“Afraid I cannot allow that either. My forces are already heading for the northern border.” Jori sat down, letting out an exasperated breath as if annoyed by the ignorance of his audience. “Our kingdoms will be joined, and I shall not have to marry you to accomplish it. We will seize control of the North as peacefully as the Northmen will allow. I will keep you here as . . . as a tribute to them. The North will still have representation at court.”
“As a hostage,” Esmera shot back. “As collateral against—”
“If you resist in any way”—Jori raised his voice over hers, silencing her outburst—“I will send word to attack, and order no able-bodied fighters left alive. The North may have difficult terrain, but Raleigh knows it well, and we have numbers on our side . . . and magic.”
Esmera threw the door open. Several black cloaks prevented her exit.
Jori shook his head. “We’re not done, Lady Esmera.”
She turned around, her eyes narrowing to slits.
“Sybil will remain here as well, safe, but under my watch. Malcolm will be in the finals. He will face the new beast—”
“—who killed Cornwall?” Esmera shook her head. “No! You can’t do this!”
Jori shrugged. “It is what my father wanted. He will likely die, but that is what happens in the arena. Malcolm knew well the dangers involved in the tournament. Griffin too will have to face the dragon.” Jori winked at Griffin. “But Maggie would never let her hurt you, would she?”
Griffin couldn’t believe Maggie would agree to any of this. “I should speak to her.”
“Why?” Jori grimaced.
“To be sure she understands what’s expected.”
Jori hissed the smallest of laughs. “She understands. And she will do as I tell her to do.”
Anger stiffened Griffin’s back. His chest gave away his frustration. He took a long deep breath, letting it out slowly, methodically, changing his demeanor to play the part of the loyal best friend, until he figured a way out of this trap. “Why would she comply? For Xavier?”
“No. My father had him executed for lying before he died.” The prince sipped the wine, his eyes looking beyond Griffin. Nothing Jori said was whole truths, but at least there was something to learn from him.
“Xavier is dead?” Esmera asked.
“Didn’t I just say that? Gods, you really are stupid, Esmera.” Jori waved at the guards. “The Lady Esmera will return to her room and remain there until tomorrow morning.”
Esmera looked at Jori as if he’d slapped her.
“I’ll escort you,” Griffin said, wanting to get out of this room as quickly as possible.
“Yes, you should do that, Griffin. The guards will shadow you both. I’m taking no chances. Tomorrow must go as planned. The people will see me and Maggie, side by side on the balcony, and we will watch our heroes take on the dragon.
“That is what they will witness. Me with true magic at my command, and my champion slaying the fiercest beast to ever walk into the arena.”
Seven guards followed Griffin and Esmera as they returned to her room. Six posted outside, while one took up a position inside, beside the door.
Esmera plucked two long thin combs staking her hair in a bun, letting it fall, then spun. The sharp point of one pressed into the underneath of the guard’s chin but not enough to break skin, yet. The other she fisted, resting the tip against his chest, over his heart. “Get out!”
Griffin opened the door, letting him scoot out, then slammed it shut, throwing the bolt. “That was impressive.”
“Just because I know how to embroider doesn’t mean I haven’t trained in other arts.” She slid the combs into her blonde mane.
Her room was cold. The fire out. Griffin set to building a new one for her.
“Stop that. We have more important things to do. Do you honestly think I didn’t see this coming?”
Griffin turned, finding Esmera lifting a piece of the floor up. She waved him over. “Sybil’s idea.” Between two floorboards were three swords, several daggers, and a quiver of arrows. There was also a small bowl of crushed dark berries. “Belladonna. Concentrated. There’s enough there to put several guards to sleep. We just need to mix it with wine. They’ll never notice.”
Griffin let a smile creep up. “You are my new favorite person, Esmera.”
She glared at him.
“I am surprised as you are. Where’s the bow?”
“Tacked behind the bed.” She retrieved it, passing it off to him. “What do we do now?”
Griffin handed it back. “Keep it. I’ll take only a dagger and the belladonna. You and Sybil arm yourselves.”
“Why? We can’t fight hundreds of soldiers.”
“You won’t have to. I have a plan, but it all revolves around Jori believing we’re going along with him.”
“What is it?” Esmera asked.
“I can’t tell you. Honestly, it is better that you have no knowledge in any case. That way, Jori can’t leverage it out of you, and if it fails, only I’m to blame. Don’t trust anyone. Not even those with as much to lose. I have to find Maggie. And right now, after what Jori likely told her, I’m pretty sure she would like to see her dragon eat my liver.”
Esmera unsheathed a dagger, checking the blade, then handed it to Griffin. “Then I wish your liver good health and godspeed.”
Griffin opened his door, handing one of the guards his untouched meal and full carafe of belladonna-infused wine.
“You have the finals tomorrow, Sir Griffin. You haven’t touched your food.”
“I can’t eat. Help yourselves. There’s wine too. Sadly, the king’s favorite.”
He closed the door. An hour later, he heard them laughing, then the sound of heavy thuds. When he opened the door, a guard fell backward into his room. He used his pillows to make it look as if he was in the bed sleeping, propped the guard beside his door, and made sure the others were sleeping before he entered the secret passage behind the tapestry.
He exited in the Great Hall, which sat dark for the first time since he’d moved into the castle. He snuck past several guards, tiptoed up the stairs, finding Maggie’s hallway empty. Not a single guard was posted at her door. Which meant she wasn’t there.
Next stop was the kitchens, where he hoped to find Bradyn, but he wasn’t there either. Apparently, he’d been missing since lunch. His mother, Molly, was escorted out of the castle. Her husband declared a traitor. The baker, a skeletal old man with spindly fingers called Osperth, told him everyone assumed Bradyn was with Molly.
“Is that tray ready?” Raleigh called from the kitchen galley.
Griffin lifted a finger and dove into the pantry.
Osperth waited until Griffin was out of sight to answer him. “Yes, sir. A basket of bread and water only, as you requested. Who should it be delivered to?” Griffin heard him say.
“I’ll take it.”
Griffin heard Raleigh’s footsteps clack on the tile floors, moving away from him. He followed him. It wasn’t easy. Raleigh stopped every few feet, checking behind him. When his old mentor started down a particular set of stairs, Griffin knew he was heading for the dungeons. Maggie hadn’t consented to anything, so the prince had locked her up in the one place the moon couldn’t reach her.