The Assassin’s Bride: A Fantasy Romance Tale (Artisan Magic Book 1)

By mid-morning, they rode toward the massive gate on the east end of the fortress. The steep valley around them housed more animals than Thea first realized, along with shepherds and goatherds. The people in the fields paid them no mind.

The gate was closed. A handful of guards stood outside, their faces painted with varying levels of boredom, though mild interest shaded their eyes as the three of them grew near.

“Haven’t had many folk come a-horseback,” one guard called. His accent was definitely Kentorian. “Who’re you?”

“We heard there was work here,” Gaius replied. It wasn’t what the guard asked, but the man didn’t seem to mind.

“For the right people, yes,” the guard said. “What can you do?”

Gaius gestured to Thea first. “My wife is a seamstress. My brother is a scribe. I… well, I can do whatever may need strong hands. I have experience with a blade, or I can aid construction.”

“A scribe?” The guard’s brows rose and he glanced to Rilion. “Are you good with numbers, too?”

The prince nodded. “Oh, yes. Is there a job to fill? Inventory, maybe?”

“Managing His Majesty’s accounts. We’ve a few scribes who are good with numbers, but not as many as we need. Here. Prove it, read this, and I’ll let you in.” The guard rooted in his pocket for a moment, then produced a piece of folded paper.

Rilion dismounted and trudged forward to take it. He blinked. “This is a recipe for acerglyn.”

The guard laughed. “Oh, you read fast. Double the numbers on those measurements, there.”

“Double is entirely too much alcohol,” Rilion muttered. “Ten gallons of water, one gallon of maple syrup, four and a half teaspoons of brewer’s yeast, one and a half cups of maple sugar—”

“All right, all right.” The guard snatched the paper back before he could finish. “Maybe that was too easy. Hey, woman. You’re Kentorian, right? Do you know how to make syrup?” He waved the recipe at her.

Thea blushed. “I never worked in—”

“I know how,” Gaius interrupted. “I don’t know how good the sap runs are this far north, but can teach anyone who’s willing to learn.”

“Ah, good! It’s been far too long since we had a proper drink.” The guard grinned, an expression shared by several of the others. One of them turned to knock on the gate and whisper a password to someone on the other side.

The gate came open and one of the men pointed inside. “You’ll go up the slope to the first shack on the right. You’ll check in there and let the clerk inside know what sort of jobs you can do. Approval for you to stay will have to come from His Majesty, but the clerk there will take you to him.”

“Thank you,” Gaius said. He dismounted, then helped Thea from her horse. She no longer needed the assistance, but he’d scarcely touched her since they’d left Danesse. She relished the strength of his hands against her waist and the warmth of his body as he let her slip close enough to steal a hug. He squeezed her arms, but then let go and led the way toward the shack. The gate ground closed behind them.

“I didn’t know you knew how to make syrup,” Thea said.

“I don’t.”

She faltered. “You don’t?”

“It’s not as if we’ll be here long enough for them to figure that out,” he murmured.

Rilion stifled a sigh.

She lowered her voice. “Are we going into the shack, then?”

Gaius nodded. “We’ll check in. Receive our assignment and instructions to meet whoever they think is their king. Once we do that, we should be free to wander and ask questions.”

Thea wasn’t sure asking questions was wise. Remaining as unmemorable as possible would be to their advantage. But this was his quest, his goal, and she would let him take the lead.

“I have some concerns about all this,” Rilion said.

“As do I. The situation is not ideal, but we should explore it as fully as we are able. It may be revealed that this is the wrong place entirely, in which case we will move on and head for Passgate.” Gaius stopped outside the shack and looked for somewhere to tie the horses. There were no hitching posts or fences nearby.

“I can hold them,” Thea offered. “You still have our documents, right? If you can’t check in for both of us, you start, and I’ll wait here.”

“Very well.” He passed her the reins.

Rilion did the same. “What documents does she mean?”

“Our marriage license. And our passports. I hope you’ve prepared a name.”

The prince blanched. “A name?”

“When I travel, I am Gil.”

“If we’re supposed to be brothers, then I’m Ril.”

Gaius snorted. “No one would believe that.”

“I guarantee there are parents out there who would absolutely name their children Gil and Ril. I am your younger brother, and I am grateful that for the moment, you look the part.” Rilion opened the door and motioned for Gaius to go first.

Gil, Thea told herself, setting his other name in mind. She’d only just gotten used to his real name. Now she’d have to watch herself to be sure she didn’t slip. By the Light, what was she going to call him after they were through with all this?

The men slipped inside. Thea shuffled her feet and took a moment to stroke her horse’s nose. Molasses gave her a friendly nudge, then searched her hand for treats.

“Nothing for you,” she said, spreading her hand to show it was empty. The other two horses remained still. Holding three was a terrible idea, she realized belatedly. If one tried to go anywhere, she’d lose all of them. For now, they seemed content to stand and rest. With luck, they’d be given a decent stable while the three of them were there.

Or maybe that would be no luck at all. How they planned to get back out of the fortress, nobody had discussed. If the horses were stabled somewhere out of the way, it would be an added layer of challenge to their escape. If they could escape, she thought grimly as a man with a halberd strolled by. Most of the apparent guards bore little to no armor, but there was a fierceness in their eyes as they roved the courtyard that told her they’d be no easy fight.

Maybe there wouldn’t be a fight. Maybe this king wasn’t the enemy Gil was after, no matter what Rilion’s information said. She didn’t even know what that information was.

“Hello,” she offered to another passerby. Most of the people who meandered past on their way to complete duty or business were more interested in the horses than in her, but a few returned her smile with small, nervous ones of their own.

Eventually, the door beside her cracked open and Rilion slipped out. “I’m finished,” he said. “He needs you in there for your part.”

Thea passed him the reins and shuffled toward the door.

The inside of the shack was dark and cool. She blinked hard as the shadowy shapes inside resolved into people. Gil leaned against a counter, while a woman scarcely tall enough to see over it inspected their passports.

“Here she is,” he said. There was a fondness in those words. The genuine quality of it warmed her heart.

The woman rose on tip-toe to look at her. “A seamstress, you said? Can you weave?”

Thea blinked. “With the right tools, yes.”

“Spin wool?”

She hesitated.

Gil gave his head the slightest tilt, encouraging her to answer.

“I’m out of practice,” she said, opting not to bend the truth. “But again, with the right tools. And perhaps a bit of time to refresh my memory.”

“Hmm.” The woman sniffed. “No children?”

A furious blush heated Thea’s cheeks. “We’re newlyweds.”

“But we pray,” Gil added.

Her blush grew so bright, she suspected one could light a candle by touching it to her face.

The woman sniffed again. She had no stamp, but she produced a quill and a bottle of reddish-brown ink and penned something in both passports. “Light willing, then. I believe His Majesty will have you, but the final say is his. Your appointment will be one hour before the dinner bell.” She slapped the passports down on the counter and pushed them forward.

“Thank you,” Thea said with a frown. “But if the bell hasn’t been rung, how will we know what time it is?”

The woman stared at her as if she didn’t know what to say.

Gil swept the passports into his bag. “We’ll just wait. Is there assigned seating for audience seekers?”

“The antechamber of the King’s Hall. You will be asked for your appointment time. Tell them, and the steward will call for you when it’s your turn.”

“Thank you.” He took Thea by the shoulders and steered her toward the door. “Oh, one last question. We came by horseback. Is there a stable where we may let our animals rest?”

“We haven’t many horses,” the woman admitted. “So we haven’t any facilities. Ask about the fort proper and you’ll find someone to see to them, I’m sure.”

Gil nodded and urged Thea out the door.

She shrugged out of his grasp. Guiding her hadn’t been a condescending action, but protective. Part of her relished it, but they didn’t know what waited ahead. She had to convince him to focus elsewhere, to move onward without worrying about her. She welcomed his touch, but she would not become a distraction.

“Where do we go from here?” Rilion asked as Thea reclaimed her horse.

“We’re supposed to ask around for somewhere to stable the horses. The clerk inside didn’t know where they could be put.” Thea patted Molasses on the shoulder.

“I will walk around and inquire after somewhere they may be kept,” Gil said. “I will return shortly.”

Rilion snorted softly. “Try to temper your aristocratic tongue while you’re at it.”

Gil said nothing and paced off across the rocky courtyard.

Thea gazed after him as he stopped to talk to person after person and explain what they were after. They couldn’t just stand outside the clerk’s office forever, so she drew her mare into a slow, easy walk. Rilion followed with the two horses he led. It wasn’t as if they’d be hard to find. They were the only people with a team of horses.

“So,” she said after a time. “Should I call you Ril now?”

“People don’t refer to each other by name very often,” he said dismissively.

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

“I am aware of that. You may call me what you wish. I don’t think my name is any hazard, even here. It’s rather common.”

“So I’ve heard.” She turned her head. Gil was walking with someone now, headed toward what she assumed was a storage building of some sort. Surely they weren’t to tie up the horses there.

Rilion volunteered no further information. It was just as well; they’d have to be mindful what they spoke of now.

They completed a circuit of the main courtyard before Gil returned with two young men trailing at his heels.

“They will tend the horses for us,” he announced. “Their father came to work as a farrier, but there are no horses, so he works as a general blacksmith instead.”

The story was irrelevant, but the conversation made a good cover. She laid a hand to her horse’s nose. Molasses tried to nibble her fingers. She pulled them away. “Oh, good. She could use a good brushing, it’s been such a long ride.”

“We’ll take good care of them, ma’am, don’t worry,” one of the youths said in a clear Kentorian accent. By the Light, her estimate of half the camp being Kentorian was coming up modest.

The other young man pointed to the west end of the courtyard. “There’s the King’s Hall, up there. Can’t miss it. Whenever you’re done, you can come out to the field just beyond the east gate. We’ll have them out there grazing, and we’ll show you a safe place to tie them up at night and picket them during the day.”

“Thank you both,” Rilion said as he passed them the reins.

Gil offered a few more instructions, then turned to lead the way toward the so-called King’s Hall.

Thea turned her head to watch the two young men depart with their steeds in tow.

So the horses would be just beyond the walls. That would either make them easy to get to during an escape, or it would doom them by forcing them to find a way past those walls to recover their mounts. Thea prayed for the former, then scolded herself. She should pray for something safer than a need for escape. The discovery they were in the wrong place, maybe. Or that they’d walk through the doors into the King’s Hall and discover the man Gil sought for his revenge was already dead.

At that moment, the full weight of what they were doing finally hit her and she slowed to a stop.

She understood the nature of his quest and had disconnected that act from the charming and gentlemanly companion he’d been. She stared at his back as he walked with his chin up and his back straight, kingly and merciless, just the way she’d always heard. There was no denying his identity now. Just as there was no denying what the outcome of this would be.

Sooner or later, they’d find the man Gil was after, and that man would die.

As he climbed the steps to the King’s Hall, she had a fleeting vision of him flinging the doors wide and commanding attention from the moment he stepped through. Instead, he opened only one door, then motioned for her to precede him. Her hand itched for her dagger’s hilt, so she curled her fingers into her palm and squeezed her fist tight. There was little risk yet. No one knew who they were or why they’d come, and they were supposed to have an audience with the king. A flashback to the first audience she’d had with a king put a grim smile on her lips.

“I’ve never seen such a frightening look of amusement,” Rilion said as he slipped in after her.

“Just remembering the first time I met Gil.” She was tempted to turn and bat her eyes at him as he followed the two of them into the antechamber, but they were not alone, so she kept it to herself.

Gil wore a smirk of his own. Perhaps he’d made the same connection. “This meeting may go the same way.”

Rilion muttered something under his breath and trudged farther into the room. There were no chairs or benches, only the smooth stone floor. A handful of people leaned against the walls or sat on the floor, waiting their turn to be seen. The prince picked a place against the wall and settled with a sigh, never looking back to see if they intended to join him.

Come to think of it, Thea didn’t know if they’d be seen together or separately. They should have discussed that possibility on the way over.

“If their king is efficient, it won’t be long,” Gil said as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

“And if he’s not, at least we’ll be well-rested.” Rilion smirked and leaned back with his hands folded behind his head.

A pair of doors at the end of the antechamber opened and a man in red-trimmed green livery stepped through. He pointed at each of the people waiting and made a face. “Ten only? The count is worse every day. All of you, come along. You’ll be seen now, since there are so few of you.”

Thea hadn’t even decided where to settle. She shrugged and waited for Gil to take the lead.

The steward gave them an unimpressed once-over before he led them through the doors.

The hall on the other side was impressive. High pillars supported an arched ceiling, and a fine red carpet ran the length of the floor to a high, white stone dais. The throne was there, but its back was turned toward them, flanked by two guards. On the other side of the throne, people stood, facing the doorway to speak to the fortress’s king. Curious.

The steward stopped them just inside the doors and sorted them into two rows. “You may not look upon His Majesty unless he calls for you. Your business may be stated from behind him, but you shall still bow.” He straightened a man’s collar, then moved on to push down the hood of Gil’s cloak.

Gil caught his arm and opened his mouth to either protest or doom them all, when one of the doors to the throne room slammed open.

“Your Majesty!” A scout in travel-worn clothing hurried forward, past the objections of the steward, to drop to one knee before the dais and the back of the throne. “I bring news from Kentoria. You’ve done it. The false king is dead!”

“Dead?” The word was touched with surprise and delight.

Well, there was their answer. Thea glanced to Gil for direction, or perhaps just acknowledgment, but the look on his face was stricken.

“By the One’s mercy,” Rilion whispered.

Thea’s eyes darted to the throne as a man stood and turned, and when she saw him, she understood.

Before them stood the true king of Kentoria.