The lock was what saved her, because Miri knew the tonic had been tested the day it arrived. The shipments could not be tampered with without being discovered by the king’s taster, but the mixture was too valuable to the king and taken too often to test every one, every time.
As Miri stared at the overly full shelf, she knew Lettie’s maids had not been exaggerating. The worse Simon began to feel, the more he would take. It would work.
Miri wiped her palms on the fabric of her makeshift uniform then shook them out to release the tension that made her fingers tremble. She had never liked the idea of poisons, but weapons would draw attention that she wasn’t ready to attract. She carefully unstoppered each vial and tilted a single drop into each of the tall, narrow containers, thanking the gods that they’d been sealed with wax. The oil inside was not particularly costly or particularly rare. It was only that Simon believed the single place to source it was from a sole island across the unnamed sea and his witch-worker of a supplier the only one who could trade those locals for it. Simon was a fool, just like the others.
With her work done, Miri turned, her empty containers of poison tucked into her inner layer of clothes. She dipped her hands into the bucket, carefully washing each clean, and meticulously brushed beneath each nail. She dried her hands on the outer clothes, pressed her ear to the door, and listened for the pattern of footsteps so she might make her escape.
When the room outside was quiet, Miri came cautiously through the door, closed it behind her, and set the bucket on the stone floor as if she meant to work. Two more guards came past and found Miri on her knees, scrubbing the floor with the single determination of someone who had nothing else in the world. The moment they were gone again, she went back to the lock and worked the mechanisms back into place.
She did not hear the approach of the kingsman, only felt his sword on her shoulder and heard his whispered words.
“Trying to pick a lock, girl?”
Chapter 16
Cass stood in the shadow of Kirkwall Castle, completely helpless to aid Miri in any way. She’d been right, but that did not make it any easier to let her go alone.
He’d been watching her for years. He knew her skill with a blade, the way she could land a solid kick, and exactly how clever she was with maneuvering through tight spaces and around heavily laid rules. But the past weeks on the trail, he’d seen another side of Miri—hesitation, doubt, and the distant look that came over her when she remembered what she’d lost.
Miri was too good to be a killer. Her heart was perilously kind. He’d watched her stop to hand the last of their supplies over to the sick and the poor and noticed how she’d seen their suffering for what it was. Miri’s gaze had not skirted that pain but took it in with steady determination and well more than her share of evident guilt.
She thought it her fault, all of it, that it was somehow her responsibility to repair the damage done by seven kings who had done their level best to put themselves before the realm and had murdered its one true queen.
That was why Miri held Cass’s concern—because that heart could be her downfall. Not because of anything else, he was certain.
Cass jumped when a hand rested on his shoulder, and he spun before the man had a chance to move fully away. Terric’s grin was slow, maybe the only slow thing about him, and it said all that he did not speak aloud. Nearly got you, Cass could almost hear.
In fact, he had. Cass knew better than to let himself get distracted. It was the very reason the men of the queensguard were not meant to court until their service had ended.
Terric’s brow drew together. “Gods, brother, what’s with the face?”
Cass shook his head, utterly disturbed that the thought of courting had even risen. He stepped forward, grabbing the hand of his brother-in-arms, and tugged him closer with a relieved sigh. “Thank the maiden you’re well.”
Terric slapped his free hand hard on Cass’s shoulder and held him tight in his grip. “You’re never alone.” His voice was low, his words a vow, and Cass thought he’d never heard anything more welcome. Terric used the grip to pull Cass even nearer. “Does this seem like a good idea?”
Cass frowned. “It was obviously not mine. She’s got a will of iron.”
Terric chuckled. “She is her mother’s daughter. I’ll give you that.”
Cass glanced toward the street. He kept his voice low as they let go of their grip and he asked, “How goes the strategy?”
“Support is steady. As you’ve likely seen here, conditions have become worse for most. Those who remember before will rise. But we build back support as we speak.”
The words were purposefully vague, but Cass understood. Nearly all who’d lived through the Lion Queen’s reign would relish the chance to have prosperity back. They would follow the true queen the moment they were given the chance. But the queensguard had been unable to act before. The sorcerers had ensured as much.
Timing would be critical. Miri had been hidden for years because the sorcerers would have come for her the moment they found out she was alive. Or they would have used Lettie to draw her out. And Cass knew Miri. She would be caught in that trap all too easily. It was the fault of honor and duty and those who upheld all they believed was right. If, while in search of support, the queensguard let Miri get found out or let slip to the wrong person that a second daughter of the queen lived, they would only hasten the death of both daughters. The last of the true bloodline would be lost.
They had tried before and failed. The queensguard was betting all on their last chance. They believed in Miri—not because she’d actually managed to kill a king—though she had—but because they’d had faith in her all along and in the plans in place to restore her line. They were queensguard. Their duty was to protect her. And she would need them now more than ever.
“Should she make it out,” Terric said, “you’ll have friends in Ironwood Forest.”
Cass looked his brother-in-arms straight in the eyes, letting Terric see the promise in his gaze and how much his brother’s vow meant. “I hope to see you again,” Cass said. “By the grace of the maiden.”
“By the will of the gods,” Terric said.
As he turned to go, the clang of a massive steeple bell rang through the streets, shuddering against Cass’s bones. When Terric’s gaze snapped to Cass, he’d gone as pale as snow at the sound. The bells echoed into the peal of half a dozen more, the alarm spreading in a series of bells across the castle grounds.
The princess had been found. The kingsmen were on alert.
Cass ran through the street with Terric hard on his heels. He was not certain which way Miri might have gone when she found trouble and could only follow the sound of the bells. If they rang still, then surely that meant she was not in their hands and had a chance of escape.
His heart beat so strongly that he wanted to clutch at his chest, but the fear only pushed him harder. His booted feet crossed the cobblestone of the path that led to the gate, and Cass watched with dread as the kingsmen slammed it shut. The metal landed with a hollow clang, the sharp ringing of the bells still echoing off the stone.
At their approach, the kingsmen took note of Cass and Terric, their speed among the chaos drawing attention they didn’t need. Cass moved his hand away from his sword belt, forcing his racing pulse to slow. He needed to think. They’d laid plans for so many outcomes, but from outside the gate, he could not know where Miri truly was, only where the kingsmen were.