Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

WREN

Wren had almost forgotten Anselm Tarryn was Sassone's son. He was her bodyguard, and her friend. He made her laugh and he had danced with her almost as well as Olivier. He looked after her, protected her and stood up for her in Finn's place. But the quick and clever man with sparkling eyes looked like someone had dealt him a blow to the head right now.

He was still armed, Wren noticed, still wearing his knightly attire, but he kept his eyes on the ground, his hands well clear of his weapons, and frankly, he looked shaken. His father had done this. If he'd had any prior knowledge of it and hadn't warned Roland, there would be hell to pay. One glance at Roland's face told everyone that.

If anything happened to Elodie, Wren thought suddenly, Roland would be the least of Anselm's problems.

And if Anselm wasn't involved, how could his father have put him in this position? He had to know where suspicion would instantly fall. Did he not care?

Anselm tried to clear his throat but his voice sounded broken. ‘I truly do not know, Grandmaster. On my honour. I knew of none of this.'

Roland didn't look convinced. ‘Where would he take her? What will he do?'

‘I don't know.' Anselm shook his head, bewildered and concerned. ‘I swear to you, Grandmaster…' Wren took a step forward to comfort him, but Olivier stepped in front of her, as if he sensed the movement before she made it. He stared down at her, strain showing in the lines around his eyes.

‘You can't interfere, Wren,' he murmured.

‘But we have to help him.'

‘We…we can't,' Olivier said and his voice almost cracked. He looked away sharply, but didn't move from in front of her. He would play the wall and keep her there if he had to. No matter how much it hurt him to turn his back on his friend.

Because she realised, they were friends. More than friends. She could see the pain of that in the hard line of his jaw, the way his gaze kept drifting back over his shoulder to Anselm in panic and then pivoting away as fast as possible back to her. But never quite focusing on her.

‘Relieve him of his arms,' Roland said coldly and Yvain of Goalais stepped forward. Anselm lifted his face, visibly shaken for a moment but then unbuckled his sword belt and handed it over. Yvain nodded solemnly, one single mark of respect perhaps. Anselm met Wren's gaze. He saw Olivier's broad back. The flash of pain in his eyes made her heart twist.

This wasn't fair. It wasn't his fault. His father was responsible for his own actions, not Anselm. But what could she say? He wasn't helping, not them or himself. His silence was complicity, that was what they thought.

‘You will stand down from all your duties,' Roland went on as Yvain stepped back to join him. ‘Until this is resolved you are remanded to the barracks. Unless you have anything else to add? Any information which will help us? Think hard , Anselm.'

‘Grandmaster, if I knew what he was planning I would have spoken, on my very vow to the Aurum, I swear it.'

‘Vows upon vows, boy,' the Grandmaster growled, his patience at its absolute limit now. ‘You can only uphold so many vows.'

‘And those I gave to you are the dearest by far to me. All I can think is that he plans to take her into the lower city, to Castel Sassone, our family seat. It's secure and defensible. Before the palace was even built, my family held it. It's the heart of the old city. His stronghold, his power base, where he has fostered support or claims it through our line. But you know it well. You must have guessed as much.'

Roland didn't give him an answer.

‘Yvain,' he snapped. ‘Ready the men. You, guard him. Nothing is to happen to him. If harm comes to the queen it will be another matter. Take him to the barracks and lock him up.'

He stalked outside, leaving Anselm standing there, three knights guarding him. A hostage, a prisoner.

‘I'm coming with you,' Wren shouted as she hurried after Roland and his men, out of the Sacrum and into the courtyard beyond it. Everywhere was a whirl of motion, a flurry of activity.

‘Absolutely not,' Roland snapped. ‘You will stay here under guard. Olivier—' His face seemed to freeze. Had he been about to call Anselm as well? The young knight had been his protégé as much as Finn. He'd trusted him. And now…

They didn't know what they would face down there, what Sassone might have planned. But Wren didn't care. She looked into the stony face of the Grandmaster and her mind whirled with frustration. He wasn't going to agree to bring her, she knew that. She almost understood why.

But if she argued now he was going to lock her up somewhere and throw away the key. Grinding her teeth together, she stepped back and Roland nodded to her curtly, pleased, perhaps. Not that he looked it.

How could he look anything other than furious with Elodie missing?

‘You three,' Roland snapped at a group of young knights Wren didn't know. ‘Attend the princess. Olivier, you know what to do. Give them their orders.'

It only took moments and then they were gone, leaving Wren, with Olivier still standing behind her.

‘You should go with him,' she murmured. ‘He's going to need everyone he has, isn't he?'

Olivier, clearly reluctant to listen to her right now, shook his head. ‘You need to be safe.'

‘I'm fine. Go with him.'

He hesitated. The light shine on him, he hesitated. He wanted to go, they all did. Wanted to find Elodie and bring her home safe, wanted to follow the Grandmaster wherever he might go. They weren't going to obey her…not unless she made them.

But still Olivier protested. ‘If anything happens to the queen, Wren?—'

Oh Wren had had enough. ‘Then go and get her back!'

She reached out, wrapping a shaft of light and a twist of shadow together. She wasn't proud of it, but it was necessary and she could do this. She could make them obey her. She only hoped they would forgive her if they ever found out.

When she spoke again, there was a touch of othertongue in her voice and it rippled with power. Threads of magic wove around them in a translucent net only she could see. It was easy, far too easy, just a little spell, a small push, with words Elodie herself had taught her in the oldest language, the words Elodie had once used on her and oh, how she had hated her for it. ‘You are knights, all of you, servants of the Aurum. Go with the others and bring Elodie back to me.'

It felt like the air left her body all at once.

She shouldn't have done it. She knew that a heartbeat later, but it was far too late. Before she could act on her regret and unwind the spell, the remaining guards bowed to her and made their way after the other knights, duty- and honour-bound to her by something more than their vows. Something they couldn't begin to understand.

A wave of revulsion made her gasp. What had she done? What had she been thinking? She had used their loyalty against them.

‘Great light,' she whispered out loud and the Aurum seemed to stir, as if noticing her for the first time. The light grew a little, but so too did the shadows in the corners. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘You should be,' Anselm replied, his voice unbearably cold.

Wren jumped, twisting around to face him like a startled cat. The knights taking him to the barracks had followed the others on her command. Everyone else seemed to have left. At the sound of Anselm's voice, however, Olivier stopped. He had been the last and now he turned back before he reached the gates, rubbing his temples vigorously.

‘Anselm?' he murmured as if waking from a dream, as if some other reality still clung to his mind.

‘Let him go, Wren,' said Anselm.

The thread of magic was only a fine one. She didn't have Elodie's ability with enchantments. It would have worn off in a little while anyway, by which time Olivier should have been with Roland, attacking the lower city or whatever they were planning to do. He should have gone with the others but he didn't. Somehow he had been fighting the compulsion. She severed it and Olivier took a step back from her.

‘You…you are her daughter,' he murmured, and she couldn't shake the idea that it was an accusation. And a recognition. Like knew like, she thought, absently. Well, she didn't regret trying to get him out of the way. Now she would have to deal with both of them.

‘I'm something,' she muttered. Apologies would have to wait. She didn't have time. ‘I'm angry. Now, where do you think he took her?' Wren asked Anselm. ‘Where really ?'

‘I'm going to get her back,' he said. Which was not an answer. ‘If I don't, my life here is over. Everything I've worked for. Besides, she is my queen.'

There wasn't time to discuss this and sooner or later someone was going to notice the three of them standing there in the courtyard.

Anselm was unarmed but he was still a knight. He was Finn's friend, and hers perhaps as well. And he knew something.

‘I'm coming with you,' she said.

Olivier sighed, a long and heavy rush of air, resignation in a single sound. ‘Then so am I. If I get court-martialled for this, Anselm, it'll be on your head.'

‘I can help,' said a small, terrified voice from behind them. They turned sharply to find Carlotta peering around a plain door to the servants' quarters of the keep. ‘You need a way out of the palace, don't you?'