Amaskan's Blood by Raven Oak (the best e book reader .TXT) 📗

“Who told him I was dead?”

“The friend who suggested ya be sent to the Amaskans in the first place. He came back with the word of your death. He’s the one who betrayed your father.” Ida shifted in her saddle, and Adelei’s eyes narrowed.

“How did the King discover otherwise? Did this traitor confess?”

Ida laughed. “Hardly. Since your ‘death,’ King Leon has watched the Amaskans. Probably closer than the Boahim Senate, I’ll wager. One of the reasons Amaskans aren’t allowed in Alexander. Part of my job—as His Majesty’s sepier—is to watch the Order. I’ve been in and out of Sadain borders two or three dozen times in the past fifteen years.”

“Why?”

“To find those responsible. Almost a year ago, I passed ya on the streets. The moment I saw ya, I knew who ya were.”

“How?”

“Ya truly are twin to your sister.”

Adelei pursed her lips together. “You’re lying. You’re not telling me everything, and without Master Bredych here to defend himself—well, let’s just say that I doubt he played the role you think he did. Someone else has their fingers in this yarn. Either way, I’m no princess now. Nor have I any interest in becoming one.”

“Of course not. Your father’s no fool, child. He didn’t bring ya home as a princess. Do ya see any royal guard or a procession proclaimin’ ya alive? You’re better off dead.”

“Nice to know he cares.”

“By Echana, must ya act like a child? I just meant that hidin’ in plain sight will make your job easier.”

“He left me dead until I was needed.” The words left her tongue, which she bit. Deep breaths did little to still the turmoil. She needed control of herself before they reached the capital, lest she set loose her tongue in such a way as to be banished from her own kingdom. My own kingdom. Ha. As if they’d allow a murderer, an Amaskan, to take the crown. Even my own sister’s death couldn’t bring about that scenario.

A thought popped into her brain so vile, she pushed it away with a mental hand. Bitter she might be, assassin she might be, but killer she was not. Her kills brought justice, not pure vengeance.

Pictures of her last kill flashed before her. A little voice inside her head whispered, but weren’t you made of vengeance? Didn’t you relish the kill, causing the pain to last as you killed me? It was Magistrate Meserre’s voice that echoed in her skull.

Normal to feel something at the loss of another human—but the Order existed to serve justice when others could not. Killing for the Order meant helping people. Or so Adelei had convinced herself. It was a crucial tenet of her belief system—the belief system of all Amaskans.

Leaves crackled under her fingers as she dug her nails into the dirt on the forest floor, its rich, earthy smell mixing with the bile in the back of her throat. She knew not when she tumbled from her horse, but moved clumsily through the dirt, stumbling into the brush to lose all traces of her breakfast. Only when dry heaves remained, her body left shaking, did she rise on unsteady feet. Not even the swish of water could rid her mouth of the taste of vomit and death, joy and bitterness—a vile concoction going down, much less coming up.

“I’m sorry ya had to hear this from me. And this way. This can’t sit easy in ya.” The kindness in Ida’s voice hit all the harder after the disturbing thoughts that had crossed her mind, and she shook her head before returning to the saddle. Midnight sidestepped at her hurry and bumped shoulders with Ida’s mare.

“Who are you? You know things… more than mere research. Who are you? Are you the traitor who named me dead?”

Adelei’s dagger was in her hands and against Ida’s throat swiftly enough, despite her stomach’s quivering. “Answer me.” she shouted and leaned closer to the woman. The blade pressed against the horizontal, puffy scar.

“No. No, I’m not the traitor who did that—but I did betray ya, and for that, I’m sorry.”

“Who are you? I’m not going to ask again.”

“I’m the one who kidnapped ya.”

“Your Majesty?”

The words were worlds away, but King Leon nodded. Or at least he thought he did. When the words were repeated and his shoulders shaken, he pried open an eye to a fuzzy world, unfocused and very blue in color.

“Stop… shaking… me.” The words took an army’s effort as his tongue felt thick in his mouth.

“Your Majesty, do you know where you are?”

His vision sharpened some, and he recognized the tapestry on the wall of the field where he and Catherine had first met, her slender frame walking toward him. She’d been a complete stranger. The bravery it must have taken to travel so far, only to marry a complete stranger.

“Catherine?” Leon whispered.

“Your Majesty?”

Leon shook his head and blinked back time. The world snapped into focus. He lay in his bed. The same bed where his father had been murdered. The healer before him sighed and pinched Leon’s arm to check the flush.

“What happened?” Leon asked.

“We found you with Sir Goefrin’s body. You were near death, Your Majesty.”

“Did you find the vial?”

The healer glanced behind him at King Leon’s personal physician, Roland, before nodding. “We did, Your Majesty. Foul stuff ’twas.”

Roland held the vial between slightly swollen fingers. “How did Your Majesty come by this?”

“Goefrin. He had it.” Leon’s tongue still felt like a pile of leaves more than a proper tongue, and he tried to roll it around in his mouth. “He… he killed my father… w-with it.”

Roland sent the other healers out of the room with a nod. “I suspected as much at the time but couldn’t prove it. I didn’t want to raise suspicion against such a trusted family friend if I was wrong.”

“I understand. He admitted committing several acts of treason, and—”

“Your Majesty, there’s something more you must know—”

Roland’s concern was touching, and Leon reached up to