The Silver Pear (16 page)

“Aye.” Garth opened his hands, widened his stance. “I was one of the men who touched the gem and ended up in the stronghold. I was there when Andrei Wolfsblood arrived to challenge her. I know Mirabelle barely got away with her life.” He paused. “That’s why we took the silver pear, which she’d dropped. We thought she was dead.”

There was no doubting Garth was telling the truth.

Miri pressed the point home. “I ran through the forest with Soren because as a wild magic hunter, he knows the paths. And it was the fastest, safest way to leave Halakan. William had men searching for us not five minutes after we escaped, and that’s the one place they won’t go.”

Eric hissed in a breath and Mirabelle thought he was beginning to believe her about the silver pear. As long as he didn’t know what he had, didn’t try to understand what it could do, they could work out a way to steal it back.

The heavy beating of a heron’s wings sounded, and the bird landed beside Eric, fluffing up its feathers.

Jon held a small, cloth-wrapped parcel in his hands. He looked at her nervously.

“Bring it here.” Eric was forced to prop his staff against his side and hold out the hand that wasn’t carrying his spell.

He crouched when Jon gave it to him, set it on the ground and opened it up.

Miri’s heart gave a hard, painful beat at the sight of it. It was almost part of her, and she had to force herself not to move.

Eric’s other hand, coated with blue, had moved over Sam’s body again, in silent warning.

Gingerly, Eric touched it with a finger. Frowned. “What does it do?” He lowered his hand toward Sam.

Miri shook her head. “My father never told me. All I know is he used it up in a huge spell before I was born and he never used it again.”

Eric’s hand closed around it in a grip so hard, Miri could see the whites of his knuckles. “That’s the story he spun me, as well.”

“He was telling the truth.”

For a sweet, beautiful moment, it looked as if Eric was going to throw the pear away, then his fingers tightened even more. “I’ve wasted a lot of time getting this, and even if it’s useless, it has an intrinsic value of its own.” He shoved it into the pouch hanging across his chest. “Now.” He stood, looked down at Sam. “You’ve been quite a lot of trouble.” He raised his hand, and from nowhere, from thin air, something slammed into him and brought him to the ground.

Miri looked and saw Soren had vanished, and she grabbed the sky magic she’d been holding ready and Sam was suddenly behind her, at Garth and Jon’s feet, away from Eric.

“Go,” she said, turning to them, and Garth and Jon each took an arm and they ran, dodging the small ball of wild magic her spell had created. She sent it to the Great Forest with a wave of her staff.

She’d used only what she needed to for Sam, or tried to. She had a little left over.

Eric was on the ground, waving his hand with the swarming spell in all directions and his heron was stabbing wildly with its beak, not with any focus, but simply trying to find where Soren was.

Eric’s spell.

She’d never seen anything like it, but it was dark and it meant death. She knew that.

He’d paid the price for it already, it was completely present, fully formed. Most likely when it was discharged he would need to rest before he could fight again, and so she did the only thing she could.

Like she had with Sam, she moved the heron, from Eric’s feet onto Eric’s hand.

The blue lights coalesced on it, and it gave a terrible, high shriek and was still.

It fell, limp, onto the ground, and wild magic shimmered into being off to the right. Eric scrabbled away from it, grabbing his fallen staff and hauling himself to his feet.

“When I’ve dealt with Andrei, I’ll be back for you,” he hissed at her, flicking his hand at the wild magic and banishing it. Then, as a branch lifted off the ground and swung at him, he twirled his staff over his head and disappeared.

T
here was
some disturbance beyond the gate.

Kayla quickened her pace and saw the archers on the castle wall were standing to attention, bows pointed down into the courtyard.

Rane.

She picked up her skirts and ran.

They were all so intent on the scene playing out within, no-one stopped her or even looked her way when she passed under the portcullis.

Rane stood halfway between the gate and the castle doors, quite alone, although there were plenty of people watching, pressed up against the walls or far enough away not to be caught by a stray arrow.

He was busy unbuckling a sword from his waist, and she saw a crossbow lying at his feet already.

He threw the sword down as well, his eyes on Vik, who was moving down the stairs of the main castle, flanked by guards. Rane had something in his hand, his fingers curled around it in a loose fist.

Even if what he was holding could do some damage, there were at least twenty bows pointed at him.

“Vik the Steady. What on earth is happening here?” Kayla was pleased her voice came out strong and clear, even though her heart was hammering in her chest at the thought of Rane shot.

She could stop the arrows.

She forced herself to take a deep breath. She
could
stop the arrows. She had before when she’d saved Soren from Jasper, but it would use a lot of her wild magic, and she had a feeling she’d need every bit of it to get them both out of here.

Vik stopped at the sound of her voice and frowned. “Who are you?”

Time to be a princess again.

Kayla threw back her hood, and pushed her cloak back from her shoulders, so the glimmer and glow of the wild magic gems were visible, the crown on her head clear to all.

“I’m surprised you don’t recognize me,” she said, and hoped this man was not as proud and unyielding as he had once been, or she might be in line for an arrow herself.

Rane had turned to look at her, and she saw astonishment, and then his face went blank. He shook his head, as if she should never have come to his rescue. Could somehow turn around and get herself away from this situation.

She almost laughed at him.

“Princess Kayla of Gaynor.” Vik sounded . . . shocked.

Kayla dipped into a perfect, courtly curtsey as silence descended on the courtyard.

She felt every single eye on her.

She raised her head. “It has been a few years. I trust you are well?”

Vik opened his mouth and then closed it again, and Kayla took advantage of his silence to walk toward Rane. “How is Queen Elanie? I very much enjoyed her company when she visited Gaynor, and I look forward to seeing her again.”

She reached Rane’s side, and he looked as if he wanted to throttle her.

“I can’t protect you here,” he said to her, low and just for her ears. “There are too many of them.”

“As I am the one protecting
you
, that doesn’t really matter.” She smiled at him, and his gaze flickered to her face, and then to her crown, and the jewels on her fingers and around her neck.

She could almost see him thinking he wasn’t good enough for her. That a poor woodsman and a rich princess were never meant to be.

“Wild magic,” she said, leaning closer to him so her lips almost brushed his ear. “Everything on me is a piece of wild magic. This far from the forest, it was the best I could do.”

She sensed him relax, and then, at last, he grinned at her, shook his head again, but this time, the anger was gone.

“Sooty?” He finally noticed the cat, tucked under Kayla’s arm, and Kayla stroked the top of her head.

“Didn’t want to start a riot,” she said.

Vik said something in low tones to his men, and walked forward alone.

“You know this man?” He looked between them.

“Rane De’Villier is my betrothed.” She had thought this through, but however badly Vik might take it, he
was
married, and they would have to deal with him in the future. There could be no lying about it now.

“He told me so, but I didn’t believe him.”

“You didn’t believe me about a lot of things,” Rane said, and put an arm around Kayla, pulling her close. He still held something in his other hand, and from the way he did, Kayla knew it was a weapon.

Vik stopped walking toward them, and Kayla saw that the guards he’d left at the steps hadn’t stayed there, they’d moved quietly around until she and Rane were surrounded. Kayla tilted her head, keeping her gaze on Vik.

“I’m sorry, your highness. Much as I value Gaynor’s friendship, the safety of Phon comes first.”

He didn’t look that sorry.

“The safety of Phon?” Kayla frowned, and looked at Rane, not Vik, for answers.

“Andrei Wolfsblood has accepted a position elsewhere, leaving Phon without a sorcerer, and Vik thinks I know something about what’s going on.”

“We don’t know anything about your sorcerer,” she said to Vik.

“I think De’Villier does. He knows more than I do, in any event. And he refused to stay and tell me what he knows.”

“Why didn’t you just go with him on part of his journey? I’m sure he would have shared whatever he knew.”

Beside her, Rane smiled. “He wanted me questioned at his convenience, not mine.”

Kayla narrowed her eyes. “That seems very much in character.”

Again, all around her became absolutely silent.

Vik stared at her, open-mouthed. “And just what is my character, princess?” His question was soft.

The conversation she had just had with the Falkirks rang in Kayla’s ears, and her old anger from Elanie’s revelations about how the story of her rejecting Vik had spread flared back to life.

This was a question best answered in private, but Vik had asked it here and now, and if he wanted an answer, she would give him one.

“Remember,” Rane said in her ear, “we’re in enemy territory. Best to keep a cool head.”

She gave him a long look, and his eyes widened and he lifted his hands in truce.

Kayla turned back to Vik. “You tell me. What would you call a man who asked a child to marry him, and when she said no, took offense? Every year, for three years after that, he traveled to her, stopping along the way at inns and towns to boast about how grateful she would be to have another chance to say yes, and how lucky she was that he would deign to give her one. A man, who when he stood in front of her, treated her like a simpleton, mocking her views and talking over her. What would you say about the character of a man like that?”

A wind blew through the courtyard, rattling something off to one side. It was a testament to how quiet things were that she could hear it.

Vik clenched his fists, then drew himself up. “Perhaps we should have this conversation indoors.” His voice was low, and she inclined her head. At last, he was using his brain.

She took a step forward.

Something flew past her cheek, close enough she felt the brush of a feather, and landed with a clatter on the cobbles.

She looked down at it, putting Sooty on the ground as she stooped to see it properly in the fading light. It was an arrow.

She spared Vik an astonished glance as Rane leaped to protect her back, and then she looked up at the battlements.

Perhaps the man who shot the first arrow made a mistake, or perhaps he’d been one of Vik’s men, beaten in a Gaynor inn on the way home after his king had been humiliated, but now the first shot had been made, she was afraid more would follow. She couldn’t risk it, and she couldn’t be sure she would see every arrow in time.

She pulled wild magic toward her and ripped the arrows and bows from the archers’ hands and smashed them to the ground, just as she had done at Jasper’s.

The portcullis started coming down, and not wanting to be trapped within, Kayla sheered the door off completely, so all fifteen feet of it smashed into the ground and fell over.

Rane was standing beside her, arm raised as if to throw something, and Sooty was butting her hip, suddenly her usual size again.

She spared a glance down at her, wondering how she’d managed that, because Kayla hadn’t done it, but Sooty wouldn’t meet her gaze.

The wind blew again, and broken arrows skittered and rolled across the cobbles. Her wild magic cloak was lighter, and blew about more easily, no longer heavy like velvet, but a gauzy silk, the bulk of it used up in protecting them.

Vik stood, frozen.

Kayla pointed a finger at him, and saw she had no rings left and only two bracelets after what she’d done. “I never realized your feelings ran that bitter and angry, Vik, that you would wish me dead.”

A soldier stepped out of the castle door with a crossbow, and Rane flicked his arm.

Whatever he threw struck the bow out of the man’s hand and broke it, and Rane caught his weapon as it flew back to him.

Vik spun as the guard cried out. “Stop! When did I give the order to fire? This is our ally, the princess of Gaynor.”

“That warning was a little late in coming,” Rane said. “Or do you usually stand around with your mouth open while your men try to murder your allies?”

“I think perhaps my husband was simply astonished by Princess Kayla’s ability to single-handedly render the guard of this castle harmless.” Queen Elanie stepped out of the door, and her gaze moved slowly over the scene. “Princess Kayla, I’m happy to see you again, and can only extend my sincere apologies for what just happened. I didn’t realize my husband’s men were so ill-disciplined.”

Kayla gave her a tight nod. “You’ll forgive me if I’m not quite sure whether to believe it was just ill discipline, your highness. Vik always seemed to be a very competent military leader to me.”

Vik rubbed his face with both hands. “I used to be. I obviously have let things slip.”

“Obviously.” Rane tightened his grip on Kayla’s shoulder, and she realized he was vibrating with anger. She was shaking herself and she lifted her hand to grip his. It steadied her.

Vik glanced at Rane and then away.

Elanie walked up to her husband, and let her hand rest on his arm. “Would you come in?”

Kayla shifted uncomfortably.

“No.” Rane squeezed her hand and then dropped it, and Kayla realized he was keeping both hands free for whatever came next.

Elanie blushed, and looked down. “I am sorry our first meeting since my marriage has been such a disaster. I had hoped . . .”

She looked up at Kayla, and Kayla saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

“You really are a bastard, Vik. You don’t deserve your wife.” Kayla couldn’t keep the anger from her voice. “Elanie, you’re welcome in Gaynor any time, and we would love to have your company at our wedding.”

She started to turn, and Vik lifted a hand and tugged at his hair. “Wait!”

She looked over her shoulder.

His face contorted, as if he was fighting with himself. “I’m sorry. I truly didn’t order that attack on you, and I will get to the bottom of why my men thought it acceptable to fire on you. I swear it.”

“Perhaps it has something to do with the boasts you made on the way to Gaynor, and the fights my countrymen picked with yours when you had to go back without what you came for.” Kayla turned again.

“Kayla. Your highness.” Vik drew in a deep breath. “You’re right. I don’t deserve my wife, and I would consider it a personal favor if you overlooked my men’s behavior today and mine in the past and ate a meal with us before you set out.”

Kayla hesitated, looked back at Elanie and then at Rane.

He wanted her to say no, she could see it in the line of his mouth. She stepped close to him.

“Sometimes, for the good of all, you have to set aside your personal feelings and do things you would rather not,” she whispered in his ear.

She lifted a hand, laid it on his chest.

He gave a sharp, reluctant nod.

Kayla turned back, ignored Vik and looked straight at Elanie. “We accept.”