To Kill a King

3: Price For Prize

The midsummer sun crept over Mirador in a blistering heat that drew sweat from every brow. With the sun came news hailing from across the Carmine River: the King of Palandyre was dead.

His son, deep in land negotiations with the merchant lords of the harbor, took a company of knights and hightailed it back to Kingseat to be crowned. After two days and nights of hard riding, they arrived to find the city gates barred and a new King on the throne, the prince's own cousin, Malpike. A rain of arrows chased the prince and his knights away into the cover of the woods, whereupon they rode straight for the fortress of Fall's Keep in the north of Palandyre to prepare for war.

This was more or less the version of events that had spread like fire through the Queen's court at Avenlake over the past week.

Ten days later, my cell crashed open and Her Lovely Majesty appeared at the door. I cowered against my pile of straw. These days, cowering was my livelihood.

"Getting better, Rat?" she asked. She closed the door, leaving her guards outside. "It is a clever little device, isn't it? We have ordered more to be made."

The window showed a murky dawn barely illuminated by the sunrise. The Queen looked much too excited for an hour so early.

She tossed something into my lap. "Read it."

It was a letter. l fingered the edges, leaving smudges on creamy parchment. The seal was broken, the three-headed hyena of Palandyre cleaved in two.

Gracious Queen of Mirador,

The traitor Malpike who sits on our father's ashes is an enemy of Palandyre, Mirador, and peace. In return for Your Majesty's support and loyalty, we pledge ourself to the hand of Your Majesty's daughter the Princess Amaranta, in solemn promise that our kingdoms will join to stand united against those who plot for our destruction. We request the princess's dowry be one thousand cavalry, three thousand infantry, twenty thousand gold glories and the castles of Giserth and Redbridge-by-the-Carmine. With great confidence, we await Your Majesty's answer.

Onteromy

His Majesty the King of Palandyre

"We know what you're thinking." The Queen plucked the letter from my hands, grinning at me conspiratorially. "The nerve of the man."

I mumbled assent.

"Two castles, twenty thousand glories, and four thousand of our men! For a king who hasn't got a kingdom. But." She paced the room, glee lighting her face as she watched me. "For the opportunity to send one of our own to that backwater country to preside over their court, sit on their Council, and sleep next to their king. What do you think of that, Rat?"

I shrugged hunched shoulders.

"Well, we are at an impasse, aren't we? We cannot allow our heir to marry the whoreson. The likes of him do not befit the likes of our daughter, and Mirador does not give away her princesses. Nor can we let this opportunity pass. A chance to take Palandyre comes once in a hundred years. Therefore," —she waved the letter at me— "we are sending you to Palandyre in her place."

My head whipped up, shock driving away the cloud of agony and exhaustion. "What?"

"You will keep us informed of everything that goes on in Fall's Keep, every move Onteromy makes. Every courtier he favors, every advisor he depends on, every decision that passes through his Council—we must be privy to. And when the time comes for Onteromy to take back Kingseat—how shall we put this?" The tip of a pink tongue appeared at the corner of her lips. "You will ensure that the people of Palandyre have two kings to mourn."