“Where are they?” There was no patience left in James for protocols. “The witnesses?”
“The inn, sir. The boy’s in a bad way, I’m afraid. He took a blow to the head when she attacked them.”
Unbidden, a memory filled James’s head of the moment Ahnna had stitched up his hand in Fernleigh’s maze.
A ruler needs an heir,he’d said to her.It’s the way of it.
I know. But knowing your mother bore you because she had to is a burden I wouldn’t wish upon any child. All children deserve to be wanted.
James shook his head to clear her voice, unsure what exactly had triggered the memory, only that it caused gooseflesh to break out across his skin.
He followed Arthur’s blond curls down the muddy street, past the alehouse to the inn. It was two levels, but the main floor was a common room filled with old men in conversation with their drinks, the bored barmaid drying glasses with a dirty rag. She gave James a smile and a wink when her eyes lit upon him, but he ignored her as the lieutenant led him to the stairs.
“Physician has been and gone a few times, sir,” Arthur said. “He says it’s in God’s hands now whether the boy wakes or not. We’re all saying prayers for him, but there’s fear that he’ll be another of the murderess’s victims by week’s end.”
The first of many dead children if it came to war with Ithicana, and James sent a silent prayer to every higher power that William would remain reasonable. War was a powerful threat that could be used to manipulate Aren, but it was rarely kings who paid the ultimate price. William didn’t really know combat, and he certainly didn’t know war. James worried that with no one to temper him, William would see only the glory of bringing Ithicana low and not the true cost of such an action.
Yet another reason James needed to end this. With Ahnna dead and justice achieved, the kingdom’s appetite for violence would be sated and Will would find no support for further action.
Catch her,Lestara’s voice whispered inside his head.Kill her.
It was the only thing he could do to make all this right.
The lieutenant led him down the short hallway to an open door, pausing at the entrance. “His Royal Highness Prince James is here to see you,” he told whoever was inside, then stepped out of James’s way.
Two men stood in the small room, their caps pressed to theirchests and their heads lowered. The older one said, “You honor us, Your Highness.”
“All honor is deserved for those who serve Harendell.” James’s voice was wooden, his gaze going to the boy on the bed. He was perhaps sixteen, his face blanched pale and his head wrapped with bandages. “I am sorry for the injury that has befallen your grandson.”
One of the men let out a choked sob, and the elder wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “He’s a good lad. A strong lad. He’ll pull through.”
“Will you please tell me what happened?” James asked, his desire to get back on the hunt warring with his reluctance to press these men while their boy lay, likely dying, next to them. “Any information you can give me will aid in our pursuit of the perpetrator.”
“Aye, my lord. Anything to help.” The older man stepped closer, cap still clutched to his chest. “What she did to your father, our good king…She deserves to hang for it and it would be the greatest honor to help you see it done.”
James nodded at him encouragingly despite wanting to shout at the man to get to the point. Ahnna was on horseback and moving fast, and if she crossed into Amarid, she was lost to him—as was the chance to end this before everything became chaos.
“We joined up with the militia searching the wilds for signs of her,” the old man finally continued. “The three of us hunt these lands, so we know them well. Near dusk, we scented cooking meat on the wind and went in search. We came upon a camp with a doused fire. There was no one in sight, but a horse was tethered. A tall bay gelding, good racing stock from the look of him, but he had a big white star on his forehead. We thought it to be a traveler’s camp, but then my boy—” His voice cracked, throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Johnny has a love of horses, and he got to stroking the gelding and discovered the star was nothing more than chalk.”
Clever, Ahnna.
“That was when she dropped from the trees where she’d been lurking above, deadly as a Blackreaches lion.” The old man scrubbed ahand over his face, and James could smell the sweat pouring off him. The stink of remembered fear.
“I attacked her and held my own for a time, but I’m ashamed to say she disarmed me, my lord.”
James doubted he held his own for more than a heartbeat.
“She was heartless as stone and forced us to bind each other. We did her bidding because she kept an arrow pointed at our Johnny, but when he tried to do as she told, the Ithicanian devil slammed his head against a rock to subdue him. He weren’t no threat to the likes of her, but she treated him like a man with a sword in hand, not an unarmed boy. A cold killer if I’ve ever seen one, my lord.”
Gooseflesh rose on James’s skin, but he ignored the pricking sensation. “What was she wearing?”
“A man’s clothing, my lord. Trousers and a greatcoat, and a cap to cover her hair.”
“Supplies?”
“Saddlebags was all.”
So not well supplied. The weather in the foothills was temperate this far south, but the Blackreaches were towering peaks, the air at the altitude near the border deadly cold. If it were anyone other than Ahnna, James would say that survival was impossible, but she knew how to live off the land. “What about weapons?”
