Ever the Brave (A Clash of Kingdoms Novel)(56)

I lurch back. I reach for a napkin to dab at the mess, and then realize another lord seated across the table is coughing violently. Half the room has suddenly developed a hacking cough.

I shove back from my seat, taking in the Great Hall at once, panicked.

The guard in the east hall who had drawn his sword has disappeared. The lady across the table slumps into her plate. Her husband coughs. His face whitens. Foam drips from his lips.

People begin to cry out. In fear. In pain.

“Don’t drink!” I scream at Aodren, realizing that the goblets must be poisoned. I curse for not having my bow. I yank my dagger out of my boot.

Aodren’s goblet tumbles from his hand, splashing red wine like blood across the tablecloth and his coat. Terror turns his face slack. “Do not drink,” he cries out to the crowd. “It’s poison. Stop drinking.”

But his warning is too late.

The pound of boots, people running, others screaming. Men and women tumble forward, collapsing on the table. It’s chaos, as if the castle is crumbling all around us.

Protective instinct has me launching myself around the table on a path straight for the king. Guards draw swords against guards. Even some lords and ladies have weapons drawn, attacking other nobility. At first I cannot make sense of what’s happening. Then I realize—the poison, men turning on one another, the fighting—this is a coup.

Oh gods, the castle is under attack. Lords and ladies fall to their knees, hacking up foamy saliva and blood. I cannot wrap my head around how many people, out of the two hundred that are here, have fallen in this room. Half, perhaps more.

My insides turn watery like the time I accidentally ate spoiled meat. Grief and shock and fear churn beneath my skin.

Niall, the guard from earlier, lunges out from behind a column, nearly taking off my head with the sweep of his sword. I jump back and fall into a stumbling, frothing man. The man tumbles to the ground. Niall swings, nicking my arm with his sword. I yelp and clamber away. The dress catches on my boots.

Niall holds his sword over me, then swings it down.

His eyes roll back and go empty. The point of a sword appears in his chest. He tips toward me, but I manage to scramble out of the path. His body hits the ground hard. Aodren stands above me. His sword is stained with blood. Widened green eyes bounce from the blade to my face to the slain guard. His skin turns ashen.

I see it in his face. Shock. Nausea. This guard is the first person the king has killed.

He’s a heave away from losing the contents of his stomach. I quickly scramble to my feet and tug the king behind a column. From where we’re hidden, we can see the extent of the pandemonium. Vomit and blood and death.

A quiver rests on the ground beside the slain guard, Niall. I tell the king to wait as I dash forward. It disgusts me to think I’m stealing from a dead man, but he did just try to kill me. I grasp the quiver though it has only two arrows left in it, and shove the man over so I can steal the bow off his shoulder.

His blood is wet and sticky on my hands. I wipe them on my dress, my stomach knotting. I’m almost back to the king’s side. He’s fighting off another guard. I grab an arrow from the quiver and test it to the bow, which is a tad heavier than I’m used to. When I get a clear shot, I release the arrow. It doesn’t fly quite as true because of the different feel of the bow. It nearly clips Aodren’s ear before it impales the guard’s neck.

The king spins around, gaze wild. His lips move, I think in a curse.

I reach his side, and the two of us move behind another column. I gesture toward the closest hall. “You have to get out of here.”

Beyond the pillar, I can see that just under half the room didn’t get sick. Some wield weapons and fight the loyal guards alongside the traitors. Men cut through other men with shocking ferocity, quickly creating a path of gore. I turn away, unable to watch. I cannot catch a breath. If I don’t get the king out of here now, it’ll be too late.

“Which way?” I dig my fingers into the king’s arm. “You know this castle better than me.”

He points toward the west hall. I follow, weapon at ready position as we run behind the columns. We reach the west hall and take it through the inner keep.

When the draperies and glossed doors start to look familiar, I turn on Aodren. “We need to get out of the castle. What’s the fastest way to the stable yard?”

He points back the way we came, his hand shaking. “They’ll be anticipating that we would go there. It would be safer to take the tunnels out.”

I’ve heard stories about the hidden tunnels under Castle Neart. Cohen even mentioned using them when we’d planned on sneaking in to stop the Spiriter, but that would add time and put us out of the castle far from our horses. How will we reach Cohen and Captain Omar to alert them of the rebellion if we’re on foot?

“Time is on our side right now. We got out of the Great Hall. Hopefully no one noticed. We need to get on horses and get you to the captain immediately.”

He looks torn. “It’s a risk.”

“One you have no choice but to take. You must find the captain. Get somewhere safe.”

I can tell by the clench of his jaw he isn’t fully on board with my plan. Still, he turns around and guides me down halls I’ve never walked before. Some old and barren from the usual plush adornments. Some pocked with doors. Without him, I’d be lost in the maze of Castle Neart.