Chapter 47
“How long will that hold,” Ro asked without taking her eyes off of Beatryce and her traitorous crew. Her Silversmith dagger had finally begun to cool.
Uldamar’s voice rumbled through the great hall, weary but resolute. “The immobilization spell will hold for some time. Long enough to decide what mercy, if any, you will grant your attackers.”
She gave a nod. “Gabriel, get more guards in here to watch them. If they so much as twitch, you have my permission to treat them as hostile and do whatever needs to be done to further subdue them.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened as he nodded. “Yes, my lady.”
In looking at him, she realized he’d been injured. Blood soaked the sleeve of his tunic where he’d been cut during the chaos. As much as she wanted to rush to him and be sure he was okay, she wouldn’t do that to him in front of their enemies.
He lifted his uninjured arm and bellowed, “Guards! To the queen!”
Booted footsteps rumbled from the corridor. A dozen royal guards poured into the great hall. Their faces were hard, swords drawn.
The air crackled with the aftershocks of Uldamar’s magic; faint sparks drifted like dying fireflies above the checkerboard floor.
“Surround them,” Gabriel ordered, voice steady despite the pain of his injury etching lines around his eyes. “Keep ten feet back. Watch all of them. If any of them so much as flex a finger, you subdue them. Lethal force authorized on the queen’s word.”
The guards moved like they’d drilled for this exact situation, and knowing Gabriel, they probably had.
Two positioned themselves directly in front of Beatryce, whose eyes blazed with pure hatred even though the rest of her body remained frozen.
Beside her, the sylphnoct was also suspended, her clawed hands outstretched. Her ember-bright eyes tracked Ro with predatory focus.
Dren, the broad-shouldered troll prince, had been caught with his sword nearly unsheathed, his teeth bared in a snarl.
And then there was the remaining lady’s maid, if that’s what she really was. Regardless, she looked terrified. As though she was regretting she’d even woken up that day.
Ro’s stomach turned as she took them in. The crown of Malveaux had attempted to kill her. Again. She’d invited diplomacy and gotten daggers in return. Again.
But this was the last time.
She turned to the three men who had stood with her through the fight. “Gabriel, Uldamar, Spencer—with me, please. Now.”
Spencer winced as he pressed a handkerchief to his split lip.
Blood soaked through the linen. Uldamar sighed heavily as he nodded, the ancient wizard’s shoulders rounded with obvious exhaustion.
Gabriel fell in beside her without hesitation, his good hand hovering near the small of her back as if he might need to shield her from the next threat.
They slipped into the corridor. A footman immediately joined them. Gabriel directed them through a door across the way. The footman opened it and stepped back to let them into a large room with several seating areas.
The footman came in and closed the door for them. Another peal of thunder rang out, but it seemed farther away. The storm was moving.
Ro exhaled, the weight of her responsibilities suddenly heavier than they had been an hour ago. Her shoulders ached with the tension of the moments just passed, a reminder of her age, maybe. “Sit. All of you. Gabriel, let me have a look at that wound.”
Gabriel lowered himself into a carved chair with a grunt, carefully peeling back his torn sleeve to show her the gash in his wrist gauntlet. The cut beneath was ugly, deep enough that she could see muscle. “It’s nothing, my lady. I’ve had worse.”
“That’s a cheery thought, but it’s not nothing,” Ro said. She motioned to the footman. “Fetch me a basin of water and clean cloths. And get a healer or doctor in here right away, whoever’s available soonest.”
“Yes, your highness.” He took off to do as she’d asked.
She went to check on First Professor of History next. “Spencer, let me see your face.”
The professor moved the handkerchief out of the way and lifted his chin. “I can’t believe a shadow had that kind of power. Feels like half my teeth are loose, but I’ll live.”
“I’m sure you will, but some cleaning and a little salve would probably help that.”
Uldamar had taken a seat on the couch, hands on his knees.
His face was the color of old parchment.
“The spell took more effort than I anticipated, your highness. The sylphnoct fought harder than expected. She is incredibly powerful. I’m fine, but I will need rest soon, or my magic might become… unreliable.”
“I understand,” Ro said. “How’s your knee? You went down on it pretty hard.”
“I will be fine. I am old but I am not infirm.”
She gave him a quick smile. “I plan to have those four in custody very soon. I just wanted to see to the three of you first before you unfreeze them. Is there something we can do to bind the sylphnoct’s powers?”
Uldamar nodded. “I’m sure there is, but it’ll take some time. I’m not as familiar with such magic as I should be.”
“You managed to get Raphaela and I into Sparrow’s dream without too much fuss,” Gabriel said.
“Different sort of magic,” Uldamar said. “I need to research the sylphnoct, see what their weaknesses are.” He took a breath and looked at Gabriel. “I don’t suppose your library has any Grym books of magic?”
Gabriel shook his head.
Ro held up a finger. “We have something better. Someone better. Nazyr.”
“Ah, yes.” Uldamar chuckled. “In the chaos, I’d completely forgotten that he was here at Starfall. He should be able to help us.”
The footman returned with the basin of water and several clean cloths draped over his arm. He set them on the nearest table. “A healer is on his way, your highness.”
“Excellent. I have another errand for you,” Ro said. “Please bring Nazyr here. You’ll find him either in the gardens or the gardener’s cottage.”
“Yes, your highness.” Again, the footman set off.
Ro went to work unlacing Gabriel’s gauntlet, then started cleaning the wound. Besides the deep cut, there were burn marks on his skin.
The sight of it made her chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the severity of the wound and everything to do with the man who had thrown himself between her and the Malveauxian threat. “Gabriel, this is going to need stitches. As soon as the healer gets here, you’re first up.”
“I’d rather you do it,” Gabriel said quietly, his dark eyes meeting hers. There was something softer in his gaze now, the kind of look that still caught her off guard after everything they’d been through. “It would be faster. And I trust your hands.”
She almost laughed. But the moment was too dear. “Maybe, but I don’t think I trust myself to stitch you up. And I can guarantee my work would leave a scar.”
Thankfully, the healer arrived a minute later. A man who looked more like a farmer than a healer.
He bowed to Ro. “Your highness. I am Rolf Hedgewood. You have need of a medic?”
“We do. Thank you for coming.” She gestured at Gabriel. “I think he’s going to need stitches.” Then she nodded at Spencer. “And he’s got a split lip.”
Rolf headed for Gabriel immediately. “I’ll see to them.”
As he worked, Ro felt an unspoken conversation building in the room. Glances were exchanged, but it wasn’t until Rolf left that anyone said anything.
Spencer spoke, voice slightly off from his swollen mouth. “What now, my lady? I wasn’t at Tenebrae, but this seems worse. The queen of Malveaux, a troll prince, and a sylphnoct assassin? There’s no way to describe what happened here as anything but an act of war.”
Uldamar had appeared to be sleeping, but he opened his eyes. “There are some who will push for executions. At least public trials. I don’t believe I’m alone in suggesting a show of strength is needed.”
Gabriel was inspecting the work Rolf had done. He looked up. “I agree.”
“Don’t worry,” Ro said. “So do I. I’ve already said this ridiculous situation would end today. I’m not going back on that.”
The weight of every decision she’d made since pulling that sword from the stone pressed down on her.
She was tired of feeling like she had to constantly look over her shoulder.
Sometimes, she missed the version of her life where the biggest crisis was running out of half-and-half for her morning coffee.
But that woman wasn’t here anymore. That life wasn’t here anymore.
She looked at each of them and spoke the truth that had crystallized the moment she saw Beatryce’s frozen snarl.
“I have only one option that doesn’t turn me into the monster Anyka already paints me to be.
” Her voice stayed steady, even if her heart was heavy.
“Beatryce and the sylphnoct go to Tenebrae. Immediate transport under heavy guard. No trial because that would just waste time and money and give them too many chances to escape. They will be exiled to the prison island. Let them spend some time with no other companions than the darkness they serve. Let’s see how that works out for them. ”
Spencer’s eyebrows rose, but he nodded as if considering it. “Tenebrae is not a place anyone returns from unchanged.”
“Good,” Ro said. “They wanted shadows and darkness, they can have them.”
She turned to the window. The gray skies and stormy weather suited her mood.
“Dren and the other lady’s maid will be transported back to Castle Clarion.
Secure cells, obviously. No visitors, no messages, just isolation.
I want them alive and unharmed. But they will go to trial, let me be clear about that. ”
Gabriel’s expression sharpened with understanding. “You’re going to use them as leverage.”
Ro nodded as she looked at him. “The trolls have yet to respond. Not one word since I sent the invitation to parley. But the moment word reaches Stoneholde that their prince is in our custody?”
She gave a small, tired smile. “I anticipate it will motivate them to answer me. Maybe even enough to seriously reconsider their Malveauxian alliance.”
Uldamar let out a low chuckle that turned into a cough. “With all respect, that is ruthless, Your Highness. And wise. The trolls value blood and strength above all. Holding their prince hostage may be just the thing to show them you’re as formidable a leader as any other.”
Spencer dabbed at his lip again, nodding slowly. “And the people will see mercy and justice when you could have easily chosen vengeance.”
Ro rolled her shoulders to ease the ache that had settled between them.
“I’m trying to choose survival. For myself and Summerton.
And really for Malveaux, too. The Grym crown is cracked.
Destroyed by Anyka and now Beatryce. If that kingdom is going to survive, it will need serious change.
And a ruler who understands that, along with the need for peace.
If they try to hold onto the old ways…I won’t allow it. ”
She looked at Gabriel, letting her gaze linger a heartbeat longer than necessary. “They will have to understand that. This will be done the right way. My way. Or they will lose everything.”
The sitting room fell quiet except for the soft tapping of rain on the windows. Outside, the wind stirred the trees and, in the distance, thunder murmured. Ro’s hand came to rest on Merediem’s hilt. It felt heavier than it had when she’d put it on this morning.
She straightened. “Spencer, I know it’s not technically your job, but would you see that the transport orders for Beatryce and the sylphnoct are written up? I’ll sign them as soon as they’re ready.”
“Right away, your highness.”
“Thank you. Uldamar, I want you back in your quarters as soon as possible for a proper rest, not just a nap in a chair. And ice that knee, if you need to.”
A weary smile bent his mouth. “I would never ignore such orders, my lady.”
That made her smile, too. “Gabriel…” She met his eyes again, her voice softening with concern and care. “You and I will handle the rest as quickly as possible so that you can be done, too.”
He gave her the ghost of a smile, one that made her stomach do a silly little flip and got to his feet. “As my queen commands.”
Ro stared in the direction of the great hall, the weight of the decision settling into her bones like it belonged there.
Nazyr came into the room, accompanied by a royal guard. He bowed. “Your highness.”
She faced him. “Do you know how to contain a sylphnoct’s magic? She’s also able to control shadows and I need to remove that threat.”
He paled. “Is it Grylan’s sister? Doesn’t matter. Yes, your highness. Have your dreams been plagued?”
“My dreams are fine,” Ro answered. “I’m talking about making sure she doesn’t unleash any magic against anyone, especially the guards who will be transporting her to Tenebrae.”
“A temporary spell will be fine,” Uldamar offered. “Tenebrae has cells designed especially for magically capable prisoners. They learned their lesson after Lady Cynzia escaped.”
Nazyr’s brows knit further together. “There is a spell I know, but I would also require iron shackles and, unfortunately, some Grym blood.”
Gabriel snorted. “I’ve got plenty of that. And I’m sure we can find those shackles.”
Ro nodded. “Then let’s get to work.”