The Sword Of Angels

35

The Walled Garden of Castle Hes contained more roses than Mirage had seen in her whole life. They bloomed in every variety, climbing trestles and smothering ancient statues while they filled the garden with perfume. Mirage worked diligently among the flowers, clipping back the sprouts the way Laurella had taught her, careful to watch the thorns that had already pricked her fingers, teaching her the hard way to use the gloves Laurella had provided. The morning sun blanketed the garden, threatening a hot day. Mirage glanced up at the blue sky, noting its perfection. The last week had passed in a day-dream of perfect weather, and she had been glad to get out of the castle and help Laurella with the chores. With Raxor gone, she had more than enough time to pitch in, and while the royal women of the castle ignored her and called her whore behind her back, Mirage was content to work as the servants did, tending to the garden or shadowing the maids while they cleaned the enormous home. She had been in Castle Hes for more than two months now, and the only friends she had made in the city were servants like Laurella. Laurella had taken Mirage under her tutelage, teaching her the fineries of court gossip and pointing out the best ways to avoid King Raxor’s arrogant family. She had cared for Mirage like a mother, and Mirage was grateful to the old woman. She had made Mirage’s confinement in Hes bearable. Amazingly, it was starting to feel like home for Mirage.

Home had never been a word Mirage was comfortable with. For her, home was her burnt-out house in Jerikor, where her parents had died and where she had been scarred to the point where pity shone in every eye that looked at her. And like the little girl she had been on that awful night, she carried that memory of home throughout her years in Grimhold, where she had struggled to find her place among the Inhumans and to be the daughter Minikin had always wanted her to be. She had chaffed in those years, never really feeling at home, and then when Lukien had come. .

Mirage paused, staring at the bright red rose just in front of her nose, her shears poised to clip back its dead leaves. It struck her as beautiful suddenly, and she realized that she had not thought of Lukien in weeks. Her time in Castle Hes had gone that quickly, and instead of pining for Lukien she spent her days worrying about Raxor. Now, though, the memory of Lukien came flooding over her like the scent of the rose, so strong it forced her to remember. Her heart twisted with a tiny pang, and she lowered her shears long enough to sigh.

Where was he these days, Mirage wondered? Had he found the sword? Was he even still alive?

‘And does he think of me?’

From the other side of the row of roses, young Sela glanced at her. The girl was on her knees in the dirt, sweating but happy-faced, enjoying her work. She peered through the blooms inquisitively.

‘Mirage? Are you talking to me?’

‘No,’ said Mirage, quickly shaking her head. ‘I was just. . thinking.’

Laurella, dressed in a long brown work gown, sat on a stool at the other end of the garden, filling a basket with the most perfect of the roses. Overhearing the conversation of the girl’s, the old woman glanced over, nodding with a smile at Mirage. Mirage nodded back, embarrassed.

‘Take a break if you’re tired,’ Laurella suggested. ‘Take some water.’

‘I’m fine,’ said Mirage.

‘You don’t have to be here, you know,’ said Laurella gently. ‘You can go inside.’

‘No, I want to be here,’ Mirage insisted.

There were four entrances to the Walled Garden, each one an archway built into one of the four high walls. At the northern entrance stood Corvalos Chane, keeping his watchful visage over Mirage as she worked. Mirage stole a look at him, spotting a hint of humour on his hard face. He smiled, one of his wry grins, forcing Mirage to roll her eyes. Next to him was a barrel full of cool water that he had been helping himself to while the women worked. He patted it tauntingly with his hand. And all of a sudden Mirage was thirsty.

‘All right,’ she relented, getting off her knees and wiping the dirt from her work gown. She pulled off her gloves and dropped them to the ground, then sauntered over to where Chane was standing. Wherever she went in the castle or its grounds, Chane went with her, hovering like a vulture. At King Raxor’s orders he had been assigned to protect Mirage while the king was gone, and Chane had never once faltered in that duty. He was always nearby, waiting when she took her meals or went down to sleep at night, even when she bathed. He had become such a part of her life now that Mirage hardly noticed him any more, and that was why he occasionally taunted her. Like a spoiled brat, he wanted her attention.

‘Hot,’ he commented when she came up to him. He took a tin cup from the side of the barrel and dipped it into the water for her, offering her the drink.

‘How would you know?’ she jibed. ‘You’re just standing here.’

‘Looking after you is work, girl, believe me. Do you want a drink or not?’

‘Yes,’ said Mirage, taking the cup out of his hand. ‘Thank you.’

He grinned. ‘Will you be much longer? It is going to get hotter, and Laurella is right — you don’t have to be out here working like a slave. You are the king’s woman.’

‘I choose to work, Corvalos Chane,’ said Mirage tartly. ‘And you can do more than just stand around making faces. Gardening is man’s work, too, you know.’

‘It may be that, but it is not my work, girl. My work is to see no harm comes to you. So be careful with those shears, will you?’

‘You are in a mood today,’ Mirage snorted, then at last took a pull of the cool water. From the corner of her eye she could see the boyish satisfaction on his face. ‘Of course if standing around is too much for you. .’

‘I am fine.’

She handed him back the cup. ‘Tonight Laurella is going to teach me to sew. What do you think of that?’

‘It sounds like great fun.’

Mirage nodded. ‘After supper then. You’ll be there?’

‘Of course,’ said Chane, but a small knitting of his brow betrayed his displeasure. ‘I serve at the pleasure of my king.’

‘And you’ve done such a good job, Corvalos Chane, really,’ sighed Mirage. ‘Protecting me from all these flowers. If not for you I might be stung by a bee!’

Laurella and Sela heard her joke and laughed. Mirage studied Chane’s face, watching cracks develop in his stony fac?ade. He was a handsome man, her bodyguard, or he might have been if he wasn’t so thin. His face, like the rest of his body, held no fat at all, just taught skin stretched over his strong bones. The hot sun and her constant sarcasm made his scalp turn red.

‘The king cares for you, girl,’ he said. ‘He would not have anything happen to you, or I would be the one to answer for it. So beware of the bees, please. The thorns, too.’

Was it a sweet thing to say? Mirage wasn’t sure. So many of Chane’s statements were couched in mystery. Despite their tension, they had become close during the month of Raxor’s absence, a fact that amazed Mirage. He was the one who had captured her, after all, and taken her to Raxor. But he had also saved her from Asher, and since then there was an unspoken attraction between them. He had told her once that he could never have a woman of his own. Still, he was a man, and his eyes revealed his desires.

‘I’ll be only an hour or so more,’ she told him. ‘We’ll break for a meal then.’

Chane nodded as though disinterested, letting her return to her work. Mirage went back to her place in the garden, quietly trimming back the rose bushes. Occasionally she felt his eyes on her, admiring her, but when she looked up he glanced away, without the slightest trace of guilt to give him away. The hour passed slowly, and by the end of it Mirage and Sela were both exhausted and hungry. They looked hopefully at Laurella, who nodded as she rose from her bench.

‘Yes, all right,’ she said. ‘We can stop now.’

Happily Mirage laid down her shears and began to stand, and then noticed a man hurry into the garden, running up to where Corvalos Chane stood. He was a soldier, one of the guardians Mirage often saw around the castle, and his face was drawn with worry. Mirage and the others stopped, instantly alarmed as the man began talking, struggling to catch his breath. Chane listened, though Mirage could not hear what was being said. She watched as Chane’s expression lost its usual apathy, collapsing suddenly with disbelief. His mouth dropped open as the man spoke. Mirage stopped breathing, sure something terrible had happened.

Corvalos Chane looked stricken. His eyes moved purposelessly around the garden, as if lost. The soldier stopped talking. He stared at Chane. Mirage froze.

‘What is it?’ she called from across the garden.

Chane ignored her. He dismissed the soldier, then turned and slowly left the garden. Shocked, Mirage looked at Laurella, but the old housemaid simply shrugged. Young Sela went to stand beside Mirage.

‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘Where’s he going?’

Mirage was determined to get answers. ‘Wait here,’ she told Sela, then hurried out of the garden after Chane. She caught up to him quickly just outside the garden wall. He did not turn to look at her, but kept walking toward the castle, his face emotionless.

‘Chane?’ she queried. She grabbed hold of his sleeve to stop him. ‘Wait!’

Corvalos Chane stopped walking, and very carefully took her hand off his arm. ‘Don’t touch me. I have to go.’

‘Go where?’ Mirage insisted. She looked ahead, toward the soldier scurrying back toward the castle. ‘Who was that?’

‘No one. He’s no one.’

‘What did he tell you?’

Chane fought to control himself. He looked at her, then quickly looked away. ‘Prince Roland is dead,’ he said. ‘King Raxor is on his way home.’

Mirage stepped back. ‘What?’

‘The king. .’ Chane could barely speak. ‘His army — they were defeated.’

‘Defeated?’ It seemed unbelievable. ‘Raxor?’

Chane looked disgusted. ‘Did you not hear what I said? The king’s son is dead.’

‘I heard you,’ said Mirage. ‘I. .’ She caught herself. ‘I am sorry.’

Chane shook his head. ‘His only son. .’

Once again he turned away, walking slowly as if through a haze. Mirage took a step after him, then stopped herself. Her own shock tied her tongue into a knot. The heartbreak on Chane’s face frightened her. Behind her, she heard Laurella and Sela approaching. What would she tell them?

Under the perfect blue sky, Mirage watched Corvalos Chane leave.

As she always did since Raxor’s departure, Mirage ate her supper with Laurella and the other maids, late at night after the royals had all gone to sleep. Tonight, however, the usual bawdy conversation around the table was stunted by the terrible news of Prince Roland’s death and the even more unbelievable fact that the king’s great army had been defeated. Because she was an outsider still, Mirage heard very little about what had actually happened, and though all the servants listened earnestly to the talk among their masters, they still had almost no idea of what had actually happened. Mirage ate sparingly, saying little as she contemplated the awful truth about what Baron Glass had done. The rumours that reached her and her servant friends were filled with tales about the ‘Black Baron’ and his evil armour, and how he had been the one to murder Prince Roland. The thought curdled Mirage’s appetite so that she pushed her potatoes around her plate without tasting them.

Corvalos Chane had not come to her, either. Mirage supposed he was somewhere in the Castle, mourning the loss of his king’s son. Like many in Hes, Chane had no real love for the prince, but his love for King Raxor was boundless and Mirage was sure he shared the old ruler’s pain. She imagined what Raxor might look like now, broken and defeated, his only son slain in the most horrible fashion. He had been kind to her and Mirage had been looking forward to his homecoming, but now she dreaded it. The news of his defeat fell over Castle Hes like a blight.

That evening, she did not go to her rooms as usual, but instead walked the corridors of Castle Hes in search of Corvalos Chane. The king’s relatives had all gone to the parlours to discuss the bad news of the day, leaving the castle ghostly and quiet. What had been a long day ended in a blood-red sunset, visible from the castle’s many windows. Mirage paused to watch the crimson dusk disappear into darkness, wondering where Corvalos Chane was hiding. He would not be pleased to see her, she was sure, but she was drawn to him tonight. She needed his quiet strength.

She inquired about him to servants she passed in the halls, and when they claimed to know nothing she left the castle to survey the grounds, where a sharp-eyed page boy told her he had seen Chane a few hours earlier, taking a horse from the stable. Mirage cursed her bad luck, sure that Chane would not be back before the morning. She stood in the courtyard, alone with the page, unsure if she should wait or simply go to bed.

‘Did he say where he was going?’ Mirage asked the boy.

‘Master Chane doesn’t speak to me,’ laughed the boy. ‘Sorry, Ma’am.’

He excused himself and then was gone, leaving Mirage confused. She was angry too, because King Raxor had ordered Chane to look after her and in the whole past month he had barely left her side. Now that she needed him. .

‘No,’ she said, stopping herself and feeling bad for cursing him. She wasn’t a Reecian, after all, and could not really know the depth of his pain. Suddenly she found herself wandering, not wanting to go back to her rooms. She felt like a foreigner again, unwelcome.

He’ll come back eventually, she told herself.

He just needed to be alone, just for a while, to deal with the terrible news. So Mirage went to the stable where she was sure Chane would reappear. Like everything in Castle Hes, the stables were enormous, and manned day and night by rough-looking hands who eyed her suspiciously when she stepped through the wooden gates. The ground, pitted with horseshoe marks, smelled of horse manure. A few lanterns hung in the stalls. The boys who had finished their hard day of work squatted in a circle in one of the stalls, playing a dice game. They all stopped when they saw Mirage. The look on their faces spoke of desire, the kind Mirage was still unaccustomed to. She glanced away, gazing at the stalls and the resting horses until a man — a soldier — called to her from across the way.

‘My lady? Have you need of anything?’

He had a brush in his hand and was grooming a horse, a big, chestnut coloured beast that whinnied at his loving attention. Mirage paused, taking a moment to remember him. She had only seen him briefly when he’d come into the garden to deliver the terrible news.

‘No,’ she said. Then, ‘Yes. I’m. . looking for someone.’

Did he know who she was? Most in the castle did, but never took the time to speak to her.

‘There’s only me here, my lady,’ he said, ‘and the boys who work here. Who are you looking for?’

‘My name is Mirage,’ she offered.

He nodded. ‘I know who you are, my lady.’ He surprised her with a smile. ‘You are the king’s woman.’

‘Yes,’ she replied. She had been called that so often it no longer offended her. ‘Sir, I am looking for Corvalos Chane. Have you seen him tonight?’

‘You were with him in the garden, when I told him the news.’ The soldier looked inquisitive. ‘You heard by now, then?’

‘Everyone has heard, but I don’t know the details,’ said Mirage. ‘That’s why I am looking for Corvalos Chane. Where is he? Do you know?’

‘He has gone,’ said the man. ‘He rode out hours ago but didn’t say where he was going.’

‘Just like that? He just left?’

‘Just like that, my lady,’ said the soldier. He let the hand with the brush drop to his side. ‘I was unlucky enough to give him the news. I’ve never seen his face like that, not in all my life. And I have known him a long time.’

‘He’s supposed to protect me,’ said Mirage impotently. She laughed at the notion. ‘That must sound silly to you, but he surprises me. To leave without a word to me. .’

‘He has much on his mind, my lady. The king will be return in less than a week. I am sure Chane does not relish seeing him.’ The soldier set down his brush and stepped away from his horse. ‘My name is Donil,’ he said.

Mirage returned his smile. He had that rare quality among the people of Castle Hes, a genuine kindness. ‘The folk of the castle have kept me in the dark all day, Donil,’ she said. ‘Will you tell me what has happened?’

‘To Prince Roland, you mean?’

‘To the prince, yes. And to the king.’

Donil shook his head. ‘It’s not for a woman to hear, my lady.’

‘But I must,’ said Mirage. ‘I have waited all day to hear the truth of what happened, and I cannot sleep at all until I know. Please, Sir Donil — if Corvalos Chane is not here to tell me, then won’t you?’

The soldier studied her face, considering her request. ‘You’re a Liirian, I’ve heard,’ he said. ‘I suppose you have a right to know what your countrymen did.’

‘Then you have heard wrong, Sir Donil, for I am not a Liirian and the men that did this deed are not my countrymen. Forget what you’ve heard about me, please. I’m neither a Liirian nor the king’s whore.’

‘My lady, your pardon,’ said Donil without offense. ‘But you were a consort of Baron Glass. I have heard that correctly, at least.’

‘A consort? No,’ Mirage corrected. She thought of going further but stopped herself. ‘It doesn’t matter anyway. Please. . tell me what happened at the river.’

‘I know only what the king’s riders told us,’ said Donil. ‘They came ahead of his army.’

‘They arrived this morning?’

Donil nodded. ‘Just before I saw you and Chane in the garden, my lady. It was decided I would tell Chane what had happened. A bitter duty, believe me, but he is well with me.’

‘You are friends?’

Donil laughed. ‘No, madam. Corvalos Chane counts no one as his friend. He serves only his master. But we talk, and if anyone in Castle Hes knows his mind then it is I, I suppose.’

‘I have never seen him the way I did this morning,’ said Mirage. The memory of his face rattled her. ‘And it isn’t just because of Prince Roland. Tell me — how bad was the defeat?’

‘The defeat was total, my lady. The king was lucky to escape alive, I think. I don’t know how many men died. Hundreds at least. But they say your man Glass-’ Donil corrected himself. ‘Baron Glass. They say he was unstoppable, my lady, like a thing from hell.’

The description made Mirage freeze. ‘They say that?’

‘Those who survived, yes. The rumours of him are true, then. Do you see now why the whole castle trembles tonight? If Baron Glass comes, there will be no way to stop him.’ Donil looked at her strangely. ‘Unless you know of a way, my lady.’

‘Me? Why would you ask me such a thing?’

‘As I said, I hear things,’ said Donil. He glanced around, lowering his voice. ‘My lady, you need to be careful.’

‘Why?’ Unable to help herself, Mirage looked over her shoulder. ‘What are you telling me?’

‘Just keep yourself safe until Chane returns, is all. There are people talking.’

‘Donil, what people?’ Mirage demanded. ‘What are you talking about?’

Donil smiled, determined to say no more, and turned back to his waiting horse. ‘Chane should be back by the morning,’ he told her. ‘Until then, do yourself the favour of staying out of sight.’

His words frightened her. And perplexed her. She had a thousand questions for the enigmatic soldier, but his manner told her not to ask them. Mirage looked suspiciously around the stable. Nothing seemed out of order. The stable hands continued with their dice game. The horses rested happily. It felt late suddenly, and oddly cold.

‘I’ll go now then,’ said Mirage awkwardly.

She watched Donil. The soldier didn’t turn around, but gave her a cheery farewell.

‘Sleep well, my lady.’

*

Mirage had got used to Corvalos Chane around her, and without him to protect her she found sleep almost impossible. With only her Akari to keep her company, Mirage lay beneath the expensive sheets, staring at the copper ceiling and wondering about the riddle Donil had set at her feet. Kirsil wandered in and out of her mind, as perplexed as her master as to the meaning of the soldier’s words. Were they in danger? Laurella didn’t think so, nor did any of the other maids. Castle Hes was in mourning, and the thought of anyone doing harm to Mirage in Raxor’s absence seemed unthinkable to Laurella, who insisted that Mirage go to bed after her wanderings through the courtyard. Mirage sighed and turned her head to glance out the open window. She had pulled the wooden shutters wide apart to let in the meagre breeze. Moonlight spilled into her opulent chamber. The world was remarkably quiet, and Mirage could clearly hear her own heartbeat, thumping uneasily in her chest.

Kirsil? Are you there?

The young Akari replied, I am always here, Mirage. You know that.

‘Yes,’ Mirage whispered. She did know Kirsil was always with her, though sometimes she needed reassurance.

You should sleep now, said Kirsil. Try, at least.

‘Where’s Chane, do you think?’ Mirage asked. ‘Do you think he’ll return?’

Of course. He must return. He is pledged to the king. And to you now, Mirage.

‘Yes. .’

The spirit’s words did little to comfort Mirage. But she was tired and it was very late, and soon her eyelids grew heavy. Half fighting it, she began to slip toward slumber, at first restlessly, then more deeply as her exhaustion won out. The gentle noises outside her window lulled her, and she began to dream.

Mostly, she dreamed of Thorin. She dreamed of how he had once been, when he was kind. He had loved her and comforted her. Even before she had changed her appearance, he had showed her kindness. In her dream she longed for him, as though her dream had unlocked a passion she had long kept suppressed. She missed the old man.

The dream faded, and Mirage slept. An hour passed without her notice and then another, and in her mind she heard the sound of scraping. She ignored it, but when it came again her eyes fluttered open. She felt Kirsil jolt through her mind.

Wake up! said the Akari.

Mirage bolted upright with a gasp. ‘What?’ Her pulsed raced and her eyes scanned the room. Through the dark and silvery moonlight, she could barely see at all. ‘Kirsil? Was that you?’

Mirage, look!

‘What?’

And then she saw him. He sat at the edge of her bed, one leg casually crossed over the other, staring at her with his manic gaze. His hands were clasped over his knee. The whiff of a demented smile curled his lips. His scarred face twitched when their eyes met.

Mirage went numb. The door to her chamber was closed. He was alone, though she couldn’t tell for certain. She raised the sheet over her bosom, unable to speak.

‘Good evening,’ Asher drawled.

He waited politely for her reply. Mirage could barely find her voice.

‘What are you doing here?’ she gasped.

‘It’s been quite a day for me, pretty Mirage. You can imagine my surprise at the news of King Raxor’s defeat.’ Asher leaned forward. ‘What do you think I am doing here?’

‘I don’t know,’ spat Mirage. ‘But if you don’t leave I will scream.’

‘You may scream as long and as loudly as you like. My men are right outside that door, and no one is going to come to help you. You’re mine, finally, the way you always should have been.’

Mirage sat up quickly. ‘Laurella! Sela! Help!’

‘The maids have been excused for the night,’ said Asher. He grinned, pleased with himself. ‘And good King Raxor is not here to come to your rescue this time. No one is going to rescue you, child. They blame you for the death of Prince Roland. And rightly so, I might add.’

‘That’s madness!’ cried Mirage.

‘I told you I would find out your secrets. I always knew you were hiding something. I should have pulled off your pretty fingernails the moment I met you, but I was soft and you. .’ Asher sighed as though he’d just finished a great meal. ‘You were so beautiful.’ He looked pained suddenly. And completely mad. ‘I was tempted by you. You weakened me. But now I’m going to find out your secrets, pretty Mirage.’

‘What secrets?’

Anger flashed across Asher’s face. ‘The armour, you whore!’

Mirage leaned back against the headboard. ‘You’re insane.’

‘And you are hiding the very thing that could have saved Prince Roland and the rest of the army. But never mind — you may tell all the lies you wish for now. I’ll get the truth out of you.’

Asher got to his feet and went to the door. Opening it, he revealed a team of burly prison guards, all dressed in the same frightening grey tunics. The men leered at her, enjoying the sight of her in her nightdress. One stepped forward quickly with a pair of manacles.

‘Take her,’ Asher ordered.

‘No!’

Mirage sprang to her feet, desperate to escape. The men rushed at her, grabbing her arms and twisting her around. She tried to fight them, but they were like a straight-jacket suddenly, suffocating her and pinning back her arms. She screamed, but a giant hand fell over her mouth to silence her. Angrily she bit it, tasting blood. The guard howled. Violently he yanked back her head, preparing to strike her.

‘Don’t you dare,’ said Asher quickly. He stepped forward as his men put the manacles around her wrists. His spidery fingers came up to brush her chin. ‘She’s perfect, Garl. That’s how I want her — a perfect canvas for me to paint on.’

Garl, the prison guard, grunted and stepped away, favouring his bleeding hand. Two of the others took Mirage by the elbows.

‘Maybe I should muzzle you,’ Asher suggested. ‘Like any wild bitch.’

Mirage replied by spitting in his face. The saliva running into this drooping eye made her smile.

‘When King Raxor finds out about this he’s going to skin you alive, Asher. He’s going to gut you and hang your ugly pelt over his throne.’

Asher wiped his face on his sleeve. ‘When his Majesty returns you will be dead, child, and I will have the means to defeat Baron Glass. I think that will ease his mind a bit.’ He nodded to his men. ‘Let’s go.’

As Asher left the room his burly guards dragged Mirage after him, lifting her by her bound arms toward the door. Fighting them was impossible — they were far too strong, and all Mirage could do was scream. Out in the hall, she let out the loudest cry she could, begging someone — anyone — to help her. But the halls were empty, and only silence met her echoing voice.

‘Where’s Laurella?’ Mirage demanded. ‘What have you done with her?’

‘Don’t worry, child. The old woman is fine.’ Asher laughed as he sauntered down the corridor. ‘She’s been subdued, though I must say she’s a tiger!’

‘If you’ve hurt her-’

‘Yes, yes. Save your strength, girl,’ said Asher. ‘It’s going to be a long night!’

The anticipation in his voice told Mirage of the awful danger. He meant what he said — he would torture her, then he would kill her. With a renewed vigour she struggled against the guards, but they were unmovable to the slight girl, who could only allow herself to be dragged through the corridors and down the long, curving stairs. Her mind filled with images of horror, of Asher’s ghastly prison and the cell there she had so narrowly escaped. She had thought she had left it behind forever, but like a recurring nightmare Asher had returned.

Down the in castle’s main hall, porters and stable boys and a few of Laurella’s own maids had gathered, looking stricken as Asher’s men dragged Mirage along. A handful of Raxor’s large, mostly nameless family were there as well, along with the caste’s own guardians, none of whom moved an inch to stop the determined Asher. Mirage shouted at them, begging them to help her, but all they did was look shamefully away, too afraid or too filled with hate to come to her aid. She stumbled out of the hall and through the huge oak doors of the castle, spilling out into the courtyard where Asher’s carriage waited, surrounded by more of his men on horseback. The crowd that had gathered in the hall did not follow them outside. The wardens stared down at her from atop their horses, looking pityingly at her, knowing her plight.

‘Get her inside,’ Asher ordered, climbing the steps of the beat-up carriage and opening the door for himself. He sat himself down inside and watched with satisfaction as his men stuffed Mirage through the small portal, seating her on a hard bench opposite the prison master. The door closed noisily behind her, and Mirage found herself staring into Asher’s monstrous face.

‘Don’t do this,’ she told him, trying one more time to convince him. ‘I don’t know anything more. And King Raxor will be back soon. He will, Asher, and if you harm me he’ll kill you.’

‘I’m willing to gamble on that,’ replied Asher. Because it was a warm night, both windows on the sides of the carriage were open. Asher stuck his head outside one of them and called out to the driver. ‘Get going!’

The carriage lurched forward, pinning Mirage back against her seat. The stout metal cuffs bit into her flesh as she squirmed to get free. Asher watched her struggling, licking his lips.

‘Look at you. You’re as limber as a cat.’

Mirage groaned, ‘You’re sick. You don’t know what you’re doing.’

Asher waved off her comment and settled back for the ride to his prison. He looked smug, like a boy who had captured a firefly, beaming with excitement to get his new pet home. Mirage raced through the possibilities, trying to think of anyway to free herself. She needed Raxor, and he wouldn’t be back for days yet. By then she would be dead.

The carriage moved quickly out of the courtyard. Through its left-hand window Mirage could see the gates of Castle Hes, open wide and waiting for them. She heard the clip-clop of the horsemen accompanying them, precisely guiding them. Her breath quickened as hopelessness closed like a noose around her neck. The carriage bumped along the rocky path, picking up speed. Castle Hes fell away behind them as they neared the looming gates. Mirage watched as the lead horseman approached the gate, and then saw another man riding past them, paying no heed to the carriage or Asher’s entourage. For a moment Mirage did not recognize him. Her thoughts clouded with fear, it took long seconds for her to realize the man was Corvalos Chane.

‘Oh, gods,’ she whispered. Then, exploding off the bench, she stuck her head out the little window and cried, ‘Chane! It’s me! Help me!’

Asher was on her instantly, cursing and pulling her back. Mirage continued to scream. Corvalos Chane paused for a moment, looking toward her, and just before Mirage lost view of him she saw recognition flash across his face.

‘Drive on!’ Asher yelled, his head out the window. He looked back toward Chane, then hollered at his driver, ‘Faster!’

The carriage bolted, knocking Mirage to the floor. Rolling to her feet, she fought to reach the window, but Asher fell on her, pulling her away. A small man, he had trouble with his own footing and stumbled badly, and when Mirage glimpsed his open thighs she fired her knee up into him. Asher writhed in agony, doubling over and falling against the opposite wall. His nimble hands clawed the air, reaching for her as she made it to the window. Chane was pursuing.

‘Chane!’ she called. ‘It’s Asher!’

‘I know!’ the bodyguard growled. His whole face reddened with rage. ‘Hold on!’

He caught up quickly to the last, lagging horseman, drawing his sword even before the man knew he was there. Chane’s blade moved like lightning, puncturing the man’s back. As the warden fell from his horse the others drew their weapons. Chane sneered and rode them down. Mirage fit herself further out the window, then felt Asher’s hand on her nightgown, pulling her backward.

‘You wretched whore!’ He spun her around and struck her face hard. The blow stunned her and she collapsed. Wavering on his feet, Asher leered down at her, his face twisted with pain. ‘He won’t save you,’ he grunted. ‘I won’t let him.’

‘You can’t stop him!’ spat Mirage. ‘You’re a weak little toad.’

Enraged, Asher reached down and grabbed hold of her hair, pulling her screaming to her feet. He shoved her face out of the window and called out to Corvalos Chane.

‘Is that what you want, Chane? This whore? This traitor? Is that what you think the king wants?’

But Chane was too involved to answer or even look at them. He had run down another of the guards, leaving his corpse in the road. Two more of the wardens were battling him back. Chane’s sword was up and parrying their assaults. He moved more quickly than any man Mirage had ever seen. Asher noticed this, too, and grunted out a string of curses.

‘Why save her?’ he roared. ‘She’s an enemy, Chane! A slut of Baron Glass!’

But his taunts only enraged Chane, who drove his horse ever faster and put his blade through the eye of a warden. The carriage went over a rut in the road, tossing Mirage back from the window. She landed on her rump and kicked out to avoid Asher who fell next. Together they squirmed on the floor of the cab as the carriage careened along. The noise of the battle outside reached Mirage, and she knew that Chane was getting closer.

‘You hear that?’ she trumpeted. ‘He’s coming Asher!’

Asher looked stunned as he managed to find his footing. He went back to the window and peered outside. And what he saw — or didn’t see — made his face go blank. Mirage was on her feet again and threw herself against him, knocking him aside. Still weak from the blow to his groin, the prison lord collapsed. Mirage fought to locate Chane, but saw only his empty horse quickly falling back. The wardens were gone.

‘Chane!’ she called. ‘Chane!’

But the bodyguard didn’t answer. She thought of him laying dead in the road, wondering if one of the distant corpses was his. Up ahead she saw the remaining riders, looking perplexed as they pointed backward and shouted. The driver looked over his shoulder and screamed.

Corvalos Chane descended out of the darkness, running along the roof of the cab and falling on the driver with his sword. Blood splashed against Mirage’s face and she cried out, clearing her vision to see the driver dumped aside and Chane taking the reins of the racing horses. He jerked the steeds to a halt, bringing the carriage to a sudden stop. Asher’s wardens wheeled their mounts around to face him. When the carriage halted, Chane jumped to his feet, sword in hand. Standing on the driver’s seat, he bid the wardens to come.

‘Fight me and die,’ he said, ready to spring. ‘Or lower your weapons and live.’

The wardens — perhaps eight of them — waited cautiously, none of them moving to attack. From inside the carriage Mirage could see them eyeing Chane, sizing him up. Asher muscled his way past her, quickly opening up the carriage door. With one hand he grabbed hold of Mirage and pulled her down the steps and onto the road.

‘I have her, Chane,’ he warned, dragging her toward the front of the vehicle. With his hand in her hair he violently shook her head. ‘Look at her. She’s the reason the army was defeated. She’s the reason the prince is dead!’

‘She’s mine to protect, Asher,’ said Chane. Slowly, he got down from the carriage and stood before Mirage and her captor, careful to keep his distance. ‘I can’t let you have her. You know that.’

‘She has secrets! She knows about Glass’ armour.’

Chane nodded. There was reluctance in his eyes. ‘It’s not up to you to decide what happens to her. Only the king can release her.’ The bodyguard lowered his sword. ‘Undo her binds.’

Asher glanced at his wardens. Mirage felt his fingers tighten against her head. He was calculating, she could tell, wondering about his chances.

‘I’ll kill them all if I have to, Asher,’ said Chane. ‘And then I’ll kill you.’

Asher’s hand began to tremble against Mirage’s scalp. She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened instantly.

‘Don’t you move until I say so,’ he rumbled in her ear. ‘You should be mine.’

‘In hell,’ cursed Mirage. With only a moment to act, she snapped back her head and smashed it against Asher’s nose. He let go instantly, screaming, letting her bolt toward Chane, who quickly grabbed hold of her and pulled her behind him. Asher came up hissing. He ran for her, but Chane’s quick sword halted him, coming up to catch his chin.

Asher stopped, raising his hands in surrender, the tip of the sword pricking his skin. His bruised nose dribbled blood.

‘Corvalos Chane, you are an idiot,’ he sneered. ‘All of this — what will it get you? When the king returns she’ll be mine again.’

‘When the king returns, then,’ said Chane with a nod. ‘Unlock her chains.’

Asher stepped back, then ordered one of the wardens off his horse. The man came forward with his jangling keys, quickly loosing Mirage’s manacles. When she was free Mirage rubbed at her wrists, glaring at Asher, who returned her gaze with a perverse leer.

‘Be on you way now, Asher,’ ordered Chane. ‘And don’t come to the castle again. If I see you again I will kill you. I swear it. To whatever devil you worship I swear.’

Asher’s face sank, for he knew he was defeated. He gathered his wardens around, looking back along the road at the litter of bodies. His driver was dead. So were at least four of his men.

‘You’ll hang for this, Chane. You will. And it will be on my very own gallows.’

Chane laughed. ‘A grand dream, little man.’

Asher ordered one of his men to drive the carriage, then limped back up the steps and closed the door of the vehicle. Chane and Mirage waited until Asher and his party were on their way before turning back toward Castle Hes. The darkness had thickened, and they had no horse to ride back.

‘We’ll have to walk,’ Chane told her. He looked at her, his expression concerned. ‘Can you walk?’

‘I’m fine,’ said Mirage. ‘Just shaken a bit.’

It was a lie and Chane realized it. He put his arm around her. ‘Lean against me. We’ll go slow.’

Mirage did as he asked, sinking into his strong embrace. ‘I’m not safe,’ she said. ‘Chane. .’ She looked at him. ‘I’m afraid.’

‘No one will harm you now,’ he assured her.

‘But the others, Raxor’s family. .’

‘Mirage, no one is going to hurt you. Not while I’m with you.’