Page 119 of Pretense

Edmund used the man’s distraction to drag him across the room, well away from any weapons the king might have stashed in and around his bed. He forced the king to sit on a wooden chair next to a changing screen. The vine seemed to understand, wrapping around both the man and the chair within seconds, holding him fast.

Drawing his knife, Edmund pressed the edge to the king’s throat and lowered the timbre of his voice. “Do not yell. It will do you no good. Your guards are as bound as you are.”

Since they had only taken over their shift at the king’s door half an hour before, no one was likely to stumble across them before the hour provided by Jalissa’s vines was up. The ivy had gagged and blindfolded them as well, rendering them helpless.

Too bad it was not poison ivy. That would have some long-lasting effects. Though, it might kill a man if stuffed down his throat, so it was probably just as well.

Edmund removed his hand from the king’s mouth and instead gripped the man’s fine, white hair, preventing him from turning his head.

“What do you want? Are you here to assassinate me?” Even now, the trussed-up king managed a belligerent tone, as if he still believed he could get the upper hand if he was only angry enough.

“No. Not this time.” Edmund tightened his grip on the king’s hair, yanking his head back in a way that would be painful. “But if you do not heed my warning, I will be back.”

As tempting as it was to off him, a dead king would do Escarland and Tarenhiel little good. Mongavaria’s heir was just as conniving as his father. It would only make things worse to put a younger man on the throne, providing him with the additional motivation of revenge. Not that the prince would mourn his father, exactly. But he would want revenge for an assassination inside Mongavaria’s castle, something he would see as an affront to his power by a lesser kingdom.

And to think he was the heir that Escarland’s Parliament had wanted Essie to marry.

No, better to leave the current king in power. The man was just frightened enough of death coming early that he would back off, even if he told no one why.

Edmund spoke near the king’s ear in a way that would send chills down the man’s back if he had any sense of self-preservation at all. “Stay away from Farrendel Laesornysh of Tarenhiel and Princess Elspeth of Escarland. Laesornysh is not the only power in the combined might of Escarland, Tarenhiel, and Kostaria. If they die, you die.”

The king froze for a moment, as if the fear of that threat unnerved him. He would have heard reports of what Farrendel had done at the border. He must have even seen the horizon glowing blue.

When the Mongavarian king spoke again, his tone was even more defiant, an attempt to cover the lapse. “Who are you? Escarlish? One of those cursed elves from Tarenhiel? You are using their magic.”

He wanted to know which kingdom had dared launch this attack on the very person of the Mongavarian king. It would give him a place to focus so he could divide and conquer.

But Edmund would leave him no clues to pinpoint which kingdom to target to avenge this deed. That was the point of making sure the king never got a good look at him. Jalissa’s vines would disintegrate, leaving the king wondering if he had been captured by an elf or a human using something crafted beforehand. Neither of the guards had gotten a good look at him before the vines had blindfolded them.

“Maybe I am Escarlish.” Up until then, he had spoken with his usual Escarlish accent, even if he had pitched his voice lower. He switched to an elven accent with the ease of long practice. “Or maybe I am an elven assassin. I might even be a troll from Kostaria.”

That accent was rusty since Edmund had only practiced it for a mere three months and had not spoken it since. But the Mongavarian king had likely heard very few trolls and wouldn’t know the difference.

The king’s throat bobbed, but his jaw hardened.

Edmund switched one last time. Mongavaria spoke a dialect of the same language as Escarland, much as Tarenhiel and Kostaria shared a root language before diverging. With Edmund’s ear for languages, he had acquired a Mongavarian accent while traveling across their kingdom. “Maybe I am one of your citizens, fed up with talk of war and empire.”

The king hesitated. Edmund’s use of so many accents was sending him off balance, as Edmund had known it would.

Edmund traced the tip of his knife along the king’s neck before drawing just a drop of blood. “I am the shadow who will haunt you to your dying day, and I am the wraith who will hasten that day if you move against Escarland, Tarenhiel, or Kostaria ever again.”

Before the king had a chance to respond, Edmund released the king’s hair and nudged the vine. As if sensing what he wanted, the ivy climbed up the king’s chest and wrapped around his mouth and chin, gagging him.

Edmund sheathed his knife. Then, gripping the back of the chair, he spun the king to face the window and the glare of the moonlight, his back now to the door.

His mission complete, Edmund left the king’s room as silently as he had entered, strolling past the wiggling, immobilized guards.

He still had two of Jalissa’s vines. That should be just enough for the two guards at the postern gate he’d located earlier.

And then, he could turn toward home and the elf princess who awaited him.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Farrendel wrapped his arm around Essie’s shoulders and adjusted the blanket as they perched on the bench next to the fire.

On the next bench over, Weylind glared at his sticky fingers, then glanced around as if desperately searching for a way to clean them. Rheva had delicately eaten a single marshmallow, and now kept up a steady conversation with Paige. Averett grinned as he leaned around Rheva and Paige to talk with Weylind.

Julien had joined Rharreth and Melantha, and they seemed to be discussing Kostaria and its customs. It might have been a serious topic, except that it turned out trolls really liked roasting marshmallows, and Rharreth was on his fourth or fifth one. His sugar high made him a bit more jovial than Farrendel had ever seen him.

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