Chapter Four

The Journey Begins

The day before we left, Nicolo and I had made preparations for the journey.

"Three weeks," Nicolo said, "give or take a day either side."

I was sure I wasn't supposed to know that Prince Balduin's life was dependent on Nicolo's proximity and yet Balduin talked about it quite freely. Although it was a secret, it had become almost an open one, thanks to the rumor mill of the Great Castle.

"And your absence won't hurt the prince?" I tried to sound as if I cared.

Nicolo shook his head. "I would hardly leave if it did."

"Then the prince will be safe while we are gone?"

Nicolo nodded. "The only difference for Balduin will be that he'll have to find someone else to go drinking with. Or, I suppose he'll drink alone."

"I can't imagine he'd be alone for long, sir."

Nicolo looked over at me and shook his head. "It's difficult for a prince to make friends. I'm always grateful that he and I grew up together—boyhood friends are true friends."

Once again, I found a part of my mind urging me to tell him that his ‘true friend' had hired an assassin to kill him, but that part was shouted down by another part which busily pointed out that Nicolo would never believe me. All one had to do was lend an ear when Nicolo spoke of the prince to know how much he loved Balduin.

It was a shame that love wasn't returned.

Nicolo was a smart man, probably among the smartest I'd ever met, but the prince was his blind spot. Which seemed foolish, but one had to remember that when Nicolo was brought to the Great Castle, he'd been torn from his mother's arms. Arriving in a strange place in which he knew no one, the only company he had was Balduin. Of course, a bond had been formed. That bond had been about survival as much as anything else. It was also worth remembering that Nicolo had been a pariah since birth, denounced as demon spawn by the peasant community into which he was born, because of his unknown ancestry and violet eyes. Balduin had not only been his sole companion in a strange place, he was also the only friend Nicolo had ever had.

The Unbreakable did not make friends.

Except for me. Sort of.

"Can I ask you a question, master?"

"Almost certainly not," replied Nicolo, as he picked a knife from his collection to strap to his belt. "You have a habit of asking impertinent and inappropriate questions, Charlotte. As if you are begging for the lash."

"Well… I'm going to ask, anyway."

A sharp sigh. "The things that make you good company are the same things for which I should have you flogged."

I pressed on, a little nervously as I always wondered if I would ever tread past the line of Nicolo's tolerance. "How much have you told the prince about this trip… sir?"

I could not ask what I really wanted to— does Balduin know you're going to meet your mother? —because I wasn't supposed to know that either.

"First, stop calling me ‘sir'," he started as he looked over at me with a smirk. "We both know you don't mean it."

I couldn't help my smile. "Noted."

Nicolo leveled a dark but tolerant stare at me, as you would look at a child who keeps doing the wrong thing, but has good intentions. "You make life very difficult for me."

"But amusing too?" I suggested with another encouraging smile.

"A little too much."

A wicked grin passed between us, and then vanished just as fast, to be replaced by awkwardness, and we suddenly could not look at one another anymore. Not so long ago, that sort of exchange would have been followed up by flirting, maybe some light touching and perhaps even a kiss if one or the other of us felt like pushing the boundaries.

But no longer. The distance remained.

That afternoon, Nicolo was summoned to bid farewell to the Old Queen. Such summons were rare and when they came, he invariably went alone, but on this occasion he took me with him.

"You should meet the queen, Charlotte," Nicolo said. "She is a remarkable woman and to meet her is to understand the loyalty and love I bear for her." A remarkable thing to say of the woman who had taken him from his mother.

The audience chamber into which we were escorted was the same one in which the Old Queen and Nicolo had spoken on the night when I was supposed to be with Balduin—the night when everything between Nicolo and I had changed.

The room was even more impressive when I wasn't peeping at it while hanging off the ivy that grew around the window. Arched supports curved up to a domed roof, in the facets of which were painted grandiose scenes from history; the founding of the Gath by some distant ancestor of the queen's late husband, King Moros; the slaying of the Harken Dragon said to dwell in the mountains to the north; the taming of the southern wilds.

At the far end of the room, Old Queen Nell sat on one of her more modest thrones, a carved wood affair, the legs of which were totem poles of the heads of former monarchs. I felt as if all those heads were watching me. But nothing in that room was as impressive as the woman herself.

Queen Nell had never been tall and was further shrunken by age, and yet she had an extraordinary presence that made her fill the room in a way that had nothing to do with her size (though not tall, she was wide, making her seem almost spherical). She hadn't been born to rule. She was the youngest daughter of a duke from an outlying district of no real consequence. She hadn't been any great beauty and wasn't permitted to marry before her nine older sisters—which essentially doomed her to a life of lonely spinsterhood. But no one had told Nell this. She'd decided her own future, and it lay in the Great Castle. It probably didn't matter who had been king, the result would always have been the same. Moros (like his grandson, Balduin) was a man who enjoyed the pleasures of court; gambling, drinking and pretty girls. Lady Nell was no one's idea of a future queen, but she danced with him at a ball and did not let it go. She made herself queen simply through sheer force of personality, and when Moros died unexpectedly young, she remained the monarch through that same force.

To look at her now, I could easily believe it. Though age had taken its toll, there was still a grandeur to her. Her sunken eyes were still hard and sharp with intelligence, she still held herself erect upon the throne, her white-haired head held high and proud. She was a picture of a woman in total command.

"Majesty." Nicolo kneeled before his monarch and I did the same, almost afraid to look at her.

"Master Nicolo." The queen very slightly inclined her head in greeting. "You are leaving us soon."

"Yes, Majesty. Not for long though."

"Of course. You should take protection."

Nicolo nodded. "I have my sword."

"I meant guards, Nicolo," said the queen, in a tone that also said ‘ and you know that's what I meant .'

"With respect, Your Majesty, I am not aware of any guards who would provide better protection than my own sword."

The Old Queen gave him an amused smirk. "Your profound arrogance to one side, Master Nicolo, you don't know what you may be facing out there, nor the scale of it."

Nicolo held out his hands. "Your Majesty, I am not going on a quest or mission of conquest. It is merely a personal matter."

"I'm purely aware that it's a personal matter, but that does not change the fact that there are bandits and the like on the open road."

"I am a match for any bandit."

"And if they come in number?"

Nicolo shrugged. "Then I shall flee. I have the second-fastest horse in the Gath," no prizes for guessing who owned the fastest, "and my journey is not so urgent that I have to see it through now. I have waited twenty years; I can wait a little longer."

I stared intently at the floor, trying not to give any sign that I knew the true meaning behind that apparently innocuous statement. It was a bold move to prick the Old Queen's conscience in such a brazen fashion, and no one but the master would have gotten away with it.

"Never the less," I heard the sharpness in the queen's voice, acknowledging Nicolo's little dig at her, "a bodyguard is an essential on such a journey. I do not have to remind you that your life is precious, Master Nicolo."

She'd replied with a subtle inference of her own; Nicolo's life was precious because Balduin's depended on it.

"I have my squire," smiled Nicolo.

I looked up then, trying to appear slightly less meek and terrified.

" This ?" It took a lifetime of practice to be able to get that much contempt into a single syllable.

"Charlotte is one of the finest swords… people, that I have ever seen," said Nicolo, nodding as he turned his gaze to me and in his eyes I could see pride. "I would put her against any guard in the Gath."

"Indeed?" The queen remained unimpressed, her sharp eyes directing their full piercing quality on me. "She looks like a small, scrawny thing to me." Then she looked back at Nicolo. "I think you've been taken in by her pretty face."

Nicolo chuckled. "When, my queen, have I ever been taken in by a pretty face?"

She grumbled something unintelligible and then said, "I will still require convincing as to your squire's usefulness."

"But of course."

I'd been so flattered and honored when Nicolo had brought me along to this audience, now I realized he'd known he'd have to defend his travel plans. Oh, well, whatever was coming couldn't be as hard as my fight against Taurus.

The queen inclined her sharp eyes past me to a big man who stood at the door, as still as if he was carved from granite. "Leopold."

The granite man came to life and strode towards us. The scars of previous fights littered his face and bare arms (which were massive), and I found myself almost hypnotized by the movement of his muscles as he walked. It was as if they all had to get out of each other's way just for him to move.

"Your Majesty." His voice sounded as if it were carved from granite as well.

"You will fight with the master's little squire. Please stop short of killing her unless she gives you no option."

I opened my mouth to ask if I should go similarly easy on him, but Nicolo shot me a glare that shut it right back up again. Apparently, he felt her Majesty wouldn't appreciate my particular brand of humor.

Well, so be it then.

Leopold and I faced off, each drawing our swords. Nicolo stood between us, his hand raised.

"Ready?... Fight!"

Neither Leopold nor I wasted any time in sizing each other up (I couldn't miss his size and he didn't regard me as any sort of threat). Instead, we both instantly struck, blades clashing. The force of his parrying blow almost knocked me off my feet. Strength wasn't everything in a swordfight, but Leopold knew how to use his. I darted and ducked below his guard and made a deft thrust, but the big man pirouetted away with the easy grace of a ballerina.

I thought I'd surprised him with my skill, but he'd surprised me back again with his agility. Now we were getting the measure of each other. Our swords met again and this time, I deliberately held back on my swing so that when Leopold threw his bulk into blocking, it sent him off balance, leaving him open. If he'd been a smaller man, I would have ducked to sweep his legs but that would have been like trying to kick through an oak tree, so I jinked around his guard. He recovered himself quickly enough to block, but I could see the surprise in his face. I also saw satisfaction on Nicolo's; I'd pleased my master, and in response, I glowed with pride.

Now it was Leopold's turn. He looked like a shaved gorilla, but he was no fool. He would not underestimate me again, but instead treated me with the respect of an equal, which was flattering but made my job harder. The big man leaned into his own strengths—which was to say; his strength.

The sword came hacking down at me like a butcher's cleaver and I was forced to dive and roll. But Leopold was fast enough on his feet to follow me and when I came up, I was already blocking the next blow, back in the thick of the fight. Parrying Leopold was wrenching the muscles of my shoulder and I knew I couldn't keep it up indefinitely—he was wearing me down with each blow. I needed to strike quickly and decisively and I needed to remember my training. Soldiers fought like soldiers, assassins did not play by the same rules.

Swathes of heavy velvet curtains hung along the walls of the room and I allowed Leopold to beat me back in that direction. As he raised his sword once more, I reached up to grab a handful of curtain and used it to run up the wall just as his blade came down. As high as I could get, I kicked up, flipping in mid-air and landing behind Leopold, driving my elbow into the back of his head as I came down.

"My word!" the queen called out. "She moves quite like a spider!"

"That she does," Nicolo answered on a chuckle. "That she does."

Amazingly, my elbow to Leopold's head didn't knock him out, but it certainly dazed him. The sword slipped in his hand and I kicked it to send it spinning across the stone floor. Then I placed my own sword on the big man's throat and looked towards the Old Queen.

It was hard to read Queen Nell's expression, though I liked to hope she was impressed. Either way, she raised a hand to let me know she didn't want me to end Leopold's life which was just as well because I really didn't want to end it. He seemed like a nice enough man.

"That will do, young squire."

Nicolo looked at the queen, beaming. "What did I tell you?"

I felt like a dog who'd learned to do a trick. Which was demeaning, but I was just pleased to have pleased my master.

***

It was later that day when I was on my way back to my room, feeling a little thrilled at the idea that we'd be on the move soon that I was suddenly grabbed and dragged through a door. I reacted instantly, ramming my elbow into my kidnapper (who I assumed was Taurus), grabbing his hand and twisting it up behind his back to slam him into the wall.

"Oh, very good, very good." The voice of Balduin came from behind me and I realized it was one of his bodyguards I currently had held against the wall. "Please let him go without breaking anything."

I said nothing but did as the prince instructed.

"You may go, Mercer," said Balduin.

The guard looked uncertain—he knew his duty and knew the penalty if something were to happen to the man he was supposed to be protecting. "Your Highness?"

"I said, go."

Mercer left, shooting a glance back at me and rubbing his shoulder.

"Sorry to startle you," Balduin went on, not sounding sorry at all, "but it was an instructive little test. Nice to know you have the skills."

"The Guild trains people well," I replied tersely.

"Does it encourage speed?" the prince retorted.

"I had ground to make up after our last conversation."

"Indeed. But you seem to have made it up," Balduin smirked. "Don't tell me this little jaunt isn't the ideal opportunity to finish the job."

"Little jaunt?" I repeated.

Balduin nodded and gave me a lascivious look that started from my breasts and ended at the junction of my thighs, making me shift uncomfortably all the while. He really was a vile monster.

"Very unusual for Nicolo to take a trip like this at all, let alone with a single companion. He unquestionably trusts you. And it is so much easier to abuse trust once you have it."

I said nothing.

"I shall expect to get the terrible news of my old friend's death on your return. And I expect never to see my ‘old friend' again."

A short interview, but it made its mark on me, because he was right. This was the ideal opportunity, and I had run out of excuses.

The time had come.

***

"Have you been this way before?" Nicolo asked me as he glanced over for seemingly the first time since we'd started out from the castle.

"No, sir," I shook my head. "You?"

Nicolo shrugged. "Not lately. I don't leave the Gath often. When I do, it's always with Balduin and that's usually because he's grown bored with the local inns, taverns and whore… er, the libraries in the Complex, and wants to venture further afield for a bit of… variety."

"Whore libraries, master?" I couldn't resist.

He glanced over at me and couldn't seem to keep his smile under wraps. I imagined it was as broad as mine, only far more handsome. Really, there was nothing more handsome than Nicolo wearing a big grin—especially because he hardly ever did.

"Fascinating places," nodded Nicolo. "So much a man can learn."

"Just don't bend back their spines."

One eyebrow cocked up into a patronizing arch. "Thank you, Charlotte."

Spread out around us was the beauty of the countryside. I was a city girl, or at least a town girl—Crammer, where the Guild stood, was the largest town in the area that hadn't been swallowed up by the Gath (yet), perhaps the largest town in the world—because who knew what, if anything, lay beyond that horizon, studded with purple mountains. I certainly didn't.

"If I had my freedom, I would ride this way every day," I mused as I breathed in the fresh air and glanced around myself, taking in the beauty of our surroundings.

"If I had my freedom, then perhaps I would too." It was not like Nicolo to talk in such a way, to suggest that his bond to Balduin was anything other than one of friendship. And his comment not only surprised me, but troubled me. Yet, there was truth to it because, in reality, Nicolo was confined to Woodfall Gath as narrowly as any servant. And yet he'd been allowed out for this mission. Perhaps the Queen felt as if she owed him that much at least. Granted, I'd overheard Nicolo telling the old queen he wouldn't be gone long—perhaps that was the only reason she's agreed to his leaving in the first place.

And while I was eager and excited to leave the confines of the castle, the little boy kept locked away in Balduin's prison was never far from my mind. I promised myself I would use this journey to devise a plan to free the poor child. On this subject I was much resolved—something I couldn't say regarding the subject of assassinating my master.

"So, you can be away from the prince for a few weeks with no ill effects?" I asked as Nicolo and I continued on the road leading us away from Woodfall Gath.

"Exactly. When I was younger, the Old Queen sent me away for increasingly long periods and increasingly great distances to test the limits of my influence on his condition. A few weeks or a month is fine. I could probably stretch it by another week or two—it's not as if thirty days is fine, but thirty-one is fatal."

"Such a strange thing," I mused, trying to subtly edge the conversation around to what I actually wanted to talk about.

Nicolo shrugged. "I suppose. It's always been the way for us, though, so I am quite used to it."

"Have you ever been able to find out why you have this healing power?"

Nicolo laughed. "Healing power?" He shook his head as if the thought were a silly one. "If only. Although then my life would not be my own." Maybe it was being out of the Great Castle and the Gath that made him more relaxed, but Nicolo seemed more willing to talk on subjects that previously seemed forbidden.

"I don't understand."

"You wouldn't as you don't know the story," he answered and gave me that little, secretive smile of his that always drove me mad. "When I was first brought back to the castle—not that I have any more than the vaguest memories of that time—I was protected by the queen. What I mean is; even my existence was protected. No one knew who I was except that I was the prince's new friend. Of course, over time people became curious about where I'd come from and curiouser still about why Prince Balduin seemed to be getting healthier."

"And people noticed that he started to get healthier at the exact same time you arrived?" I suggested.

Nicolo nodded. "Exactly. Back then, the succession was the only topic of conversation in court. You might think it was a simple matter; if the prince died, then either the throne had to pass to Princess Mica (as the Queen's eldest daughter) or to the closest male relation. But it was never so simple. There were many candidates and every faction was backing one or other of them, subtly pressing their choice forward. You can imagine how closely everyone was watching the prince's health, waiting for him to die. They soon noticed he… wasn't."

"What happened when people started to figure it out?"

"I'm not sure anyone did ‘ figure it out '," Nicolo mused. "It would hardly be your first guess; Oh, I expect that friend of his is curing him just by being in the vicinity ."

I nodded. "True."

"Someone must have said something and rumor spread as rumor will and quickly became fact. That was when things got… let's say ‘hectic'."

I considered the situation. "Everyone with a fever started turning up at your door?"

"Well reasoned," nodded Nicolo with a little laugh. I was still having a hell of a time getting accustomed to his sudden easy mood and conversation. "They made excuses to visit the prince so they could be in the same room as me. Some of them convinced themselves that being near me made them better. When the queen realized what was going on, she put a stop to it, but as I got older and had more independence, it became harder for her to control. On a night out we'd be approached by people with one sickness or another—not ideal when you're out with the heir to the throne. Though he never got sick. Never does." Nicolo paused and looked away. "Some became convinced that the closer they got to me, the better. It was sad really."

"Sad?"

He looked over at me and nodded. "Some women of the court—those of more mature years—were desperate to lay with me to regain their lost youth."

"You'd become the famed fountain of youth?"

He chuckled. "Something along those lines."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure that was the only reason they wanted to lay with you?"

Nicolo shrugged and then seemed to remember himself because a scowl very quickly took hold of his face. "By the great god, why am I telling you all this?"

I had no idea. He seemed more open, easier going, happier. It was as if leaving the Gath had somehow freed him to be himself—to open up to me. And for as shocked as I was with this change in his persona, he seemed to be just as shocked.

"As much as you don't want to admit it, master mine," I started with a sassy smile. "I believe you think of me as your friend."

He scowled at me but there was a smile hidden there somewhere. "I don't."

"Liar."

Then he chuckled and shook his head, sighing as he looked over at me. "How many times I've thought of taking you over my knee and belting your little ass."

"But?"

"To finish that statement would require expressing sentiments best not suited to a lady's ears."

I swallowed hard. "I thought I was your squire?"

He didn't respond other than to give me a heated look as he spurred Proteus, his enormous black steed, forward and overtook me. I figured that was his way of saying the conversation was over.

As I rode behind him, I couldn't help but ponder over the changes I'd witnessed in him over the last couple of hours. This version of Nicolo seemed almost a different man to the one I'd gotten to know over the last two months. It was as if I'd glimpsed behind the fa?ade of The Unbreakable, a mask he had to wear in court for his own reputation and his own safety. It was as if that mask was now stripped from him and I was seeing something or someone else. Perhaps the man he really was? Or maybe the one I wanted him to be?

Certainly, it was a change that was no help when I was supposed to be killing him, and my back catalogue of doubts on that subject didn't need adding to.

We rode on in silence a few more paces. Nicolo eventually slowed so I could ride alongside him and at one point, he opened his mouth to say something but then shut it again, apparently coming up short. He might have been more personable out here, far from the city, but the distance between us still remained.