The Queen's Assassin (The Queen's Secret #1)(87)

Another, smaller figure comes into the light. The young, mute stable boy from Deersia. Jander walks closer to Cal, his mouth set in a grim line.

He raises his blade, but instead of striking Cal, he turns quickly and slashes at the duke, cleaving the finger that wears the obsidian ring.

The ring. Cal realizes now that was what Shadow was trying to tell him. Get the ring.

Jander had heard her instead.

The duke roars and sends Jander flying across the balcony, slamming the boy’s body against the wall so that Cal can hear bones break. The small body falls to the ground with a thud. But the duke’s hold is broken. Shadow wrenches the obsidian collar from her neck and collapses.

Now the duke turns to her, raising his hand and sending a powerful force to obliterate her, just as he did Jander, but Shadow recovers and holds her hands high, sending the shock force back to the duke.

“Cal!” she screams. “Now!”

The duke staggers back but recovers quickly and raises his arms once more. Yet he is not quick enough. Cal doesn’t hesitate. He is fast and deadly and merciless. He has his dagger drawn. He stabs the duke once, twice, three times, straight through the heart.

He is the Queen’s Assassin, the protector of Renovia, and his blade is swift and true. The duke falls to the ground, dead.

Cal runs to check on Shadow, who shakes him off. “I’m all right. My aunts’ talisman slowed the duke down a little. But Jander—help Jander.”

Jander lies prostrate on the floor. Cal puts his fingers to the boy’s neck. There is a pulse. “Stay with me, Jander.” He tries to keep him present. “Fight it.”

But Cal knows that in truth, the boy is mortally wounded.

“I have lived long enough,” Jander says. His voice is as raspy as an old man’s. His face begins to waver, change. He grabs Cal’s shirt. “Listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” Cal tells him.

“Duke Girt. Whatever he calls himself now.”

“Yes?”

“You have to burn his mortal flesh.”

Cal nods. “Because he is a shapeshifter.”

Jander shakes his head impatiently. “No. No . . . Caledon, he is more than that. You must burn his body with the fire of Deia. Or he’ll return. He always comes back.”

Cal’s body goes strangely still. A chill runs up his back, and gooseflesh, along with an overwhelming vertigo. He wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes out of his mouth. The duke is not just a shapeshifter, but the return of the immortal demon, a monster of legend, a monster who has stalked Avantine for centuries.

“Yes,” he promises. He will burn the duke’s body with the white fire of Deia. It is the only way. But right now he wants to keep Jander here, alive, with him, though he can tell the boy—is he really a boy?—is being pulled away toward Deia.

“Who are you really?” Cal asks, then realizes that is the wrong question once more. “What are you?”

“Cursed,” answers Jander sadly. “I was cursed by the king long ago. But if you burn his body I will be free.” He grabs Cal’s shirt and tries to pull himself up somewhat, into more of a sitting position. “Hurry. Take the body, burn it.” He starts coughing, hacking blood. Specks of red splatter on the glass doors.

Shadow comes to kneel by them, puts a hand on Cal’s shoulder. They huddle together, Cal holding Jander’s body in his arms, when a scream pierces the air.

Duchess Girt is standing at the doorway, shaking, mouth open in a now-silent shriek, along with a growing pack of onlookers vying for a glance at what’s happening outside.

The duchess finds her voice and screams again, this time shoving people aside to get inside. As she goes, she yells, “They’ve killed the duke! Murderers! Lord and Lady Holton are assassins!”

“Caledon!” Jander spits out. He grabs him one last time and yanks him close. “The scrolls! He has the scrolls.”

It is the last thing Cal remembers before they are taken away.





CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Caledon

ANOTHER CELL. ANOTHER DIRT FLOOR. The room spins, hazy; objects waver in and out of focus; voices are loud, then quiet and back again. Searing pain slices through his head. He reaches up to touch the source—he has a massive swollen lump on his head.

Someone yanks him by the collar and drags him across the floor. He kicks and tries to pull the shirt away from his neck. They drop him. He coughs, spits, catches his breath. His head is throbbing. Everything hurts, everywhere. Did they beat him while he was passed out? More important, what happened to the duke’s body? And Jander? And Shadow? Where is she?

Two men lift him, one at each arm, and begin pulling him. He tries to walk. His legs feel numb, asleep; they collapse under him.

Everything around him is a blur—there are shapes, people, doorways, loud clanging noises, what sounds like scraping objects across walls.

A large door opens in front of him. Bright light blinds him—he squeezes his eyes shut against its onslaught. The guards stop abruptly and let him go. He opens his eyes, grabs on to a rail in front of him for support. Once his vision adjusts, he sees dozens of Montrician nobles around him, and in the middle of them, directly across from him, sits King Hansen.

Cal is standing in a partitioned space with waist-high wood rails keeping him away from the rest of the people in the room. He’s in a court chamber. The only way out is the way he came in, and multiple guards stand behind him.