“So do you plan to overthrow the empress?”
“Don’t need to,” he said with a wink. “I heard she’s young and beautiful, so I figure I’ll just marry her. I also hear she’s popular too, so I can benefit from the goodwill she already has. See how smart that is?”
“What if she won’t marry you?”
“Hah! Why wouldn’t she? I’m the Heir of Novron. You can’t do no better than that.”
Modina noticed Gaunt looking her over more intently. His tongue licked his upper lip, sliding back and forth. “Say, you’re kinda pretty, you know that?” He glanced past her, into the hallway. “What do ya say you shut the door and slip on over here?” He patted the covers.
“I thought you were sick and feeble.”
“I said I was weak, not feeble, and I’m not that weak. If you won’t get me something to eat, the least you can do is help warm my bed.”
“I don’t think that is the least I can do. Yes, I can definitely think of less.”
He furrowed his brow at her. “You know, I’m gonna be the emperor just as soon as I get well enough. You might want to be nicer to me. We can keep this thing going, even after the wedding. I expect I’ll have several ladies-in-waiting, if you know what I mean. I’ll be taking good care of them too. This is your chance to get in early and be the first.”
“And what exactly does that mean?”
“Oh, you know. I take care of you. Give you a room here at the palace. See that you get some fine dresses. That kind of stuff.”
“I already have those things.”
“Sure, but you might not after I take over. This way you can make sure that your future is protected. So, what do you say?”
“Remarkably, I think I will pass.”
“Suit yourself.” Gaunt waved her away. “But hey, if you do see a maid, tell her to get her ass in here and get rid of this pot, okay?”
When Modina reached the stair, she met a gate soldier climbing up.
“Your Eminence.” He approached, bowed, and waited.
“Yes?” she asked.
“A man at the palace gates is requesting an audience.”
“What? Now?”
“Yes, Your Eminence. I told him it wasn’t possible.”
“It’s getting kind of late. Ask him to see the palace clerk in the morning.”
“I already told him that, but he says he and his family must leave at first light. They came for Wintertide, and he wanted to make one last attempt to see you before departing. He said you would know him.”
“Did he give you his name?”
“Yes, Russell Bothwick of Dahlgren.”
Modina lit up. “Where is he now?”
“I had him wait at the gate.”
When she had lived in Dahlgren, the Bothwicks had been as close as family. They had taken her in after the death of her mother, and the excitement of seeing her old friends overtook Modina. She trotted down the stairs to the main entry, causing the guards to rush to open the huge double doors for her. Modina hurried into the snowy courtyard and regretted not having brought a cloak the moment she stepped outside. The night was dark, and as she crossed the courtyard toward the front gate, she realized she could have used a lantern as well. Seeing Russell and Lena was too good to be true. She would give them the finest suite in the palace and stay up all night reminiscing about old times… better times.
As she passed the stable, a voice close by said, “Thrace?”
She spun around and was surprised to find Royce there. “What are you doing out here? Come with me to the gate. The Bothwicks are here.”
“I want you to know I am very sorry about this,” Royce told her.
“About what?”
He had a sad expression in his eyes as one hand clamped over her mouth. She struggled for a moment, but it was over quickly. The last thing she heard was his voice whispering in her ear, “I’m sorry.”
The palace bell rang before dawn. Hadrian and the other residents of the third floor stepped into the hallway. Arista wore Esrahaddon’s glimmering robe, and Degan Gaunt yawned while clutching a blanket around his shoulders.
Amilia and Breckton led a troop of guards into the corridor.
“Have any of you seen the empress?”
“Not since last night,” Arista said.
“What’s going on?” Gaunt grumbled irritably. This was the first time Hadrian had seen him since the dungeon.
“The empress is missing,” Breckton announced. He motioned to the soldiers, who opened doors and swept into the rooms.
“So what’s all the fuss? Check the quarters of the best-looking servant,” Gaunt said. “She probably just fell asleep afterward.”
“Bishop Saldur is also missing,” Breckton said. “And the guard at the tower and two gate sentries are dead.”
The soldiers finished searching the rooms and returned to the hallway.
“How could Saldur have gotten out?” Arista asked. “And why would he take Modina?”
Hadrian glanced at her and then at the floor. “It wasn’t Saldur.”
“But who could have—” Arista started.
Hadrian interrupted her. “Royce took her. He has taken them both. ‘White’s pawn takes queen and bishop.’ It’s the Queen’s Gambit and Royce has accepted.”
CHAPTER 21
LANGDON BRIDGE
Directly overhead the full moon peered through a break in the clouds, making the Bernum River glisten like a dark, oily snake as it wound through the heart of Colnora. Numerous warehouses perched on the high banks, sleeping like behemoths on the cold winter night. Far from the residential neighborhoods, the mercantile district was desolate at this hour. Frost-covered lampposts fashioned in the shapes of swans dotted the length of the Langdon Bridge, illuminating icicles hanging from every ledge and ornament. Snow started to fall once more, and fluffy flakes caught in the lamplight twirled and drifted on air currents rising from the river gorge. The sound of the Bernum roared up from the depths as if the river were some monstrous, insatiable beast.
Royce stood in the shadows on the north side of the bridge. Despite the cold, he was drenched in sweat. Behind him, Saldur and Modina stood silently with their wrists tied behind their backs. Royce did not use gags—they were not required. He had given his prisoners several reasons to remain silent.