‘Can you promise we’ll see some of the food we’ll be laying our lives down for?’ Birtle asked, continuing to watch her with suspicion.
Queen Fayre nodded. ‘I know it is not worth much to you at present, but you have my word.’
With a hard sniff, Birtle turned to the other merchants. ‘You heard her. Pick up those swords and bows, and whatever else you have tucked underneath those threadbare clothes of yours, and get ready.’ He nodded at Lyndal before leaving.
The merchants turned and followed him, walking back in the direction of the gate, leaving only the queen mother and the three sisters standing there. Blake and Eda wandered a short distance away in an attempt to give them some privacy, but no one spoke for the longest time.
‘This morning he was the King of Chadora,’ Fayre eventually said, her voice quiet. ‘Now he is just another muddy corpse.’
Lyndal looked over to where Borin lay twisted on the ground with a noose still around his neck.
‘I know it is a great deal to ask…’ the queen mother began.
‘Of course I’ll help you,’ Lyndal said.
Fayre’s eyes went to the tower, where smoke continued to pour from the windows. ‘Did he make it out?’
Lyndal did not need to ask who she was talking about. ‘Yes, he made it out.’
‘Good,’ Fayre said, eyes returning to her son. ‘Good.’
Lyndal walked over to Borin, swallowing down the rising nausea. She did not know whether to take his arms or his feet, and Queen Fayre had not made a move in either direction.
Eda and Blake appeared, gently pushing Lyndal out of the way. They each took an end and lifted him.
‘Lead the way,’ Blake said.
Lyndal gave her sister an appreciative smile, then went and threaded her arm through Fayre’s. She knew the queen was too proud to admit her legs were failing her. ‘Let’s go inside.’
Chapter 38
The defender at the farming gate looked Astin up and down, taking in his dishevelled appearance and filthy face. The uniform was the only reason he raised the portcullis. The fact that there was only one guard at the gate demonstrated how few soldiers they had on the ground.
‘Is it true?’ the guard asked. ‘Is the king dead?’
Astin nodded.
The defender did not seem surprised—or emotional, for that matter.
‘I’m looking for Cooper Brooke,’ Astin said. ‘He left the borough earlier to meet with someone on the other side of the wall. Do you know if he’s returned to the borough?’
‘Never heard of him. You’ll have to speak with the guards at the north gate, but they’re not opening for anyone right now given the English army is parked just out of shooting range.’
‘The fight hasn’t begun?’
‘And no one’s interested in talking either.’
What were they waiting for? It made no sense. Every minute the English delayed their attack was another minute of preparation for their own army. If they were expecting Chadora to surrender, someone would have surely mentioned it by now. Unless they were waiting for the war inside to play out first. With the king dead and the people divided, it would be less of a war and more of a taking control of the reins.
The realisation hit Astin like a rock to the head.
Cooper had probably leaked the news of livestock being sold outside the wall himself, knowing the outcome. The bastard had let the merchants do his dirty work for him. God only knew what other surprises he had in store. Astin needed to get his family somewhere safe until he figured out exactly what was at play.
Nodding at the defender, he took off at a run in the direction of the farm and did not stop until he reached it. He went wide, approaching from the back of the house just to be safe, and kept out of sight, listening for clues as to who was inside. Cooper’s horse was missing from the paddock, but there was a quietness to the place he did not trust, so he proceeded with caution.
Approaching the window, he peeked inside and saw his mother in her chair, staring hard at her sewing. Presley and Rose were seated at the table preparing vegetables. But something looked off.
A man stepped into view and glanced at the window.
