Bloodleaf (Bloodleaf #1)(72)

“I told you, no,” the guard muttered. “Ain’t nobody gone in or out all night. Not even when it felt like the whole castle was shakin’ apart.” He paused. “Well, except for his physician is all. Court-granted physician. He asked for an evaluation; I couldn’t deny ’im. You know the rules. King’s decree. He’s got more ’n enough in his coffers to pay the fee.”

“Zan,” I said, emerging from the storage room.

“Emilie,” he said firmly, “you’re supposed to stay—?”

“It’s Sahlma,” I said sadly, lifting a shaking finger to point at the woman waiting for us at the top of the stairs to the cells. Blood stained her white smock, soaking into the white ties of her bonnet, but Zan could not see her.

I followed Sahlma’s spirit into the depths of the dungeons, with Zan close behind. The cells in Renalt were made to hold witches: iron bars, low ceilings, thumbnail-size windows that let in sickly strings of light. But however dark and sad the dungeons were in Renalt, these were worse. There were no windows, no light, and no sound except for the slow drip drip drip from somewhere deep in the belly of the cavern. And the smell . . . the stenches of decay and vomit and urine mingled to form an unholy brume that curled into my nostrils and clung to my skin.

Sahlma stopped at the last door. I knew what was waiting behind it; I could see the marks of it well enough on her spirit. I nodded to her, whispering, “We’ll see justice done. Go now. Kestrel waits for you.” A tender, hopeful smile crossed her lips, and then she was gone.

Zan undid the latch. The door swung open to reveal Dedrick Corvalis, sitting languidly against the wall, hands covered in blood past his wrists, a lazy smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Finally,” he said. “I’ve been calling for hours. My physician attacked me. I was forced to defend myself . . . I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mess.”

Sahlma’s body was lying in a crumpled pile in the corner.

Nihil nunc salvet te.

A faint tremor—?an aftershock—?sent tiny ripples across the pool of blood. When it stopped, Dedrick grinned. “Strange weather we’re having,” he said conversationally. Then, “I require some water. And a fresh set of clothes. Can’t go to my trial looking like this.” He lifted his hands and gave a little laugh.

“Trial?” Zan said. “Your trial will happen when I make it happen.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my dear boy,” Corvalis said, sneering. “The king will be overseeing my prosecution. As luck would have it, he’s come home from his hunting trip early. I’ve been assured that the trial will take place without delay.”

My face blanched—?I’d been operating on the belief that Conrad’s distance from the city, out with the hunting party, would have kept him out of the quake’s range. I hoped, if he had experienced it, that he was all right.

Dedrick was still talking. “We’re great friends, the king and I. I’m sure he’ll see that I get justice for this wholly wrongful imprisonment. I bet his guards will be down to get me any minute.” He cocked his head, listening as the sound of boots on the stairs echoed down the chamber. “Ah. Here they come now.”

Zan and I dove into another cell before the approaching guards saw us.

“What do we do now?” I whispered.

“I’m going to see what can be done here to stop this. I need you to go and get Nathaniel and meet me back at the castle stairs. Tell him to be ready to testify.”

I nodded, moving to the other wall to watch for an opening to escape through, knife poised to cast the invisibility spell if there wasn’t one. “Be careful,” I said, stealing one last reassuring glance at him before plunging down the hall.

Behind me, the guards were gathering outside of Corvalis’s cell. I could hear him laughing at their arrival. “Gentlemen!” he said with welcoming gusto. “It’s about time.”





?28




It wasn’t until Nathaniel opened the door that I realized how, even now, I expected Kate to be standing there, smiling brightly and welcoming me in to taste-test whatever she had cooking on the fire. Nathaniel offered no such cheer; his shoulders were bent, while weary lines flanked either side of his mouth. He stepped aside to show me the interior of the cottage: books shaken from their shelves, broken crockery on the floor, furniture sitting at odd angles. Another aftershock rumbled through the floor, rattling the windows.

Nathaniel said, “Another seal broken. Another gate down. How, if Dedrick Corvalis is imprisoned?”

“It was Sahlma,” I said. “Corvalis called for a physician to evaluate him in his cell.” I swallowed, remembering her corpse cast off in the cell corner while Dedrick preened. “The king is forcing an early trial, Nathaniel. Today. Zan wants you to be ready to testify—?”

Nathaniel always had an intimidating presence about him—?stern, quiet, looming. But today red heat was simmering underneath his skin and I wondered if I hadn’t mistaken a volcano for a mountain. “No,” he said quietly.

There was a mewling cry from the other room, and Nathaniel rushed to scoop up his daughter. I followed him hesitantly. A pack stood at the foot of the bed. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes,” Nathaniel said. “My wife is dead. The city is falling apart around us. I have a child I can barely feed, or dress, or put to sleep . . . My sister has two babies of her own. She’ll know what to do.”