Cass watched a dark figure fly from the king’s tower window. He had moved nearer the moment the first scream had sounded then watched without breath, as it had been followed by the shouting of men. Something had gone wrong, but he hadn’t expected the woman to fling herself out the window on nothing but a thin strip of fabric. She landed hard on the roof of a garderobe then slipped. Her descent was slowed by various corbels and lintels before her body disappeared onto the rampart.
Cass ran, though he feared her already dead. Arrows were launched through the air toward the rampart, and Cass’s frantic heart picked up pace. Terric had said the queen had friends in Ironwood. Cass hadn’t realized they would be willing to fight.
Alarm bells rang through the air before Cass reached the castle walls, but his boots were swift in their flight. It was only nearly dawn, but inside those walls must have been sixty kingsmen at the ready, two sorcerers, and gods knew what else. He rushed toward the wall, hearing the shouts and running men atop the parapet. Fighting and the sounds of swords clashing led Cass toward the castle gate. The portcullis had not yet dropped, and if he went through, he would likely never escape. But that did not slow his pace. He rushed forward, assured in his fate, and was knocked solidly from his feet by a heavy black mass.
The breath rushed out of him with a huff as the body that had landed on him groaned. Cass struggled to right himself and saw a dark figure gesture at him through the hole above. The man turned and clashed swords with another, and Cass jerked to stare at the form over him.
It was Miri, covered in blood, her eyes closed, and her head lolling to the side. They’d shoved her through a bleeding murder hole. He shifted her body, carefully rolling her to her back, but she was still warm, still limber, and thank the gods, she still breathed. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, but she immediately winced in pain. He’d seen enough—the honey brown of her eyes had been swallowed by darkness. She was not the Miri he knew. The sorcerers were too near, and her body was too injured to run.
Cass hauled her into his arms and ran from the gates just as the portcullis’s chains began to rattle.
He bolted from the castle with kingsmen coming from every direction in the half light. There were other figures, too—men and women who stood in watch, those who would have heard the bells and come from curiosity, and those who held weapons and wore fighting gear. The last ones would be loyal to the dead queen and willing to risk life and limb in any fight with the king’s men.
Cass ran forward, turning down the first alleyway that came in an attempt to get Miri someplace safe. But the manor was too near the castle, and the grounds would already be swarming with kingsmen. He had no place to hide her, no place that was safe. Terric and the others were fighting kingsmen, dying in the name of the queen. He glanced down at Miri and felt a stab of fear run through him.
Clumps of blood covered the side of her head. A chunk of torn hair was pasted to it in a tangled mess over her cheek. Blood caked her chest and soaked the bodice of her dress. Cass swallowed whatever was rising in his throat, pressing on with very little in the way of breath. He had no idea how far he’d carried her or how much farther he could go. Wary faces peered through windows. All of Ironwood had been awoken by the bells and the chaos behind him. It would only take one to do them in, one loyal to the king to call out to the guards.
Cass raised his head to the sky, breathing in through his nose and praying for strength. There was only one place to take her to give him a chance to keep Miri alive and scrape out of the mess. He shifted her in his arms and walked on with the last bit of strength he had left.
Cass burst through the door into Ginger and Hugh’s kitchen. They stared blankly up at him for a moment as they sat at their table with mugs of morning tea. Cass’s arms trembled beneath the weight of Miri’s form, and his legs were ready to give out, but he was prepared to grip his dagger if need be. He hoped he didn’t have to.
Ginger shoved to her feet, hand going to her mouth as her eyes trailed over Miri. Hugh’s chair slid back with a noisy growl, but neither approached. They stared at Cass.
“I need your help,” he said. “It will put your lives in danger.” He did not say the rest—that he would be forced to kill them if they didn’t agree. He would kill them to protect the daughter of the Lion Queen. The idea made him half sick. He hoped he had chosen well and wasn’t wrong about them.
Ginger moved forward without even glancing at Hugh, her hands outstretched to take Miri from Cass.
“Understand…” Cass said before she reached them. “Understand that she… she has killed the king.”
Ginger stopped, blinking up at Cass, but Hugh still hadn’t moved. Housing someone who’d murdered a king meant not simply death. It would be torture, disgrace, dishonor, and punishment to anyone they knew.
“The bells,” Ginger said. Her eyes fell to Miri. “Is it true?”
Cass realized that she was not merely asking about the killing of the king. Ginger had, somehow, suspected Miri was more than simply the trader girl Bean.
“Myrina,” he said, voice broken by an emotion he was too exhausted to name.
Ginger swayed and moved forward a step to keep from falling to her knees. “Myrina,” she whispered, her eyes going damp at the sight of the poor, broken princess. “Hugh, leave if you need to, but I will stay.”
Hugh crossed his arms. “I’ll not leave a daughter of the queen. What do you take me for, woman?”
“Then bar the door.” To Cass, Ginger ordered, “Take her to the bed. I’ll bring water and supplies.”
Cass collapsed into a chair beside the narrow mattress where he’d lain Miri, his arms so shaky and limp that he wasn’t certain he would be able to draw a sword.
Hugh was suddenly beside him, flask in hand. “Drink it,” he said.
Cass took one quick draw, coughed, and wiped an arm over his brow.
Hugh grimaced at the blood that covered Cass’s arms and face. “I’ve got the shutters drawn, and no one expects us to be about today, since we’ve just returned from the road. I cannot promise they’ll not send scouts, searching the houses for sign of the girl.” He gave Cass an appraising look. “Did you carry her all the way from the castle?”
Cass nodded but said nothing else. Hugh was right. They needed out of Ironwood before the queen ordered Edwin’s murderer found. But it was not the kingsmen who worried him. It was the sorcerers—Miri was covered in blood.
“Do you have a plan?” Hugh asked.
Cass stared up at him. “I have… I had friends.” He didn’t know if they were still alive.
Hugh nodded. “Aye. I’ll help you find them. If not, we’ll get you free.”
Cass’s aching hands curled into fists as feeling began to return to them. He’d just asked Hugh and Ginger to give up everything—their home and life and everyone they knew.
“Out!” Ginger ordered Hugh. “This wretched corset is coming off, and you’ve no business in the presence of a half-dressed princess.”
Hugh frowned at her but turned and did as she ordered.
Cass started to get up, but Ginger shoved her supplies into his arms. “Not you. You’re helping.”
Cass stared as Ginger wiped the blood from Miri’s wounds. They’d cut the dress from her body. Half the gown had already been torn to shreds and was thick with blood. But it had not all been hers. She lay beneath two thin blankets in nothing but her underclothes, the thin shirt, which—inside of her hem—held the trinket Miri’s mother had given her. It was the last possession of the dead queen, the only thing left aside from two daughters, who were captive to their fates.
“It’s not deep,” Ginger murmured of the cut beneath Miri’s neck, “but she’s lost a good deal of blood.” She held a hand out to Cass. “I’m ready for the needle. I’ll stitch this one up, check her over once more, then heat another batch of water so you can clean up yourself.” As Cass handed Ginger the supplies, she glanced back at him. “Do you have fresh clothes?”
He shook his head. All of their possessions, the horses and supplies, were at the manor near the castle.
“Light,” Ginger said.
The sunlight from the window was not enough, so Cass leaned forward with the lantern.
Ginger added, “We’ll get Sarah to find you something. She’s a good girl. Smart.”
Cass opened his mouth to protest, but he’d already put the girl in danger by her association with Ginger and Hugh.
“She’ll come with us,” Ginger said.
The thread tugged at Miri’s skin, and Cass had to look away. He’d seen a thousand battle wounds and injuries, but none had unsettled him as much as watching Miri tumble from the side of the tower. Not even when the sorcerers had taken Stormskeep, but Cass had only been a child then. He hadn’t realized what that day would cost him and everyone in the realm.
“The girl’s mother too,” Ginger said. “We’ll take you north and, once we’re in the mountains, head east. Hugh has family at Blackstone. We’ve an ample supply of jewels.”
“You will be repaid,” Cass promised.
Ginger cut him a sharp look. “Don’t insult our generosity. This is our duty as much as it is yours.”
Cass was bloodsworn to the queen. It was no one’s duty more than his.
Ginger rolled her eyes heavenward before she returned her focus to her work. “Men are fools as often as they aren’t.”
Cass gave her no answer, because in that exasperated look, he saw and heard the fondness with which she complained of Hugh, and something else, something Cass did not want to tear open with Miri so fragile. Ginger had seen Cass and Miri close, acting as husband and wife. Ginger had known Miri was the daughter of the Lion Queen.
“Woman,” Hugh said from the doorway, “I’ve heated the water myself. We foolish men have tasks of our own. The lad can’t be your nursemaid all day.”
Ginger snorted but kept at her work, her long fingers dark against Miri’s too-pale skin.
Hugh gave Cass an expectant glower, and Cass reluctantly set the lantern near Ginger’s work.