Trin’s next words carried an edge to them. ‘You really shouldn’t speak to your King in such an insolent fashion.’
‘Why not?’ Brasti said, undaunted. ‘I spoke to the last one that way. Besides, this boy is never going to be my King.’ Brasti turned to me. ‘Please tell me he’s not going to be my King.’
‘Tell me the rest,’ I said to Trin. ‘So Patriana kidnaps the boy from his mother—’
‘I wasn’t kidnapped,’ Filian said. ‘I would have died, had the -Duchess Patriana not saved me. She protected me, ensured I learned the ways of a monarch.’
‘Really?’ I asked. ‘And what exactly did she teach you?’
‘I know the laws,’ he replied, ‘all of them. I’ve read the histories and studied economics and warfare. I know what brought the country to its current state. I know what my father was trying to do to fix it.’ He paused for a moment, then added, ‘I know how much he loved you, Falcio.’
Brasti snorted. ‘If you know so much about Paelis then you must know how much he fucking hated Patriana.’
‘I . . . I’m not so foolish as to think they were friends, but I believe it was political circumstance that kept them enemies. Both loved their country, both wanted to protect its people.’ Filian leaned forward against his ropes, trying to catch my eyes. ‘I will be a good King, Falcio, this I swear to you. I’ve never met Aline, but she is my sister and I will protect her every day of my life. Put me on the throne and you will see I can—’
‘Aline will sit that throne,’ Brasti said. ‘You know how I know? Because we’ve all bled a dozen times to put her there.’
‘She can’t be Queen,’ Trin interrupted. ‘Filian is a full year older than her, and thus has precedence.’
‘That’s horseshit,’ Brasti said.
‘No, it’s the law. You remember the law, don’t you, Falcio? It’s that thing you’ve been telling everyone you’ve been fighting for all this time. It’s what you and every other Greatcoat swore to uphold.’
She locked eyes with me as if she could hold me there against my will, as if she could force the truth of her words into me like the needles the Unblooded had used to pierce my flesh.
That was her first mistake.
I knew what to watch for, and for once, I was looking for it. Filian was the son of King Paelis, of that Trin was absolutely certain. But she wasn’t sure if he was older than Aline – oh, he might look a little older, but that could simply be the difference between boys and girls in any family. Trin had been trying to provoke me in order to distract me from the one possible flaw in her plan. She didn’t know Filian’s true age.
‘Falcio?’ Kest said. He had his hand on my arm. I hadn’t even noticed. ‘None of this matters right now.’
‘You don’t think who sits the fucking throne of Aramor matters?’ Brasti asked. ‘What have I been risking my life for all this time?’
Kest shook his head. ‘Right now Avares is planning on annexing Orison and Hervor. There’s precious little Valiana can do about it if she doesn’t know it’s about to happen. We need to get back to Aramor and warn her.’
‘Which we can do faster with Trin and her little boyfriend dead,’ Brasti said, warming to Kest’s way of thinking.
They were right, of course: three could travel faster than five, especially since Filian didn’t look especially hardy. Did I really owe this boy anything? Was the law nothing more than a noose to be placed around my neck so anyone who wanted could tug me towards whatever doom they chose for me and the country?
Again Kest tried to bring me back. ‘Falcio, Morn doesn’t know who Filian is, but he put us in here with Trin because he wants us to kill her. He needs her dead and us blamed for it so that he can strengthen his support in the northern Duchies of Tristia.’
‘Fine,’ Brasti said. ‘We kill the boy, then knock her unconscious and drag her back to—’
‘Enough,’ I said, careful not to shout and risk attracting the attention of the guards outside. ‘I don’t know what to do about Avares or the Magdan or even the damned Greatcoats any more. All I know is that I woke up this morning as a magistrate. Valiana sent us here to arrest Trin and bring her back to Aramor for trial and so that’s what I’m going to do.’
I went back to her and looked deeply into her eyes, making sure she had all the time she needed to assure herself that what I said next was the absolute truth.
‘After that I’m going to find a way to prove that this boy is just one more of your many ploys to take the throne for yourself, and then I’ll add another count of treason against you.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The Art of the Prison Break
‘How do you intend to effect our escape?’ Filian asked.
‘Shut up,’ I replied. In addition to all the other reasons I had for disliking Trin’s would-be heir to the throne, I found his manner of speech deeply annoying.
‘I merely wish to ascertain whether there are ways in which I might serve in the endeavour.’
See what I mean?
‘I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet now,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘“I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet now”.’ I held up a hand before he could speak. ‘Those are the only words I want to hear coming out of your mouth whenever I tell you to shut up.’
His eyes and cheeks went bright red then white as he went from confused to hurt to angry and finally to quiet acceptance.
‘Kind of reminds me of Paelis when he makes those little faces,’ Brasti remarked.
‘Shut up.’
The thing about ingenious plans is that they often turn out not to be quite so ingenious if you fail to notice small but important details. I looked at Trin again: her clothes were dirty and ragged, her hair matted against her face. I could see the strain of days, maybe even weeks of captivity in the bruises on her arms and in the grey pallor of her face.
‘Enjoying the view?’ she asked, as placid as if we were sitting on the grass under the warm sun by a lake about to share a picnic lunch.
‘How did they catch you?’
‘It’s sweet that you hold me in such high regard, Falcio, but as I already told you—’
‘You bet on the wrong Warlord, yes, I heard you. But what happened to all your tricks? Your magic? Couldn’t you’ – I waved my fingers in the air – ‘cast a spell or something?’
She laughed. ‘Please, Falcio, never talk about magic again. It makes you sound like a child. I’m not a mage. I can’t “cast spells” as you put it. Those tools I’ve used in the past were secured the old-fashioned ways: I either bought them or stole them.’
‘Great,’ Brasti said, ‘so she’s no good to any of us. Can we kill her and move on?’
‘Actually,’ Kest said, ‘we may need her.’
When he saw the two of us staring at him he said, ‘What? There are only three of us and the boy and we’re surrounded by hundreds of warriors in enemy country. In all likelihood, we’re going to need her help to escape. For better or worse, we’re allies now.’