Retribution

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Jam. The thought of the name made her nearly throw up. What’s he doing here?

In recognizing Jam, all hopes of a treaty with Peermont evaporated like morning mists near the river in summer. His twisted smile told the story. He was the emissary she was supposed to deal with instead of meeting with the King.

The smile did it. She walked closer, almost stalking him, until she stood so near no one else could hear their words. Her anger grew to a state where she considered casting fire at him until his clothing burst into flames. She considered using the enchantment on the throwing knife and letting it fly at his heart—if he had one.

“Jam,” she spat as if something distasteful had gotten into her mouth.

“Prin. Or should I call you Hannah?”

She forced herself to calm. “You may address me as Princess Hannah.”

“No princess I ever heard of got on her hands and knees and scrubbed the decks of a ship.”

“That is because you have never met another true princess.”

His smile twisted. “But I have a King’s ear. And I am his appointed emissary.”

Tiring of the conversation already, she said as her tone turned to ice, “Look over my shoulder, Jam. I have a thousand of your King’s troops behind me, and the residents of Calverton, as well. I will not negotiate with you, I will meet with King Edward—or his corpse. Today.”

Jam backed off a step, and Hannah knew she’d won. He shouted, “That is King Edward’s army.”

“It follows me. Jam, I am also Peermont royalty, a member of the royal family who rules here. If the King dies, I may be Queen of Peermont, I don’t know where I stand. But, what you really need to understand is that the army behind me is behind me. Not King Edward.”

“You lie. He sent me out here to send you away. You’re not wanted here, and he’s going to get angry if you don’t leave.” The words tumbled from him, one running into the next. Jam tried to regain the leadership role and failed.

Hannah said, “Jam, be a good little boy. Run tell your boy King that I will speak to him and no other. Today. Tell him it is not a request, but an order. And that I will talk to him if I have to tear down his walls to do it.”

“He’ll have you horse-whipped for that.”

“Maybe,” Hannah agreed.

Brice and the general had silently come up behind her. The general said, “Son, you can also tell King Edward that General Case is here. My army follows Princess Hannah, and I will not be whipped. He is welcome to meet me here and bring all his friends, but as Princess Hannah said, we will speak today.”

Brice said, “I am Princess Hannah’s Knight of Knights. I will whip any man who threatens to whip her. I didn’t quite hear what you said, but think twice before opening your mouth again.”

Jam spun quick as a top and ran into a doorway.

“Well, what do you think?” Brice asked.

Hannah’s fingers tingled. Her neck felt stiff enough to be made of wood. Her jaw didn’t want to open. She pointed, “We do not wait or argue.”

She took a determined step and found Brice had hold of her arm. She pulled it away. “No.”

The general motioned to a pair of aides who stood behind him. He issued a series of orders, and one aide departed at a sprint, running to the officers at the head of the column. He issued more orders and the second aide ran off as men broke into units and pulled weapons.

She hadn’t listened to the orders because she was so angry. When part of the men formed up and advanced, she moved to join them. Again, Brice said, “No.”

“I’m going with them.”

“You’re going to sit in the inn and wait with me,” Brice said, firmly moving her in the opposite direction that she wanted to go. He pushed with his shoulder, leaning on her to make her move. “The inn had been cleaned. We’ll bring the King to you.”

“No.”

Brice stopped pushing and said, “Then what?”

“I will wait here on my horse, but will not be sheltered like I’m . . .”

“Like a princess?” Brice asked, finishing her thought for her.

Hannah yanked her arm free and faced Brice. “When this is over, we will resume our daily combat training as we did in Gallium. You will pay for this.”

His smile told her he understood.

Meanwhile, small groups of men had formed into five and ten man squads, part of them wearing shields and carrying swords in their other hands. An archer who held an arrow ready to fly followed each squad. Their quivers were hanging on their belts where a dozen arrows were within easy reach. Those with swords and shields entered the gates first, the archer always last, ready to protect them with their arrows. Then another squad and an archer, and then another.

Hannah stopped counting. At least ten squads had entered the palace, and another ten waited their turn. More were forming from the ranks. She waited to hear cries of pain or fighting but heard none. The squads entered and might have fallen off the ends of the earth, but she saw no sign of them, heard nothing, and the anxiety built.

The general said, “First, they will secure the palace.”

“How many squads are going in?” Brice asked.

“Twenty, until we hear how things are going. Others will enter soon.”

Hannah said, “Their orders?”

“Avoid killing. Gather all the people and escort them to the ballroom, royals, servants, and guards,” the general replied as he motioned for more squads to move up into place. “We’ll need a hundred or more men to keep them under control in the ballroom.”

More squads entered. Hannah was sweating, her heart pounded, and she wanted nothing more than to run into the walled city and track down Jam. She had no doubt he’d already spoken to King Edward. He’d as much as said so when he informed her that he was the appointed envoy. He must have somehow wormed his way into the inner circles of the King.

Brice gave her a warning growl intended to capture her attention. She glanced down and found her knife in her hand, her horse edging closer to the entrance.

An archer rushed from the exit and ran to the general. “Sir, we’ve swept the palace, and everyone we found is in the ballroom as you ordered. We request more men to perform another search. A few seem to be missing.”

The general nodded to an aide who rushed to the officers who would detail and instruct more men. Soon, they entered in groups of ten. Inside, they’d split up and search entire floors, closets, storerooms, and other hiding places.

“It won’t be long,” Hannah whispered. Then she repeated it until the phrase became a mantra. Later, too long, as far as she was concerned, a messenger declared the danger over.

Hannah started forward, then thought better of it and dismounted. “General, where is King Edward?”

“In the ballroom with everyone else.”

“Take me to the ballroom,” Hannah said without turning to see if he obeyed. She entered a hallway with few doors. At the end, a staircase took her down, and across a small courtyard where exotic plants flourished in contrast to the devastation outside the palace walls.

A soldier darted to the front of her small group and pointed out the way. The buildings were of different vintage, the older were more ornate. He took them into another building and out the far end, then stood beside a huge, decorated wooden door. Black ironwork framed the door, and ironwork vines writhed their way from the ground to the peak.

A pair of soldiers stood at attention as Hannah approached. Their hands were on the pulls, and at the same time, they ceremoniously opened them.

Inside milled a mass of people, far more than Hannah had expected. She strode to the entrance and found a small stage typically used by musicians, but now occupied by several young men. All were dressed in the finest clothing with gold, silver, diamonds, rubies, and sapphires prominent. Only Jam dressed normally.

Jam snarled, “That’s her.”

Silence fell across the entire ballroom. All activity ceased as every eye looked at Hannah. She looked at the man in the center of the stage protected by the others in a loose ring. “King Edward?”

“I have not granted you an audience. You will release us this instant, and I will consider not hanging you . . . today.” His voice was a drawl of irritation.

A few of those closest to him tittered. One woman dressed in yellow from head to foot threw her head back and laughed.

Hannah said, “Your Highness, please accompany me to a private place where we can talk.”

He faked a yawn. “I take back the promise of not hanging you today.”

She stamped a foot and snapped to the nearest officer, “Bring him to face me. Drag his ass here if he won’t walk. Don’t kill him, but a few scrapes and bruises might improve his manners.”

She turned and said to the nearest foot soldier, “Do you know the way to the Throne Room?” At a nod, she continued, “Good. Take me there.”

She followed the private and soon entered a fairly small, but expensively decorated, room. At the far end were five steps leading up to a stage that contained two thrones, one slightly larger than the other. The great sizes offended her, and the difference of one larger, no matter if a Queen ruled or a King. She walked the length of the hall, ignoring the soldiers who happened to be inside, and climbed the stairs in a rage. At the top of the stairs, she paused and eventually sat in the larger of the two thrones while waiting.

A commotion sounded at the end of the hall. Feet shuffled, and men grunted. The door flew open and three soldiers dragged the King inside. He shoved and pushed while the men gently moved him in her direction.

She called, “If he does not walk on his own, bind him, hand and foot, then carry him to me.”

At her words, he caught sight of her and where she sat. His throne. He broke free with a lunge.

Despite her advice to give him a few bruises, the men had handled him gently as their King. His expensive clothing was clean and appeared new. Each hair was in place. Seeing her sitting on his throne turned his growing anger to fury. A soldier tried to stand in front of him to prevent the King from charging her. Another held his shirt from behind.

“Let him alone, and everyone leave us,” Hannah said, louder than she had intended. “Close the door and wait outside.”

After they had exchanged looks, the men obeyed.

“Stand,” King Edward warned in a growl.

“It is good to finally meet you, too.”

“I am the King!”

“You are a fool, even if we are related, which I’m beginning to wonder about.” The King was nearly a foot taller than her, wider at the shoulders and perhaps five years older. His face was powdered because nobody had that color complexion.

His deep purple robe glittered with sparkles from tiny stones, and his feet wore matching shoes made of the same material. Hannah decided he looked like a plum.

He charged. She sat and waited. He shouted threats as he ran through the hall towards the stairs. She waited. Long before he reached the five stairs, he tired. He panted and huffed up to them, fists balled, face red.

Hannah stood, and as she did, casually her left leg swung wide and struck him high on his right leg, above the knee. She spun, and the same leg came around again neck high. It stopped when it touched him, her heel resting on his cheek.

“Huh?”

He hadn’t seen them coming. Not the first kick, and certainly not the second. A wooden column beside him drew her attention. Without thinking, Hannah pulled the throwing knife and let it fly. He never saw that, either. It struck head-high, an arm’s length from him.

“You might want to reconsider some of what you said to me when you entered.” Hannah sat again, on the same throne.

The door at the far end flew open, and Brice strode in without pause. He walked quickly to them, his face also flushed with anger. “Kill him. Or, allow me.”

“Brice, that doesn’t sound like you,” Hannah said.

“His people starve and die, and he laughs about it.”

Hannah stood, holding up her hand. “Stop right there.”

Brice pulled to a reluctant halt but glared at King Edward as if he was half a worm in Brice’s apple.

Hannah turned to the shaken King who seemed to have deflated. “I came here to request your help by borrowing a few hundred soldiers long enough to reach Wren and be crowned. In return, I planned to help you defeat Ansel. One favor for another given to cousins.”

His eyes narrowed, and he started drawing himself back up. “Yes, we can do that.”

“No, we can’t,” she cut him off. “Not now.”

“I’ve heard about you. . .”

“From Jam? I wouldn’t believe a lot of what he says.” Hanna said while adjusting herself theatrically on the King’s throne. “This thing needs more padding.”

“It is my throne. I have also heard of you from others. The rightful heir, for instance. Elenore visited here only last year.”

“Did she bring her pet mage with her?” Hannah asked, and then reconsidered. “No matter. Here’s how this plays out. If you are to see another sunrise, you will surrender your crown, in public, today.”

“You can’t make me do that.”

“You’re right. But Brice here wants to kill you—which serves the same purpose. Give up your crown, and I’ll assign a detail of your soldiers to escort you to the Ansel border. You may take whomever you wish with you, and enough gold to fill one small purse.”

He glared at her. Hannah waved a hand in Brice’s direction. “I don’t think I’ve introduced my Knight of Knights. He is small in stature for the position, but he has never failed to kill a man when I ordered it. Not once. Is that a lie, Brice?”

“Your word is my command.”

Hannah smiled sweetly. “Besides, I don’t think he likes you, Edward. Brice, do you like the King?”

“I do not.”

“There, I think the subject is settled.” Hannah stood, walked to the column and retrieved her knife, and turned her back to King Edward.

The King shouted, “We’re not done.”

She walked slowly down the stairs, and when she reached Brice, she paused and said softly, but loud enough to carry to the stage, “One or the other. Before you leave this room. His choice, not yours.”