Chapter 79 James
James
It had been one of the most grueling ordeals of his existence getting Lestara to Verwyrd, and James had never felt more anxiety in his life than he did watching her ride alone across the bridge.
Everything he cared about rested in the hands of a woman he had no reason to trust beyond the fact that they shared an enemy.
The type of hate that Lestara felt for Alexandra was not the sort that could be feigned, but more than anything, she feared the dowager queen.
Lestara was Cardiffian. Her reputation was dark beyond measure.
But worst of all, Lestara was of Edward’s choosing, and that was something Alexandra would never tolerate.
“I’m only safe as long as I’m pregnant,” Lestara had told him time and again on the journey, pressing her hand protectively to her stomach. “She won’t harm William’s son. But once he’s born…”
Hate, James could trust. Fear, he could trust. Yet as days passed and the Sky Palace remained silent, it became clear to him that he’d put his trust in the wrong place. Either Lestara had betrayed him or Alexandra had stymied her, but regardless, Ahnna and Ithicana still stood on a knife’s edge.
Which meant he needed to find a way to speak to William himself.
Georgie trotted his horse out of the gates, heading into Verwyrd, passing James where he stood hidden in the shadows.
James took in his old friend’s expression, which was as grim as he’d ever seen it.
Shadows of exhaustion darkened the skin beneath Georgie’s eyes, and his cheeks were hollow, as though he’d gone weeks or longer eating not quite enough food.
Alexandra’s schemes had taken a toll on everyone, even if no one knew she was the one to blame.
With his hood up, James followed Georgie through the streets of Verwyrd to the large home belonging to the Cavendish family. His father, the Earl of Elgin, rarely left their estates in the north due to poor health, so the only other people likely to be here were the servants.
James climbed the stone fence, dropping to the soft turf right as Georgie dismounted his horse and led the gelding into the stables. Glancing around the shadowed yard to ensure no one was watching, James followed his friend inside.
“Boy!” George shouted. “Boy, where are you?”
James rested a hand on Georgie’s back. “Give the stable boy the night off, will you?”
His friend jumped as though he’d been stung by a bee, his horse sidling sideways. Georgie reached for his sword, only to freeze at the sight of James’s face. “Jamie? Good God, everyone thinks you’re dead!”
“Let’s keep it that way.”
Boots pattered against stone, and Georgie shoved James into a stall before the stable boy appeared. “There you are, lad. Here’s a silver to go buy yourself a drink with the other boys.”
“You don’t want me to stable your horse first, my lord?” the boy asked.
“No, you go on. I need some good honest labor to clear my head tonight.”
The boy was silent for a long moment, which was fair given that Georgie was not one for menial tasks, but then he said, “My thanks, my lord. God bless you and King William!”
“God bless,” Georgie muttered, watching the boy disappear and then stepping into the stall where James was hidden. “Where have you bloody been, Jamie? Everyone thinks that you were killed in the Blackreaches after you went running off alone like a madman.”
It seemed that, for better or worse, Lestara had kept the truth that he was alive close.
“I was captured by the Beast,” James replied. “Imprisoned in the Furnace.”
“My God!” Georgie gave a slow shake of his head, and then his eyes brightened. “It was you who killed that one-balled menace, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, during my escape.”
“But where have you been since? You’ve been gone for a long time.”
James’s throat tightened on the truth. Admitting anything felt like a risk, but Georgie had been his best friend his entire life.
They’d fought at each other’s backs in countless battles, spent endless hours in the worst conditions in the Lowlands together, and Georgie had always had his back.
He trusted Georgie with his life, but more than that, James needed allies who had sway in Harendell, and the Cavendishes were the most powerful family after the Ashfords.
No one would ignore Georgie—they couldn’t afford to.
“Alexandra killed my father,” he forced himself to say. “My mother as well. Ahnna is innocent.”
His friend’s expression tightened. “They say the women of Cardiff are witches, but Ahnna Kertell makes me question whether Ithicana has a better claim to the title. You saw her with the bloody knife in her hand, and yet now you believe her innocent?”
“It wasn’t her.” James gripped his friend’s shoulders. “Alexandra orchestrated my father’s murder and framed Ahnna, and that’s only the beginning of what she’s done.”
“Says who? Ahnna? God, Jamie, she must be a sorceress in bed to make you believe this bullshit.”
“Katarina confirmed it and more before she locked me in her prison.”
George shook his head in disgust. “Right. You want me to take the word of the Crimson Widow, and that Ithicanian whore—”
“Don’t call her that.”
James’s grip tightened to the point Georgie winced and said, “Fine. But I need an explanation. A full explanation, mind you, because a lot has happened in your absence.”
“There’s no time. I need your help,” James said. “I need to speak with William without Alexandra knowing, and I need you there to witness.”
“You want me to help you accuse Alexandra of murder?”
“Yes.” James ran a gloved hand over his head, relieved to have his friend on his side. “If you’re there, he’ll have to listen.”
Georgie huffed out a breath. “Or he’ll just cut my head off.
” When James’s lips parted to say that was highly unlikely, his friend interrupted him with a wave of the hand.
“Yes, yes. I know he won’t do that, but I also don’t think that he’ll turn on Alexandra so easily.
He’s a mummy’s boy, Jamie. Always has been and always will be.
We need hard proof if you want anyone to believe that Alexandra stabbed herself three goddamned times in order to frame Ahnna for the king’s murder. Who stabs themselves? That’s madness!”
James grimaced, because that was precisely why Alexandra’s actions had worked so well on him.
“She didn’t kill my father herself, Georgie.
For one, I don’t think she’s strong enough to have managed it, and two, she’d have been covered in blood, but Ahnna said she wasn’t.
I think Alexandra watched the deed be done, but someone else had to be the knifeman.
If we can find him, or her, and get them to confess, that will be our proof.
You have the lists of people in the Sky Palace that night. ”
George gave a soft snort and then began unsaddling his horse. “Long, long lists, Jamie. And short of torture, no one is going to confess to killing the king. I believe you, truly I do. But I’m afraid that if we push this, Alexandra will only find a way to put us both in the ground.”
James stepped out of the stall, making room for Georgie, and then followed his friend down the hallway to the tack room.
“Honestly,” Georgie said, putting the saddle on a rack and then hanging up the bridle, “part of me questions whether you’re better off walking away from this. Go somewhere no one knows your name and live a good life.”
Anger filled James’s chest. He’d come prepared for his friend not to believe him, but he was not prepared for apathy.
“How can you suggest that? How can you stand there and say that I’m better off disappearing rather than seeing my father’s murderer brought to justice?
Not just my father, but Virginia’s father. ”
“You think I don’t know that?” Georgie’s cheeks flushed red.
“I’d do anything for Ginny. Anything. But I fail to see how this benefits her.
William has agreed to let me wed her, and she’s already begun planning the wedding.
He’s not going to let the man who condemned his mother marry his sister!
If I do this, I stand to lose a great deal. ”
James clenched his teeth. “So you’ll make a life with Ginny while withholding this truth from her?
You’ll sit down for endless dinners with Alexandra knowing what she has done but not caring, because you got what you wanted?
Ginny would want to know the truth, and she would not hold it against you if you were the one to reveal it. ”
“I need to think about it,” Georgie snapped. “Goddamn it, Jamie. You’ve dropped a mountain of shit on me and you won’t give me but a heartbeat to think before demanding action? Give me a day to decide what I want to do.”
Unease grew in James’s stomach. “What will change in the space of a day?”
“Well, with luck I’ll have come up with the nerve it takes to rip apart all chances of happiness with the love of my life!” Georgie threw up his hands. “If not a day, at least give me an hour and a bottle of whiskey. Be a friend.”
James fought the urge to reach for his sword. “Are we friends, George?”
“Yes.” George gripped his shoulders and squeezed.
“I have your back until the end. I just need a drink to come to terms with what it will cost me. A drink, I might add, that I’d like to have with you.
Let’s head into the house and open my father’s best. You can stay here and get washed up—you both look and smell like you’ve been living rough. ”
There was no one else in Verwyrd who could help him. No one else whom James trusted enough with the truth. If it took a few drinks to get Georgie to commit, it would not kill him.
James allowed Georgie to turn him around and start him down the stable corridor.
Only for a familiar equine head to stick his head over a stall door and whicker at him. “Dippy?”
The gelding tossed his head, and then from the stall next to him, Maven lifted her head and looked through the bars.
Ahnna had asked the fate of her horse when they’d been delivered to the Furnace. Had asked where Dippy had been sent. On his way back to Harendell with James’s mount. Carlo’s voice filled his head. Those who sought your deaths will understand the message.
The horses had been sent to Harendell as a message that James and Ahnna had been captured and killed, but they’d not been sent to Alexandra.
They’d been sent to George.
Memory rushed into James’s mind, revealing the moment when he’d seen George after his father’s murder.
George’s hair had blood crusted in it, and his throat was covered with a crimson spray that had been smeared, as though he’d tried to clean up hastily.
James had believed it Alexandra’s blood, but he now realized his error.
The blood had been his father’s.
James’s hand went to his sword hilt, and he started to draw as he turned.
Only to see a shovel flying toward his head.
James jerked sideways, but the shovel glanced off his temple, pain lancing through his skull as he fell backward. Sparks of light spun in his vision as Georgie lifted the shovel and said as he swung, “I have to say, old friend, Edward put up more of a fight.”