Then one of my guards grabbed for Sten’s arm. Sten swung his sword. Not enough to actually collide with the guard, but enough to make him flinch back. Enough to break the tension in the room, to make his men pull out their swords, too, to turn the standoff into a fight.
I couldn’t follow what happened next. Two of the guards stood so close to me that they were practically on my toes, and there were too many voices, too many men wearing the same shirts and coats on either side. I could smell blood on the air, hear the shouts, the clangs of metal, the thuds of flesh on bone.
But my men outnumbered his now, and they were on the outside, pressing the enemy in. We had to win.
Sten must have reached the same conclusion. “All right, Queen Freya,” he said, and his voice seemed to cast a spell over the room, freezing the fighting men in place. “I’ll leave you to your throne.” He spat onto the floor. Behind him, a few of his men were bleeding, and a few of mine, but no one was dead, not yet. “But you’ll wish you surrendered. I promise you that.”
NINETEEN
STEN MARCHED AWAY. HIS MEN SURGED FORWARD again, protecting him, clearing the way. One of my guards tried to block the door, but Sten shoved her aside, and then he was gone.
I clutched the pendant around my neck, and I stared at the door, listening to the fading footsteps. Fitzroy and my guards chased after him. I held my breath, waiting for more shouts, the sound of another fight.
A man yelled, and I leaped to my feet, forcing Dagny to bound to the floor. Madeleine grabbed my shoulder, holding me back. “Wait here,” she said. “They’re leaving.”
“But the guards—” Fitzroy.
“If he wanted to kill your guards, he would have done this in a very different way. He thinks he’s being noble, Freya. He thinks he’s right. He won’t want to kill anyone he doesn’t have to.”
“And when my guards attack him?”
“He’ll defend himself,” she said. “But then he’ll leave.”
“Until when?”
“Until he thinks he’s stronger. But it gives you time.”
My guards had captured a couple of Sten’s men, but most of them had escaped. I’d barely stopped anybody.
I stepped away, twisting the necklace in my hand. I pressed my feet firmly against the stone. The cold helped me to focus. No time to panic now.
More shouting down the hall. I jumped, my grip tightening on the necklace.
“What is that?” Naomi said, nodding at the chain. “Sten kept looking at it.”
“The Star of Valanthe,” Madeleine said.
I stared down at the jewel with dawning realization. Valanthe had been one of the Forgotten, or so legend claimed, known for her justice and kindness. She had been the last to leave Epria, the most reluctant to abandon the kingdom, and had left a jewel to remind us mortals of her desire to return. Or so the legends said. “I wanted him to think twice about the possibility of crossing the Forgotten,” said Madeleine. “To remember that you are the anointed queen.”
“Does that matter, if he thinks I’m a murderer?”
“Probably not in the end. But it made him reluctant enough to do anything in that moment, didn’t it?”
Dagny rubbed against Madeleine’s ankles, and Madeleine bent down to stroke her.
More footsteps echoed from outside the door. I stood ramrod straight, my stomach twisted. Please let them be my men. Please let Fitzroy be all right.
Fitzroy was the first through the door. Relief rushed through me. He looked fine. He looked perfect. I ran forward and threw my arms around him. He let out a little oof of surprise, and then his arms settled around my back, my chin tucked on his shoulder.
“Are you all right?” he asked quietly. His breath tickled my neck. The sensation ran all down my spine.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I’m fine. Are you—”
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” I stepped back, suddenly aware of how close we had been. Too close. Stupidly close. He scraped his hand through his hair, making it even messier than before, and nodded at me. Such an awkward nod. I didn’t know Fitzroy was even capable of being awkward.
“Was anyone else hurt?” I said quickly. “Did Sten and his men leave?”
“They escaped, Your Majesty,” a guard to our right said. “We sent men after them, but they evaded our soldiers.”
“So no one else is hurt?”
“No one, Your Majesty.”
It felt too good to be true. Surely we hadn’t survived this so easily.
“Thank you,” I said to Fitzroy. “For fetching the guards.”
“They were already looking for you. I just pointed them in the right direction.”
One of the guards stepped forward. “When we realized the Fort was under attack, Your Majesty, we wanted to help.”
“You wanted to help me?”
“It’s our duty, Your Majesty. And you’re no murderer. Some of us appreciate what you’ve done, pardon my saying so.”
“What I’ve done?” I’d barely done anything.
“Returning that money, Your Majesty. Things are tight these days . . . and then refusing to kill that servant. Some would say you’re too soft, but the rest of us—well, we appreciate it, Your Majesty. Things have been hard for everyone recently.”
The words seemed to reach me through water, slightly fuzzy and hard to make out. I’d actually done something right. “Thank you.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“Stop!” A guard by the door shouted into the corridor. I turned. Rasmus Holt was in the doorway. He was paler than I’d ever seen him, and his beard twitched with nervous energy. “Your Majesty,” he said. “You’re all right. When I heard what Sten intended, I thought—but you are truly protected by the Forgotten.”
I hurried toward him. He looked unharmed, too, if shaken. “Have you seen my father?”
“Your father . . .” Holt winced. “He was with me, at the time.”
My stomach dropped. If he was reluctant to tell me, if it was that bad . . . “And? What happened?”
“They locked us in. To ensure we did not interfere. Your father was—he was concerned for you. And then Torsten Wolff appeared and said they were leaving. I assumed you were dead, but then . . .” He shook his head.
“And my father?”
“He went with them.”
No. I stepped back, shaking my head. It didn’t make sense. “How could he have gone with them?”
“Sten took him. As leverage against you.”
“And you didn’t try to stop him?”
“Me, stop Torsten Wolff? I am an old man, Your Majesty. I am an adviser, not a soldier. And someone needed to remain here to help you, if you survived.”
I’d argued with him. Last time I’d seen my father, I’d shouted at him. Anger rose inside me, sharp and irrational. “So you should have gone in his place. You should have protected him.”
“They would not have thought me as valuable a hostage, Your Majesty. They only left me because they did not consider me worthwhile. And you need advice, now more than ever.”
He was right. It wasn’t his fault. But my father . . . “What will they do to him? What will happen?”
“I am certain he will be safe, Your Majesty. He would want you to focus on your own safety now.”