Chapter 41

CHAPTER 41

FINN

Wren's scent lingered around him. There was no denying the way she wound through Finn's mind and around his heart even after only one night back together, how she was a part of him. His everything. He could sense her still, as if at any moment she would walk around the corner, as if he just had to reach out with his mind to find her.

If Roland had thought separating them would make it lessen, what Finn felt for her, he had been sorely mistaken. There was no diminishing this.

She enchanted him without even trying. They were bound together somehow. Perhaps they always had been.

And he wasn't the only one. The other Ilanthians couldn't help themselves either. From the lowliest servant, right through the guards to the highest ranks, all the various diplomats, the general, Hestia and of course Leander himself, they gazed on her with a kind of wonder which ought to be deeply disturbing.

He should never have brought her here. Never. He should have known better.

But at the time it was the only option, without leaving Anselm to die and braving whatever madness had engulfed the palace. She certainly would not have been safe there. If Sassone could reach into the Sacrum itself and take Elodie…. Take the queen in her place of power…

And Wren had almost given herself away. She had no longer been herself and he feared he knew what had taken her place.

Of course he knew. Pretending otherwise was fooling himself. He knew what she was. He had known from the beginning. He had felt the magic that ran through every part of her reach out and claim him effortlessly and he had welcomed it.

In the courtyard of the embassy, he waited with the horses, the guards mustering around him. It wasn't far, he told himself. They would take Wren to the palace. They would explain the situation. And then he would do his best to get Hestia and Leander out of Pelias as quickly as possible. Because everything was going wrong; throw an Ilanthian into the mix and it would mean war.

Especially if that Ilanthian was Leander.

So when he realised his brother had not yet appeared and neither had Wren, he knew instantly that something was wrong. Again. He bent his mind to her, to the sense of her, and found only shadows.

That could not be good. He ought to go and find her, he thought, and turned back towards the building. Laurence was hurrying towards him, an expression of concern creasing his young features.

‘Prince Finnian? Please, you're needed. The guards told me to tell you your knights are asking for you.'

His knights. If Anselm and Olivier heard called themselves called that, he would never hear the end of it. But they were in enemy territory as well and he had brought them here. He had sworn he would protect them.

‘I'm not…I mean…they're not…' It wasn't something he could explain to Laurence, not when he stared at him with such unguarded awe. Stories had been spreading about what had happened in Castel Sassone. He didn't want to think what Laurence would do if he saw Wren.

‘Help Gaius get everything ready to leave,' he told the boy. ‘We will join you as soon as possible.'

‘But I can help you.' He was so earnest. Finn wondered if he had been the same at that age. He'd idolised Roland. He still did, if he was feeling like being honest with himself.

What would Roland say about all of this?

He fixed Laurence with a stern glare.

‘Help me by helping the others and following orders. We need to make sure everyone is ready to move.'

Laurence swallowed down his obvious disappointment. ‘Yes, your highness.'

He headed off, so outwardly obedient that Finn worried about him. Was he as compliant with Hestia or was this just with him? No way to know, not without spending more time with them, and that wasn't on the cards. He turned back into the main building.

The ground floor was deserted. Anselm and Olivier had been given a room upstairs, with Ilanthian guards placed outside it.

Finn hadn't argued against it. How could he? Gaius wasn't about to take a chance of two Knights of the Aurum wandering around the embassy. He was having a hard enough time with Hestia's insistence that Finn have free rein here. And Finn was a member of the royal family.

The two guards manning the door watched him approach with a keen wariness which made his skin itch. Finn was armed. He wouldn't go anywhere without his sword and a knife at his belt, especially not in these halls. All his life had been a study in risks, the threat of danger ever present.

Among his own people that danger was greater than ever.

The guards didn't step aside from the door and Finn slowed, unease growing with every step.

‘I wondered how long you'd take,' a voice drawled from behind him. Leander. Of course it was Leander. ‘I thought even Hestia's idiot son would find you more quickly than that.'

Finn turned, suddenly feeling world-weary. He'd been expecting this since he first laid eyes on his brother. It was almost a relief. Leander wanted him dead. Leander had always wanted him dead. Nothing had changed there.

The crown prince wasn't only armed with a belt knife this time. He had twin swords strapped across his back, curved and lethally sharp.

Behind him Finn heard the guards unsheathe their own weapons. Three against one then, all highly trained swordsmen. Leander would have picked only the best for this. He'd been waiting to find Finn alone, lured him here with a mention of the knights who were more like brothers to him than his own blood. He'd even sent Laurence – innocent, willing, Laurence – to deliver the summons.

‘And how will you explain this to Hestia and Gaius?'

Leander smirked. ‘You and your knights attacked us. It was terrible. Such underhanded treachery. But what else would one expect from Asteroth? They'll understand. Well Gaius will. He's pragmatic.'

Finn lifted his hands away from his weapons. ‘You don't have to do this, Leander.'

But Leander advanced, his long legs carrying him close, his white-blond hair aglow in the morning's light streaming through the stained glass and a look of murder on his face.

‘Oh, I really think I do. In fact, I'm looking forward to it. A shame we had to kill you all. But there it is. A tragedy.'

Anselm and Olivier were locked in the room! Were they already dead?

Finn snatched his weapons free and whirled around, plunging towards the door. He took the first guard out with a kick to the groin and a knife to the throat, but the second was waiting for him. The clash of weapons rang out and from behind the door he heard shouts. They were in there, still alive, still safe, but not for long. Leander wanted to finish Finn off first. They would be next.

Leander and the remaining guard only needed to get lucky once.

The door banged hard as someone shouldered it, trying to batter it down. Olivier, it had to be. He had the brute strength. Finn couldn't help, couldn't hesitate, or Leander would be on him. Always the better swordsman. No matter how hard Finn trained.

His brother lunged towards him, swords coming so close to his throat that had Finn not bent back like a reed, they would have taken his head off. The movement left him exposed and he twisted again, barely avoiding the remaining guard's weapons slicing through the air towards him.

The door rocked again and this time something splintered. The knights beyond didn't have weaponry and Leander was already summoning reinforcements.

‘Get back,' Finn tried to yell to them. It wouldn't do any good, he knew that. His brother knights would never give up. They'd arm themselves with whatever they could. ‘Anselm, you have to get out of here another way.'

What that might be, he didn't know.

Something struck the small of his back, sending him lurching forward. Leander was waiting, a blow knocking his sword from his suddenly numb hand and bringing him to his knees.

Why did he always end up on his knees?

The two curved blades closed against his neck and he swallowed, his Adam's apple brushing the edges. He fell still, perfectly still, because he had to. It was over. Breathing hard, Finn looked up into Leander's triumphant face.

The door gave way and he heard Anselm cry out a warning while Olivier ploughed into the remaining assailant. Too late though. They were too late.

‘Let him go,' Anselm snarled. Hestia had been as good as her word. But for his pallor and the shadows under his eyes, no one would have known him for the man they had dragged from death's chill embrace last night. He circled Leander, holding the sword from the fallen guard, but there was nothing he could do to help Finn and he knew it.

Leander laughed. ‘Now? I don't think so. It's time I dealt with you for once and for all, Finnian. Before it's too late.'

‘Too late for what?' Finn asked.

Leander had that reckless light in his eyes, malice and vengeance combined. ‘She still hasn't told you, has she? Hestia and all her plans within plans. She thinks she's so clever. But I'm not giving everything up that easily.'

All the same Leander didn't land the killing blow. His hands shook. Finn could feel the trembling all down the blades, almost as if some other force held him in check.

‘What plan?' he asked in as calm a voice as he could. If he could keep him talking, keep him gloating even, he might still have a chance. ‘Is this about Wren? Did Hestia have something to do with Elodie's kidnapping?'

At that, Leander howled with laughter. ‘Elodie? Oh, I have no idea what the sisterhood intend for Elodie. Even Hestia has no idea and she's meant to lead them. They've been laying plans of their own, some of them. But I'll tell you this, I'll look after Wren. You have my word on that. I'll make her mine if it's the last thing I do. I'll make her forget you ever existed.'

He leaned into the swords, as if trying to force himself on, and froze, his expression changing from crazed obsession to bewilderment. And then pain.

Blinding, furious, pain.

Leander screamed as he fell and Finn rolled aside, narrowly avoiding the swords. They clattered on the flooring beside the crown prince, who lay there, writhing in agony.

Behind him stood Wren and Hestia, and the eyes of both women were as black as a moonless night, and shadow kin, eyes aglow and teeth bared, wound around them like a pack of hunting dogs.