58. Harper
58
Harper gawked at him, still groggy from sleep and a full stomach. The king. But nerves assailed her. She had been arrested, charged with theft, and tortured in this king’s name. And now, Dimitrius wanted her to… what?
As if he could read her thoughts, Dimitrius ceased pacing. “I realise it sounds ludicrous, but this is the only way I see that we can succeed.”
Her chance was slipping away—how could she bargain for her freedom and passage to Caledan if she went along with this? But, if she did not… Aedon had warned her it would be a painful death. Now, she believed him. Perhaps the only win was leaving there alive.
She wrinkled her nose. “So I have to pretend that I work for you, and I found the Dragonheart for the king?”
“Exactly. It won’t be hard.” He looked at her, and with a rush of fear and something she could not name, his voice sounded in her head. “Do not fear. I will be with you the whole time. Anything you do not know the answer to, I can help. Any moment you doubt, take a deep breath and my answer shall be there on your tongue.”
That snatched her breath away, to have him inside her own head—far too intimately close for comfort. Harper swallowed and glanced down at herself, suddenly self-conscious. The squire’s clothing fit decently and was finer than anything she had ever worn before. The pants were made of a charcoal cloth that hugged her legs and tucked neatly into new, stiff, brown leather boots that were only slightly too big for her. A charcoal tunic bearing the royal symbol—a tree, mountain, and stars—dropped to her mid-thighs, the fitted sleeves covering the length of her arms and threatening to spill over her hands.
Emyria had done her level best to tame Harper’s flyaway hair into a neat braid that sat squarely between her shoulder blades, but no matter how much she had tried, Harper felt like she did not belong, and that she was well out of her depth.
The guards waited outside, loitering like crows. Dimitrius had dismissed them, so he could present himself in a more befitting manner to the king. It had bought them time, but no more than scant minutes to dress as best as they could.
“You look fine. Fitting to be in my employ,” Dimitrius said with a smirk, which Harper answered with a glowering scowl.
As she followed him out the door and into the company of the king’s personal guard, she thought she caught the faintest tremble of Dimitrius’s hands as they smoothed down his impeccably tailored tunic. That scared her more than anything else. If he feared the king, what chance did she have?
Seated in full regalia upon the throne at the far end of the vast hall, King Toroth could have been a statue. Harper shivered, and not just due to the frigid cold. A far contrast to the surprising warmth of Dimitrius’s chambers.
Toroth’s face was carved in stone, and the stern, uncompromising harshness in his expression made her even more anxious. Trailing Dimitrius, she forced herself to take one step after another and bowed as he did before the king, halting a respectful distance away.
The king’s booming voice echoed around the empty hall and up into the lofty heights where no light pierced the shadows of the vaulted ceiling. Silent, unmoving guards, who could very well have been empty suits of armour for all she knew, were just as imposing as their master. Harper’s gaze nervously flicked around them all. Unconsciously, she shrank toward Dimitrius, the only semblance of an ally she had.
Toroth spoke in Pelenori, but Harper heard the cutting disdain in his tone and saw Dimitrius’s tall posture wilt slightly at the king’s words. She mentally rehearsed what Dimitrius had instructed her to say.
“What say you, girl?” the king’s voice in Common Tongue cut through her focus and she startled, covering it with a deep bow to the king and remaining there, her eyes upon the floor, as Dimitrius had told her to. “What account can you give of this? Am I to believe what he says?”
“Your Majesty,” Harper said, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. “I am not worthy to address you.”
Toroth clenched his jaw. “And yet I order it of you.”
Harper bowed lower. “I was instructed by Lord Ellarian to infiltrate the company of Aedon, formerly of House Felrian, on grounds that he was suspected to have had involvement in the theft of an item of your esteemed property.”
“Good,” Dimitrius’s soothing voice murmured into her mind. “Keep going.”
“I found that to be true, but not possessing the magical or physical strength to take it by force, I had to ingratiate myself with them until such time as their trust in me allowed me to take the stone from them.”
Toroth’s eyes narrowed. “You do realise, girl, I have an entire army at my disposal. Why did you not report it to me at once?” He looked at Dimitrius. “Raedon and his Wings have been working pointlessly on this. You ought to have informed me at once, so I could have tasked them with more important matters.”
“Forgive me, sire. Aedon has ever been a slippery target, as you well know, and I did not want to give him any reason to spook.”
“So you did know. Are you certain it was not your ego that came between you and your task?” Toroth growled.
“Absolutely not, sire. We gained valuable information into the workings of Aedon, his associates, and their machinations.”
Toroth snorted. “And you invite this peasant into your very chambers? Do you dally with all your spy scum?”
Harper stiffened at the insinuation, but Dimitri remained confident. He flicked his gaze at her and gave her a sideways smile that sent a shiver down her back and stirred something uncomfortable within her. “I do whatever it takes to obtain the information you desire, sire. I would never compromise Pelenor. My chambers are private—no prying ears of your enemies there.”
Toroth bristled. “I have no enemies in my own kingdom. What is this valuable information you obtained?”
“Aedon and his outlaws currently flee the wood elves of Tir-na-Alathea.”
Toroth’s attention sharpened at that. “Those jumped-up feys? Ha!” he barked. “I welcome them to him—to each other. I am still not satisfied that you did not procure it sooner.”
Harper felt the rumble of his anger reverberating through her, but it was directed at Dimitrius, who faced it unflinchingly. She dared a glance at him, but his shadowed face was impassive. Toroth rose from his throne. Around them, the clang of armour sounded. The guards, readying themselves to jump to their king’s command.
“You think yourself better than us all, don’t you, little bastard?” he said in a dangerously quiet, even voice. The spark in his eyes invited Dimitrius to rise to the challenge, even relished it, but he did not.
Toroth’s eyes flicked to hers. Harper immediately dropped her gaze to the floor, holding herself with rigid determination, even though she trembled at his approaching power, the pressure of which she felt in her very bones like an ache of dull pain.
“Not at all, sire,” Dimitrius replied in an even voice. “Bow,” he said into Harper’s mind. They sank low before the king. “I live to serve your wishes, sire. This mission was of the utmost importance, and I did not wish to leave it to chan?—”
“Silence!” snapped the king, then added more in Pelenori that Harper did not understand. She felt Dimitrius stiffen beside her—both of them still locked in a bow—and saw his jaw clench and the flash of his gritted teeth. Dimitrius replied to the king, who prowled around the pair of them. Harper’s heart thundered, until all she could hear was the blood rushing through her own ears and all she could feel was the swooping sickness and trembling of her aching limbs.
At last, the king stopped. “Get out, bastard, and take your alley scum with you.”
Harper struggled to hold in a sudden surge of tears as they left the room. How different he had been than the noble monarch she had pictured. It was not so. Toroth was hard-hearted and rotten to the core. He would not send her home if she asked, and she could not begin to unravel what that meant for her prospects.
It was clear that she did not belong there. The court was a strange machination to her with its own set of rules and goals she could not fathom. For the first time, she felt as insignificant as one snowflake amidst a blizzard.