Chapter Forty-Six
“You should get some rest,” Braden said, the admonishment soft, filled with the type of fatherly affection he probably showed Koen every day.
“We don’t know when the pirates are going to attack,” Silas replied, walking briskly along the wall, conducting a third check of their defenses.
The gate had finally been replaced, the sturdy steel bars prepared to shut and close off the palace at a moment’s notice.
The other entrances onto the palace grounds were either locked or subtly blockaded.
They were still trying not to draw attention to the improved defenses, worried about one of Varro’s spies reporting the changes to the disgraced general and his allies.
“Yes, which is why you need to sleep while you can,” Braden insisted, keeping pace with Silas. “So that you can be awake and alert when they arrive.”
“He’s right, you know,” Langley piped up behind them.
Silas scowled over his shoulder at the guard. “Aren’t you supposed to go unnoticed?”
Langley shrugged unapologetically.
“If you don’t want to sleep, at least eat something,” Braden insisted.
Silas stopped so suddenly that Langley almost ran into him. “Dammit, I forgot about the kitchens.” He turned on his heel and hurried back into the palace.
Even though it was late, Felicity was still working in the kitchens, overseeing a repair crew trying to fix the pipes. They’d stopped spewing water, thankfully, but a small pool remained on the floor.
Silas’s boots splashed through the water as he approached his Head of Staff. “How are the repairs going?”
“They expect to finish within the hour,” Felicity replied. Her curious gaze wandered over Silas’ shoulder, lingering on his father.
She must have started working here after he left. “Felicity, allow me to introduce you to Braden Ellard”—he hesitated before deciding which relationship to claim—“the former king consort.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty,” she said, lowering herself into a proper curtsey, holding her uniform skirts up and away from the water.
“This is Felicity Hayes, my Head of Staff,” Silas explained.
“The pleasure is mine,” Braden replied. “From your uniform alone, I can tell you’re a marked improvement over Niall.” He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially to Silas, “Never did like the man.”
Silas ignored the comment, not quite ready to attempt camaraderie with his father. “Thank you for the progress update. I’ll check in with you again in the morn—”
Clang, clang, clang! The warning bells drowned out the rest of his sentence.
Varro had arrived.
Silas immediately gave Felicity new orders. “Gather any staff remaining in the palace and find a safe place to hide.”
“This is the safest place,” Felicity said, gesturing to the kitchen. On the first floor, in an internal part of the palace, she was probably right.
Silas grimaced at the water. “At least they’ll be safe from another fire. Tell everyone to remain inside until they’re given the All Clear.”
Satisfied that Felicity would do her best to protect the staff, Silas exited the kitchen, his father and guard right beside him.
“Where’s Koen?” he asked. Guilt rolled around in his stomach like a steel ball as he realized he should have asked this question earlier.
He wasn’t used to having a little brother—an heir—underfoot, so hadn’t noticed his absence.
“With Emmaline at the medic’s tents,” Braden said, picking up the pace.
Some of Silas’ tension eased as the ball settled. “Good, that means they’re surrounded by soldiers.”
“Injured soldiers,” Braden replied, his expression grim.
“Even injured Arnsveldian soldiers are deadly,” Langley said, chest puffing out with pride.
“And the medic’s tents are in the middle of the army’s camp,” Silas explained. “So they should be safe there.”
Braden’s expression darkened. “Does Varro know where the camp is?”
“He was imprisoned before it was established,” Silas said. “But any Bellacostans who defected to join him would know. Why?”
“The camp may become a target if he wants to take the Arnsveldians out in one fell-swoop.”
As if Adelaide could hear Braden’s worries, her magic hooked its claws into Silas and yanked him forward. He stumbled at the sudden, persistent pull, before righting himself and breaking into an all-out run.
The sun had already set, casting the courtyard into darkness.
Firelight flickered from a dozen different directions—along the wall as soldiers set up defensive positions; between the outbuildings as people ran back and forth, their lamps bobbing in the twilight; and staked up around the Arnsveldian camp.
Silas spotted Emmaline at the edge of the camp.
She and another woman balanced a man between them, his arm over each of their shoulders.
It looked like he was struggling, trying to pull away from them.
Koen followed awkwardly behind, trying to balance a crutch, a vial, and several bandages in his arms.
As they neared, the man’s complaints grew louder: “Stop treating me like an invalid! I can still fight.”
“You can’t even walk,” the other woman grunted.
Silas recognized Captain Dresden, one of Archer’s soldiers who had been injured during the prison break. Although half the man’s face was bandaged, determination blazed in his visible eye. Unfortunately, one of his legs was splinted and couldn’t support his weight.
“I don’t need to walk—I need someone to get me a damn crossbow so I can shoot the fuckers!”
“Captain!” Langley ran forward to take over as Dresden’s crutch, slipping in on Emmaline’s side and easily taking the captain’s full weight.
“Langley, great timing,” Dresden panted. “Get me to the wall.”
“He doesn’t need to go to the wall!” Emmaline insisted, plunking her hands on her hips. “He needs to get somewhere safe!”
“I’d rather die a soldier than cower as a civilian.”
“How about dying from an infection?”
Ignoring the squabbling group, Braden gestured for Koen to come to him. “Let’s get inside.”
Koen shook his head sharply. “I’m not hiding while everyone else defends the kingdom.”
Braden groaned in exasperation. “You’re fifteen, Koen. There are trained soldiers here—”
“I’m trained too,” Koen insisted, stubbornly lifting his chin. He patted a scabbard at his side, holding either a short sword or a long dagger, Silas couldn’t tell the difference.
“We’re not arguing,” Silas said, raising his voice so everyone could hear him. “We’re all going inside. You too, Em.”
Her eyes widened as she pointed at herself. “Me? But I’m a medic! If someone’s injured, they’ll need my help!”
Silas clasped her shoulders and looked deep into her hazel eyes. “Your mother ordered me to protect you, so that’s what I’m doing. I can’t focus on anything else that needs to be done unless I know you’re safe.”
Em’s eyes watered as she looked back at Silas. “But I …”
“Don’t worry, Your Majesty,” the other woman said, grabbing Em’s hand and entwining their fingers. She laid her head against Emmaline, golden blond curls draping over her shoulder. “I’ll keep her safe.”
Silas’ brow furrowed as he examined the woman. “And who are you?”
“Echo, your disguise,” Emmaline said gently.
“What? Oh, right. I have boobs.” The woman began shimmying out of her frilly blue dress right there in the middle of the courtyard.
Thankfully, she wore tight-fitting pants and a white shirt underneath, as if she often stripped in public.
As soon as the skirt dropped to the ground, their appearance shifted back into the sailor’s androgynous features.
“Hullo, Majesties,” they said, saluting in Silas and his family’s general direction.
Silas blinked, unsure how to handle someone who so casually changed their appearance.
When Valerian had glamoured Penn and Griselda, the magic had been inked into their skin.
The closest Silas had seen to this kind of glamour was when Varro used an amulet to impersonate Silas.
Can I trust Echo when they can so easily change their face?
The warning bells clanged again, drawing Silas’ attention to the wall. Shouting rose all along it as soldiers fired arrows and crossbows toward distant targets.
“Inside!” Silas said, waving for everyone to go in.
Langley had to wrestle Dresden back toward the palace while the man lectured him on disobedience, “I’m still your captain, even if only half of me is left, and I’m ordering you to take me to that gods damned wall!”
Langley ignored the orders like he would a small child throwing a tantrum and hauled Dresden up the stairs.
Emmaline surged toward the wall, but Echo stopped her. They leaned down and scooped her into their arms, running up the palace steps.
“Echo, you put me down right now!”
“Sorry, princess, but Captain’s orders were to follow the king’s orders, and the king’s orders are to take you inside,” they shouted over the noise as they ran up the stairs with her.
Silas cupped a hand around his mouth and shouted, “Take her to the kitchens!” Then he turned back to his father and Koen, the only two who remained.
Koen probably would have run off to join the soldiers if their father didn’t have his arm in a death grip.
“Koen, the kitchens will be full of palace servants and other civilians. If something happens and Varro’s men break into the palace, they’ll need someone to protect them. Can you guard them for me?”
Koen’s lips pursed. “You’re just trying to get rid of me.”
“I’m trying to keep my heir safe,” Silas replied slowly, still getting used to the idea. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong, either.”
Koen heaved a sigh. “All right, I’ll protect them.”
Braden watched Silas for a moment, brow furrowed. “You aren’t coming with us?”
“I have to check in with General Griselda,” he explained. “Go inside with your son.”
Braden grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. “You’re my son too.”
“And I’ve done fine without you so far,” Silas said.