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EVERLEIGH IS READY, dressed in her most beautiful dress – the crown pin from Archer fastened on – head held high, her mother’s crown on her head. Queen in her own mind and heart and in those of her supporters, who follow her through the castle corridors.
They head straight to Millard’s rooms first, Ceryn and Archer holding their swords ready just in case. Ceryn pushes open the door. Weaver is pacing, the room is empty other than him.
“No sign of Millard?”
Weaver grins at the sight of her. “None yet. Did you find Everleigh?”
“Yes, I did and someone else.”
Ceryn pushes Archer through the doorway and then laughs at Weaver’s whoop of delight. “Archer!” he screams his name and then launches himself at him and the two men laugh, hug and cry, slapping each other on the back. Weaver keeps hugging him, then pushing him away so he can look at him before pulling him back for another hug, before pushing him away to get a proper look at him again. “How?”
“Long story,” Archer says, his voice thick with pain.
“Have I hurt you?” Weaver is contrite, pulling back from Archer.
“I’m a bit beat up, but I’m alright.”
“I can’t believe you’re alive. Everleigh – can you believe it? Ceryn?”
He cannot stop grinning, looking more foolish than Will when he’s in full fool mode.
“Where’s Will?”
“Gone to his rooms. I think he needed peace and quiet.”
“We’ll fetch him on the way. We’re going to go to the great hall. Show everyone that Everleigh is safe and well.”
Weaver nods and throws his arm around Archer’s shoulder. “Still can’t believe this. Archer!”
They stop at Will’s door to collect him, but his room is empty. “Where is he?” Everleigh looks upset, sure something bad has happened.
No one can answer her. Weaver who saw him last tries to reassure her. “He seemed fine when he left me.”
“We need to find him.”
“Let’s go to the great hall. Maybe he’s there. If not, we’ll look for him. He won’t be far away.”
Unhappy but willing to see if he is in the great hall, Everleigh walks ahead of the little group. At the door, the guards step aside silently, shock on their faces at the sight of her, and she sweeps past them. The call of Kingmaker is taken up by the commoners and castle visitors alike and Everleigh beams at them all. Her subjects.
She walks to the dais and takes Millard’s seat, the one that belonged to her father, and she sits down to applause. Addyson sits on one side of her with Della next to her, and Finn beside his sister. Archer sits on her other side, with the teacher next to him. Ceryn and Weaver choose to stand guard.
“He’s not here. I need to know where he is,” she whispers to Archer, keeping the smile on her face and her eyes on the people filling the great hall. “I don’t like not knowing where he is. I want us all together again.”
“We’ll look for him as soon as we’re done here. He won’t be far away.”
More people are arriving; they’ve heard the news that the Kingmaker is safe and well. “I need to see Ginata too and plan my coronation. I have to be Queen, officially.”
Archer nods and puts his hand over hers. “I will do whatever you want me to. I’m here to serve you.”
“I like that.”
They grin at each other and Everleigh stands up. In only seconds, there is complete silence. “Thank you for my lovely welcome.” A cheer goes up and she laughs. “My brother, the King, is absent from the castle at this time. I shall take his place. Please, eat, drink and be merry. Very merry.”
She mentions nothing of being Queen or not allowing the King to come back. Now is not the time or place. She gives instructions to the little maids to bring food and drink enough for everybody, and Cook herself brings out the first dish.
She sets it in front of Everleigh and bows low to her.
“I’m so sorry about Lanorie,” Everleigh says, but Cook waves her hand, shaking her head.
“I am glad to serve you, Queen.” She whispers the word, Queen, and bows again before backing away and returning to the kitchen.
One of the little maids serves Everleigh from all the plates and platters. She eats a little and smiles as she watches over her court. This is how it should be. How it will be.
***
WILL IS CALLING EVERLEIGH’S name, weaving in and out of the trees near the river, searching for his friend and Queen. He hasn’t seen Ceryn, Finn or Ginata but they will hear him if they are anywhere close. The guilt is a physical weight he can feel inside him, like a block of something heavy sitting in his stomach and lodged in his throat, making it hard to breathe. He has to fix things, he has to find her, or at least try to.
The throbbing in his head increases as he walks faster, until he has to stop. He bends in half, breathing deeply, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He shakes his head to clear it, rubs at his eyes and sets off again. He cannot rest until he has done something useful, until Everleigh is safe again.
If he was a warrior instead of a fool, she wouldn’t have been taken in the first place. He wouldn’t have stopped behind the wall, to catch his breath and make a plan; he would have had more stamina and he would have instinctively known what to do and how to protect his Queen.
***
MILLARD RIDES AWAY from the castle on his horse, alone and unsteady, and, unusually for him, afraid. Since he was a little boy he has been ready to rule the Realm, to take over from his father, and in his opinion, do a better job. His father was a good King, but he wasn’t a great King. He didn’t inspire fear or respect. He didn’t have women throwing themselves at him or men trying to prove their valour to him. He didn’t change the Realm for the better or the worse.
It was as though he hadn’t even ruled in the first place.
Millard knows he will be a great King. Renowned. Feared. Adored. He also always knew he couldn’t leave it to chance.
The legend of the Kingmaker is all well and good but it also left things to fate. He had to be King. There was no way he could have drunk his sister’s blood and risked dying. He had to rule.
Of course, as it turned out, his brother had the same idea.
He had known Wolf for a long time and while he was originally his father’s man, Millard saw something in him that he liked, something he recognised, something like himself. They had struck up a quiet friendship, a low key one and when the time was right Millard tasked Wolf with befriending Macsen, watching him, keeping an eye on him, and reporting back to Millard.
And what Millard had learned had been so interesting. Macsen had the same idea – how similar they were – he would live and rule and not leave things to chance. He had ordered a death draught from the village witch and he planned to kill Millard on the day of Everleigh’s sacrifice; pretending to drink her blood but lacing Millard’s cup with the poison and then standing back while his brother died.
Macsen had also found out that Everleigh would live, before Millard did, and then his plan changed again. Still determined to get the throne, he decided to kill their father and Everleigh. Without the King or the Kingmaker, the old law would come into play and the first-born son would rule. It wasn’t the best way to find a true King but there would be no other choice.
Millard was happy to sit back and go along with all his brother’s plans, until the day of the coronation, when he killed him and found out that Everleigh wasn’t dead, but alive and after the crown herself.
What a pest.
If only people would let him get on with things and stop interfering.
And now, Everleigh, or someone acting on her behalf, has attacked him and tied him up and someone else has set him free. His head hurts with all the mystery and intrigue and he just needs to find a safe place to rest.
Through the fog in his head, an idea comes to him. Ginata lives at the castle now and no longer needs her little cottage. He’ll head there and hide until he feels better. Then he’ll gather his troops and take back his throne and his crown and finally rid himself of his aggravating sister once and for all.
***
FOOD EATEN, TOO MUCH wine drunk and Everleigh is feeling better than she has in days. Archer sits on one side of her and her sister on the other. Could life get any better? Yes, if she knew where her brother was and could end his life, she would feel better.
She would also feel better if Will was with them. She calls Weaver forward and asks him to look for him. She’s hoping he’s back in his room, sleeping off the knock to his head.
Ceryn is still standing, watching the room and all the people in it. “Don’t go yet,” she says to Weaver, as he passes. The two guards at the door have their heads together and keep glancing over at Everleigh; Ceryn doesn’t like it. She catches Archer’s eye and nods for him. He leaves Everleigh’s side, touching her arm as he goes.
The three of them huddle at the foot of the dais.
“What’s up?”
“I don’t like those guards.”
“You don’t like anybody.”
“Not funny. They’re whispering together and they keep looking at Everleigh.”
“Trouble?”
“Maybe.”
“The King’s men?”
“Maybe.”
“Stands to reason. Millard might be missing but he won’t have taken every guard with him.”
“Weapons ready?” Ceryn asks, mentally counting her own arsenal: a dagger in each boot, her sword on one side and a knife on the other. Ready to go.
Archer and Weaver nod. Archer heads back to Everleigh’s side and takes his seat.
“What’s wrong?” Everleigh asks him and he shakes his head, a huge smile on his face. Barely moving his mouth, he keeps his voice quiet and calm. “Tell Della and Addyson to slip out of the door behind us and go straight to her room. Lock the door. Send Finn and the teacher away too.”
“Why?” Everleigh has frozen, turned white.
“Smile.”
She does as she’s told, but her hands are sweaty and her heart is hammering in her chest.
“We think there might be trouble from Millard’s men.”
She closes her eyes and Archer touches her cheek. “Come on. You didn’t think this would be easy, did you?”