Dark Jenny

ELEVEN

The door to my luxurious prison once again closed behind me, and the lock clicked in the silence. I felt as if I’d just kicked the crutches out from under a one-legged man.

For good measure I wedged a heavy chair against the door handle. If that mob of angry lacehounds somehow got past the guard and wanted in, they’d at least have to get mussed up a little. And more important, it would alert me should Agravaine decide to make a strike; he’d have to work harder than this to catch me off guard.

I closed my eyes and sighed. I couldn’t believe I was actually trapped in a castle like some fairy-tale princess, but here I was. Half the people around me thought I was a murderer, the other half wanted an innocent woman to burn at the stake, and the world’s greatest king was hamstrung by his own code of honor and law. I’d be immensely glad to be away from here and back in the real world.

I worked my shoulders to get out the stiffness from being in chains all day, but only dislodged a big, heavy yawn. Everything I told Kay was true: it wasn’t my fight, it wasn’t my problem, and Grand Bruan’s internal politics were none of my business. But two things continued to nag at me despite my efforts to ignore them.

One was the look on Kay’s face when he spoke of his dream for Grand Bruan. I was so used to dealing with cynical, counterfeit feelings that I was unprepared for his genuine emotion. If something could affect a grim, gritty soldier to such a degree, perhaps it was worthwhile, and worth my time. Maybe I should do something because it was right, not just to save my own hide.

The other was the certainty that, once she knew my reasons for leaving, Iris Gladstone would never speak to me again, no matter how many times I broke Agravaine’s nose.

Outside the window the evening sun cast its golden glow all the way to the opposite horizon. Past the city walls, dust rose from wagon wheels as merchants headed home after a day hawking wares at the market. Smoke trickled from chimneys as wives dutifully prepared evening meals.

Once no such community could have survived beyond the castle’s barricade. The historical Grand Bruan wasn’t a place for nice families and hardworking tradesmen. Raiders and rivals would have slaughtered anyone they found, burned all the crops, and destroyed the buildings. Now, though, children played in the dusk with a reasonable chance they might never in their lifetime have to fight anyone with a sword. They could go to school, learn to read, and build a secure future for their own children. In this bloody, violent world, that was a hell of a gift.

But not my gift, I reminded myself. Not my problem.

I looked down at the rock-hard bandage on my hand. I remembered the way her hair smelled as she wrenched my fingers back into place. The thought of never kissing her again was not pleasant, but so what? Women were everywhere, and eventually I’d intrigue another one. It’s not as if I wanted a wife, or a mother for my children. Those things were not options for me, and I was quite happy that way. At best I could get some brief companionship, and it would be no real effort to find a working girl in a tavern with short black hair, and dancing eyes, and a biting wit, and a touch that brought every bit of me to life, and…

Ah, hell. I had it bad, all right. And from just one real kiss and a bunch of cracked knuckles. I turned to get a drink from the bar.

King Marcus Drake, all six and a half feet of him, stood less than three steps away.

I know I jumped. I probably let out an undignified, girlish yelp. I threw myself back against the barred window and my hand shot reflexively for my sword, except that I didn’t have one and my hand was useless. “Shit!” I said, although I barely heard it over the thundering in my chest. How had he crept up behind me without my hearing him?

“Sorry.” Drake filled the room like a stallion in an outhouse. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

The chair still blocked the door. “How the hell did you get in here?” I demanded as I caught my breath.

He waved a hand at the far wall, where a section of brick had opened to reveal a dark hallway beyond. “Secret passage. The place is loaded with them.”

I’d thoroughly searched the walls for any seams that indicated hidden doorways and completely missed that one. That made me neither look nor feel very smart. “I thought you were making peace with your wife. Did she chase you in here, or is there some other reason for sneaking up behind me like that?”

He blinked at my disrespectful tone, but his voice was calm when he said, “Actually, Mr. LaCrosse, I’m here on business. I want to hire you.”

I did not kneel as etiquette demanded. Instead I went to the bar and poured myself a drink. I didn’t ask Drake if he wanted one. I tossed it down, shivered at its bite, and said, “Is that a fact?”

“I know you haven’t been treated terribly well-”

I held up my bandaged hand. “You think?”

“-but… well, Mr. LaCrosse, I need your help.”

I closed my eyes in supreme annoyance. He didn’t say we or Grand Bruan or the country needed my help. If he had, I could’ve easily stayed angry. It was a personal request, spoken without self-pity or whining or any sort of royal posturing. And just like Kay’s damn speech, it got through to me.

He stood there expectantly, huge and mythical in the normal-size room, and awaited my response. I must’ve been light-headed from the stench of genuine idealism, because even though Drake and I were about the same age, his mystique was so intense I had the fleeting thought that I wanted to be him when I grew up.

I said, “Let me guess. You want me to fight Thomas Gillian.”

He laughed. “Good lord, no. No offense, but he’d have you carved into pork chops before your sword cleared its scabbard.” Then, realizing he’d been a bit too disparaging, he added, “Because, of course, it wouldn’t be a fair fight with your injury.”

“Right.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have time to banter. The king can’t disappear for very long without someone noticing. I need you to go to Blithe Ward and bring back Elliot Spears. He’s the only man who can either talk some sense into Gillian or beat him in a fair fight.”

“Who or what is Blithe Ward?”

“Elliot’s castle. It used to be called Bitter Ward, but when he took it over, he renamed it.”

“Where is it?”

“On the other side of the island. A day’s ride, if you switch horses regularly and don’t stop to relieve yourself too often.”

“Will he come?”

“Yes. He’s my best friend, and as the queen’s champion it’s his job.”

Drake was one of those men who effortlessly made people crave his approval, so most jumped to do what he asked. I didn’t. “Don’t you have errand boys for this sort of thing?”

“If I send one of them, everyone would know it. I have to appear impartial.”

“But you’re not.”

His big shoulders sagged a little. “No. I will be impartial in my judgment, should that become necessary, but never in my heart. How can I be? I love Jennifer, and I believe she’s innocent. Nothing can change that.”

“Not even the facts?”

“You said yourself that the facts are on her side. There’s no real proof, only conjecture, but it plays on people’s feelings. It’s those emotions that I have to worry about. Jennifer isn’t terribly popular, and a lot of people wouldn’t mind seeing her suffer.”

“Look, I appreciate the spot you’re in, but this is none of my business. Really. I just want to get out of here, and if it’s all the same to you, cut Grand Bruan out of all my future travel plans. You people are just too high-strung for simple folk like me.”

He said quietly, “You think the way things are now, you’ll get out of the country in one piece?”

I was silent for a moment. Finally I said, “It’s unseemly for a king to threaten a commoner. Makes him sound petty.”

“No, it’s a warning. You will get safely out of Nodlon, but it’s a long way from here to the south coast. If anything happened to you, you’d very easily become the scapegoat for yesterday’s events.”

I felt a slow chill that had nothing to do with temperature. History showed that Drake was a hands-on king not afraid to get a little bloody. I’d hate to fight him with two good hands, let alone just one. “That would get Jennifer off the hook.”

“But it doesn’t expose the real killer. If we don’t do that, he’ll strike again. And I won’t be able to sleep thinking his next target might be Jennifer.”

“Or you.”

“Or me. And that would be the worst thing, not for me, but for this country. The peace and unity we’ve created depends on my being invincible. I’m not, of course, but I can’t let that get out.” He said this last with a wry little smile.

I sipped my drink more carefully this time. So the great King Marcus Drake wanted my help and expected it simply because it served this sparkly dream of Grand Bruan. Just as Bob Kay had done a few minutes ago, and as I knew Iris Gladstone would if I saw her again. Before I even realized I’d formed the words, I said, “I get twenty-five gold pieces a day, plus expenses.”

“That’s all?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

Yeah, that’s all, I thought sardonically. That’s the price of my clear conscience. “There’s not much money in this business if you’re honest.”

Marcus smiled a little. “Then you must be the most honest man around.”

I didn’t laugh. “I’ll need something with your seal on it so this Spears will know I’m legit. And a good horse.” I recalled the recalcitrant, mule-stubborn one that had brought me here from Lady Astamore’s and would be glad to never see it again.

“All taken care of.” He produced a folded parchment, sealed with embossed wax. “Give this to Elliot. Show the seal to anyone who questions you. Bob’s already arranging the horse. There are messenger stations all along the route where you can change mounts.”

“Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you? Good thing I said yes, or you’d have looked pretty silly.” I pocketed the items. “Normally I get half my fee in advance.”

He put one hand on my shoulder. The weight, both physical and moral, was considerable. “I don’t pretend to believe you’re doing this just for the money, Mr. LaCrosse. I’ve been lucky enough to encounter more decent men than not in my life. I’m glad you’ve continued that trend.” He paused. “And you’ll find your entire fee with Bob.”

I didn’t laugh in his face, but the urge was pretty damn strong. Instead I said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What if you go to all this trouble and Spears loses?”

“Only someone from off this island would ever ask that. Thank you again, Mr. LaCrosse.”

“Wait,” I said suddenly. “Since you’re getting my services so cheaply, I want you to throw in a favor.”

“What?”

“Ten minutes alone with the queen.”

He blinked, and his expression subtly grew harder. I’d seen that same look on the faces of many irate husbands; it was nice to know that he was, deep down, so typical. “Why?” he asked with frightening calm.

“Use your imagination.”

“That’s not funny.”

“And I’m not joking. I’ve spent the last two days investigating a murder an awful lot of people believe the queen committed. I’d like some resolution just for my own sake.”

“She won’t come.”

“She will if you tell her to.”

“And I’d pay for it for the next three weeks.”

I wasn’t sympathetic. “Crowns are heavy, aren’t they?”

He thought for a moment. “All right, I’ll send her. But she won’t be pleasant.”

Neither, I thought, will I. But I kept that to myself.