Chapter 111

Roan

"Jessalyn!"

Creed-Wolf's voice echoed throughout the whole palace, alerting our mate to his presence, so I followed hard on his footsteps, figuring he'd know where to go. Guards tried to stop us progressing, thinking that just four of us were no match for their number, but as more and more of them fell to our swords, littering the ground, those that remained started to re-examine their assumptions. I grinned as I lunged forward, watching the idiots clatter backwards and then bolt off into the palace, but not for long. Creed shouted our mate's name continuously, his nose working as he scaled the stairs.

When we stumbled into the room, I thought I knew what had happened. The stink of death assaulted me far more viciously than the king's lax guards had. I saw a gleam of golden hair, heard the buzz of flies and then sucked in a great lungful of foetid air. "No…" I whispered, staggering closer to the very still woman lying on the floor. Was this what Arik had gone through when he found Ariel? If it was, I owed him a beer or two. I had cuts all over my arms and chest, some with blood still running, but none of them hurt more than this, to come stumbling before the dead body of…

"It's not Jess."

Silas dropped down to his knees, hands hovering as he sought to do something, anything, about the poor girl's state. Her face had turned blue with death, but her throat… It was a mass of sickening bruises, each one feeling like a punch to the gut until I blinked and saw someone else.

Not Jessalyn, because that was not this girl's name. She was a maid, no, a chambermaid at the palace. Her name was… Millie, that was right, because her brother was Mark, one of the petty officers we'd served under in the army. She had a mother at home that was sickly, because Mark sent her all of the coin he made serving in the army for medicine.

But not anymore.

I dropped down so hard on my knees I felt the impact all the way through my thighs, down to my very bones. My body swayed as I surveyed the mess they'd made of her.

That Magnus had made of her.

"That's—" Arik said, frowning as he stared at the girl, his whole body vibrating with barely repressed tension.

"Millie." I turned to Silas, then Creed. "Mark's sister. She got a job up at the palace, remember? He spoke to it when the letters from home arrived at the border garrison we were stationed at. Her mother is sick, and she…" I swallowed, forcing my eyes down to take in Millie's fallen form, to absorb every cruelty done to her, because somewhere in my heart, I felt responsible for each one of them. We knew what Magnus was, what he did and yet… "She worked here so she could afford medicine to keep her mother well."

"Jessalyn…" Creed-Wolf's growl vibrated in his chest, getting louder by the second. "Jessalyn!" If force of will was enough to produce her, our princess would've dropped from the sky in this moment, but instead we were greeted by a deafening silence. "He's got her, and he'll…"

We knew exactly what. We'd seen bodies, heard tales. Not as many as the other guards because Magnus knew we could not be trusted to stand by and let things happen, but it resulted in us being assigned to a task that took us beyond the city and brought with it a growing horror because we knew what it meant. A woman would die. She would be used, discarded like little more than rubbish, the guards learning not to joke about that in front of us. Enough punches to the face made clear that it wasn't wise, but…

That didn't help Millie.

She had suffered the same fate, her death just another meaningless moment in so many others. Someone would remove her, a bloodless term if ever there was one, and her mother and brother would be notified. Not of the true nature of her death though. A carefully concocted story would be delivered, concealing what had really happened, because no one was allowed to know the truth of things.

Only those that were complicit in this brutality.

"In here!" Creed snapped, slamming a claw into the wall and revealing yet another tunnel, but as soon as I looked at it, I knew. I wouldn't be going down there, wouldn't be running through that rat maze to find Jessalyn, because I…

"I need to go."

"What?" Silas stared at me then frowned when it appeared I was serious.

"I need to go," I said again. "Arik is the prince, you're the prince of thieves and Creed will tear the world to pieces to get to Jessalyn. You don't need me in this fight."

"I've needed you in every fight, Roan," Arik said. "There is no one I want by my side more—"

"You have to kill the king. You'll do that, right?" I searched my commander's face, needing to see it. Arik nodded slowly, a frown forming. "You'll bring that fucker to justice and you'll make it hurt."

"With or without your blessing, that's how it would go," Arik said. "I've wanted to lop that stupid head of his off his shoulders for most of the years I've been alive, but now…" He considered Millie's still form and then shook his head. "We should've stopped him years ago and damn the consequences, because the peace we bought? Women have had to pay that price over and over. Sacrificial offerings to a sadistic god, but no more."

"No more," I agreed, moving slowly to scoop Millie's body into my arms. She was so cold, so stiff, so still. My flesh rebelled, crawling on my bones, but I held her against my chest like she was precious to me.

Because to her friends and family, she was.

"You go and get our princess. You make sure they don't even leave a scratch on her. You bring her back to me whole, happy, protected, but most of all safe and I'll…"

"What will you do, Roan?" Arik asked, eyeing Millie. "Return her to her family?"

"She deserves that."

It wasn't due to a close bond. I didn't know Millie well, my memories a pitifully small collection of bright smiles and her gracefully going about her business at the palace. There were Mark's fond words, though little else to add to them, but as I strode out of the palace, any remaining guards shrank back at the sight of her. They felt as I did, I was sure of it, pangs of guilt they'd managed to keep stuffed right now rising now, twice as vicious. We were responsible for Millie's death.

"What's going on inside?" a self important man in fine silk pyjamas asked as I walked free of the palace. "There's soldiers and wolf shifters…" His voice trailed away as he caught sight of Millie, his arm instantly going out to push his wife and daughters back.

"The king killed this woman," I told him. "One of his chamber maids. Not because she did a poor job, though even if she did, that wouldn't be enough to earn her a death sentence."

More people from the rich houses closest to the palace started to draw near. I wanted to shield Millie from their prying eyes, shut her ears to their hissing whispers, but they wouldn't bother her again.

Only me.

"He killed her because this is what he does."

Women made little sounds of distress, but the men? Lords they probably were, or maybe rich merchants, I didn't know as they all looked the same to me. Their eyes met each other's gazes then mine, and I saw it there. The knowledge, the thing that went unvoiced, yet coloured all of their actions. It determined when and if they allowed their womenfolk to enter the palace and how closely they stood to their wives and daughters, thinking they could be walls between them and the king's unholy lusts. But Millie… Her brother fought his way up through the ranks through performance alone, and he couldn't afford to jeopardise that when his superiors all bought their places in army hierarchy. She had no one in life willing to step up and protect her, so I did what I could now.

I didn't stop for any more questions, but the chatter that spread as I walked did the job for me. Soldiers from the army we'd brought with us rushed forward, then went still, moving aside to let us pass. Smiles faded, swords dropped as they watched us. Millie got far more attention in death than she ever had in life.

"Roan, I can take her…" more than one man said, stepping forth, but I shook my head. Every step I took away from the palace, away from Jessalyn and my pack, reinforced this feeling. I needed to bear this burden, right up until I came to the main garrison gates. The sun had risen now, the rosy fingers of dawn caressing her face, turning her skin an even more ghastly shade of mauve.

"Who goes there?" a soldier called from the gate. "If you're from the camp—"

"Bring me Mark," I said, staring into the man's eyes from where he was perched on the parapet.

"Who?"

"Mark, son of…" My mind struggled to remember. "Mark. He's a petty officer. Came up through the ranks due to his performance at—"

"The Battle of Heathsfield," another soldier said with a nod. "I know who you mean. I'll get him." His eyes dropped to the girl in my arms. "I'll get him right now."

Time seemed to stand still, my body shifting with the breeze, my eyes staring at the fields beyond the garrison, making the way the rising sun cast each stalk gold, but sure enough, the gate opened and many soldiers greeted me from behind it, though none were Mark.

"I need to see—" I started to say.

"Mark." Someone clapped me on the shoulder. "And you're Roan, one of the Bastard Prince's band and she's…" The soldier's voice trailed away as he stared at Millie.

"That's Mark's—" one man said.

"Who did that to a lass?"

"What kind of monster—?"

"Why would anyone—?"

They had questions, so many questions, as I'd had when we were reassigned to be guards at the palace, but just as I stayed silent now, so had many of the guards. Because our silence had a power to it. When good men were silent, bad men flourished and they were all learning that lesson now. Instead of allowing myself to be interrogated, I walked through the garrison, remembering the layout of the place well, having been stationed here for a while. I knew where the barracks were, the wash house, but most importantly, the mess room and that was where I stepped in now.

"I cannot join the war right now," the general said to the men sitting around him. "At the moment I'm doing all I can leaving the raven's messages unread. If the Bastard triumphs…"

He fell silent when he saw me, especially when I laid Millie's body on the table. Men sent plates and cups flying, the clang of metal filling the room as they clattered all over the floor. They were clearing a space for her to be laid in state. Men jerked up, including the general, who came marching over.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked, command ringing in his voice. "Why have you brought a dead girl in our midst?"

"Mark…" I croaked out. "I need Mark."

"Mark who?" someone said. "Mark McGilvray? Mark Jennings? Mark—"

"Me."

My eyes swung sideways, the pain in his voice a perfect expression of my own. When tears slid down his cheeks, mine were finally free to do the same, the aching, hot feeling in my skull easing, but not for long. I caught the way his face screwed up, flushed bright red as his mouth twisted. I heard the ugly sound he made, and my chest worked, my vocal chords, wanting to let out something similar. Instead, my whole body was wracked with sobs that I hadn't earned, that I didn't deserve, because in refusing to stand up to the king, I'd allowed this to happen.

"Millie…" His hand fluttered through the air like a butterfly as he reached for her. "Millie, no… Millie—"

"This is his Millie?" A gruff man asked me. "Sir, this is his sister."

"His sister?" The general cleared a path, then jerked backwards instinctively when he caught sight of the girl. "What in all the hells happened to her?"

"You. Know." I was bonded to a wolf shifter, and in the early days part of me had hoped I'd have a wolf form as well. It'd be damn fine, bringing that kind of power to the battlefield, but it was only now I felt the shadow of it. Something with fangs and claws writhed inside me. It slashed my insides and then turned its eyes on him. "You know who did this and you know why." Men started to chatter in earnest, looking at me then the general as we stared at each other. "Millie bore the cost this time, but so many girls have died before. Princesses and bar maids, runaways and whores, he doesn't care much, just needs to hear that little click when he snaps their necks."

"Who?" Mark jerked his sword from his scabbard and thrust it at me. "Who? What bastard did this to my sister? Who would do such a thing?" Pain and anger warred inside him, I saw it in the way his sword shook. "WHO!"

"The king." My lips moved to say those words, but the general was the one that said them. "We've been aware of his… activities before this but have been powerless to do much about it. Any of his advisors who tried to talk to him about the situation ended up swinging on the wrong end of a noose."

"Powerless?" a big man wearing the insignia of a colonel stood tall. "Powerless? We're the fucking royal army of Khean." He looked around him and many of the other men here started to stir. "There's an army out there, fighting their way to the palace and to what? Kill that bastard Magnus, who wouldn't allow us to send what troops we had to the borders to guard our fucking country, because…" His eyes went wide. "He knew. He was facing attack." The general nodded sharply. "He'd rather protect his own hide inside the capital, amuse himself by…"

The air seemed to leak out of him as he considered Millie's beaten form.

"By brutalising women?"

"Yes, well—" the general started to say.

"The wolf shifters knew," Mark said, the tension in him making his muscles tremble with unleashed energy. "They knew what was going on. It's why they deserted. Their women were threatened—"

"All women are threatened in Khean," I told him in a flat voice. "I wish I could say this is the first time I've ever heard of something like this, but it's not. Over and over again, he does this. To all the princesses we were forced to bring to Khean."

"Princesses?" Mark jerked as if I'd leant over and slapped him. "So they're not even safe?" His hand shook as he reached up and then tugged the insignias of rank off his jacket and then tossed them to the floor. "I joined the army to fight for my country, to keep it safe, and I'm not even allowed to do that by this fucking king…" His bottom lip quivered. "By this monstrous bastard who'd do this…" Everyone moved aside as he approached and stroked his fingers down her cheek. They jerked back at the feel of her, all life driven from her body. "No king of mine would do this to my sister." His eyes met mine. "So Magnus is not my king."

"To go against the king's orders is treason," the general snapped. "I've already committed that by ignoring his messages for help. All I can do is hope the Bastard.., Prince Arik takes the throne and pardons me for such behaviour."

"You might need to wait for that, but I don't. Put me in the stockade, string me up for desertion, I don't fucking care," Mark said. "I'm done. If this army stands by while Khean burns, then I am no soldier."

"But you can be a fighter." My voice sounded old and creaky as a warped floorboard, but I pressed on. "Fight with the Duke of Fallspire's men to take the capital, the country, for Arik. You know the prince is one of us. He's fought by your side, taking his licks just like the rest of us." Mumbles of agreement went around the crowd. "He's cleaned up latrine floors and spent more time in the stockade than most." The rumbles grew louder. "You know if its his arse on the throne he won't fuck about protecting himself as he hurts some poor girl, leaving the rest of the country to burn. He's a soldier. He'll march by your side when we ride to the border to show our enemies the error of their ways."

"Fuck waiting around," another man said, much higher ranked, as he tore insignia after insignia off his jacket. "Roan speaks true. Knock this fucking bastard king off his perch, then for the border!"

"To the border!" came a cry around the mess hall.

"Mark, take your sister home," the general said over the chaos. "Take your time to grieve. This country owes you a debt and we…" He scanned the crowd, habit forcing people to quieten down. "It's past time we extract it from the usurper's hide. The army marches on the capital!"

I didn't come down here to rabble rouse. I didn't aim to return to the capital with an army at my back, but that was just what I did. The lot of us stormed through the streets, not bothering with onlookers, not when we had our enemy in sight. Our number surged through the gates, eradicating any remaining defences the guards might muster, our roars filling the palace as we massed in the courtyard.

"Bring out the bastard!" someone shouted. "Bring out the king!"

The cry went through the crowd, picked up and chanted, the royal army and Duke of Fallspire's men all mingling as one, wolf shifter and humans together. Something swelled in my chest, getting bigger and bigger, until I climbed up the steps and turned to face the crowd.

"Are we going to call him out?" I shouted. "Or are we going to hunt him down like a dog?"

My answer came in the form of men surging forward, up the palace steps.