Chapter Twenty-Two

Remus had barely finished dressing when someone knocked on his bedroom door. "Come in."

A werewolf peeked. "Alfeo the blacksmith wants to see you. He has something for you."

Remus turned from his looking glass as he adjusted his cuff. "Why?"

"Alfeo says it's urgent and for you only."

"Send him in."

Remus met him in the sitting room. The blacksmith was older and greyer than Remus remembered. "Hello. Er-"

Alfeo's wrinkled face broke into a smile as he held out the long, thin item wrapped in leather. "I figured you'd want this back, Your Majesty."

No way. It hadn't been in the attic, and the servants hadn't known where it was, so he assumed it was lost forever. He had planned to ask Quintus later and hope he didn't receive a lie or a refusal. He hastily took the item and let the leather fall to the floor after unwrapping it. "I thought Quintus might have had it destroyed."

"No, he gave it to me and said to melt it down and use the metal for whatever. I, er, might have pretended not to hear and accidentally hid it."

Remus couldn't help but smile. "Accidentally?"

"I was hoping you'd return."

The little wolf head on the crossguard was still the same. All sharp angles, he was slightly crude and somehow still fit. It was similar to Father's sword and black with a serrated forte. Remus had said he wanted a sword like Father's, and Giorgio had told the blacksmith to forge it as a Summer Solstice present when he was thirteen. Quintus had wanted a completely different design.

Remus had been so awed when he'd unwrapped his present that morning. A real man of status carried a blade, and he'd felt like a proper adult.

"I couldn't melt it down like it was nothing," said Alfeo. "I made your Father's. Quintus too, although I enjoyed making yours more. I think it looks better."

"I specifically wanted one close to his. Thank you. You have no idea how much this means. Nobody knew where it was."

"I was hoping you'd return like a lot of others. I would have brought it back earlier, but I just returned late last night, and I wasn't expecting so much to have changed in a week. I was away for an Aunt's funeral, and I had to deal with some of her things."

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Alfeo glanced toward the bedroom. "Is Prince Sébastien with you?"

"He's in his quarters."

"I was hoping to see his."

"What? His sword?"

Alfeo nodded and smiled. "A cousin of mine forged it in Soleil. Henri was his name."

"I didn't know that. Skill must run in the family."

"I'm the only one left who forges now, and I'm getting too old. My son won't take over. That cousin has been gone for a few years. He worked in Arquous and had forged it for Sébastien. I would love to see it especially since I believe that was the last piece he made."

Remus hadn't known Alfeo beyond seeing him a few times before as a young teenager. He had no idea he'd had family in Soleil.

"I'll ask him," said Remus. "I've looked at it before, and it is quite a fine piece of work with the ruby and the winged crossguard. That must have taken some time. The feathers are perfectly even. I think it fits him quite well."

"He didn't make it himself. The handguard was bought from South Sea like your wolf."

Remus tilted his head. "I'm sorry?"

"The winged piece was from South Sea. I had no hand in making the actual weapon, but I did send over the crossguard along with a few other things. Henri liked collecting them, and I still have a few pieces. I'm glad it was used for a Prince's weapon. I thought the little wolf would be fitting for you, the future King."

"You bought those?"

"Yes. The collector charged quite a bit, and I'd say it was worth it since both pieces graced a Prince's weapon. Well, you're a King now, but you know what I mean."

Remus frowned and looked at the wolf. It could have been on anything before Alfeo attached it. Sébastien's crossguard would have come from a weapon, and the original owner was dead. "I'm not sure if he'll like that part of his weapon came from a dead South Sea fairy's weapon."

"It's not like it was plucked from a grave."

"Still, he's not into collecting those trinkets, and neither am I. You likely don't even know where it actually came from. Did the owner fight in their last war?"

Alfeo frowned. "Er, I'm sorry, Your Majesty. A collector said he found the crossguard in an abandoned village. It might have been from long ago. The wolf was just a piece he found lying around what looked like an old camp. I don't think it came from a weapon. They were in remarkably good shape, so I bought them and decided they should serve a use instead of sitting in a box to collect dust on my mantelpiece. I think the last owners would be okay with royalty owning them now instead of leaving them in the dirt."

"Father said nothing."

"I did mention it. Perhaps he forgot."

Father hadn't cared to collect South Sea things, and for a tiny detail like the wolf, he'd likely forgotten to say anything because it wouldn't have been a big deal to him. Father would have been more interested in the hilt and the quality of the blade, not a tiny decoration. Most Fathers would.

King Jean must not have known either or didn't think it was important. Sébastien hadn't said anything and might not know. "I'll ask him to take a walk with me tomorrow if you want to return home and rest after your trip. I know where you live. He can show you then."

Alfeo broke into another smile and said he'd look forward to it. After he left, Remus studied his sword again. He wasn't about to get a new one since Father had this one made for him. Perhaps Sébastien wouldn't mind his too much.

It did fit him. The wings were more angelic, but Sébastien was like a phoenix in his mind. Strong and capable of getting through anything.

Remus wanted to take him right back to bed so he could feel him all over, inside and out, listen to the noises he'd made, and feel his teeth in his neck again. His coat collar hid the little pricks on his neck.

He'd barely replaced his common sword with his returned one when a werewolf barreled into the sitting room. "Your Majesty!"

***

Remus stopped at the sight of the blood and the sobbing young man standing over what must have been his brother. His throat had been slit, and blood was drying on his shirt. A door to a tiny closet room to the side intended to hang a cloak or something small was open. Blood had dried all over the floor.

"I went to hang up my cloak-" said the man. "I didn't think he'd-he'd be in there."

"Fuck."

Remus rushed ahead into the room with the cell. Quintus was collapsed on the floor with his face and hair wet. Droplets gleamed on the floor. Remus gripped the bars as he stared at his twin's slack face and dead eyes.

The werewolf said he'd been found slumped over his water bucket with his face submerged. It was like someone had shoved his head into the water, held him there until he stopped moving, and left his corpse. When they'd pulled him out, it was clear he was past hope.

The young man acting as a guard had been killed and stuffed in the closet room. The other man, his brother, had come for his shift, assumed he'd left early, and opened the door.

Other werewolves were entering the hall, and the news was likely halfway across the city. Someone had come in, dealt with the overnight guard, and killed Quintus in a slower manner, almost as if to make him pay.

Remus stormed back into the hall and faced them. "Nobody noticed anything odd last night?"

A werewolf shook his head. "Nobody came in through the gate, and those on the wall were alert. I don't see how anyone could climb in."

Werewolves could use weapons, but they preferred their claws. The body's throat had been neatly slit open, and he didn't see why a werewolf would betray him. No blood lay on the floor of the main rooms, so the killer had cleaned up and left.

Which meant there was a passageway he'd missed.

They hadn't cared in the long run who found the evidence, and only intended to hold it off for a little bit.

"You saw nothing on your way in?" Remus asked the brother who shook his head as he cried.

"I came to relieve him. I didn't see Q-quintus right away."

"Damn it. I'm sorry-"

A servant came rushing in with a few werewolves. "Your Majesty-" She cut off as she struggled to catch her breath. "I went to bring Sébastien his breakfast-the stone-blood-"

He'd almost expected her to say the Prince was dead which meant the killer had come in quite recently.

Sébastien wasn't in his rooms alive or dead. A streak of blood marked the pale stones of the fireplace like he'd been impaled and pushed against it. A cold panic threatened to engulf Remus as he stared at an odd mark on one of the stones.

Something pointy had scraped it. His cloak lay flung over the couch like he'd come in. He'd gotten that far, and then…

Remus ran to the privy as a werewolf said he detected blood. The sunken tub was dry, so he hadn't bathed like he'd planned. Someone had been waiting to attack him. No one had heard a single thing because Remus had put him where he imagined the Prince would have quiet. No one would be stomping by at odd hours. Servants wouldn't be hurrying back and forth and chattering while they worked. The view was lovely, and he'd only wanted Sébastien to have peace so he could rest as he pleased.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He went back into the sitting room, and blind panic threatened to engulf him.

"What do you want us to do?" demanded a werewolf.

"Get others and have the Palace searched from top to bottom. Check the secret passages. I want others to start searching the city. Send a group out to go beyond the walls just in case. Someone took h-"

Remus paused as he noticed a shelf wasn't quite straight. One side was out more. He'd had all of the secret tunnels secured, right? Clearly not. One of the werewolves asked a question, and Remus ignored him as he approached the shelf to push it out of the way. On the panel, he noticed a faint line, and thin straps from the bottom of the shelf ran under the baseboard. When he knocked on the paneling, it didn't sound right.

"Your Majesty?"

"This isn't supposed to be here. I knew all the hidden passages. I mean, I thought-" Remus tried to dig his fingernails into the hairline crack. That wasn't going to work so he pushed in a few spots, testing for what might open it.

The baseboard was the trigger. He pushed it and heard a click. Beyond the panel lay a rough tunnel. The straps threaded under the baseboard meant anyone using it could pull the shelf back into place, except they'd messed up on one side.

By pure chance, they'd had a direct passage to Sébastien.

It was too late. Remus still had to try. With several werewolves, they hurried through the secret tunnel as fast as they could. One said he kept catching a whiff of jasmine and blood, so the Prince had certainly been through there.

After Sébastien left that morning, Remus had taken his time while soaking in his tub, enjoying the water and the eased feeling that came after a couple of orgasms. Sébastien might have been gone before Remus finally got around to reaching for his soap.

He'd washed up, dried, and combed his hair. After dressing, he'd spoken to Alfeo. He'd learned about Quintus and gone all of the way downstairs.

That was more than enough time to get someone under control and out.

A couple ahead said other scents were unfamiliar. A faint coppery smell was also still in the air. Remus imagined him injured, bleeding, and terrified as he was forced along by a faceless man. Or men. That was more likely.

The tunnel had clearly been dug later. Quintus had created a new one to get in or out. Perhaps in the event of proper war upon the city, he would have snuck away if the walls had been breached. Except Sébastien and Remus had strolled right in. With only two, he hadn't seen the need to flee.

Or perhaps, the Regent and some lackeys had intended to visit and come in a secret way so the citizens would suspect nothing.

They emerged outside, and a couple of werewolves ran ahead. One shouted that there was a trail.

It led to the beach. Deep drag marks made another trail toward the surf, and boot prints were everywhere. A werewolf said he figured at least five had attacked the Prince. The marks looked like a couple of rowboats had been hauled out.

Ahead, the water was serene. They were too late. Sébastien had been taken on a ship, no doubt by someone working with Corentin, and they'd gotten underway as fast as possible.

The panic came back. Who knew what they'd do to him? What if he was already dead with his body thrown overboard? Remus had wanted to protect him and completely failed. The werewolves spoke, but he didn't hear it.

He never should have let him go. He should have moved the Prince into his rooms. It was unreal that he'd been in Remus's arms only hours ago. He'd smiled at Remus like everything was truly all right for once, and now, he was fucking gone.

He'd been sitting on his ass, completely relaxed, while the Prince had been hurt and dragged away.

"What do you want us to do?" A werewolf tugged on his arm.

He tried to think. The Prince wasn't dead yet, and Remus couldn't let panic rule him. Sébastien had said that Corentin would likely bring him to Soleil with a treason charge. He'd have a trial and pretend to be grieved that his dear nephew had gone so far, and there was no choice but to execute him. He'd make sure the Kingdom knew the charges to some degree along with whatever fake story he decided to go with.

Named a traitor to family and the Kingdom, Sébastien would be hanged. To fake his grief and reluctance, Corentin would likely wait a few days since he was a master at pretending to give a damn. No Uncle who truly wishes things were different and loves a relative would kill them in a day or two, right? He'd draw it out enough to convince the citizens.

"We're going to Soleil."

***

When Remus returned, more bad news came. Whisper was practically insane with rage in the stables, and if he didn't calm down soon, he was going to end up kicking out the gate to his stall. It was too high to get a proper jump, not that he hadn't given it a try.

If he got loose and anyone tried to catch him, they might get a horn to the skull. Remus hurried in just as Whisper used his powerful back legs to give the gate a mighty kick. As his hooves pounded the wood, horses whinnied in their stalls, agitated by the unicorn's attitude. A couple of stablehands were too afraid to do anything.

"He took a swipe at me with his horn!" said one.

"He needs Prince Sébastien. You know how unicorns can be."

"He's not exactly around to calm Whisper down!" snapped Remus. "Be quiet for a moment."

An animal can have odd intuition about certain things, and Whisper must have sensed that his favorite fairy was in danger.

He liked the Rowland King, but Remus wasn't Sébastien. Still, he took the chance to approach the stall and kept his posture calm even though he was panicking inside. "Whisper?"

The unicorn turned his head to glare at him with a whinny.

"Do you want to come with me to find Sébastien?" Remus raised his hands and came a little closer. "It'll be okay, boy. We'll get him." Whisper leaned over the stall to nip at his sleeve. "Okay. Okay. I'm going to let you out-"

The stablemen hauled ass.

"You have to stay up front and not bother anyone. You can't run into the city either. Sébastien's not there." Remus put a hand on the latch as Whisper neighed. "We're going to leave and go get him, but you have to behave and trust me. I know how we're going to find Sébastien."

Whisper breathed heavily and seemed to be listening. A unicorn might cross Kingdoms to get his owner back. They can't walk across water. Remus undid the latch, and Whisper barrelled forth as if the fairy might change his mind. Free of the stall, he nipped at Remus's sleeve again as if saying to hurry up.

"I have to do a few things first, and we'll go."

Whisper trailed along as close as possible as Remus headed for the Palace. He'd failed the unicorn too. So much for his first days as King even if he wasn't officially crowned. As he headed up the stairs, Whisper waited at the bottom and gave a last whinny.

Even though Remus wanted to simply get on a ship and give chase, he couldn't. To start with, whatever Sébastien was currently on would be swift and meant more for speed. His captors also had a head start.

Besides that, he also had to deal with a few things because if he headed to Soleil with only a couple of others, his plan wouldn't work out too well. He had to get inside and also hit the city hard from an unexpected angle so they could get back out with their lives. Approaching with a bunch of warships wasn't going to work either, and they only had one nearby anyway. It would take too long to bring the rest toward Norraco.

He told Lord Rochefort to get the men ready. Only the most trusted would be going. The werewolves willing to come would follow on more. There was no time to wait for the Rowland army to converge in Norraco. Some had days to travel, and a good deal of the holds hadn't even received word yet.

Corentin would wait for appearances. It didn't mean Sébastien had long to live.

Remus had the werewolves gathered below the Palace gate so he could speak to them. Lord Rochefort stood next to him.

"I know some of you don't want to fight against Soleil or leave your children and elders back home for so long. You know by now what's happened, and I'm leaving to get Sébastien. Some of you don't care for him, but I do, and I'm asking any who are willing to accompany me for this. If not, you can take your pay and get going.

A good deal of citizens had gathered around the fringe, and talk rose from them as the message was passed along for those too far back to properly hear. The entire city likely knew what had happened by then even if the details were fuzzy. Quintus was dead, a guard had been murdered, Sébastien was gone, and the enemy, working with Quintus beforehand, had gotten in.

"Before you decide, I'm begging you to see him as I do. He doesn't hate werewolves, and everything he said on that plinth back in South Sea was true. He grew up with a family who disliked and hated you. He was badly hurt by the event with his Mother and Enzo and…other things. He learned to think for himself as he grew older. I've spent weeks with him, and he's told me things he's never told another living soul. I know him, and he's not a bad man or irredeemable."

The werewolves grumbled among themselves. Some were shaking their heads, not willing to do anything more for a Soleilian. But he saw ones who had earlier refused were nodding. One appeared unsure, and his buddy punched him in the arm before gesturing toward Remus.

"Anybody who's not going, move away!" one roared out over the crowd. "You're taking up space."

About half of those who'd originally said no moved away, and those who would go moved closer. With the empty space, a few hundred citizens suddenly pressed forward and started waving their hands as they shouted. The noise was so great, Remus couldn't pick out any words.

"It looks like your fellow Rowlands might be willing to fight for a Soleilian too," said Lord Rochefort.

***

They didn't have enough ships for everyone to be comfortable, so it was going to be a cramped ride. Remus wasn't about to drag hundreds of citizens into a full-fledged fight either, so most had to stay behind. Some were young and could barely hold a sword the right way. Forget using it.

Remus had asked that only those with at least basic experience come. Men who'd settled down to their jobs after the war agreed, and others hadn't fought in the army, but they'd taken some basic lessons. Sailors in Norraco also often had experience in the case of pirates. The rest of the fairies in their group had been under the Prince and trustable enough, or with Lord Rochefort.

He was sure an army had never gotten a fleet ready so quickly before with so little preparation beforehand. With Lord Rochefort, Tom, and a few werewolves, they'd taken every boat in the harbor, loaded them with supplies and those willing to fight, and set out.

Still, hours had gone by, and Remus was practically sick with nerves. Despite his efforts, he might get there to find the Prince already dead.