Page 9 of An Archer's Reckoning

I stopped at the cave’s entrance. Something deep inside didn’t want to leave the warmth and safety of the grotto. Thanks to the magic protecting the gate, I couldn’t feel any cold air blowing through the crevice, but I knew winter lurked just beyond the opening.

I opened my pack and dug out my fur-lined Ranger gloves. While my back was turned, Órla hopped inside and nested comfortably in my old clothes. I grinned and scratched her head before pulling the pack onto my back and donning my massive forest-green winter coat. Órla said something, but her voice was muffled by all the fur and leather.

“What was that?”

“I said, this is warm and cozy.”

“Good. That won’t last for long. It’s about to get really cold!”

It only took one slip for me to realize how treacherous our descent would be. I searched around, settling on a thick branch I could strip and use as a walking stick. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked, offering a bit of support and a tool to test the ground before each step.

Only a faint hint of sunlight remained.

“We have three mountains to get past before we’re free of the range and reach Grove’s Pass. We should be able to go around the base of two, but the third will force us to climb about halfway up, then descend again. I’m guessing it’ll take us two more days,”I said, whispering in her mind to avoid making noise any Kingdom scouts nearby might overhear.“The trees are barren and aren’t much help against the snow. I think it’s starting to come down even harder.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait until this passes?”

I stared at the forest before me. I could only see a few feet in front of us. Everything beyond was a hazy blur of whiteness.

“You’re right. I’m turning back. We can wait this storm out in the cave.”

The moment my pack hit the cavern floor, Órla hopped out and winged her way onto the table. The sound of her pecking an empty glass tinkled through the cave.

“Can a lady get some service in this place?”

I chuckled and shook my head. The world might be coming to an end, but Órla could still curl my lips.

Then Ayden’s fiery hair popped into my head, and I had an entirely different reason to smile. As soon as night fell, we would be together again, no matter the distance between us.

Chapter 4

Keelan

Ipried the King’s tongue back with the only instrument I could find in his room, a butter knife. Alfred couldn’t have been dead more than a few hours, but a noxious stench greeted me as soon as I opened the King’s mouth. My examination moved to the monarch’s eyelids, then his palms and fingernails. I closed the King’s eyes respectfully and stepped back, setting the butter knife on the bedside table.

After Jess’s unceremonious declaration as the new Queen, she had been hustled to the safety of the inn. I hoped the poor girl would be able to rest without advisors dogging her every step but knew better. The weight of the Crown now rested on her head. Once she was out of sight, Sheriff Wilfred had asked me to accompany him. The Sheriff refused to offer any clue to our destination until we entered the King’s room and I stared down at the lifeless man.

“He was definitely poisoned. Whatever the killer used, it was subtle. There’s no discoloration or swelling in his mouthor tongue, but there is something I recognize. The gas he’s expelling is sickly sweet, similar to another case I had a couple years ago,” I said.

Wilfred stared expectantly, so I continued. “Murders are rare in Saltstone, so when a close advisor to one of the Triad was found dead at his desk, alarms were raised. The motive and killer aren’t relevant here, but the way the man was killed is strikingly similar. A Mage who specializes in alchemicals verified that a substance common in tabac smoke and intense forest fires had been captured, distilled, and concentrated, yielding a light yellow, almost clear liquid.”

“I assume this is poisonous?”

“Very. And virtually untraceable.” I nodded. “Without the Mage’s particular Gift, we might never have cracked that one. The King’s symptoms are identical to what I found in the Saltstone murder.”

“How hard is this substance to produce?”

“It’s extremely difficult. I don’t recall the amount of tabac smoke the Mage said would need to be harvested to extract a single drop, but it was a great deal. Someone needed deep knowledge, a deft hand, and a great deal of patience to extract enough to kill the King.”

The High Sheriff lifted the King’s hand and leaned close to examine his fingers. “That confirms what I was thinking. Did you find any signs of struggle? Anything other than poison as a method?”

“No. Nothing under his nails. No marks or scratches on his arms or neck. Even the blankets on the bed look undisturbed, as if he just stretched out for a quick nap without bothering to get under the covers. I’d say he knew the killer—very well.”

I turned and began a methodical search of the room as my investigative instincts took over. After another twenty minutes, I turned to Wilfred. “Who had access to the King?”

“Access to the King’s chambers, wherever he might be, is limited to the royal family and the Royal Guard assigned to his personal detail. Prince Justin and Queen Isabel were the only two others to enter during the hours prior to his death. I’ve already spoken to all the men on duty individually. Their stories concur.”

“The Queen killed her husband. Poisoned him and fled across the lake to resume her ceremony. She failed to kill her daughter but succeeded with her son.”

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