Page 37 of The Crimson Throne
There’s a loud shout from Darnley’s group. Alyth’s still arguing with the older man at the edge, but the energy out of the center of the group is fixing for some kind of explosion. Is it Darnley himself who’s yelling and carrying on?
I need to get the lay of things in this castle, and the fastest way to do that is to throw myself into whatever ruckus is happening.
I walk across the yard, shoulders back. My cloak’s still dirty from me sleeping in the moors and using it as a shield against the birds, so I peel it off and tuck it under my arm as I walk. The chill winter air hits me in my doublet and linen shirt like daggers, but I yank on the persona I need. Confident, brazen.
Here we go.
The bustle of the arrival is chaotic, but it doesn’t take long to spot the source of it. A man stands near the middle of all these people, braying louder than any of the horses. He’s about my height, bit older though, with sickly pale skin and short-cropped brown hair. He’s the fanciest in the lot by far, and that’d set him apart even if his tantrum wouldn’t, all decked out in silks and heavy, finespun wool bordered with fur.
He’s clutching a hat in one hand and waving it around as he rants.
“—expected a reception upon my arrival,” he’s shouting in English at a man with a bowed head. “This is a grievous offense to us. We shall not stand for such appalling treatment!”
The man, who’s clearly a servant of some kind, bows deeper. “Your Grace arrived earlier than anticipated—”
“You would blame us?” Darnley’s screech rips across the yard. But it’s a further mark of his character that no one stops what they’re doing; a few share looks so brief, they’re there then gone, but no one reacts to him. They’re used to it.
My jaw sets, and I study him from a few paces back, separated by horse hands and servants unpacking a carriage.
“You’re waiting for an introduction?” Alyth is suddenly next to me.
I swing my gaze down to her, and my smile blooms unconsciously. It’s not hard to play my part around her. Not hard at all. Maybe she can follow me about for my whole time here to remind me to keep a bit of cocky arrogance up.
“Do I want one?” I ask honestly.
Darnley, still a few paces from us, chooses this moment to wail in agony with more flair than any kid I’ve ever known, and when I glance over, his head’s thrown back, his hands balled, and he kicks a nearby barrel.
“No,” Alyth says softly. “My best advice is to stay out of his way. He’s a gowk.”
I grin and angle that grin down at her, for her, because I get the feeling she doesn’t have much laughter in her life.
She stares at me for a beat, her face rippling with what might be confusion, before she cocks a brow and her lips pulse with thebarestsmile.
There’s something sad in her eyes though.
It sets me even more on edge. What’s Darnley done to her?
I point at the ghost of her smile. “I’ve figured you out, Alyth. All ittakes to win you over is to not do nothing suspicious for”—I think back on how long we were traveling—“eight hours.”
Her eyes flip skyward in exasperation before she faces Darnley again. “Aye, you’ve cracked me. I trust you implicitly now.”
“Good. You should.” My chest spasms.
No. She shouldn’t. Not now, not here.
What about once I break this curse? Will she be able to trust me then? I could come back one day. Once I’m free.
Then, maybe—
I see Callum again. He’s been conscripted back into helping this group, now carrying a bridle in both arms, and with the press of people around him, he ducks too close to Darnley’s outburst.
The lord’s still raging about the impropriety of his welcome, the barrel on its side now, his fists swinging and his legs thrashing as he has at it.
I’m moving unconsciously. Driven by the same grip that dragged me into the town where the baby’d been attacked, the same grip that’d seize me pretty much everywhere in Southwark. It’s a honed sense of danger being imminent, like I can see something terrible happening a flicker before it does.
Distantly, I realize Alyth’s next to me, moving in tune.
Darnley whirls from kicking the barrel, his arm swinging wide, and clocks Callum square in the back.
