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Peering down into the courtyard, Presley could not entirely convince himself that what he saw was really the Bocburg. It wasn’t just the gaping hole in the southern wall, either. Along the northern edge of the gravel walk, soldiers sat on benches that had been put in by the first gardener to serve Duke Brandon. And shading some of those benches were the locust trees Presley had convinced Duke Brandon to plant after that first gardener had retired. But many of the trees were broken at the top or missing limbs. In the center of the courtyard, where Presley could remember as a child playing Going to Oasestadt with Robert Dryhten and his brother, Philip, now stood neat rows of tents sporting a black eagle. All the same, but entirely different.
Grigory had been sitting at the desk in the small communal room in the suite they shared with Intira, but now he came to join Presley in the window seat. Without saying a word, Grigory rested his chin on the top of Presley’s head and draped his arms over Presley’s shoulders. Presley leaned back against Grigory.
At least I still have him. I can’t even begin to think what I would have done if anything had happened to him. He wanted to be out on the street for that last battle. The chances of him surviving out there would have been... well, I don’t like to think about it. Look at what happened to poor Alfred. He died right here at the Bocburg. In the courtyard below. Earstien, poor Elwyn. Alfred should have gone with her. All was lost when she and King Edwin left. Elwyn, King Edwin, and Lawrence. I’ll never understand how men like Lawrence keep surviving, and better men like Alfred perish.
Grigory kissed the top of Presley’s head, and they pressed closer together. Surrounded by death and tragedy, at least they still had each other.
How different would it all be if we had never left Terminium. We could have had our vacation and then returned to life as normal in Presidium. Grigory has missed an entire school year. Is everything still going well for Stylianos? Have my replacements made a complete hash of business?
But I had to come, didn’t I? I would have never been able to face myself if I hadn’t tried. And since I came, there was no way Grigory would have gone back to Presidium alone. When we reunited after all those years apart, we vowed to never be separated again. So, we had to come to Myrcia, and we had to come together.
Presley lifted one of Grigory’s hands to his lips and kissed it.
“Ah, so you’re both here.” This had become Intira’s favorite joke over the preceding three days, since they were not permitted to leave the suite, and therefore, could not possibly be anywhere else.
“You should take up gazing out the window,” Presley said. “It’s a very exciting pastime.”
Intira pulled a chair over to join them. “What is there to see? Nothing will be as thrilling as seeing Queen Rohesia brought over from the tower. Today has peaked as far as what’s happening outside, I’m afraid.”
“You think something will happen inside?” Grigory asked.
Intira hummed noncommittally while she fiddled with her magysk arm. Faustinus had included a spell to conceal the more “combative” (his word) capabilities of the arm, in case she didn’t want a hillichmagnar to sense everything it could do. Intira had done this as soon as the Bocburg fell and it was clear Lady Jorunn was with Broderick and actively participating. Still, Presley knew how nervous Intira was about Jorunn doing anything that would render the prosthetic useless as a functioning arm.
“I can’t take this anymore,” she said, jumping out of her chair to pace.
“What?” Presley asked. “Have we done something to upset you?”
“Not as such.” She blew out a long breath. “But although the two of you might be able to communicate soundlessly while snuggling in the window, I need to talk.”
Grigory made to pull away, but Presley clasped his hand, and Intira snorted. “I didn’t mean you needed to stop cuddling.”
“So, let’s talk. What are you thinking?” Presley began. “Is today the day?”
“That was definitely Countess Margaret we heard berating a Gramiren soldier in the hall this morning. And we’ve heard more people moving around in general today.”
“And the queen was brought over,” whispered Grigory.
“If not today, then soon. Agreed?” Intira asked. They both nodded. “And when that happens...well, we’re all fucked.”
Presley could feel Grigory turn away from her, and he took a deep breath of his own. “Well, there’s
fucked, and there’s fucked. Dealing with us too harshly will have consequences. Broderick is evil, not stupid. Right?”
“Tullius is also not stupid,” Intira answered. “There is so much evidence of our helping the Sigors, there will be no point in denying that we were spies.” She paused to twist up her mouth. “Tullius can’t afford to get further involved in another Myrcian war, especially when there’s already evidence that he has been meddling, and again on the losing side.”
“But it is not just Tullius,” said Grigory. “Faustinus already hates Broderick. He would not allow Broderick to hurt us without consequences.”
“But we’re still enemy spies,” Intira insisted. “If your crossbows don’t count as giving aid to the enemy, then I don’t know what does. Legally, Broderick could chop our heads off this afternoon, and he would be right to do so. Would Faustinus really risk the disapproval of the entire Empire and Tullius to avenge us?”
Presley saw her point. In fact, he saw it far more vividly than he cared for. But he had a point of his own. “It isn’t actually about what Tullius or Faustinus would do, but what Broderick thinks they might do. I don’t know that he will want to run the risk.”
“Gods, I hope you’re right,” she said, flopping back down onto her chair.
“Also, your father would never ship another thing to Myrcia as long as Broderick is king,” Presley added.
Intira almost grinned. “If Myrcia had a coastline, that would be a better argument. Damned near everything from the Empire gets here over land.”
For a minute, none of them said more, as they quietly calculated their chances.
I know Intira thinks we’re lost, but I’ve never known Broderick to do anything out of spite or revenge. He only acts out of self-interest, so the real question is whether he thinks it’s better to hang us from the city gate or send us home. It might look impressive to some of his supporters to execute us, and he might think to frighten the people of Leornian by doing it. But he would weigh that against the possible retaliation of the Immani Empire and Faustinus. He wouldn’t think it was worth it. Surely.
“Oh, Earstien, no,” said Grigory.
Presley tried to turn to look at Grigory, but Grigory steered his gaze back at the window. Down in the courtyard, Broderick stood with Lukas Ostensen and a few of the Annenstruker soldiers who had come with him. They gathered around a large cart, draped in a large cloth. Presley could guess by its size and shape and Grigory’s reaction what must be under there.
“What?” Intira asked, pushing up beside them to look out the window. “Those are Annenstruker engineers, based on the crests on their tunics.”
“I was afraid so,” Grigory said.
One of the engineers stepped aside so Broderick could get next to the cart. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled off the cloth to reveal one of Grigory’s crossbows. Broderick dropped the cloth and turned around to look up at their window. Almost like he had planned precisely where to have his unveiling.
Broderick waved. A heartbeat later, a knock came on their door, which was flung open before they could respond.
“The king wishes to see the three of you down in the courtyard,” announced a knight at the head of two dozen guards. “You will come with us.”
“And do not even think of trying anything with that arm of yours, Domina Stylianos,” said Jorunn, stepping between the guards as they parted to make room for her. “I promise you that whatever spells Faustinus may have equipped you with, I am vastly more experienced at using magy than you.”
“Like I said,” Intira whispered. “Fucked.”
***
“PROFESSOR SOBOL,” BRODERICK said jovially when they reached the courtyard. “I must say that you are money well spent.”
“Excuse me?” Grigory whispered, never looking at his damaged machine that had provided so much hope to the Sigor cause, if for only a time.
“The money I spent on your scholarship all those years ago. Money extremely well spent.” Broderick slapped a friendly hand down on Grigory’s shoulder. “All these fancy Annenstruker engineers have never seen anything like it.”
“It’s true,” Duke Lukas chimed in. “Spend I don’t know how much money and goodwill dragging these cousins of mine up here, and they’ve all been left looking like so many amateurs by someone who grew up in a tent.”
Grigory was always too polite, even when dealing with smug assholes like Lukas Ostensen, to say anything against these sorts of insults to Loshadnarod. Presley wasn’t, though. However, Broderick started laughing and shaking a finger at Lukas.
“Now, now, let’s not be so narrowminded and crude. Wherever he came from, the fact is Grigory Sobol here is the brightest engineer of our time. And I helped pay for his education.” He offered Grigory a wide smile. “You will surely understand that I take pride in seeing how well that investment paid off.”
Grigory dropped his eyes, studied the grass, refused to answer. Broderick chuckled and shrugged. “Thank Earstien that these Annenstrukers are not wholly stupid, even if they cannot compare to you in terms of imagination. I have no doubt they will be able to reverse engineer this machine since it’s still mostly intact.” He gave the crossbow a loving pat. “We don’t really need them here anymore, but I think a dozen would make a nice present to my son, fighting in the West.”
“Only a dozen?” Duke Lukas asked. “Surely you can send at least three or four dozen.”
Presley watched Grigory literally shrink from Broderick, wanting to crawl away where he could forget what his hard work and talent would be turned to. Yes, maybe we both should have stayed in Terminium. I knew how he felt about war. I should have never done this to him.
“And you, Sir Presley. So nice to see you again in Leornian,” said Broderick. “We’ve found your ledgers. I remember the work you did for my Uncle Edgar, so I would know your excellent system anywhere. My accountants look forward to examining your fine work as well.”
Presley only nodded, and thanked Earstien that Broderick seemed to believe the ledgers in his office represented all his work here. When it became clear the city would fall, Intira had used a quick spell to incinerate the two most important ledgers. It wouldn’t really hamper Broderick’s administration of the city, but it made him feel better to have done it.
Then Broderick looked Intira over like a prize horse he wanted to buy. “And you, Domina Stylianos. I know Lady Jorunn is quite interested in your arm.”
“Quite interested,” Lady Jorunn added.
Intira smiled right back at Broderick and wiggled her fingers. “It really is a medical marvel, isn’t it? For purely the good of helping other maimed souls in this world, I’m certain Faustinus would be more than happy to send instructions for how he constructed a prosthetic that works every bit as well as a natural arm.”
“Oh, I’ve already found the repair instructions in Caedmon’s room,” Lady Jorunn said. Presley was caught off guard at how nonchalantly she could speak about going through Caedmon’s things, a man she had known and worked with for centuries. “I’m more interested in the jewels and other spells that Faustinus included.”
“Oh, these shiny trinkets?” Intira waved at a ruby and a sapphire near her wrist with her other hand. “You can get those at any old jeweler. Faustinus put them on there at my request. Just a girlish fancy, you know.”
“I mean the spells,” Jorunn snapped. “I know they are there.”
Intira did her best to look surprised and innocent. “Faustinus did something to these besides making them extra shiny?”
“Did he?” Broderick asked Jorunn, eyebrow raised.
“I felt the spells.”
“‘Felt,’ meaning you no longer feel them?”
Jorunn frowned at Broderick. “They are cloaked now. No doubt something Faustinus taught her to do. Give me some time to... discuss the issue with her, and I am certain I can find out.”
“Torture a personal friend of the Empress of the Immani and the daughter of the richest man in the world?” Presley said, unwilling to let this go a word further. “Both of whom are good friends with Servius Faustinus? I realize I’m not your advisor, but that sounds like a terrible way to celebrate your victory.”
Broderick slowly turned to face Presley, and his smile melted into a sneer. “No. You are not my advisor. You were the advisor to that whore queen who tried to put her son on my throne. You helped the false king, and I could have your heads on pikes in the next five minutes if I wished it.”
It wasn’t easy, but Presley refused to look away or back down. “And then you would have to face the consequences of your actions. That has never been one of your favorite pastimes. Why start now?”
They stared at each other silently for several moments, the only sound Duke Lukas and the engineers picking over the crossbow.
Without flinching or showing any sign of having come to a decision, Broderick began speaking low, but distinctly. “The three of you will leave Leornian. Tonight. I cannot spare a boat, but I will provide you horses. You will ride downriver and then cut up through Newshire to Cruedrua. You will not deviate from the main roads or take any detours to see old friends or visit favorite haunts. You will leave Myrcia as quickly as possible, and you will never come back. Because I swear on my mother’s grave, if I ever see any of the three of you again, I will kill you on sight, Faustinus be damned. Please say you understand, so we can get on with it.”
“Broderick, promises were made,” Jorunn hissed. “I helped you, and....” She trailed off under Broderick’s glare.
“I am the King of Myrcia, Lady Jorunn. And I have given an order. These... guests will be leaving today.”
“Yes, we understand,” Presley quickly answered in case Jorunn thought of arguing more. “Grigory and I were living in rooms near the university. Do we have your permission to move freely through the city to retrieve our belongings?”
“You will go under guard.” Broderick suddenly relaxed. “Ah, this is not how one likes meetings with old friends to end, but war often changes plans and perverts our dearest wishes. We must take our disappointment in stride. Isn’t that right, Lady Jorunn?”
“I suppose it is,” she answered through gritted teeth.
“Very well. Safe journeys to all of you.” Broderick smiled like a host seeing off guests from a pleasant dinner party. “And now I have to continue my tour of old friends. I have yet to have a good conversation with Duke Robert.”
“How is he?” Presley asked. He might not have been as close to Duke Robert as he had been to Robert’s father, but Presley would always care deeply for any Dryhten. And he and Robert had been boys together. They studied together, rode together, and counted their fondest early memories as happening here at the Bocburg.
“The duke is healing,” Broderick answered. “Injuries are difficult at his time of life.”
His time of life? He’s younger than you are. Has the man forgotten he’s mortal?
But Presley kept that thought to himself and said, “If you passed along my regards to him, I would appreciate it.”
Broderick nodded to Presley. “I will. And now I had better leave you to your packing.”
It didn’t take long to pack at their rooms on Docent Lane, as there was little they wished to take back to Presidium. Although, in spite of what Broderick had said about not going out of their way, they convinced their guards to return to the Bocburg by way of Crane’s with a bribe of baked goods.
“Do you think this will be our last cinnamon roll from Crane’s?” Grigory whispered as they ate and walked back to the castle.
Presley couldn’t say for certain, but something in the day felt final to him. He didn’t know what the future might hold for Myrcia. He prayed Edwin made it to Sahasra Deva and would find some way to gather troops to help him reclaim the throne. But walking through the rubble, stepping over the downed trees of the university quad, scuffling through the stone dust in the streets of his birthplace, it felt as though Leornian was already gone from him.
“I think it might be,” Presley answered. But Grigory’s frown made him so heartsick, he added, “You never know, though. Vita may come up with another crazy idea someday. Still, I would really enjoy every bite just to be on the safe side.”
Intira had everything from their rooms at the Bocburg packed when they returned. There was no reason to stay. In fact, every second they remained was a second in which Broderick might change his mind and set Lady Jorunn loose on all of them. So he set aside his desire to linger and say goodbye to the Bocburg the way he would have liked. No final trip to the gallery with Leofe’s glass rose, or to the library where Duke Brandon had always given him free rein, or to his old office from his days as treasurer or the newer one Caedmon had given him.
And no trip to the Queen’s Tower to say goodbye to Queen Rohesia. Presley had heard what Broderick intended for her. (Guards became chatty when given good pastries.) She would hate it. Living with Aldrick would be a misery. But at least she was alive, and Alice and Helena could go with her.
Perhaps Vita will find some way to send her packages to make her captivity easier. Some books and a new journal. Some quills and ink from the new stationary store that’s on my way from the house to Stylianos’s offices. Yes. She would like that. And maybe a book Alice can read on her own. Or read to Helena. Vita and I will find them something.
And so without any proper goodbyes, Presley, Grigory, and Intira mounted up in the courtyard not far from where the crossbow had been a few hours earlier. They each had a fine gray palfrey, taken (the Gramiren officer made a point of telling them) from fallen Sigor knights, plus two extra horses for the baggage. They rode slowly for the West Gate, and Presley looked over his shoulder at the Queen’s Tower. Where Queen Rohesia was being held, she did not have a window with a view of this gate, but Presley bowed in his saddle anyway.