“What!” The outrage was there, the righteous indignation, but something was off about the eyes…
Draylon told Father what he’d found in Yarif’s rooms, leaving out the part about the secret passageway—for now.
Father slammed a hand down onto the desk. “Delletina’s behind this. They won’t go unpunished.”
Good, at least Father agreed with Draylon on that point. “I sent for Commander Illa.” And didn’t that just raise Draylon’s hackles when he needed to enlist her help.
Father nodded. “They have taken an Aravaid. This is an act of war!”
Something about the situation seemed off. “But what if it’s not Delletina, but a faction who wants us to think it is?”
“I have spies, Draylon. I will get to the bottom of this.”
"There are signs of fighting. His guards are dead. Someone tried to take Gryphon. He brought back their bloody corpse.” Which again raised Draylon’s hackles. “I’ve sent someone to the stables to find out who’s been near my horse.”
“I’ll send a force, but know we cannot leave the castle unguarded. We’ll need more reinforcements.”
“Father!” Draylon slammed his hand down on the desk. “We’re wasting time. We need to pursue now! I’ll lead the forces myself.”
“You will do no such thing. Now, more than ever, you are needed here. If Delletina has him, they don’t need you too.” Father’s voice took on a pleading tone, which it never did. “You are king now, and my son. They’ve already insulted us by taking your spouse. I’ll send Commander Illa with a small contingent and summon more soldiers from Glendor.”
“Glendor? It will take them a week to get here. We must act now.” Why could the dratted man not see the importance of rescuing Yarif?
“I forbid you from leaving this castle. It’s not safe.”
It certainly hadn’t been safe for Yarif. Someone had gotten past a full cadre of guards. However, Draylon had spent the last few years of his life in one battle after another, whether large or small. He was the most qualified to lead any rescue attempts. “Father, I have reason to believe someone inside the castle had a hand in this. Yarif is my consort. I must go after him.” How would it look to Renvallians if appropriate action wasn’t taken? Not that keeping up appearances figured into Draylon’s decision.
Anger suffused Father’s face, his scowl a frightening thing. “And do you truly know that he didn’t leave on his own? To some he is innocent, to others a traitor. He possibly has familial ties with the Delletina royal family. We must retrieve him, without his consent, if needs be.”
Yarif hadn’t run away. He wouldn’t. Not and leave his younger brother and sister. “Yarif isn’t a traitor, he didn’t run away, and if you look hard enough, you’ll find that the royals of many kingdoms have ties. Isn’t mother the great-great niece of a Delletinian marquess?”
“All the more reason for you not to leave the castle. Your absence will give the people time to speculate.” Father stood, employing his best royal glower. “I’ll confine you to your quarters if I must.”
Commander Illa appeared in the doorway, sketching a stiff salute. “Your Majesties. You sent for me.”
Father deflated somewhat, turning to face Illa. “Commander, there is reason to believe that the king consort has been taken. Have the castle searched and dispatch troops immediately. I want him found and brought back.”
Once more Draylon told the tale, in more detail, mentioning the old stables but not how he got there.
Illa’s face remained neutrally blank throughout the telling.
Father nodded to Illa. “Get him back.”
“The Delletinian bastards will pay, Your Majesty.” Illa executed an about-face and marched out the door.
“I’m going. Either with guards at my back or alone.” Draylon spun on his heel and stalked from the room, nearly knocking Rufe off his feet. Funny how Rufe knew where to be. “Someone wants us to believe Delletina is responsible.”
“You don’t think they are.” Rufe hurried to keep up with Draylon’s longer strides.
“I called Gryphon. He returned with what appeared to be a Delletina soldier caught in one stirrup.”
“Dead?”
“Yes.”
Rufe winced. “Dragged to death. What a horrible way to die.”
Though Draylon had only briefly examined the body before seeking out Father, pieces started fitting—or not fitting—into place. “She didn’t. Die like that, I mean.” He compared the mental image with soldiers he witnessed falling on the battlefield. Blood, but not a lot, mostly darkened by time.
