Chapter Twenty-Two
Jet
“Serin!” I roared, swinging the stolen cudgel at someone who lunged toward me, a face twisted in the kind of rage that came with this sort of mob mentality.
I had my sword in its scabbard, not wanting to use that method if not completely necessary. The cudgel allowed me to keep people away, knock them down, knock them out, without doing any major damage.
I doubted anyone would show me the same mercy, not with the clear, bottled-up anger finally bursting out of everyone.
But it didn’t matter.
I just had to find Serin.
She couldn’t be out in this.
People were driven to bloodlust and anarchy.
I watched the women breaking free and fleeing, some of their men running backward, swinging at anyone who lunged toward them as they disappeared into the woods.
My stomach flipped as an arrow whooshed past my ear, lodging in the arm of a man behind me.
My head whipped around, finding the shooter.
Her arms were still raised, an arrow in the bow.
She was older for a competitor, her body honed with thick muscle, her height that of a man, with her short silver hair pushed back from a bloodied face, her keen golden eyes on me.
Another arrow flew.
Right past me.
I heard a howl of pain.
She nodded at me as she nocked another arrow.
“My Prince, you need to get inside the palace,” she called over the chaos all around.
“I’m looking for my wife,” I called back, moving closer to her. “Have you seen her?”
“Left!” she called, taking a step back, arms aiming. But I was faster, cocking back and swinging the cudgel.
“I haven’t. I can look. You get inside.”
“I’m not going without her.”
“Then at least take this absurd crown off your head,” the archer demanded, reaching up to rip it off.
“I need that.”
“And you can get it later if the crowd doesn’t tear you limb from limb,” she said, flinging it up into the tree canopy.
When it didn’t come crashing back down, we both refocused.
“She shouldn’t be hard to find. She’s wearing that absurd gown,” the woman said.
Then, without any more discussion, we moved through the woods, making our way all the way back toward the arena.
My arm and shoulder were screaming from swinging the damn cudgel. And the woman was almost out of bows, despite stopping to grab any one she found along the way—including out of the bodies of people whimpering on the ground.
But there was no sign of Serin.
No prone body.
No tiara.
No ripped pieces of her gown.
Had she made it back to the palace without me?
Just as I decided to go check, though, someone turned, pointed.
“There he is! Get him!”
“Shit,” the archer hissed. “We have to move. Now!”
There was no time to doubt her.
Not as a mob—angry with my father, but willing to punish me in his place—turned and ran toward us.
We tore through the woods with the woman outpacing me, occasionally turning to send an arrow shooting through the air.
“Right. Go right,” she demanded, not even remotely winded, while my chest felt like it was being crushed by a vise.
I didn’t stop to wonder about her directions, about her loyalty, about where the fuck she was taking me.
The fact of the matter was that without her, I would likely be wishing for death.
So I followed half a step behind her as we tore through the woods for what felt like hours.
Slowly, the sounds of the angry mob fell away.
Then it was just our breath and the crunch of twigs and leaves under our feet.
“Through here,” she said before disappearing under a massive weeping willow.
I nearly fell mid-stride as I came to a stop, wondering what kind of magic I’d just encountered.
Because where I should have simply been under a tree’s hanging fronds, I found myself staring at a wide, round door.
Nursery rhymes came back to me, the kinds of silly songs maidservants and nannies hummed or sang absentmindedly around me, likely how they had for their own children.
Do not enter doors unknown.
Never walk crooked paths alone.
In The Green, where wild things grow,
Mind the doors ye do not know.
My stomach tensed as I stood there, wondering if I should enter or simply turn around, making a wide circle, then make my way back to the palace.
I had to find Serin.
There was no time to waste.
I hoped she was already inside, safe.
That Vishen and Nira had found her and were guarding her in my absence.
“You’re free to leave,” the archer said, leaning in the doorway, unburdened by her bow or arrows. “Or you can come in and inspire everyone else to come back with you, so you will be protected on your journey.”
It was likely foolish to believe I could make it back on my own, that there wouldn’t be rogue people all scattered through the woods, ready to take out their resentments toward my father on me.
But I had to get back.
As quickly as possible.
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped through the door.
The inside of the home yawned wide, a massive one-room cottage with a blazing hearth, barracks-style beds, and women seated or standing… everywhere.
“What is this?”
“This is a part of the resistance.”
“The resistance. Against the throne?”
The door was only one step behind me.
But women, built much like the archer herself, flanked either side of it. I had no doubt that they would grab me if they felt they needed to.
“Against the mad king,” the archer explained.
“Who are you?”
The archer smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“The name is Mendalyn. I served in your father’s military for three generations.”
“Until?”
“Until it was clear I was no longer serving a government that served its people, but a man of selfishness and ego, who didn’t care who he hurt so long as he got his way.”
“That about sums up Cass, yeah,” I agreed. “So you left.”
“Well, one simply doesn’t leave,” Mendalyn said. “There was a particularly nasty skirmish on one of the borders. We lost several men. I pretended to be one of them. Then once both bands moved out, I got up. And I got to work on my plan.”
“To take down the king.”
“Perhaps that is more lofty than what I had in mind. But to stand up to him, certainly. For what he did to all of us.”
My gaze toured the room, looking into the faces of the women, seeing the hardness in their eyes, the scars on their skin.
“Where did you find all these women?”
“Freed them from the work camps, mostly. Though, I, um, liberated a few from abusive domestic situations. Brought them here. Trained them. Honed them.”
“Into weapons.”
“Into women who would never have to know the hand of a violent man again,” Mendalyn corrected. “Including those employed by your father.”
“I plan to close those camps.”
“And what would you do with all the prisoners?”
“Reevaluate their crimes, if crimes even exist, and punish accordingly.”
“And those punishments…”
“Would never include the brutalities and indignities I know are happening to the women there now.”
“And the children. And some of the men,” another woman called.
“Children have no place in camps to begin with,” I said, gut twisting at the very idea.
“And what about the military?” Mendalyn asked.
“What about them?”
“How would you handle them, knowing they are guilty of crimes against innocent citizens as well?”
“If that is the case, they will each be questioned and punished as well.”
“You’ll lose a lot of men.”
“Not good men.”
“You will need more protection,” Mendalyn said, chin lifting.
I glanced around the room.
“Seems like your crew might be up for the job.”
“If you prove yourself worthy of us, we would be glad to serve a more just king.”
“If I have any kingdom left after that,” I said, waving a hand back toward the direction of the palace.
“We have some scouts out there,” Mendalyn said. “They will let us know when it’s safe to make our way back.”
“You plan to come with me?” I asked.
“Not all of us, no. Just me and some scouts. Not until your father has been removed from power.”
“Yeah. I think that plan needs to move forward immediately.”
“Maybe you can have your wife help.”
“My wife?”
“Give him the Grimwood treatment,” one of the women said, smirking.
“His face fell right in his plate,” another woman added, getting a few snickers.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, feeling like I was missing an important piece of information.
“The poison,” the first woman said. “She was so slick with it, too.”
“What poison?”
“The poison your wife slipped into her fake-father’s wineglass,” Mendalyn said, brows pinching. “Didn’t you know?”
“Serin wouldn’t… she wouldn’t know how…”
“I bet it was Stillwater,” another woman mused. “A Daughter of the Lake would know all about that.”
No.
She wouldn’t.
Would she?
But then my memory flashed back. To the damn redcaps. To the way they were being carried out on a stretcher, looking as gray and limp as Grimwood had.
If she was working on a little poison project, though, why had she been keeping it from me?
“You know who she is?” I asked.
“I worked for Grimwood when I was a girl,” the woman told me. “I know Gemma. That’s not Gemma.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “Grimwood kidnapped, drugged, and put Serin in Gemma’s place. But she is my wife. And she will be my queen when I take my throne.”
“Well, a queen who will discreetly drug your political enemies certainly seems like an asset.”
“I saw her saving that young girl,” one of the small, young women in the back said from where she was perched on a top bunk.
“Wait. You saw her? Serin?” I asked, hope swelling. “When? Was she hurt?”
“There was blood all over her face, but it wasn’t hers. She was dragging a girl around with her, trying to get her to safety. But things were getting too wild. I fled back here. I didn’t see anything else.”
She’d been spotted, though.
Uninjured.
Well enough to help someone even more vulnerable than herself. That had to count for something. I had to believe that she could get them both back to the palace.
Because the other reality was too unthinkable.
“The other scouts should be back soon,” Mendalyn, seeming to read the direction of my thoughts, assured me. “They will have more information.”
“Would they also have information on Vishen and Nira?”
“Their instructions were to keep a close eye on everyone closely related to the royal family.”
“Do you want us to see to that?” she asked, nodding toward my face.
I reached up, feeling wetness on my cheek.
There’d been a sword. A slice of pain. But then the adrenaline had made me numb to it.
“No, I’m good.”
“Letting it get infected won’t help you get back to your wife any sooner,” a woman with umber skin and a shaved head said as she approached. “Sit,” she demanded as she grabbed a basket full of little glass bottles that clinked together as she set it on a table.
“You look familiar,” I said, but couldn’t place her.
“I worked under your father’s healer when I was a girl. I had long braids back then.”
“Right. Yeah. Whatever happened to you?”
“The healer was treating a nasty wound once. He wasn’t making any progress. The man was going to die. I used a salve I made. He healed within two days. But I got fired for making him look bad. Is he still working for your father?”
“Yes,” I said, watching as she wet a small cloth with one of her tonics and started to clean my face.
“Will he be working for you?”
“If things go to plan, it seems like you might be.”
“Fair warning,” she said, dropping the rag and reaching for a thick salve in a jar, swiping it thickly on her finger. “I’m not for the weak.” She wiped the salve across my cut. It burned like fucking fire. Like when my sister grabbed my neck.
“Not fucking lying,” I said, sucking in a deep breath.
“Nope. But it will heal within a day. And you probably won’t scar.”
Another woman brought me some water as Mendalyn and I started to discuss her ideas for the royal guard and military—similar things to what I’d heard both Vishen and Nira say. Things I agreed with.
Maybe it was naive of me, but I felt better about the potential of having my own guard. It was comforting. Vishen hadn’t had nearly enough time to poke around in the ranks and see who was diehard for my father… and who was loyal to whoever the best ruler was.
These women would help insulate me from any of my father’s military who didn’t want things to change. That felt like the best possible position to be in as we moved through the last, most important, part of this process.
Getting my father off the throne.
By any means necessary.
Sometime later, the door flew open behind me, making me jump to my feet.
There were three women. Two of them supported the one in the center, whose ankle looked twice the size it should be.
“What happened?” the healer asked, rushing forward.
“Tried to avoid a flying arrow. Fell out of the tree.”
“That amount of swelling, it’s most likely broken. Looks like it’s bedrest for you for a few weeks.”
The woman grumbled but let herself be pulled over to a lower bunk.
“How is it out there?” Mendalyn asked.
“Calmer. The wounded dragged themselves out of there. There is still a mob outside the palace, but not enough to be a real threat to the royal guard and military. Though, with how fired up everyone is, I imagine the numbers will grow by morning. It could get rough.”
“So we move now,” Mendalyn said. She walked over to a cabinet that dominated a large chunk of the wall to the side. Inside was every kind of weapon you could imagine. And a shitton of arrows. She took a handful and put them in her quiver. “Ready?” she asked me.
“Yes.”
“Who is coming?” she asked, waiting for women to volunteer and then grab their weapons.
“Well,” Mendalyn said as we stepped out from under the weeping willow. “Let’s go get you your throne.”