During all those lost years in the tower, I believed myself alone. But I wasn’t, was I? Rygard was with me.
“Your prayers worked, Molly. Thank you for them.” As gracefully as possible, I pry my hands from hers. “I’m sorry my absence brought such pain to this kingdom.”
“No, Your Highness, your return is marvelous in our eyes.” The whisper of swords slipping from their sheaths sounds around us when she wraps her arms around me,
Devan and Roland jump forward again to protect me, but between me waving them back and Sir Walter’s barked command for them to stand down, they lower their weapons and back away.
Molly squeezes the breath out of me. “Save us.” Her rasp against my ear is so fast and low that I almost miss it. Then she shuffles away from me with her head bowed again. “When my sons return from the stable, I’ll have them bring a bath to your room.” Now that I’ve seen how young her sons are and how feeble she and the old man are, I attempt to protest. “No, Ma’am, please. Allow us the honor of extending every hospitality to you. Please, sit. I have stew brewing.” She waves over the elderly man. “Uncle, make sure our esteemed guests’ rooms are ready.”
The white-haired man unsticks himself from the floor. Stops and bows as he passes me but refuses to acknowledge the soldiers as he ambles toward the stairs. It’s an arduous trek to the second story for him, and I feel awful that he’s about the task, but I hold my tongue as Molly ladles steaming stew into the bowls. Her hands are steady when she places one in front of me. I offer the kind woman my heartfelt gratitude. Those same hands shake when she presents the food to the soldiers, although Sir Walter mutters his appreciation.
Molly’s panic is palpable. As if this fragile calm will shatter and erupt into violence. When her sons return, she orders them to fill a tub with hot water for me. I swear she puts them to this task solely to keep them away from the soldiers.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Out of the grave.
Although I could easily eat another bowl of stew, I refrain. I also stop myself from asking Molly about her husband, assuming he died during the raid on this town. It’s as safe a guess as any.
After we finish our meal, Sir Walter escorts me to my room. Molly trails us, fussing over me to ensure I’ll be comfortable for the night. She even offers me her clothing so I’ll have something clean to sleep in and to wear come the morrow. I only accept her generosity because my garments are speckled with the blood of the men Quinn killed at The Cup and Crown.
Even these stains on my clothing add to the heartache of how much I miss my men. They may not be far from me, but they feel worlds away. Somehow, though, I draw on their strength to fortify mine.
Then Molly is gone, and I’m alone in this small room with Sir Walter. He takes up entirely too much space. I wish he’d leave as well.
He narrows those cunning eyes on me. “You aren’t what I expected.”
His statement is startling. Frowning, I cross my arms over my chest. “Am I being complimented or insulted?”
“Take it how you will.”
“How I take it depends on your answer to this question. Are we enemies, Sir Walter?”
He steps forward and I stand my ground even though I want to leap back. “Is there cause for us to be enemies, Princess Rapunzel?”
With a test of the waters, I tiptoe into the tide. “Rygard has seen enough bloodshed.” I unlace my arms and lift my chin. “Would you agree?”
He purses his lips and lifts a single brow. When he speaks, he does so casually, telling me a story I’m keen to learn about this man who holds the highest rank in the royal garrison. “My family is originally from Cilicia.” He locks his hands behind his back and strolls to the window. ‘King Henry was fond of starting pointless wars. One of those was against my homeland. He picked a fight with Queen Zara, claiming she shamed him by rejecting his marriage proposal. Of course the offer was a sham. The queen would never accept a foreign husband. Cilicia’s royal family are notorious for marrying their own.”
“But that’s… That’s repugnant.” As much as I try, I can’t keep the shock—and revulsion—from my voice.
“In this, we agree. Their inbreeding may keep the bloodline pure. But.” He taps his temple. “It broke their minds. They rule with an iron fist. Their tyranny makes life in Cilicia a living hell. When presented with a choice of evils, my father believed Rygard was the lesser of the two. At least there was the hope that Henry’s son would be this kingdom’s salvation.” He stops and turns to me. “Although grown when my father snuck us across the border into Rygard, for me, it was…a homecoming. A paradise after Henry was killed. At least for a while.” His mouth lifts in a hint of a sardonic grin as he advances on me, one slow and steady step at a time. “Now that you’ve spent time with Kincaid, tell me, Princess, is it true? Did Percy murder Henry so John could take the throne?”
This time, I retreat and keep going until I collide with something solid, and I can’t back up farther. Caught between two unyielding objects, Sir Walter and the wall, I drag in a fortifying breath and lick dry lips. “Why would I know?”
The question tumbles like the flakes of a brittle, crumbled leaf from my mouth.
Percydiddispatch the arrow that struck Henry in the eye, and he did it at his dearest friend John’s request.
“Why, indeed?” Sir Walter studies me for a long moment. As if he could pry the answers to questions asked and unasked. “A word of wisdom, if you will. In this kingdom, under this king’s rule, secrets have a far greater cost than a person is willing to pay. If you want your head to remain on your shoulders, you will do well to keep your secrets close to your heart.” Then he leans low and says in a harsh whisper. “Know this, Princess Rapunzel. I pledged my allegiance to Rygard. My loyalty is to this kingdom. My sword belongs to these people. I have never used it against a loyal Rygradian.” He pulls back. “Devan and Elric won’t be joining us on the morrow.”
Shaken, puzzled, I watch him stalk from the room. I put a hand to my mouth to stifle a sharp exhale of breath. My legs give way from the impact of his confession. I slide to the floor, not knowing how long I sit there, legs drawn to my chest, arms wrapped around my thighs, with Sir Walter’s words echoing in my mind on repeat.
He’s not a man I want as my enemy.
But he isn’t my enemy, is he?
I have to grip the edge of the linen-covered straw mattress for balance as I regain my feet. Sir Walter didn’t threaten me. He told me, without actually telling me, that he is not loyal to John. As he said, he’s loyal toRygard. There is a difference. Avastdifference. I don’t dare reveal our plans. Not yet. Only when I know for certain I can trust him.
