Читать книгу Born of Dragons - Морган Райс, Morgan Rice - Страница 10

Stalking Finnal and his people was easy enough for Erin; after all, as a princess, she could go everywhere in the castle, and as a knight, no one looked twice at her for doing it with her short spear by her side, the head of it still sheathed so that it looked like a staff.

What would anyone truly see if they glanced her way? A girl shorter than her sisters, in chain and plate armor, dark hair cropped short so that it would be out of the way for fighting, features fixed with determination. They wouldn’t be able to guess what she was about, wouldn’t be able to fathom the part where, sooner or later, she planned on thrusting her spear through Finnal’s heart. People didn’t want to look at princesses and think that they might do something like that.

People were stupid.

For now, Erin was just following, moving among the crowds of the castle, going from the gathered knights to the clusters of servants as Finnal made his way across the courtyard toward the great hall. There were tents out in the courtyard at the moment, in the shadow of the high walls, soldiers camped there as they waited for new commands. Some sat around cooking fires in the open air, and Finnal paused at some of them, making jokes and laughing. At a few, he handed out coins, probably trying to buy affection.

Erin couldn’t work out what her sister had ever seen in him. Oh, he was pretty enough as these things went, all elegant grace, high cheekbones, and a ready smile. He dressed in dark clothes edged with silver, the better to draw attention to the shine of the rest of him. And certainly, everyone around him responded to him as if the sun itself had just come out from behind a cloud whenever he passed. Yet Lenore deserved more than that; deserved someone who actually loved her.

She certainly deserved someone who wouldn’t try to hold her a virtual hostage in their marriage, sending thugs after her just because she’d dared to go outside. Finnal would pay for that, and dearly.

Erin smiled as she saw Finnal’s path arc toward the stables on his way across to the great hall. With so many people in the castle at the moment, it was hard to find a good place for an ambush, but Erin was sure there would be a spot there. She knew just the place.

Abandoning her attempts to be a silent shadow behind him, Erin ran across the courtyard at an angle away from Finnal. She cut back around and, running up a flight of stone steps until she was on the lowest level of the walls, she slipped past one of the guards who looked out over the islands of the city, padding on silent feet before she dropped down onto the roof of the stables.

She’d hidden here plenty of times when she was younger, partly because it was a good place to crouch when she wanted to avoid the etiquette lessons her mother wanted her to learn, and partly because there was a space where it was possible to look down into the stables. Erin had used it to spy on hunting parties or knights getting ready to go out into the kingdom, always feeling jealous that they got to do all that when she didn’t. Now she waited and watched, gripping the haft of her spear.

Was she really going to do this? Nerves came as she waited, because while she’d killed before, she’d never done it in cold blood. Was she really going to cut down her sister’s husband, leave him for dead in the stables?

The answer to that was simple: if not her, then who? Oh, Lenore had spoken about her maidservant doing something, finding some piece of information that would convince people to be rid of Finnal more cleanly, but what were the chances of truly doing that? Even if they got information that might persuade most people, would Vars agree to the annulment of the marriage? He’d been the one pushing for it to happen quickly in the first place.

Maybe once their father woke up, but this was quicker, and cleaner, and… well, Finnal deserved it. No one threatened Erin’s sister.

She waited up there until she could hear voices below.

“…the largest bay,” Finnal said, somewhere below.

“But sir, that horse is the property of Prince Rodry.”

“And I wish to honor his memory by putting it into his sister’s service,” Finnal said. He came into view below, the top of his head visible in a wash of curls. “Remember that I am her husband, and that the lands I now own include… hmm, where did you say your family was from?”

The threat was there below the surface, and all of it just added to Erin’s anger. This man was cruel the moment he had power, a snake in a pretty covering. More than that, he was trying to steal from her dead brother now, as well as threatening her sister. Erin couldn’t let any of this stand.

“Perhaps if I went to talk to the master of stables,” the groom Finnal was talking to said.

“That seems like an excellent idea,” Finnal said. “I will be right here.”

The groom clearly hadn’t meant to do it then, but with Finnal waiting, he had no choice. There was only one advantage to it: it meant that Finnal was alone in the stables save for the horses, right in Erin’s line of sight. Erin took the sheath from her spear’s head, feeling her heart hammering in her chest. She could do this, she had to do this, for her sister.

The angle wasn’t quite right, so Erin shifted position on the roof, or tried to. She felt her foot give as it went through part of the roof’s thatch, and she had to fight to keep from gasping as she nearly fell. Only by digging her spear into the thatch was she able to keep her balance and prevent herself from tumbling through.

Erin crouched there out of sight for several seconds. She could hear footsteps up above on the wall, but she knew the guards wouldn’t be able to see her from there. She was more concerned about the possibility that she might have startled Finnal. Even so, when she finally dared to look back through the gap in the roof into the stables, he was still there, still looking over the horses as if trying to work out which of them he would claim next.

Erin hefted her spear, adjusting her grip, ready to throw. The spear was short, but from here, she had no doubt that she would be able to propel it right through Finnal’s heart. Erin took a breath, steadying her hand, feeling the tension there and—

And a hand closed over the haft of the spear, stopping her from flinging it.

“Killing him in broad daylight?” Odd whispered, with a disapproving shake of his head.

Erin spun to him. The former knight still wore the monk’s habit he had gained on the Isle of Leveros, his sword strapped across his back. She hadn’t expected him to move so quietly.

“He has to die,” Erin hissed back, but even as she glanced down through the gap, she saw that Finnal was moving out of her line of sight.

“And when you kill him, what then?” Odd asked. He still hadn’t let go of her weapon. “First, your spear would be sticking out of his chest. Princess or not, you can’t just kill the son of a duke with impunity. They’d hang you!”

“Even Vars wouldn’t have me hanged,” Erin said. “And to protect Lenore—”

“To protect your sister, you have to be there!” Odd snapped back. He shoved Erin away from him. “Not find yourself rotting in a dungeon, and not start a civil war that will kill all of us.”

“Killing that… that will end things, not start them,” Erin insisted.

“Not when half the nobles support him and his father,” Odd said. “It would show the kingdom the monarchy is trying to rule without advice or restraint. Do the sensible thing, Erin.”

“Because you know so much about that?” Erin snapped back. She looked from Odd to where the knights stood. “Do you think I don’t know who you are, and who you were? They didn’t call you Sir Oderick the Sensible!”

“No, they called me mad,” he said. In an instant, his sword had cleared its sheath. It flashed out, and Erin barely parried it in time with her spear. “They said I was a crazed thing. They said I was a monster.”

He struck again and again, forcing Erin back, one step, then another.

“You think your anger is everything there is? Well, I know about anger,” he said. He struck again, and now Erin was annoyed enough to lash out in return. She set her feet, and…

…except there was no “and,” because it turned out that Erin had run out of roof. She tumbled down, her spear spinning from her hand. For a moment, she was sure she would break bones on the cobbles below. Except that it seemed that Odd had not just steered her toward the edge of the roof, he’d pushed her off the one spot with a water butt below. Erin struck it with a splash, briefly submerging and coming up spluttering.

Odd was already down there, holding her spear out to her.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“I feel like I should stab you as well as him,” Erin said. She felt the weight of his gaze on her. “But… not yet. You’re right. I can’t just kill him, can I?”

Odd shook his head and tossed her spear to her. “We will have to find another way. For now, your sister is in a dangerous marriage, and she has fewer friends than she thought.”

“She has me,” Erin said, hauling herself out of the water.

“Us,” Odd corrected her.

Erin didn’t question that; she was simply grateful that a warrior this skilled was willing to help. Finnal had resources on his side, and position, and even Vars’s friendship. Set against that, all Erin had to help her keep her sister safe was one possibly mad ex-knight. Still, she would keep Lenore safe, even if it cost Erin her life.