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Outside the Orange Blossom chamber, Magnus conferred with the guards watching over Seona. According to them, she had slept soundly and made not a peep the entire time he’d been gone. Relief filled him to know Hyrk had attempted no evil while he’d been with Assaph. Perhaps the entity was resting. Perhaps he was biding his time.
Soon, his time would be up and his wicked influence would be ended once and for all. Magnus would make sure of it.
Quietly, he slipped into the chamber and exchanged quiet greetings with the guards inside. On the bed, Seona lay covered in lush fabrics and furs. Creeping closer, he took in the innocent way she slept, cheek pillowed on one hand, her other tucked under a silken pillow. Her hair fanned over the pillow, revealing one rounded ear. Without his telling it to, his hand reached toward her, finger poised to stroke the delicate curve so like a seashell. Horrified at himself, he dropped his hand to his side.
It was as if he’d forgotten for a moment who and what she was. Still, the sight of her vulnerable in sleep made his breath catch. A deep longing to protect her filled his chest, vital as air.
But it is not her. These feelings cannot be trusted.
“Time to wake, Lady Seona,” he said none too gently.
She stirred. Her eyelids fluttered, and her full lips parted in a yawn. “Hmmmm?” A feline stretch had her gracefully sprawled beneath the blankets. When she blinked open her eyes and smiled up at him, his heart squeezed. Of course, he ignored the sensation. “How long did I sleep?”
“A few hours.” He strove for a natural tone, not wishing to give away his intentions. “I hope you feel up to a short walk. I have something to show you.”
Excitement lit her eyes. “Yes!” She pushed herself up, and her creamy breasts plumped beneath her dressing gown. Perhaps this was an attempt by Hyrk to seduce him into letting down his guard. “I would love to walk with you. Will you help me dress?”
“No.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll send for Daly.” He strode to the door and commanded one of his men to summon Daly and a lad to help Seona dress. When he faced her again, he found her helping herself to a cup of water from the pitcher on the bureau. The dressing gown skimmed over her slender figure, displaying feminine curves that tempted him toward arousal. As she drank, her delicate throat moved with her swallows. He did not let himself become mesmerized or entertain the desire to feather tender kisses over that throat.
Finished with her water, she placed the cup beside the pitcher and reached for a hairbrush with refined movements. “Did you learn anything about Hyrk while I slept?” she asked, her voice casual.
For a moment, he imagined her as his queen. This would be her dressing chamber, but the bed would go unused—they would sleep together in his chamber every night. For the rest of their lives. While they readied themselves each morning, she would discuss kingdom matters with him, just as she was doing now.
When he didn’t respond quickly enough, she added, “You were hoping to learn more about our enemy from Assaph, yes? And your knight—was it Maedoc?—was to determine how the prisoner escaped—Oh!” She froze with the bristles half-way down a lock of hair. Whirling to face him, she said in a rush, “A boy helped the prisoner. A blond boy.”
He sucked in a breath, surprised at her seeming certainty a mere breath after inquiring about what he’d learned. Perhaps Hyrk intended to mislead him.
“Tell me how you know this,” he challenged.
“Seona remembered—I mean, I remembered.” She averted her gaze and continued brushing her hair. “It was a boy,” she continued smoothly, but he had not missed the slip. “A blond boy who convinced—me—to steal the stone. And I believe he helped the prisoner escape as well.”
Inadvertently, she had referred to herself as Seona. What more confirmation did he need that she was not a she at all, but the vile Hyrk?
“You say a blond boy convinced you. Tell me more. Now that you remember.” He doubted the tale was true, considering the source, but he would listen and investigate nonetheless. Perhaps Hyrk’s misinformation would reveal something useful.
But at that moment, Daly arrived. “You sent for me, Sire?” He wrung his hands. His normally tidy gray hair was disheveled as if he’d been rushing about. Unfortunately, Magnus had no time to inquire after Daly’s state.
“Fetch a lad to help Seona dress. And bring her a meal, please.” To Seona, he said, “I will investigate what you’ve told me and return shortly. Do not dally. We will leave at once upon my return.”
Leaving Daly sputtering, he hastened from the chamber and made his way to the dungeon. There were precisely two blond-haired pups in the whole of Chroina: Travis, the youngest of their race, and his elder brother by seven years, Alexander. The presence of either of Diana’s boys in the dungeon would be noticed. A few simple questions would clear up the matter, and he knew just where to begin.
One of his guards pulled open the door to the dungeon and held it while Magnus strode into the central chamber. Four labyrinthine wings branched out from the circular room, and it was here where the prison guards met and kept their records. With Chroina’s population so low, two of the wings were long abandoned, or so Magnus had thought.
Two moons ago, he had discovered that a far end of one wing had been in use. Accessing the space through a disused corridor, members of the Breeding First party had furnished the cells and used them to further their aims—aims that directly opposed the traditionalist values of the crown.
Magnus, like generations of kings before him, strongly believed that the sires of children should be documented. The Temple Archives taught that bloodline was an essential part of a moonsoul’s identity. Therefore, even though multiple bedmates were a necessity for their women, the law stated that only one bedmate could be taken per breeding season. The breeding lottery ensured every male had an equal chance of siring a child each season, and careful records were kept to ensure Danu’s teachings were followed. Breeding First had betrayed the crown, and Danu, by allowing women of the party to secretly take as many bedmates as they desired in the effort to breed.
That wing of the dungeon was now filled in with rock and debris. Magnus had ensured it would never be used again. The women caught participating in Breeding First’s plot were under house arrest in the Fiona Blath, and the men now resided in the dungeon, where they would never again experience the honor of a lady’s company.
The central chamber’s desk and shelves of records looked in order. The unoccupied wings had their doors sealed shut. The other two stood open. Beyond one, a guard made his rounds, his back disappearing around a corner as he paced away from the central chamber.
Sitting at one of the desks was the aged warden, who had served since before Magnus’s reign. He looked up from where he hastily scrawled on a sheet of parchment. “Sire!” The man shot from his chair and saluted. “About the escape this morning—I am looking into the matter. I offer my sincerest apologies—”
“At ease, Frederick. Cooperate with Maedoc on his investigation. That is all I ask of you. We will get to the bottom of this.”
Frederick sagged with visible relief that Magnus was not irate with him. “Of course, Sire. I’ll do anything. How may I be of service to you this evening?”
Was it evening already? The time flew past too swiftly. He must make haste here and return to Seona. Every minute he delayed was an opportunity for Hyrk to wreak havoc.
“I shall be interviewing prisoners. I will not need your assistance at this time. Carry on with your task.”
He left the warden and entered the east wing first. Here, prisoners were permitted the luxury of a private room and a bed for sleeping. Visitors could come during certain hours. There were precisely two individuals in the wing currently, both here because of their high rank and because Magnus had a soft spot for them both.
The cell closest to the central chamber contained his former war chieftain, Neil. When Magnus strode past his cell and saw the man napping in a rough-hewn chair, the pain of his betrayal stung afresh. Neil had faithfully served him and his father before him. He had led a merciless campaign against Larna twenty years past in which all the remaining Larnian women were rescued from their sadistic king. Neil was uncle to his newest Knight of the Crescent Moon, Riggs, and had been renowned for his ruthless and cunning war tactics. Forevermore, he would only be known as a traitor. To the crown and to the human women Ari had brought over from their realm. Neil had stood by and done nothing—nothing—when Ari handed those poor women over to Bantus in exchange for the use of Larna’s army in an attempted coup.
Passing Neil’s cell, he continued on to an isolated cell at the center of the wing and found who he was looking for. “Lady Diana,” he greeted.
“Your Majesty!” Sinuous as a snake, she rose from the chair where she had been reading a thin volume. “You’ve come to visit! I knew you would. You’ve missed me, haven’t you?” Curling her crimson-tipped fingers around the bars, she put on the airs of a demure maid, batting her lashes at him. She took full advantage of the low cut of her gown, one of only three simple garments she had been permitted to keep, pressing her lightly-furred breasts between her wrists, where they mounded up as if in invitation.
He was immune to the effect, knowing now that Diana was every bit the snake she moved like. She had been Ari’s accomplice in every step of his treachery. Her goal had been to sit on the smaller of the two thrones in the great hall, the queen’s throne. And she had done everything in her power to see Ari sit the other, including sending Anya through a magic portal to Bantus’s dungeon when the human had gotten in the way of their plot.
His stomach curdled at the memory of having Diana in his bed. He’d taken every lady of breeding age to bed at one time or another—Diana more than most because of her proven fertility. She had four sons. One woman, Riggs’s mother Hilda, had three sons. The rest were fortunate to have one or two. Sadly, many of the women had never birthed a child. And time was running out for them.
Ignoring Diana’s flirting, he said, “I’ve come to inquire after your sons.”
“How lovely! Would you care to come inside and sit? I’m afraid I have no tea to offer and no servant to wait on you. Though if you saw fit to move my residence back to the Fiona Blath, I could offer you much more hospitality.” Her emphasis on the word much left no doubt as to which type of hospitality she would like to offer.
Once, Diana was the prize of the breeding lottery. Not only did she take a lottery winner to her bed every season, but she had met Ari and countless other men in the ruined wing of the dungeon in a bid to get all the seed she could. At the moment, she was banished from the lottery, having so recently shared her bed with any number of men. If she grew with child, the precious jewel would of course be welcome, but the true father would never be known. If she did not, she would be permitted to take part in the lottery again, this time under close guard. One man per season, and he must come here, to the dungeon, to breed with her.
“You will remain here, where I can keep close watch on you.”
She preened, misunderstanding him. “Of course, Your Majesty. I am happy to be of service to my king anyplace he desires.”
“I’ve not come for your service,” he said with no small amount of disgust. “Tell me of your last visit with Travis. When was it?”
She blinked. When she realized he had not come here to bed her, she rolled her eyes. Hardness came over her smooth features, making her look every day of her eighty-three years. At her temples, white hairs lightened her golden hair. She was the youngest woman alive in the world, and her hair was now graced with the evidence of age. She had ten or fifteen years left to breed—a frighteningly short time. If not for the child growing in Anya’s womb, he would struggle not to despair.
Releasing the bars, she put her hands on her hips and said, “Travis doesn’t come to see me anymore. I hear that awful human won’t let him.” She pushed out her lower lip, as if she expected him to intervene on her behalf.
He doubted Anya kept Travis from seeing his mother. If Travis wasn’t visiting, that was his business. Perhaps, when Magnus saw the lad, he would encourage him to bid her good day now and again. Diana was a wicked woman, but as Danu taught them, bloodlines were important. Family was important.
“And Alexander. Tell me when he was last here.”
She shrugged an elegant shoulder. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Maybe two weeks. I hear he’s very busy at the Fiona Blath. He brings me news from the common house when he finds the time. It seems without me to intervene, there are catfights aplenty. The serving lads get caught up in them, the poor things. If you sent me back, I could have order restored in no time.”
Magnus held back his snort. He made it a point to inquire daily after the affairs of the ladies. According to his reports, there was practically no bickering amongst the women anymore. Hilda, Riggs’s mother, had settled into the role of highest lady, and in Diana’s absence, harmony had taken the place of the constant infighting.
Ignoring Diana’s attempt to change the topic, he continued his line of questioning. “When Alexander was last here, did he speak to anyone besides you?”
“How would I know?” she asked with a hand poised to draw his gaze to her chest.
Magnus looked her dead in the eye. “You would know because you are close with Alexander. He would have told you if he intended to visit other prisoners.”
She sighed airily. “Ah, but he is growing up, the strapping lad. He no longer tells his mother everything. Independent, that one. Are you certain you do not wish to rest for a few moments? I have not had a visitor in a long time.”
He didn’t deign to answer her question. Turning on his heel, he left and ignored her calls behind him. He’d gotten the answer he’d expected. Neither Travis or Alexander had been in the dungeon in at least two weeks. This was nothing but a distraction by Hyrk.
On his way out of the east wing, a rough voice broke the silence. “Sire.” It was a voice he knew well.
He was already past Neil’s cell, and considered not stopping. However, he and Neil had shared many victories, many drinks, and many laughs. As a boy, Magnus had looked up to the older man. When Neil had trained him as a warrior, he had striven to please the craggy chieftain. He could not simply walk past.
He turned and approached Neil’s cell. “Make it quick,” he said. He had to get Seona to the temple as soon as possible. Daly was likely done dressing her by now.
“I won’t keep you,” Neil said. He didn’t bother rising from his chair. He still slumped as if he’d only recently woken from his nap. “But you should know she’s lying.” He lifted his chin in the direction of Diana’s cell. “Xander was here two days ago and again early this morning. He helped that shite Bilkes get out.”
Magnus stiffened. The thought Neil could be lying slid through his mind, but it did not stick. Neil had betrayed him, true, but he had always taken matters of security seriously.
“Why are you just telling me this now?” He should have heard of this as soon as it happened.
“No one asked,” he said. “Lax security. Lax investigation. Your soldiers and guards are getting soft. They’re easily tempted away from their duties.”
Magnus gripped the bars. Neil made it sound like vulnerabilities abounded. If this was the case, why had Maedoc not informed him? He’d sent the head of his Knights to the dungeon this morning to assess how Bilkes had escaped and just now realized he hadn’t reported back. “Did you tell Maedoc today?”
“Haven’t seen Maedoc.”
Magnus frowned. Neil might have been asleep when Maedoc came to investigate.
A guard rounded a corner and paced toward them. Magnus stopped him and asked after Maedoc.
“Haven’t seen him today, Sire,” the guard replied.
“Told you,” Neil said.
The guard saluted and continued his rounds.
It seemed every time Magnus turned a corner some new problem demanded his attention. He must add to the ever-growing list Maedoc’s absence from the dungeon when Magnus had commanded him to investigate a prisoner’s escape.
“And don’t bother with that lad.” Neil interrupted his thoughts. He lifted his chin in the direction of the guard. “He wasn’t here this morning. Just came on shift a few hours ago. It was Henders that was on duty. Only Henders. There’s usually two guards patrolling overnight, but I never saw a second guard. And when I heard the door to Bilkes’s cell open, Henders was getting a pole job from that bitch down there.” He jerked his thumb down the corridor toward Diana’s cell.
“You heard Bilkes escape? And you did nothing?” Anger made his face hot. Did Neil’s betrayal continue even now? He’d confessed in time to warn Magnus of Breeding First’s coup, showing he had some loyalty left in him. It was part of why his cell was in this wing and not the other. He’d thought Neil would at least speak up if he saw a prisoner escaping.
“How did I know it was an escape?” Neil growled, glaring from beneath his heavy brow. “He might have been summoned to trial or taken for a medical exam. There are any number of reasons a guard would open his cell.” Beneath his prison tunic, he shrugged a meaty shoulder. “I only put the pieces together after I’d heard about Bilkes. He’s dead, now, aye?”
Neil’s explanation made sense, but Magnus would not fully trust any testimony coming from him. He would have to summon Maedoc and determine whether he had been in the dungeon today to investigate how Bilkes had escaped, and if he had not, Magnus must discover the reason. It was not in the knight’s character to disobey a command.
Absently, he confirmed that Bilkes was, in fact, dead, but his mind roiled with all Neil had told him. If everything was true, it meant Diana had managed to betray him from her prison cell. This represented a clear rift in Glendall’s security. He would not stand for it.
“So Diana was in it,” he said, stroking his beard in thought.
“Aye,” Neil said. “My guess is when Xander slipped in before dawn, he let her know it was time to seduce Henders. Henders, the ball-sac, didn’t take much convincing to lift his kilt. When he was busy is when I heard the cell door.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the back wall of his cell. Bilkes’s cell in the other wing must have abutted his; Magnus would confirm this. Fine cracks visible in the stone would allow sounds to pass through.
Yes. The scenario was possible. But it wasn’t enough to bring charges against Henders or Diana. He would instruct Maedoc to find witnesses—that was, if the knight could be found.
“Killian.” Magnus addressed one of his escort. “Inform Frederick that Henders is not permitted back on duty until further notice.”
“Yes, Sire.” Killian hurried toward the central chamber.
“You’re stretched too thin,” Neil said, his voice close. While Magnus had been speaking with Killian, Neil had approached the bars. “You look weary. It’s no good, Magnus. You can’t do it all, son. You need a new second.”
He bristled at Neil calling him son, like old times. “You’ll call me Sire,” he said. “You lost the right to address me by any other name when you betrayed me.”
Color rose in Neil’s cheeks, above his gray-streaked beard. “I did what I did for the good of our people. That bitch down there and your snake of a cousin were in it for themselves. I only wanted our women to have more births. Breeding First seemed to have the way of it.” His eyes glinted with conviction a moment before they dimmed. “I was wrong. I know better now. What those human women suffered—shite.” His voice broke, and Magnus was surprised to see moisture at the corners of his eyes.
Neil looked away to hide his emotion. “Whatever’s happening,” he said, “You must send them back to their homeland. As long as they remain here, they’ll be in danger. Bantus is gone, aye, but there are still Larnians who will stop at nothing to get their hands on women. Hell, there are Maranners who will stop at nothing to get their hands on them—look at Bilkes, for Danu’s sake.” He shook his head in an agitated jerk.
“I know,” Magnus conceded. “It is one of my top priorities. But there are other things that take precedence.” Like ending Hyrk’s existence. And finding the gemstone that would open a door to the human realm.
Neil leveled a gaze at him. “You need a second, Sire.” He emphasized the title with a quirk of his mouth. “And you need him yesterday.”
Of all Neil had said today, this was the truest. If only there were a man he could trust beyond all doubt, a man of wit and strategy, of patience and strength. A man loyal not just to him but to Danu as well.
Of course! He knew a man like that. Why hadn’t he seen it before?
With quick steps, he left the dungeon. Perhaps by the time he and Assaph had dealt with Hyrk, Riggs would have returned from hunting for the lost gemstone.
