The man said nothing as he tugged Miri into a run, rushing them through a darkened stable. Horses nickered and groaned as they passed, then came the ragged complaint of a single goat, which meant they were passing through the smith’s outbuildings. She was nearly home.
The cloaked man drew to a stop at the back of the stable and glanced at a shadowed figure at the edge of a neighboring barn. The two gestured some signal, then Thom’s man turned to wrap his cloak over Miri’s form.
“Ever faithful,” he whispered.
His words chilled her to the bone. Then he was gone.
Miri could see the familiar outline of Nan and Thom’s homestead from her place in the doorway. She could walk, very casually, across the space, and come out of the entire ordeal fine. All she needed to do was to take the first step.
Her eyes met the shadowed figure by the barn as she considered the gestures he’d made toward the cloaked man and the words that had been whispered into her ear. Ever faithful. They were not Thom’s men. They were hers. And Myrina, daughter of the Lion Queen, would not be cowed by dirty, thieving kingsmen.
Her boots landed softly on the hay-strewn ground, and the evening light cast a strange hue across the path. Nothing in her would cave to the desire to run. She would not show fear in front of the men who had saved her. They were her guard, even now, after everything.
At least three other forms waited somewhere in the shadows. There would be more. Whatever had happened to their brethren, their families, or themselves, her mother’s guard—the ones who’d lived—had stayed true to their word and their duty. Miri wanted nothing more than to be worthy of the price they had paid. She was afraid she might never get the chance.
She crossed through the garden gate of Nan and Thom’s back lot. She passed the barns and the shed, her boots hitting the wobbly planks outside the back door a moment before it rushed open.
Nan yanked her through the doorway then slammed it shut to draw Miri into a too-tight hug. “Maiden save us,” she whispered into Miri’s hair. Her breath came out in a rush. “But you do smell a bit of a nanny soaked in ale.”
The tension in Miri’s chest released with a broken chuckle, and Nan eased her grip to look at her face.
“All well?”
Miri managed a shrug. “Seems to be, aside from the drunken goat stink.” Her throat was dry, and she wanted to drink a pitcher of water before dumping a second over her head. “Why are they here?”
Nan’s expression went wretched. “Looking for sympathizers, I’m told.”
A sick feeling swam up from the pit of Miri’s stomach.
Nan shook her head. “Rounding them up to take to the square.”
For the festival. Miri fell heavily into a kitchen chair. “They’re going to celebrate it. Make a show of them at the festival of moons.”
Nan leaned down to put a hand on Miri’s shoulder. “They’ll be protected, Bean. They always have been.”
But that wasn’t true. Sympathizers had been captured time and again. They’d been dragged behind wagons, tied onto gates, and burned by sorcerer’s fire. How many more will be killed? How much longer can I let them get away with it?
Miri stood, the action bringing her too close to Nan, but she held her ground. “I have to stop it. I won’t risk another murder in her name. I won’t let—” The word stuck in Miri’s throat. She couldn’t say her sister’s name and could barely think it. “They will not keep her captive another day.” Miri let the vow ring in her voice. Let Nan see it clear in her gaze. “I’m going to put an end to this. And it has to be now.”
“You aren’t going to try to stop me?”
Nan’s eyes were soft, and in them were all the memories of the years Miri had been under their care. “I wish with all of my heart I could.” Her hand came up to cradle Miri’s cheek. Her fingers were cold and the wrap covering her palm soft and tattered. She smelled of fresh dough, sweet ale, and the citrus oils Thom’s men brought from across the sea. “It was only a matter of time. You were never my child. Not my sweet, fragile Bean. You’re the daughter of the Lion Queen. I know what waits inside you. As much as I might want to hold you here, honor prevents me.”
Miri put her hand over Nan’s, her own fingers still trembling while her heart was a feral beast in her chest. Nan never spoke of the Lion Queen or dared to whisper of Miri’s true birth. Since she was a child, she had been Bean, a poor cousin’s orphan come to earn a living to keep off the streets, hidden away with scars of a tragic past, too damaged for marriage, unfit for society. Miri watched the sadness wash over Nan’s features. She was the woman who had protected her when no one else could. But something else was there too: pride and duty.
“My family is sworn to the throne,” Nan said. “The true throne. To the rightful queen and all who are hers.” She straightened. “It is not my place to command you, Myrina, but to follow your command.”
Miri opened her mouth in a rush to protest and vow that she would never command or make demands after everything they had done.
But Nan continued, “To keep you safe.”
Miri’s heart felt a stab of guilt. What was happening was her fault. It was her fault that they were all in danger.
“To that end, we have always known you would leave us. One day, you would no longer be our little Bean.”
Nan’s thumb brushed over Miri’s cheek, but Miri had not shed a tear. Miri hadn’t cried since before—not since the darkness while fleeing Stormskeep and not since seeing her mother killed.
“What has been in your heart all these years is too strong to be hidden, sweet Myrina. While I may wish for your safety and that you remain out of harm’s way or foolish plans, I cannot stop you. All I can do is offer my support.”
Miri swallowed, but before she could speak again, a clatter came at the door. Her hand shot to her waist, but the hidden blade would do her no good against a dozen kingsmen or—if it was truly a hunt for sympathizers—the king’s sorcerers. She didn’t know why she bothered to carry the weapon when killing a man would draw the guard faster than anything else, but that didn’t stop her from reaching or from wanting to fight.
Nan’s hand fell to Miri’s shoulder, steadying her. “It’s Thomas. But the guard will not be far behind.”
A massive cloaked form shouldered through the door, bringing with him the scent of smoke and sour ale. Thomas was not much of a drinker, but it was hard to supply the ale house without being covered in the warm yeasty scent. The sourness had not come from proximity to spills, though. It was for keeping guards away.
Thom shoved his hood down, face grim. “They’ll be along soon. Best get going, Miri.”
“I can’t—” Miri’s words caught in her throat. She was close to arguing that she couldn’t leave them when they were in danger, but staying would only mean a more certain death. Her eyes flicked between Nan and Thomas. They had both known her intent. Neither of them meant to stop her. She pressed her lips together. It was time. She was truly, finally, going to go and repay her debts. “Will you be safe?”
Nan gave her a soft smile. “We’ve made it this far, dearie. Nothing can hurt us now.”