Only the Bold

“Still, knowing will be useful,” King Carris said. “It will tell me which villages are filled with traitors, which must be destroyed and which can be rewarded for their loyalty.” He looked around. “Have no doubt, this is a fight, not just against a usurper, but for our whole way of life. Years ago, we fought to overthrow Philip, and all his ways. We fought against a world where a man could claim kingship because of some dictate of magic, rather than because of the suitability learned from birth by a true noble. Will any of you go back to that? Will you?”

As the nobles roared their response, Genevieve began to see how King Carris had managed to become a king. He had the charisma to move people, and the ruthlessness to kill those who stood against him. It was a dangerous combination.

“Now, go to your tasks,” King Carris said. “And—”

“My king,” Altfor said. “There is one more thing.”

“What thing, Duke Altfor?” the king asked. Genevieve saw her husband preen at the use of his title. She wondered if he noticed the king’s impatience.

“A gift has come for you, my king,” Altfor said. “From Lord Aversham. I met him at the gate.”

“What gift?”

Altfor gestured to the door. As it opened, Genevieve’s heart leapt into her mouth. This wasn’t some collection of priests, wasn’t the deathly fear that had come with the Angarthim. This was worse.

Moira was there, along with a noble and a collection of knights. They pushed a figure in front of them, bound and bruised by violence, and Genevieve recognized Garet instantly. He stumbled, and one of the knights kicked him, sending him sprawling forward. The man at the lead of the procession offered a courtly bow.

“Your majesty.”

“Lord Aversham, what have you brought me?”

“I have brought to you what Lady Moira has brought to me,” Lord Aversham said. Genevieve’s fingers twitched as he urged Moira forward. A part of her wanted to rush out and strangle her one-time friend for all that she’d done. This… this was worse than the rest of it put together.

“This is Royce’s brother,” Altfor said. “Or at least one of the boys he was raised with. He was seeking to subvert lords to Royce’s cause. Only Moira’s quick thinking brought him to Lord Aversham, who is loyal.”

“As you are loyal, Altfor,” King Carris said. “You have my thanks. And you, Lady Moira. Now, guards… take this boy and put him in chains. I want to know everything he knows.”

“I’ll tell you nothing,” Garet said.

“Oh, you will,” King Carris promised. “Once the hot irons are applied to flesh, people talk quickly enough.”

The guards stepped in, grabbing Garet. They dragged him away, even though he struggled, and Genevieve’s heart broke as she had to watch it. It was even worse watching the way Altfor moved over to Moira, putting an arm around her out in the open as if Genevieve weren’t there. Altfor looked Genevieve’s way, and he smiled cruelly, clearly knowing exactly what effect his actions would be having on her.

Genevieve fought not to show any reaction, in spite of the way her blood boiled. She headed from the hall, but only at the speed of the other nobles doing the same, making sure she didn’t run, didn’t fight to get out into the fresh air beyond the castle.

When she got there, though, she sucked down gasping breaths, trying not to scream out with everything that had just happened. The horrors the priests had inflicted had been bad enough, but seeing Garet there, like that, had been far worse.

Genevieve knew what she was there for now, why she’d stayed in the court of the king when she could have run to be with her sister in Fallsport. She’d hoped that there would be something she could do here that would change it, and now she saw that there was something that went far beyond the information she could overhear.

She could save Garet; she had to. If she could get to him, then she could try to find a way to get him clear of the keep. If she could save Royce’s brother, then maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to make up for everything else that had happened.

And if she could find a way to kill Moira while she was doing it, then that would only serve to make it perfect.

CHAPTER FOUR

“There’s nothing out here, Royce,” Mark insisted, but Royce shook his head. He couldn’t explain all that he’d seen without risking changing it, but he knew that this was the right direction. He put his hand on the bag containing the mirror, feeling the reassurance of its presence.

“We’re going the right way,” Royce assured him.

“Then tell us why,” Mark asked.

Royce hesitated. “I… can’t. Please, you have to trust me.” He looked around at Matilde and Neave. “I know it’s hard, but I know what I’m doing.”

“It would be easier if there were any land in sight,” Matilde said, gesturing to the open expanse of the sea around them. “I don’t want to drift out here until we all starve, Royce.”

Gwylim barked something that might have been agreement.

“We can always eat you if we run out of food,” Neave said. It took Royce a moment to realize that it was her idea of a joke. She looked over to Royce. “If you say that this is the way we need to go… well, you’ve been right before.”

Royce was grateful for that, although he was all too aware that the Picti girl could have pointed out the times when he’d been wrong just as easily. Royce had already led them on one false trail, finding the mirror but not his father. What if this was the same? What if the mirror hadn’t shown him the truth?

That feeling gnawed at him while they continued to sail, because Royce knew how many people had been led astray by seeing too much, viewing possibilities as certainties. Barihash had destroyed a whole city because of it. Royce could just as easily lead his friends to their deaths.

That possibility made him want to turn the boat around. He wanted the others to be safe, wanted to do the right thing for them as well as for the kingdom, yet the things he’d seen kept him pressing forward. They weren’t the wide field of possibilities and nuances that he’d seen in the mirror, but he could still hold to the central strand of it, still remember the steps that he had to take. He looked out through Ember’s eyes, the hawk circling above the boat, and in the distance, he thought he could make out the green speck of an island.

“There,” he said. “There’s an island there!”

The others seemed to take heart from that news, Mark correcting the boat’s course just a touch, Matilde and Neave waiting eagerly as the wind pushed their vessel on. Gwylim moved to the prow of the boat, the wolf-like creature standing there like a figurehead. Soon, it was possible to see the island in the distance even without Ember’s vision.

It was small compared to the Seven Isles they’d left behind, but lush with grass and trees, so that it looked like a green jewel sticking out from the sea. It was fairly flat, the interior of the island disappearing in among the trees so that it was impossible to see much more from the boat. As they got closer, Royce could make out beaches of golden sand, brushing up against the woods like the white around a green eye.

“Let’s just hope there aren’t any magic women or lizard people on this one,” Matilde said.

Neave shrugged. “As I recall, you quite liked Lethe.”

“This isn’t the time for a fight,” Royce said. “But you’re right, there could be dangers.”

He sent Ember up over the beach, using the hawk to scout ahead, wanting to be sure he wasn’t leading his friends into yet another place of danger. He could have looked in the mirror, but that was a far more dangerous option; he needed to see what was, not what might be. Through her eyes, he saw that the trees formed a kind of outer ring around the interior of the island, while there was a broad inner circle of open ground there, covered in grass.

On it, he saw a whole herd of white deer grazing, and it seemed that one stag looked up as Ember passed, antlers majestic as it tracked the flight of the passing bird. Now, Royce knew without a shadow of doubt that he was in the place that the mirror had promised. It also meant that he knew what he had to do next.

“We’re in the right place,” he said. “I need to go ashore alone.”

“Alone?” Mark said, the incredulity in his voice obvious. “After we’ve come all this way with you, you want to go alone?”

“I have to,” Royce said. “I…” Again, he felt the tension of the futures threatening to shift. If he explained, he didn’t know how, but it would change everything that he had seen. “I can’t explain the reasons, but I have to go onto this island without any other people.”

“Do you know how that sounds?” Matilde said.

“It sounds like nonsense, I know,” Royce agreed.

“No, Royce,” she replied. “It sounds as if you don’t trust us.”

“I would trust you with my life,” Royce said, “and when I can, I will explain, but I can’t right now.”

“And so you have to go onto an island alone, with only your obsidian sword to protect you?” Neave asked. It was clear that she disapproved as much as the others.

“I think… I think I can take Gwylim and Ember with me,” Royce said. The shape of the potential future didn’t seem to be affected by the prospect of them being there. “Please, you’ve come this far trusting me. Just a little more.”