Nevertheless, their arrival was noted. Sentries ran ahead, and by the time they reached the stables and gave the horses to the grooms, the king and queen of Caberwill were waiting, a small troop of well-dressed mortals clustered around them. Several of the faces were familiar from the throne room, but now they didn’t bother to hide their fear and disgust of her.
Well, she was still covered in rancor blood and gore. People had never enjoyed seeing her like this, even when they’d liked her. Plus, she was bringing the bodies of six people she had not been able to protect.
“The Crown Council,” Prince Rune provided quietly. He stood at her side, tension knotting his shoulders and fists. “About half of them. Rupert Flight is the one with the winged lion pin and the forgettable face; he’s the information chancellor, the master of spies. Charity Wintersoft—she’s the well-dressed one who looks down on everybody. Stella Asheater, the grand physician, and Dayle Larksong, the grand priest. I’m fairly certain the whole council hates both of us right now.”
“I’m not here to make friends.”
“Good job so far.”
“Thank you.”
The king and queen stepped forward into a banner of light falling from between castle parapets. Queen Grace crooked her forefinger, and—with a resigned sigh—Prince Rune straightened his back and strode toward his parents. As he moved, he became a different man, his posture terribly stiff, braced against attacks.
The group regarded him as one might a slug, certain it had a purpose in this world, but not sure why it had to be here. “No princess,” observed the king unnecessarily, but people sometimes said things for dramatic effect. The councilors glanced at one another and murmured.
Prince Rune was ready, though. “Unfortunately, the princess was killed shortly before our arrival. If only we hadn’t wasted so much time bickering about how to proceed.”
“Is she among these bodies you’ve returned with?” Queen Grace asked.
A breath of unease filled the stable yard.
“Regrettably,” the prince said pointedly, “there was no body to recover. Only the rancor. It killed my guards—all except John, who reached us this morning.”
Gasps rose up. “You saw it?” Grand Priest Larksong asked.
“Lady Nadine wasn’t simply hysterical?” Flight murmured.
They all set their eyes on Nightrender.
“Did you kill it?” asked the queen. That was the first important question they’d asked.
“Yes.”
A collective sigh rippled through the stable yard.
“You have our thanks,” said the queen. “The rancor you killed might have been a real threat to the security of Caberwill. It seems it was a fearsome foe.”
Everyone’s eyes returned to the bodies.
“They died protecting the crown prince,” Nightrender said. Because people needed that kind of reassurance, that death had purpose, that it had been faced with courage. It brought them comfort.
“Indeed,” Queen Grace murmured. Then, with more force: “We’re grateful for your swift action and invite you to remain in Honor’s Keep. Your old quarters are being restored, and the servants assigned will see that a bath is drawn within the hour.”
This wasn’t the normal level of gratitude Nightrender received, but it was certainly more than she’d expected from the Highcrowns, given the cold reception yesterday. “Thank you,” she said. She really was quite ready for a bath.
They’re only doing this to keep you from the other kingdoms.
“We hope that you’ll use your time here to clear the malsites plaguing the kingdom,” the queen went on. “I’m sure Rune has explained that we have suffered with them for four hundred years.”
They didn’t care yesterday, whispered the voice. They aren’t suffering as much as they claim. They are accustomed to their malice.
It was difficult to disagree with that assessment, but then she’d known the Highcrowns for only a day. That was hardly enough time to pass judgment.
“Of course I will remove malsites. I must cleanse one each from Embria and Ivasland, and then I will return to Caberwill to take down another.” She couldn’t show favoritism.
The king and queen frowned, but neither of them argued; that fear still lurked behind their eyes. After a moment, King Opus said, “I see. Regardless, we are all relieved the Incursion was dealt with swiftly.”
“It’s hardly been dealt with, Father.” Rune fumbled with his pack, but even with his bandaged hands he managed to unlatch the flap and draw out a canvas sack. He hurled it at the group’s feet and the contents spilled over the flagstones, dark and stinking of ammonia and rot.
At first, it looked like nothing, just globs of black slime and white gristle, but the foul smell (and small splash) made everyone jump back.
Nightrender curled her lip. Prince Rune had gone off on his own earlier, but she’d understood that he wanted to relieve himself in private. Now she realized he’d been gathering pieces of the rancor instead. She hoped he hadn’t touched any of it.
“That was uncalled for,” muttered a sharp-faced woman from the cluster of nobles.
The king turned to a secretary, who was already poised with a pen and paper. “Make a note for us to discuss my son’s behavior at this afternoon’s council meeting.”
“A meeting?” Prince Rune stalked forward, fury spinning around him. “A meeting? Our problems are bigger than whatever you all think of me. First, the Incursion is happening now. Forces inside the Malice won’t stop with one rancor. There will be more. Hundreds of thousands more, and they will overwhelm every kingdom, including Caberwill.”
Someone in the back of the group laughed faintly—the nervous sort that indicated they didn’t want to believe the truth, but they did. A little.
“And second,” Prince Rune went on, “when our people find out that their fears were warranted, they will blame you. This Incursion began in our kingdom. Under your watch. Father. Mother. You are the rulers who repeatedly refused to hear the truth from your own people.” His breath heaved with anger, and his fists would have curled if not for the bandages.
So he wasn’t a perfect ally, what with the secrets he was keeping from her, but at least he seemed to care about the impending darkness.
“And what would you propose we do?” asked the king, his tone impassive. “We’re already fighting a war on two fronts. You’d have us add a third?”
“The third has always been there.” Nightrender stepped forward, causing a significant number of councilors to step backward. “You decided long ago to ignore the signs because you’d rather fight one another than face the true enemy. What stirs inside the Malice is larger and more deadly than you could ever imagine. The fate of humanity rests in your hands, yet you sow discord rather than take up arms against the rancor. With your wars, you enable darkness.”