Blood of Kings, page 22
‘I saved your men.’
‘And I thank you, but you will never do anything so foolhardy again. Take her.’
Wynter let fly a number of choice words that managed to hit their mark when her brother-in-law’s forehead creased into even deeper scowls. She felt a small measure of triumph at that, but it was short lived when she was dragged kicking and yelling from the tent and placed into another a few moments later.
Wynter stalked the confines of her prison, seething that she was once again being locked away for her own good, by yet another male in her life. Had she not just proved she could handle herself? Had she not just singlehandedly rescued eight well-trained soldiers from a prison behind enemy lines? It was beyond infuriating. If she were a man they would be celebrating her victory and courage, but instead, she was just a disobedient, foolhardy woman, locked away for her own good!
What she wanted to do was stamp her foot and scream her lungs out in frustration. What she ended up doing was collapsing onto her bed and, despite her best intentions, promptly falling into a deep, troubled sleep brought on by sheer exhaustion as the adrenaline which had been pumping through her system finally drained away her remaining energy.
Chapter Thirty-One
GARRICK OPENED HIS eyes and took in his surroundings. Had he died? Images of the prison camp, mud and pain ran through his mind briefly before he realised he was in a hospital ward of sorts and was instantly jolted back to reality.
Wynter.
He turned his head and searched for her, his heart rate accelerating as he recalled her part in his escape. Where was she? Panic seeped through his bloodstream.
He managed to sit up in bed, despite the sharp pain in his side, but was forced to close his eyes and take a few deep, steadying breaths as a rush of dizziness struck.
‘You need to rest,’ a calm, male voice said, urging him to lie down.
Garrick opened one eye and saw it was the Doctor from the camp where Wynter had helped out before they’d gone to Armeania. He couldn’t recall his name. He put a hand to his head gingerly, positive that it must be at least three times its normal size. ‘I need to find Wynter.’ He stopped, belatedly remembering where he was and winced when frowning even hurt. ‘The Princess. I need to find her. She’s my responsibility,’ he muttered.
‘The Princess is safe and being cared for. You just need to rest.’
‘I can’t stay in here.’
‘You can and you will, Lieutenant,’ the doctor said, his voice hardening into a firm order. ‘I understand you have your duty. But you are not in any condition to move about. I’m surprised you managed to make it as far as you did, but I put in a long night keeping you alive and repairing all the damage you had. I do not want you to risk all that by getting up too soon.’
Garrick looked at the doctor, but wasn’t about to back down.
The older man finally sighed and shook his head slightly. ‘If you promise to stay in bed, I will have the Princess brought here so you can see for yourself she is safe.’
It wasn’t ideal, but the truth was he wasn’t at all that sure he would be able to make it outside on his own, so he really didn’t have any other choice. ‘Fine, but as soon as I’m able, I’m getting out of here.’
‘The thought pains me greatly,’ the doctor muttered sarcastically as he turned away.
Garrick ignored him. All he cared about right now was making sure Wynter was alright. Until he saw her with his own two eyes, he wouldn’t rest easy. As he waited, and his mind cleared, he replayed their earlier conversation, at least what he could recall, and broke out into a cold sweat all over again at the thought of what she’d done. She could have been captured or killed. The knowledge petrified him. He wasn’t sure he could live if something happened to her. He’d had her inside him for as long as he could remember. To not have her there would be like a part of him would also die.
Despite his best intentions, he must have fallen back to sleep, because when he awoke it was darker and the ward was now lit by soft candle light. He turned his head and his breath caught in his lungs.
Wynter.
It almost hurt to watch her sitting there, her eyes closed and hands folded on the bed beside him. She was beautiful, this brave, foolish woman of his. Mine. In every sense of the word she was his, but with their future in such doubt, he couldn’t bring himself to think of what that would mean once...if...life ever went back to normal.
He saw that she had scratches along her slender arms and a few on her face. His jaw clenched once more. He was angry and yet, underneath the fear and anger, he couldn’t deny that he was also proud. She was every inch the warrior he’d trained her to be, despite the fact he had never intended her to test it without him by her side.
He certainly never envisioned her having to rescue him. Maybe there was also some injured pride mixed in there as well, he conceded reluctantly. However, for now, fear and anger were the stronger emotions and he wouldn’t be admitting anything else any time too soon.
Wynter opened her eyes without warning and he soon found himself trapped by her stare. For the longest moment they just looked at each other. His anger momentarily drained away as he allowed his gaze to feast upon her. He moved his hand across to touch hers, still resting on the bed beside him, needing to make sure she was real and not some figment of his imagination.
‘Are you alright?’ he asked, his voice rusty with supressed emotion.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, dismissing his concern with a shrug. ‘Your surgery went well. The doctor said you should make a full recovery.’
‘So I gathered. But I need to get out of here. I’m not letting you walk around here unprotected.’
He saw her roll her eyes and he clenched his teeth in frustration. Apparently, nothing much had changed. ‘Despite my assurance of being able to take care of myself, my dear brother-in-law has assigned me my own personal prison guards,’ she muttered, glancing over her shoulder at two men watching them.
‘Only two?’ he asked, easing himself back against the pillow.
‘There are two more outside.’
Her deadpan tone made him bite back a grin. At least the King wasn’t taking any further chances with her safety. The man wasn’t a total fool after all. ‘As soon as I’m able, we’re heading back to Pairyon. Clearly, that’s the only way I can keep you from trying to kill yourself.’
‘Clearly,’ she mocked, although he didn’t like the glare she was pinning him with.
‘You are not to do anything until I come for you. You don’t try and lose those guards. You don’t try and ride home on your own. You wait. For. Me,’ he stressed pointedly.
‘Rest assured, I’m confined to quarters until further notice.’
‘Good.’ He was expecting more of a fight and he wasn’t sure if she were deliberately trying to put him off balance or not, but from the sullen look she wore, it seemed she had finally realised there was no other option but to wait.
As he watched her walk out of the tent shortly after, a strange feeling settled in his gut. He knew she was safe for now, so that wasn’t it, but something hung about him—an uneasy sensation that refused to let him rest.
He awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. At first he thought it had been a nightmare, but his eyes were open and he could still hear the loud voices raised in alarm and the clang of armour and weaponry in the distance.
Medical staff were assisting the bed-ridden patients from their cots and moving them outside. He reached for his clothing, dressing as quickly as his injury allowed, and pushed his way through the opening of the tent.
The scene that greeted him made the blood run cold in his veins. The night sky was lit with torches, while tents burned all around him. But it was the sound in the distance that terrified him the most. He could just make out the shadows of men in battle and knew that the enemy had made a rush at the lines.
He turned in a slow circle, his mind racing as he tried to collect his thoughts. He needed to find Wynter and get her as far away from here as possible.
He moved against the tide of men running in all directions as they raced to get to their positions. He made for the King’s tent and wasted a frustrating amount of time trying to get past the guards circled around the perimeter in defence. Eventually, his yelling must have drawn the attention of the King’s chief of war and he was quickly waved through.
The King’s tent was an even busier hive of activity than usual, but he stopped before the big man and demanded to have Wynter brought to him.
‘I’m taking her out of here.’
‘It may be too late,’ the King said in a grim tone. ‘It seems Forewick has brought some kind of new weaponry to the battle. It’s like nothing we’ve seen before and it’s decimating my lines.’
‘Then there’s no time to argue. I need to get her as far away from here as possible.’
The King nodded to a man near the doorway and within minutes Wynter appeared beside him, her face pale as she silently searched his eyes for some kind of explanation.
‘Go. Now.’
‘Come with us, Harmend,’ Wynter urged.
‘My place is with my men. Tell Brica that I...’ he paused and briefly closed his eyes before opening them and the pain of before was replaced with a steely determination. ‘Tell my wife I love her and I will be home soon.’
Garrick stepped in and took Wynter by the arm firmly, tugging her towards the doorway. ‘We have to go.’ Thankfully, she didn’t put up a fight; he wasn’t sure he had the strength to fight with her so soon after his operation.
Outside was like waking up in a nightmare.
‘Garrick, I hear gun fire,’ Wynter said, staring up at him in disbelief.
‘I know. I hear it too.’
‘How is that possible?’
He had a fair idea, but there was no time to voice it now. If Forewick’s men had guns, then they would be massacring the Armeanian’s by the hundreds, who had only arrows and swords to defend themselves with. They stood no chance.
It was slow going as they wove their way to the horses through masses of armed men. Chaos reigned and the rapid sound of a gun firing a shower of bullets nearby made Garrick turn and stare in mute horror as seven men dropped like rag dolls only a hundred feet away.
Garrick tensed, then turned as he heard Wynter’s startled gasp, automatically pulling her behind him to shield her as he stared at the scene before him.
Harmend stood with his sword drawn against a man holding a lethal weapon that he’d only ever seen on that noisy, talking box they called a television over on the other side. Before he could open his mouth to warn the King, a rapid spray of bullets erupted from the rifle and the King dropped to his knees, staring in confusion at the spread of blood across his stomach from the strange black sword his enemy was holding.
Wynter’s scream drew the soldier’s attention and Garrick’s heart almost ceased beating. Forewick’s men, with their new weapons, were on a blood lust. Amazed by the ferocity of their new munitions and mesmerised by the sheer power and savagery they could inflict upon their enemy; they were eager to continue their rampage. He saw the soldier’s sly grin widen as he took in his next two victims. In less time than a heartbeat, Garrick realised he was about to die. The gun fired and it took a moment for him to register that he wasn’t being ripped apart. Opening his eyes, he saw the soldier topple forward and land face down in the mud before him.
As though in slow motion, Garrick lifted his gaze from the dead man to find a second person standing there holding an identical weapon.
‘Van,’ Wynter spoke from behind him, sounding as confused as he felt.
Garrick saw the man’s gaze move briefly to Wynter’s face and his expression softened slightly. For the briefest of moments, Garrick saw a mixture of hope, desire and then acceptance as his gaze moved from Wynter’s face back to Garrick’s. A slow, sardonic smile briefly touched the detective’s lips before his face hardened once more.
From behind him, he felt Wynter move and quickly reached back to stop her, but she twisted away causing his wound to stab painfully and he had no choice but to allow her to move away from him. She crossed to her brother- in-law’s side and sank to her knees beside him.
‘Harmend,’ she sobbed, rolling him over and brushing away the mud from his face.
Garrick limped to her side, sparing a quick glance at the man on the ground and verifying that he was dead before lifting his wary gaze once more to the detective.
‘Unless you want to be our guest once more, I’d suggest you get her out of here, now.’
‘Van!’ The sound of Boudin’s voice seemed to snap Wynter from her grief and she stared up at the man she’d once thought a friend with a look of horror etched across her face. ‘What have you done?’ Her whispered accusation could not hide the betrayal in her voice.
‘You shouldn’t be here, Wynter,’ he said in a dull voice, devoid of all emotion.
Garrick didn’t trust the bastard, not even for a second, but he knew that when it came to Wynter he had a soft spot and he was counting on that to get them out of this. ‘We need to go,’ he said, bending down to take her arm without moving his gaze from Van’s face.
‘You brought those things back here?’ Wynter asked in a voice that screamed disbelief. ‘You brought those things here after everything I told you? How could you?’
‘I did what I had to do, Wynter.’
‘You didn’t have to do this,’ she said, shaking her head slowly and Garrick saw the tears falling from her eyes. ‘You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed.’
‘I have every idea what I’ve unleashed. I’m the rightful heir to the Forewick kingdom. It’s time to even up the score a little. The Pairyon’s have had it all their way for far too long. Someone needs to make sure they toe the line now and that person is going to be me.’
‘Come on, Wynter. We have to go.’ Garrick was aware of more men moving towards them.
‘Don’t do this, Van,’ Wynter said, quietly as she stood up. ‘Please.’
‘You saved my life by breaking me out of your father’s prison. I’m repaying that debt now by letting you go, but don’t confuse my generosity with stupidity. Or weakness,’ he added sharply. ‘If I’ve learned one thing from all this, it’s that a lion doesn’t ask permission. He takes and he fights. I’m a lion, and from this day on, I don’t ask and I don’t beg. I will take what is rightfully mine. You tell your father that the tables have turned. Forewick will not bow down to Pairyon anymore.’
‘That sounds a little premature, Grandson. Last time I looked, I was the one with the crown.’ The trio turned as a white bearded man stepped forward.
Chapter Thirty-Two
VAN SHRUGGED AS HE turned slowly and faced the old man. ‘Times are changing. This is a brave new world we’re about to step into and since I’m the one who delivered it, I think it’s only fitting that I lead it.’
‘You expect me to step aside and just hand you the Kingdom?’
‘I do. And what’s more, if you don’t do so willingly...then I’ll just take it.’
The smug smile slipped from the King’s face and his gaze hardened. ‘My son—’
‘Was a spineless idiot,’ Van snapped, cutting off the other man sharply. ‘He was insane. You might not want to admit it, but you obviously saw it. He obsessed over Syeira Pairyon and went into a jealous rage when she scorned him for her guard.’ Van said in a soft voice.
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh, I know a lot of things about you and your twisted family, because I was trained to figure out people, to work out what makes their warped little minds tick. So I went to work, asking questions, finding information about my father to expose him for the monster he was. I know my mother’s rape wasn’t his first. I know all about the sordid little lies you helped him cover up or just simply turned a blind eye to over the years.’
‘Rape,’ the King scoffed arrogantly after managing to collect his scattered wits. ‘He was the future King! He
owned every man, woman and child in this kingdom. It’s not rape, if it’s your property to begin with.’
‘And he exercised that right often didn’t he? Including men, women and children,’ Van snapped, his face a picture of disgust. Any ounce of sympathy he may have had towards the grandfather, he’d always wished he had, vanished the moment he learned of his father’s perverse, often sadistic sexual habits and his grandparents part in covering it up.
‘He was my son.’
‘He was an evil predator and you stood back and let him do whatever he wanted.’
‘You will never be King,’ the man spat. ‘You lack the guts to do what’s needed. You’re not half the man my son was.’
‘Something I will be eternally grateful for,’ he said before lifting the rifle and shooting the King square in the chest.
The surprise on the old man’s face as he sank to the ground, clutching at his chest, should have been satisfying, but it wasn’t. Instead, he felt...nothing. Salis had been just as guilty as his son had been, in Van’s eyes, and he needed to pay for his part in the injustice, but there had been no satisfaction in the deed.
What he’d wanted, was to watch the life drain from the eyes of the man who had fathered him, but he had been robbed of that by the Pairyon’s. It remained an itch that he couldn’t sooth, but it could wait for another day. Their time would come. For now he was going to be busy cleaning up his family tree. This was a start, but there was still a little pruning left to be done.
GARRICK WATCHED THE confrontation apprehensively as it unfolded. He didn’t want to get caught between these two. Whatever the King and the Detective were about to discuss, he’d prefer to not have himself and Wynter be part of it.
The minute Boudin pulled the gun, and he saw the old man drop to the ground, his instincts immediately kicked in and he reached for Wynter, dragging her behind him, making a run towards the horses.
