“Yes, and was disowned by her family as a result. That’s where the Millers got into trouble; they were supposed to return the lady to her family, but they took her to the farmer instead. The Crosses only paid half the price on the job. The Caden were furious, and kicked the brothers out of the guild. They were also excommunicated by God’s Church, though I doubt they cared about that.”
“But they did it,” Aisa mused. “They saved her.”
“Yes, for a good return.”
“What about Lord Tare? What happened to him?”
“Oh, he still sits up there in his castle, bitter as winter beer,” the Mace replied. “He’s taken to plotting away at the Queen’s downfall, and if I could prove he was in the Argive in the spring, his neck would already be stretched. But for now, I leave him be.”
That was disappointing. In a real fairy tale, the villain would have been punished.
“Do they always work together?” she asked. “Those three brothers?”
“Yes. Many Caden work in such small groups, particularly when they have complementary skills. But they can also work in concert. All Caden working toward a combined goal would be quite a sight to see.”
“But why the Creche, sir?” Coryn asked. “I thought the Queen was the priority.”
“She is, but she’d never forgive me if I made her the only priority. She charged me, you see.” The Mace blinked, and for a moment Aisa thought she saw the sparkle of tears in his eyes. “I didn’t know what she meant at the time, but she charged me to fix this place. She charged me to look after the defenseless as well as the great, and that task can’t wait until she comes home.”
A fist thudded against the great double doors of the Queen’s Wing, making Aisa jump. The Guard drew in to surround the Mace. Devin and Cae opened the doors a fraction, but the only person who entered was a Keep servant, dressed entirely in white. Aisa could not make out her words, but their babbling, hysterical tenor was clear from across the room.
“What’s that, Cae?” the Mace called.
“There’s a problem downstairs, sir. With Thorne’s witch.”
“What problem?”
The Keep servant stared at the Mace, her eyes wide. She was not a young woman, and her face was cast in white.
“Speak up!”
“She’s gone,” the woman croaked.
“What of Will? Her guard?”
But the woman could not answer. Cursing, the Mace jumped down the stairs and strode out of the Queen’s Wing. Aisa followed him, down the corridor and three flights of stairs that led to Brenna’s makeshift prison. She feared Brenna; they all feared her, even the bravest of the Guard. A visit to Brenna’s rooms was a dangerous thing, but Aisa was unable to stop thinking of the Caden’s words.
When you reach your full growth, you should come and see us.
They rounded the final corner and the Mace came to a dead halt, ten feet from Brenna’s chamber. The door was wide open, but it was guarded by a puddle of blood. The smell hit Aisa like a slap. Flies had already gathered around the puddle in a swarm, and one of them buzzed around Aisa’s head until she waved it away.
The Mace began to move forward, but Elston placed a restraining hand on his chest. “Sir. Let us go first.”
The Mace nodded, though Aisa could feel him chafing at the restriction. Elston and Kibb went into the chamber and Aisa trailed a few feet behind them, wanting to see but not wanting to. She peered around Elston, then recoiled as she spotted a bright red mass in the corner.
“Is it safe?”
“Yes, sir,” Elston replied, but his voice was strange, and he backed away as the Mace approached, giving Aisa a full view that she regretted. Will was lying on the floor, his throat mangled, as though an animal had been at him. Aisa had never seen a dead body before; she expected to feel sick, but her stomach took the unpleasant sight in stride. The Mace had never allowed Aisa to be alone with Brenna; for the two occasions she had come down here on rotation, she had been paired with Coryn or Kibb. Will had been a decent guard, but the witch had clearly been too much for him. Perhaps they should have been working in pairs all along.
Kibb had squatted down next to Will, and now he lifted one of the dead man’s arms, examining his hands, which were covered with blood.
“Tissue under his fingernails, sir.” Kibb looked up. “I think he did it to himself.”
Aisa returned her gaze—not without some dark fascination—to the ruin of Will’s neck. Why would a man claw out his own throat?
I am stronger now than I used to be, she realized, staring at the corpse. I can bear it. One day, maybe, I’ll be able to bear anything.
“Get some servants with strong stomachs to clean this up,” the Mace commanded. “And make sure Ewen doesn’t come down here.”
“Should we send a party after the witch?”
“No. Put out a reward, sure; she’s a distinctive woman. But it’s unlikely to accomplish anything. Coryn only snatched her by purest luck last time.”