She finally got her wedding. The first step in her plan. The next would be tricky but not impossible. Taillefer was sixteen—that gave her nearly two years to sire an heir that could straddle Domingu’s throne as well as her own.
Unless…
Unless Taillefer and his affinity for the natural arts was the reason Renard’s heart now beat in his chest. Not every tincture bottle in his workshop was meant to maim or kill.
Renard unhinged his jaw. “What of my brother?”
“From what I could gather, he was not present.”
“Not present?”
The boy nodded. “Nikola was to find him. Possibly the princess, too. This is the part I must infer—to be clear, I’m not guessing, you told me not to guess. But it’s reasonable to assume—”
“How many days ago was this?”
“I… I don’t know, sir—Your Highness. The passage of time down here is tricky, to say the least. They don’t seem to feed us often and there are no windows.”
Renard’s scowl deepened in the torchlight.
“But I could help you find out,” the pirate rushed to offer with renewed vivacity. His filthy hands clung to the bars as if the solid steel poles could save him. “I could help you find everything. I want to help you find everything. If I’d known you were alive, I would’ve helped you. I would have. If I were conscious, of course. I would’ve told you about their plans, and Taillefer’s plans with the stableboy—”
“What plans?”
“Taillefer… he made it look as though the stableboy had died, andordered us to parade the ‘body’ underneath the princess’s window. Needless to say, she was fuming when she saw. And… it seems, she took that frustration out on you.”
Renard’s breath caught as snatches of his final visit to the workshop came back, more vibrant than when he had stood in the space only an hour ago. Of the stableboy injured and strapped to the table, Taillefer’s plaything. Renard had underestimated Taillefer’s desire for his unique brand of torture—his younger brother must have thirsted after a human test subject for much longer than Renard had deduced. The little rat didn’t even wait until after the wedding to get started.
… She must see him in the audience. The threat must be clear.… As long as this boy and his stupid dimples are alive, my hold over the princess is enough that she will marry me.
“I told Taillefer to keep him alive. I asked that the stableboy be brought to the wedding to taunt her.”
“He taunted her, all right. Just… not in the way you might have wished?”
The raw wrath in Renard’s veins spit and popped now. Taillefer always had his own plans and notions but this—this was a traitor’s move. Not Domingu stabbing his own brother in the back on their father’s deathbed, but damn well close. Though with Taillefer there was always more than met the eye. If he did have reason, means, and time to revive Renard, surely it was yet another move for his own gain. Not remorse. Never that.
Renard’s gaze narrowed on the Eritrian. “And Taillefer is missing? With the princess?”
The pirate shook his head. “I don’t believe so. She tried to stab him, too, from what I understand. Same knife, different brother, different circumstance.”
The knife. The blood. The princess—rushing away from his guards, off the dais, and into the pews. Yes, somewhere Renard’s vision had snagged on her form before it all went black. He lay on the dais, his men looming over him, his head lolled to the side, and she was on the floor in her wedding dress, knife raised for another stab.
“How is it that she didn’t kill him?”
“I don’t know.” The pirate’s energy surged again, slick smile widening as near-transparent eyebrows pinched together sternly. “But I’ll help you find them. We’ll find him, we’ll punish him. And the princess. Andmy acquaintances for what they did in aiding her wicked ways. And that stableboy. I want them all to suffer for what they did to you.”
This pirate thought himself clever, but he was not. “I told you not to guess and a lie is worse. You want your ship and their punishment for abandoning you. Do not make this about me.”
The kidnapper seemed to choke on his spit but then quickly recovered. “See, though our goals may be different, our motivation is the same—revenge.” The boy smiled, confident he was selling his point. “Revenge is my favorite. And freedom—you mentioned that earlier?”
“I am a man of my word,” Renard answered, and he did intend to be. “Help me exact revenge and you shall have your freedom as long as you do not guess, you do not lie, and you do not cross me. Understood?”
“Yes. That is so generous of you, Your Highness.” The boy’s groveling was disgusting. “By the way, my name is Dunixi, and I’ve admired your work for a long time. That’s why we took the job, after all, you just seem as if you’re cut out for leading—not like most on this continent.…”
Renard did not hear the rest of whatever heap of praise the pirate was shoveling because he walked away to grab the ring of keys from where the guardsmen had left it. Dunixi was irritating and a poor substitute for a clever second like Taillefer, but at least his motivations were transparent, he had knowledge he was willing to share, and no one would miss him if and when he died.
Now, the other inhabitants of the Bellringe dungeons were openly watching with interest, their fingers flashing white as they gripped the bars, their eyes shining in the pale light. Yet Renard did not engage. He simply unlocked this boy’s cell without a promise or taunt to the rest of them.
There would be time for that later. This pirate could be dead by sundown or he could be enjoying the most restful night of sleep he had in a long time. It was up to him.
