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“Yes, Majesty?”
“Am I getting predictable?
“Only in the best of all possible ways, Majesty.”
Arrabel glanced over at him and when he bowed, she smiled but before she could compliment his answer, a section of the wall at the end of the hall slid back and a half-naked young man emerged. And then a second.
Both princes were in their mid-twenties, not quite two years apart in age, and, given that very little was left to the imagination, in obviously fine condition. Muscles rippled everywhere muscles could ripple. One wore his golden hair loose, the other tied his darker hair back, but except for that they could have been twins. That she had an appreciation for handsome men was no secret so she suspected Giorge had sent out his sons because he expected they’d get better terms.
“Mother, I could take them.”
“Not now dear, Mother’s going to go negotiate.” She walked purposefully forward and stopped a body length and an equal distance from both princes. “Well?”
The blond cocked his head, gray eyes narrowed. “You don’t look like I imagined.”
“Is there any reason I should?”
Before he could respond, the brunet charged at her, screaming.
At least one, maybe two of the arrows passed so close she felt the breeze. As the prince hit the floor, she rolled her eyes. “That was stupid.”
“No,” the other prince snarled. “That was a sacrifice. Your archers ca
“My archers can reload, aim, and fire in under seven seconds,” Arrabel told him as he dropped heavily to his knees. “Never pause to gloat, dear,” she added, patting his cheek as he sagged back.
“Mother! Are you all right?”
“Of course I am.”
“But what if he’d grabbed you and used you as a shield?” Danyel grabbed her arm to illustrate and a long, thin knife slid out from under her neat, lace-trimmed cuff, scoring a line along the enamel on his vanbrace.
“Then I’d have dealt with it myself,” she said, pulling free of his slackened grip. “Although I’m just as glad I didn’t have to.” The knife disappeared. “I’m quite fond of this dress and I’d hate to have gotten blood all over it. And speaking of this dress…” she turned to face her archers, brandishing the hole in her full skirt. “Who took the shot that went through here?”
A very pale young man stumbled forward and dropped to one knee. He was shaking so hard it sounded as though he was tapping his bow against the floor.
“Co
The young archer managed part of a nod.
“Let that be a lesson to you all, if my life is in danger, don’t worry about my clothing and don’t feel you’re redundant just because another five arrows are heading for the target. Those arrows could miss. Good shot, Co
“Majesty!”
“Stop trying to break through the door and go through the wall.”
“Majesty?”
“No one ever thinks to have a wizard spell more than the door. Get a few strapping young men up here with sledgehammers and go through the wall.” Her tone suggested she’d better not have to repeat herself a third time.
The queen was not the first to step through the breach in the wall. The queen was the sixteenth to enter, after fourteen soldiers, General Palatat, and her son. The first soldier through the breech took a tapestry pole to the back of the head.
The throne room was empty except for the royal family. King Giorge sat slumped in his throne, head on his chest. Queen Fleya sat at his feet, sobbing. One of the princesses, her hair a mass of tangled mahogany curls and showing just a little too much cleavage for the situation, stood snarling by her father’s side, the tapestry pole having been taken away from her with only minor damage. The other princess, blond hair neatly tied back, arms folded over her sensible cardigan, stood just behind her sister, frowning slightly.
“You can’t touch him now,” Queen Fleya cried as Arrabel approached the throne. “He’s gone beyond your control!”
Arrabel cocked her head and studied the king, his lips and eyelids were a pale blue-green. “Took poison, has he?”
Eyes red with weeping, Fleya’s lip curled. “He knew he could expect no mercy!”
“It’s hardly practical to leave live enemies behind me now, is it?” she answered switching her attention to the queen. “I wonder what he thought I’d do with you.”
“You will force me into exile with my daughters and the body of my dead husband and we will live out our lives torn from the country we love.” She wiped her eyes and straightened her shoulders. “It’s what is done.”
“Really? The upholstery on the throne-it’s expensive is it?”
Fleya looked up at the embroidered gold velvet under her husband and back at Arrabel, confused. “Yes but-”
“Hard to keep clean?”
“I expect so but-”
“General Palatat.”
“Majesty.”
“There’s no reason to make things more difficult than we have to for the staff. Have King Giorge’s body dragged down to the floor then behead him.”
The queen and the dark-haired princess screamed out versions of, “You can’t!”
The second princess said nothing at all.
When Giorge’s head came off enough blood gushed from the stump of his neck to partially obscure an impressive mosaic map of the kingdom set into the throne-room floor. Released by the soldier who held her, Queen Fleya ran to her husband’s side.
Danyel said, “But Mother, he was already dead.”
“Dead men don’t bleed like that, Danyel.” Arrabel stepped back as the blood spread. “The poison only feigned death. After the three of them reached exile it would wear off and Giorge would rise from his supposed grave to seek vengeance.”
“But how did you know?”
“It’s what I would have done, dear. Wallace.”
“Majesty?”
“Make sure he’s cremated.”
“Nooooooooooooo!” Fleya’s wailed protest drew everyone’s attention. Sitting on the floor, her silk skirts soaking up the king’s blood, she held his headless body clasped tight in her arms. “You will not take him from me! I will not go into exile without my Giorge!”
Arrabel sighed. “Of course you won’t.” She raised her hand. Because of the late king’s body, four of the arrows went into Fleya’s upper torso, the other two went one into each eye. “All right, who risked the eye shots?” When two of the archers admitted as much, she smiled at them and pointed a teasing finger. “There’s no need to show off, I know how good you are. Now then…” Lifting her skirts, she walked around the growing puddle. “This is taking far too long. You.” The same finger pointed at the dark-haired princess, held struggling between two Tabards. “You’ll marry my son, giving his claim to rule this kingdom validity.”
“Never!”
She raised a hand. “I expected as much,” she sighed as the body hit the floor and pointed at the second princess. “You’ll marry my son and give his claim to rule this kingdom validity.”
The girl stared into Arrabel face for a moment then shrugged. “All right.”
“Don’t shrug, dear. It’s common.” A slight frown as recognition dawned. “That was your voice at the door.”
“Yes.”
“The poison was your plan.”
“Yes.”
“And your brothers’ attempt?”
“My plan.”
“Really? What’s your name?”
“Maily
“How old are you, Maily
“Seventeen.”
“I imagine you have some ideas about how the kingdom should be run.”
Maily
“Good.”
“Mother, I don’t want to be married.” Danyel reached to grab her arm, noticed the gouge on his vanbrace and thought better of it.