7
GATHREN DECIDED HER best course of action was to wait until the coast was clear. She told the elf who’d detained her that he was right, of course, that she should not distract Iahir, and that she would simply return to her chamber, hide away, and he let her go.
She did not go back to her chamber, however, but found an alcove out of sight and waited until no one was in the hallway before darting over into that darkened hallway that she’d been directed to before.
Then, quick as she could, as noiselessly as possible, she darted down the hall until she came to a door covered by two kingsguards that she knew from the sparring ring. They were both wide-eyed and worried, hands to their swords, looking this way and that.
They saw her and she knew she could beat both of them in a fight, but that was one-on-one. Two of them against her? Well, she wasn’t sure about that.
She could not convince either of them that she was frightened. They had seen her with Iahir too often to believe that about her. She could think, however, of no good reason to be coming into the king’s private part of the palace except, well, to harm him.
She stood there, breathing, wracking her brain for something to say.
They looked her over, suspicion all over their faces.
“I am…” She must think of something. “Worried,” she suddenly decided. “Yes, worried. About Iahir.”
They raised their eyebrows.
“You have seen him!” she exclaimed, gesturing with one hand in the direction of the sparring ring. “If he is attacked by invading orcs, he may succumb. He needs me.”
They both narrowed their eyes.
She walked towards them. “I’m going in here to find him,” she said.
They didn’t stop her.
She entered through the doors.
And now she was in another hallway, and there were doors everywhere, and there were no other guards anywhere. She supposed this would house a queen, princesses and princes, that sort of thing, if Findas actually had them.
Oh, he had heirs, but the two women who had married him had both died, so there was no queen.
The heirs were older, off on their own, not living here in the palace but instead in their own houses here in the Vale. Two lived right here in Renegahan, the capital, and the other three resided in other regions nearby.
Gathren began opening doors, each of them leading to darkened, empty rooms with bare beds and very little furniture.
She was ducking out of one of them when Iahir appeared out of another door, and there was blood on him, a fine spatter of red dots against his chin his neck and against his white and gold uniform.
She let out a noisy breath.
He looked up and saw her. “You.” He pointed at her. “You didn’t know, did you? You had no idea when the army was coming.”
She swallowed. Truth was, she’d known when the army was supposed to attack, what they had decided on before she left the orc encampment in Bilkwood, but they’d obviously changed their strategy. “I thought I knew. They have been making plans without me, clearly.”
“Maybe because the High Chieftain is worried about his daughter?” said Iahir, advancing on her. “You were so intent that we not send any word at all until the High King was dead, but I think you knew this would happen. I think you did it on purpose.”
She shook her head. “I swear to you, I—”
“No matter,” he said. “You will send word to your father now. You will stop all of this, as you promised, stop the orcs from sacking this palace.”
Right. She nodded. “It may be difficult now that the army has moved. I do not quite know where to send word.”
“Oh, I imagine finding the High Chieftain will not be difficult,” he said. “We’re going to Marthlis now.”
“Is the High King…?” She had come here to verify that, after all.
“Obviously,” said Iahir, offended.
“I’ll just see for myself.” She started for the door he’d come out of.
He stopped her, hands all over in a way that caused her to stiffen.
He had touched her too often, she supposed, and now when he touched her, it made things inside her quiver.
Maybe she’d touched herself too often and thought of him.
She could not say. It was awful, however. “Don’t trust me, warrioress?”
“You obviously don’t trust me, elf lord,” she whispered back, fierce.
He let go and opened the door, gesturing. “Look your fill.”
She moved into the room. The bed was covered in a canopy, and she had to push it aside to see the High King.
But yes, he was very dead. There was a lot of blood.
She hadn’t been expecting that. For some reason, she had thought this would be done bloodlessly—smothering, strangling, something of that nature.
“I had to,” said Iahir’s voice from behind her. “He woke up and struggled. I needed it over.”
“Well done,” she said.
“So,” he said. “To Marthlis.”
She had known they were going to find out she was lying, of course. It was a wonder she hadn’t thought about what they would do to her after they knew it. She had been so intent on the goal, the killing of the High King.
Well.
Now, it was done.
It was strange how it didn’t feel like anything at all. She had thought it would feel like triumph, she supposed. It did not.
“I suppose,” she said. “But you should not leave your post, should you? And if you do, the guards on the door will know that something is amiss.”
Iahir nodded. “Of course.” He tapped his chin, thinking. “We could say that someone else has done this. An assassin, coming in through the window.”
“Climbing up a sheer tower face ten stories up?” said Gathren.
“Not very believable, is it?” He cleared his throat. “He could have had a grappling hook, however, could he not? And I heard the king cry out and I rushed inside, and it was too late to save the king, and then he went right back out the window.”
“Climbed down on a grappling hook and you did nothing to stop him?”
“I threw it off the window and he fell,” said Iahir.
“So we should see his body at the foot of the tower.”
“Well, it’s dark,” said Iahir. “By the time anyone checks, we’ll say he was taken away by orcs.”
“But if I was here, why could we not subdue him together?”
“Why are you here?”
“Because I did not know if you would do it or not.”
“You did not trust me.”
“And you do not trust me.”
“That’s because you lied,” said Iahir. “Deny it.”
“I do,” she said. “Of course I deny it. Of course I did not lie.”
He snorted.
“We’re going to have to fight them,” she said. “We will have to subdue the guards who are on the entrance to this part of the palace. There are two of us, and we can make short work of them. We have been sparring with them for days now. You know we can do it.”
Iahir hesitated.
“You do not want them to know you are a traitor,” she said. “I understand. But that will be known. It is only a question of when.”
He let out a whoosh of air and then nodded. “You’re right, of course.”
“If we surprise them, it will go quicker,” she said.
He grimaced.
“I am sorry, my lord—”
“You’re really not,” he said. “You came here to destroy us.”
“I actually want some kind of world where we can live together,” she said. “But you elves, you do not think of us as worthy of living with, only of conquering and using. So, this was what was going to happen, what was always eventually going to happen.”
He only shook his head.
She strode down the hallway, heading for the doorway.
He caught up to her and stopped her. “Wait. Warrioress, not quite yet.”
“You wish to wait until the advancing force takes the palace?” she said. “You wish to fight our way out against orcs?”
“Better than elves,” he said.
“We don’t have to fight anyone except these two,” she said. “Everyone else will let us pass without stopping us.”
He sighed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
She resumed her walk towards the door.
But when she opened it, no one was there.
“They’ve run off, the cowards,” breathed Iahir in disbelief. “They wouldn’t have. They have sworn to protect the High King with their lives.”
“Well, one thing I’ve noticed being at court for two weeks?” she said. “No one likes the High King.”
“You’re not wrong,” he said. “Anyway, best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Let’s go.”