“And me?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. But these matters must be handled delicately. One murder is not unusual, and Alric’s disappearance has actually been a great help. If things had occurred the way they were planned, it would have looked much more suspicious. I suspect your brother will meet death in some quiet remote area far from here. I had originally planned for you to die accidently in an unfortunate accident, but you have provided me with a better approach. It’ll be easy to convince others you hired those two thieves to kill your father and your brother. You see, I already planted the seeds that something was amiss. The night your father was killed, I had Captain Wylin and a squad of men at the ready. I’ll simply explain that having failed the double murder, you sought to correct matters by freeing the killers. We have several witnesses who can attest to the arrangements you made that evening. I’ll announce your trial at once and call all the nobles to court. They’ll hear of your treachery, your betrayals, and your foul acts. They’ll learn how education and witchcraft turned you into a power-craving murderess.”
“You won’t dare! If you put me before the nobles, I’ll tell them the truth.”
“That will be difficult, since you’ll be gagged. After all”—he looked at his name glistening on the blade—“you’re a witch and we can’t allow you to cast spells on us. I would have your tongue cut out now except that it might look suspicious, since I haven’t yet called for the trial.”
Braga looked around the bedroom once more and nodded. “I was wrong. I do approve of your choice of quarters after all. I had other plans for this tower once, but now I think it will be the perfect place for you to await the trial in isolation. With the amount of time you’ve spent here by yourself, practicing your crafts, no one will notice a difference.”
He walked out, taking the dagger with him. As he left, she saw a bearded dwarf with a hammer in hand standing outside the door. When it closed, she heard pounding and knew she had been locked in.
CHAPTER 7
DRONDIL FIELDS
The four rode on through most of the night. They finally stopped when Myron toppled from the horse after falling asleep behind Hadrian. Leaving the horses saddled, they slept only briefly in a thicket. Soon they were back on the road, traveling through an orchard of trees. Each plucked an apple or two and ate the sweet fruit as they rode. There was little to see until the sun rose. Then a few workers began to appear. An older man drove an oxcart filled with milk and cheese. Farther down the lane, a young girl carried a basket of eggs. Myron watched her intently as they passed by, and she looked up at him, smiling self-consciously.
“Don’t stare, Myron,” Hadrian told him. “They will think you’re up to something.”
“They are even prettier than horses,” the monk remarked, glancing back repeatedly over his shoulder as the girl fell behind them.
Hadrian laughed. “Yes, they are, but I wouldn’t tell them that.”
Ahead, a hill rose, and on top of it stood a castle. The structure was nothing like Essendon Castle—it looked more like a fortress than a house of nobility.
“Drondil Fields,” Alric said. The prince had barely said anything since his ordeal the night before. He did not complain about the long ride or the cold night air. Instead, he rode in silence with his eyes fixed on the path that lay ahead.
“Odd name for a castle,” Hadrian mentioned.
“Brodic Essendon built it during the wars following the fall of the Steward’s Reign,” Myron said. “His son, Tolin the Great, finished the work, defeated Lothomad the Bald, and proclaimed himself the first king of Melengar. They fought the battle on fields that belonged to a farmer named Drondil and later this whole area became known as Drondil Fields, or so the story goes.”
“Who was Lothomad?” Hadrian asked.
“He was the King of Trent. After Glenmorgan III was executed, Lothomad seized his chance and sent his armies south. Ghent and Melengar would both be part of Trent today if it wasn’t for Tolin Essendon.”
“That’s why they called him the Great, I assume.”
“Exactly.”
“Nice design. The five-pointed star shape makes it impossible to find a blind wall to scale.”
“It’s the strongest fortress in Melengar,” Alric said.
“What brought the Essendons to Medford, then?” Royce asked.
“After the wars,” Myron explained, “Tolin felt it was depressing living in such a gloomy fortress. He built Essendon Castle in Medford and entrusted Galilin to his most loyal general, Seadric Pickilerinon.”
“Seadric’s son was the one who shortened his name to Pickering,” Alric added.