So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)(120)

Gunther gave Brigitta a passing glance. “Go and pack your things. We leave at dawn to go north.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” She bowed her head. “If you recall, I was given permission to participate in the competition.”

“I’m letting you tag along. That’s enough.” With an annoyed look, Gunther flicked a coin and it hit one of his giant golden candlesticks with a ping. “Don’t get in the way, Brigitta. And no more getting lost.”

“Yes, brother dearest … I mean, Your Majesty.” When he snorted, she continued, “I heard the last quest is a search for the lost royal seal.”

Gunther jumped to his feet. “Where did you hear that? Who has a loose tongue around here?”

She winced inwardly. “I … overheard some soldiers…”

“Ha!” Gunther glared at Mador. “They should be better trained than that! Dock their pay for a week.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Mador bowed.

Brigitta edged closer to her brother. “If I could speak to you in private…”

Gunther scowled as he sat behind his desk. “Mador will be your husband. You can speak freely in front of him.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Mador gave her a look that was both heated and possessive.

She repressed a shudder. He’d never looked at her like that before. “I’m not sure if you know this, Your Majesty, but as one of the Embraced, I have a special gift.”

He waved a jeweled hand in the air. “I don’t care as long as you can squeeze out an heir.”

Mador’s eyes narrowed. “You’re Embraced?”

Gunther threw a tied-up scroll at Mador, hitting him in the head. “Sit!”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Mador sat on the rug.

Brigitta ignored the captain and turned to her brother. “My gift enables me to find lost items. I am your best hope at finding the lost seal.”

Gunther’s eyebrows rose. “You can find it?”

She nodded. “I would need to touch something that once belonged to the deceased queen. Then I should be able to envision the seal’s whereabouts. So if you will allow me to find it—”

“Of course!” Gunther smiled. “By the Light, you may be worth the gold I’ve had to spend on you. So, once you help Mador find the seal, he will win the final quest.”

Brigitta bowed her head. “As you wish.” But it would be Rupert she would be handing the seal to, for he was the rightful owner.

Gunther’s smile faded as his face turned sour once again. “I’m having some soldiers check to see if you really spent the night at the camp that Seven’s servants set up. If I catch you anywhere near that Seven, you will be sorry. Painfully sorry. Do you understand?”

She swallowed hard. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

*

Brigitta looked away as the heavy stone lid was pried off the top of a crypt. Forgive me, Your Majesty. She hadn’t wanted to disturb the late queen’s grave, but apparently, there was nothing left of the woman’s belongings but a pair of shoes. After the queen’s body had been burned, Garold’s soldiers had dumped the bones in this crypt, along with the shoes that had slipped off her feet as she’d fallen to her death.

Brigitta had traveled for three days with Gunther’s caravan. They had headed north, and as the terrain grew increasingly mountainous, their progress had slowed. The Highlands of northern Tourin were famous for their mines of gold, silver, and precious jewels, which had made the northern clans rich and powerful.

The most powerful clan had been the Trepurins, who had owned the gold mines. For four hundred years, they had been the reigning House of Tourin. But when Brigitta’s father, Garold, had defeated King Manfrid, he’d taken over all the gold mines and palaces.

Last night they’d spent the night at the old palace from which the Trepurins had once ruled the country. It was nothing but an empty shell now, for everything of any value—all the gold, tapestries, furnishings, and dinnerware—had been looted and taken south to the palace at Lourdon.

Brigitta hadn’t been able to see Rupert, but according to Brody, he had spent the night in the stables under guard. Her heart had ached, knowing how hard it must have been for him to see his childhood home this way. She’d wandered the empty hallways, imagining Rupert growing up as the young Prince Ulfrid, surrounded by a loving family he would lose before the age of seven. She’d sat in the overgrown garden, picturing Rupert there, playing with his younger brother, Bjornfrid.

And if that hadn’t been hard enough on Rupert, now they were disturbing his mother’s grave. He hadn’t even been allowed into the chapel. He was under guard outside in the village square.

They had arrived at this village around noon. When the queen and young prince had fled north, this village was as far as they had reached before Garold’s army had caught up with them. Looming over the village was the mountain where Garold’s men had chased the queen to her death.

A loud grating noise echoed through the stone church, and Brigitta gritted her teeth. Forgive me, Rupert. The bell clanged overhead, and she wondered if a sudden gust of wind had swept through the bell tower, a gust of wind that might have been caused by Rupert’s distress.

“Get on with it,” Gunther ordered as Captain Mador held a torch over the gaping dark hole at the foot of the crypt.