“Reuben! What are you doing? Why are you off your post? I told you to stay out of the castle.”
“The fire … they said the royal family was trapped and I—”
“Your duty is to stand at the front gate! You’re a soldier now, not a child. You’ll be whipped for desertion—likely discharged. You could even be executed. And don’t expect me to help you. You’re a man now. You’ll accept responsibility for your actions. Now get out of here.”
“But the princess…”
“The princess! You left your post for—” He paused, too furious to finish. “You get back to the front gate right now, boy! That’s an order!”
“But what’s being done to—”
“Nothing. No one can get up there. The royal family is going to die.”
Die?
Reuben couldn’t believe it. He stood dazed, as if his father had hit him again, only this hurt worse and frightened him more.
“No,” Reuben muttered at first. He looked up the steps. He saw no fire, not even much smoke. Something snapped. “No!” he shouted, and tried to get past his father.
Richard shoved him back. “I gave you an order!”
Reuben charged the steps again, only this time he ducked when his father tried to stop him and he ran by.
“Don’t go up there!”
Reuben cleared the steps three at a time. Just as with the squires, years of running errands while Richard Hilfred had stood behind chairs gave him the advantage. When he reached the door to the royal residence, his father was several steps below. He yanked on the big iron rings, but it didn’t open … resistance. It took a moment before noticing the chain.
Why would the doors be chained shut … from the outside?
Reuben was still trying to process that when his father caught up and shoved him across the corridor. “You stupid fool! You just couldn’t listen to your father, could you. I had you posted to the gate to keep you out of this, but you’re as bent on killing yourself as your mother was. That’s fine. I’m done with you. I did my job. You’re a man now—not my responsibility anymore.”
“You … you did this?” Reuben looked back and forth between the door and his father. “You chained the doors. You sealed them in!” His eyes went wide as the realization dawned. “You set the fire! But it’s your job to protect them … Why in Maribor’s name would you do this?”
“I told you not to get attached to them. They’re evil. You can sacrifice your life to protect them, but if you ask one small favor in return, they can’t be bothered. I threw myself in front of swords for him. All the king needed to do was tell the chamberlain that your mother could stay on as a maid. Or he could have let me marry her and we could have lived nearby in any abandoned shack in the city. But no—Amrath couldn’t make exceptions. If he did it for me, he’d have to do it for others. So I had to face your mother and tell her … tell her I had failed. The king killed her, but I had to face her.”
His father sneered at him. “You don’t understand. How could you? You had everything handed to you—by me! I started out as the son of a weapon’s merchant—a merchant! I taught myself to fight. I got myself a position in this castle. I worked my way up to sergeant. You don’t need to understand, boy. And this isn’t the time for it. A wise man taught me that we don’t have to live under their heels. I could fix things so that your mother didn’t die in vain. She’s the spark that lit this fire, a blaze that will burn away the kingdom and usher in a new era … one without kings. And we’ll be part of that—an important part. I didn’t enjoy the things I’ve done tonight, but justice has been served!”
“Things? What else did you do?” Reuben focused on the bloodstained sleeve and his mind flashed to the image of his father leading Rose out through the gate. “What did you do with Rose?”
“It was harder than I thought. Those big eyes, and her having the same name as your mother and all.”
“What did you do to Rose?”
“I did what I had to. And so will you. A lot of people are going to die tonight.” He gestured at the door. “No one will be the wiser, and a whole new world will follow. You keep your mouth shut and I’ll be in a position to take care of you, of us. Now get back to your post and never tell anyone that you even came up here.”
Somehow Reuben’s sword got out of its scabbard and into his hand. “Get away from that door.”
The castle was glowing when Hadrian approached. The whole place flickered like a jack-o’-lantern with too many candles inside. A crowd had formed around the outer walls, peering up across the moat as flames spit sparks out windows that fell in red streaks, sizzling in the water. The big elm growing near the north side of the keep had caught fire about midway up, and as Hadrian watched, one of the branches broke free and crashed through an upper-story window.
He pulled his cloak tight, covering the dark bloodstains as he entered the crowd of spectators. Lots of people were on hand with more coming. Folks awakened by the light and the noise, gathered in their nightclothes to stare up at the castle, their sleepy faces illuminated by the wash of firelight.
He worked his way toward the front gate only to discover the line of carriages was gone, and there was no sign of Royce. The rose-marked coach had vanished with the rest and he had no idea where. Royce never told him the plan, but Hadrian imagined it included taking Exeter somewhere secluded, somewhere no one would think to look. But what if Exeter hadn’t taken the bait or if Albert hadn’t been able to find him at the party? Did Royce set the fire? Did he burn down an entire castle just to smoke out one man? Was he capable of that?
If a bug bites you, you don’t bite it back, his friend was fond of saying. You crush the life out of the thing so it never bothers you again. And if you do that to an insect that can’t cause any serious harm, why would you do any less to an enemy who will almost certainly come back and kill you if you don’t?
The worst part about Royce and his arguments was that all too often Hadrian couldn’t think of an answer to such riddles, even though he knew there should be one.
With nothing to do, and feeling both physically tired and emotionally drained, Hadrian joined the rest of the crowd watching the spectacle. It had been a few years since he had seen a castle burn. This brought his total to five, but this was the first time he wasn’t at least partly responsible. He wondered how many had died—and if Albert was one of them.
He hoped there was an alehouse still open in the city. He would need to drink in order to sleep. Hadrian stood there, smelling the odor of smoke. Funny how it brought feelings of warmth and safety, like a campfire or cozy hearth—but the only thing cooking tonight were men.
“Well, look at you,” Richard Hilfred said, a little smile growing on his lips as he saw the sword in Reuben’s hand. “That’s good. About time you stood up to me. I was wondering how long it’d take, but this isn’t the time or the place. This is serious. Now get back to your post.”
Reuben, who had never before raised his voice to his father, raised his sword. “I said get away.”
His father must have seen something new in his son’s eyes because he drew his own weapon.
Reuben swung.
He didn’t want to kill his father; he just wanted him away from the door.
Richard blocked.
Reuben swung again and again. His father slapped the attacks aside.
“You’ve learned somewhere. That’s good,” his father said casually. No fear, no concern. Then, as if tiring of a game, he struck Reuben’s blade hard near the hilt. The sudden vibration snapped the sword from Reuben’s grip. The pretty blade that the prince had given him clattered on the stone, and his father kicked it away.
“Hilfred!” They both turned to see the chancellor running to the top of the stairs, his sword in hand. Percy Braga glanced at the door, then at father and son.