanity stool as much a throne as the one in the presentation chamber. A cadre of maids hovered around her. Her personal maid, Venosha, frowned in concentration as she applied cosmetics to her mistress’s face. Another maid wove intricate braids into Faelde’s upswept hair, while a third massaged her feet with scented oil poured from a slender bottle.

A dressmaker’s effigy stood nearby, garbed in the gown the princess would wear for the wedding. It was a spectacular creation of silk dyed in graduating shades of purple from darkest indigo to palest lavender and sparkled from the thousands of priceless gems no bigger than a hummingbird’s eye sewn into the silk by a battalion of seamstresses—most of whom now swarmed the gown like agitated bees for last-moment tailoring.

Solunada spotted her twin standing sentinel in one corner of the room. The mask Hadassa wore didn’t conceal the sneer lifting her lip as she watched the preparations. The sneer melted away, and her shoulders relaxed when she spotted Solunada in the doorway.

Faelde’s eyes were closed while Venosha dusted her face with a fine powder. The princess didn’t see Solunada traverse the room’s perimeter.

“Watch your expression,” Solunada whispered once she stood beside Hadassa. “I could see you sneering from the doorway.”

Hadassa gave an indignant snort. “Mind your own house. What took you so long? I thought you knew where you left your mask?”

“It was hidden in the bed linens.” A small lie, but Solunada wasn’t in the mood for her twin’s admonishments if she revealed the true reason for her delay.

“You must be more rattled by this marriage than I thought if you’re forgetting and losing things.” Hadassa squeezed her arm. “The Azordian lim are just a bunch of jumped-up toadies with pointy ears, a little magic, and no sense of survival if one of them is actually willing to marry Faelde. Stop fretting.”

“Maybe, but they’re toadies who’ve earned the trust of a king the Usurper wants as an in-law and a trade partner. If any of us ruin Faelde’s chances of becoming Lucelyn’s bride, we’ll pay for it with our lives.” The idea of such a catastrophic mistake—and the resulting consequences—made her insides twist. “Of course I’m fretting. You should be as well.”

Hadassa remained unconvinced. “Short of letting some blessed soul kill her, what mistake could we possibly make to affect the outcome? We’re merely blade maidens assigned to protect Her Wretchedness. This is all about her beauty and connection to the throne. We’re of no consequence.”

“I notice you didn’t mention her charm.”

“Did you miss the part where I called her Her Wretchedness? I might doubt your doomsaying, but I’m not delusional about Faelde’s character.”

Solunada coughed behind her hand to hide her laughter and risked a glance at Faelde. The princess sat quiet beneath Venosha’s ministrations, eyes closed while the maid applied rouge to her lips. “Is she still attacking people with hairbrushes?”

“No, but the day isn’t over.”

Everyone who served in the palace knew of Faelde’s violent temper. The lucky ones only heard about it from the gossip mill. The unlucky experienced it firsthand. Both Solunada and Hadassa bore permanent reminders of their mistress’s rages. Those who looked upon Solunada’s face without the mask shuddered and prayed to the gods they’d never have to suffer the same fate at the hands of the Usurper’s daughter.

The crown princess had once been a sweet child of jovial temperament and affectionate nature, even with a father whose coldness was renowned throughout court. When she turned eight something profound changed, and the smiling girl had disappeared overnight to be replaced by a stranger as frigid as her sire and just as ruthless. More than a decade later, Solunada still missed that gentler child and wondered what darkness had so suddenly possessed her.

As if Faelde heard Solunada’s thoughts, her eyes opened, and her gaze landed unerringly on the twins in their corner. Her slender finger crooked. “Maidens,” she said. “Attend.”

“Here we go,” Solunada murmured to her sister. Nothing good ever came from being the focus of Faelde’s attention.