Fool's Errand (56 page)

“The Regent will murder him, Zdeno,” she continued bluntly. “Oh, I am quite sure he'll make it look like a tragic accident, but the king will be just as dead for all that. How could that be good for the realm?”

“Well.”

“Think, Zdeno,
think!
” urged Persephone, the air around her crackling with the power of her will.

Looking very close to panic, Zdeno bobbed his head convulsively, squeezed his eyes shut and thought so hard that tiny beads of sweat popped out on his forehead.

At last, exhaling heavily, he opened his eyes and stammered, “I think. I think that the realm would be the poorer for the loss of either of you.”

“But I am only a princess,” said Persephone softly. “And he is the king.”

That night, after Zdeno untied the girls and Persephone checked to see whether Azriel was all right (he was, other than a bump on his forehead and a little incidental damage to his manly pride), the four of them supped and slept. The next morning, Ivan arrived with the dawn; shortly thereafter, the four companions and the hawk set out for the imperial capital.

During the long journey south, Persephone, Azriel, Rachel and Zdeno talked of little but the looming confrontation with the Regent. Persephone—who well recalled all the evil looks that Mordecai had ever cast at Azriel—tried to get Azriel to agree to let her face the Regent alone. He categorically refused to consider such a thing. He said he'd rather die than let her walk into such danger alone—he said that if anyone should walk into such danger alone it should be
him
. He sought to assure her that if they spoke the words they'd agreed upon, the Regent would be fooled, Finn would be saved and all would be well.

Eventually Persephone gave up arguing with him.

She could not help noticing, however, that in spite of his assurances that all would be well, for once Azriel did not hint at a future beyond the next few days. Each night when the campfire finally died out and the stars overhead began twinkling in earnest, he merely gathered her into his arms and held her as though he never meant to let her go.

When they got to within a day of Parthania, Persephone wound a dirty scarf around her head and bid Rachel to do the same. She did not think she could cope with the scrutiny of being recognized as the king's long-lost sister just now, and she did not see how such recognition would help
anything
.

Even with her face covered, Persephone worried that as they passed through the city gates she might be recognized by one of the New Men whose
job
it was to scrutinize. As it turned out, however, she was not given a second glance, the New Men being entirely focused on shouting oaths at a farmer whose cart had broken down just inside the gates, causing a large pile of potatoes to be dumped in the middle of the thoroughfare. Intensely grateful that she was not riding Fleet (who, in spite of the fact that potatoes were not his favourite tuber, would undoubtedly have made a noisy scene trying to get at them), Persephone chirruped and gave her horse a nudge with her heels to encourage him to catch up with the others. Zdeno had an uncle who owned a storage shed near the common harbour. The plan they'd all come up with called for Persephone and Azriel to drop Rachel and Zdeno at his uncle's shed before proceeding together to the palace. That way, they'd at least have someplace to flee to if their bluff was called.

That was the plan they'd
all
come up with.

As it happened, Persephone—who'd given up arguing with Azriel but who'd never given up her fierce desire to see him kept safe from harm at the Regent's hands—had come up with a plan of her own. And that is why, when they reached the shed and Azriel turned to ask Zdeno where they might stable the horses, she slipped off her horse, ducked out of sight and headed to the castle to face the Regent.

Alone.

FIFTY-SEVEN

One white bean left in the jar

M
ORDECAI SAT ALONE
in the king's outer chamber staring at the nearly empty jar of white beans he held in his gnarled hand.

Though he obviously could have chosen to sit in the king's chair by the fire, he'd chosen instead the seat upon which the nursemaid used to plant her fat arse back in the days when she still had a fat arse. She hardly had any arse now. Months spent enjoying Mordecai's hospitality below ground had seen to that. It had seen to other things, as well—the loss of her finger and several of her teeth, the burns and boils that scored her sagging skin and, of course, the many tiny bite marks from the rats that crept out of the darkness to gnaw upon her when she could no longer keep her eyes open to fight them off. Unfortunately, the months had not seen her spirit broken. If Mordecai hadn't been so pleased with the way everything else was unfolding, he might have been enraged by her unwillingness to crumble before him—especially given all the personal attention he'd given in an effort to make this happen.

But he was pleased—no, not pleased.
Euphoric
. So much so that it had been difficult not to laugh in the face of that high-and-mighty bastard Bartok when he'd come to the door of the royal chambers demanding to see his son-in-law, the king. Mordecai smiled broadly as he recalled his solemn response.

So sorry, my lord
, he'd said in a hushed voice.
But the king—

A loud knock at the door startled Mordecai out of his reverie.

“What?” he shouted.

A liveried guard—not one of the fools personally selected by the king but rather one of Mordecai's own New Men—took three brisk steps into the room, halted and rapped his poleaxe smartly against the polished floor.

“The Princess Persephone is back!” he cried, unable to contain his excitement at the sudden reappearance of the king's long-lost sister. “She's right out there in the corridor and insists upon speaking with Your Grace at once!”

Mordecai stood up, his cold heart beating very fast. Though he'd been expecting her and the lying cockroach, now that the moment had arrived, he found that he was trembling. Not just at the prospect of seeing her again but also at the possibility that she brought with her the location of the healing pool. He knew that he ought not get his hopes up, because the more likely possibility was that she was here to beg for more time, but
still
. The idea that he might be mere hours away from finding himself well and whole on top of everything else? Truly, it was enough to make him believe that the Fates were on his side.

“Well?” he snapped with a malevolent glare at the broad shoulders of the grinning moron before him. “What are you waiting for? Send her in!”

After once more rapping his poleaxe on the polished floor, the moron hurriedly slipped out the chamber door.

The next minute, she was there.

She was dirty and dressed like a peasant. Even so, Mordecai felt his loins stir as he drank in the sight of her. Her wild, dark hair hung in waves about her delicate face; her violet eyes glowed like amethysts. She was as ripe as before—riper, even. The set of her shoulders and the tilt of her chin reminded him how different she was from simpering sows like the big-nosed idiot—sows with whom he'd dallied but would not dally again.

“Hello, Princess,” he breathed.

“Hello,” she replied, lifting that chin of hers a little higher still.

Smiling broadly, Mordecai leaned forward and shook the nearly empty jar of white beans at her. “You were almost too late,” he whispered.

“But not too late,” said the princess, not returning his smile.

“No,” agreed Mordecai. Tucking the jar into the pocket of his fur-lined robe, he said, “Can I assume from the fact that you are here alone that the cockroach got himself squashed at some point during your little quest?”

When the princess did not answer, Mordecai shrugged. It didn't matter either way. A week ago, Murdock had set a special watch at the city gates—New Men whose sole task it was to spot the princess when she arrived in Parthania and thereafter not let her
or
her companions out of their sight.

If the cockroach who'd dared to marry the princess hadn't yet been squashed, he soon would be.

“Don't you want to know if I found the healing pool?” she suddenly asked.

His cold heart beating faster than ever, Mordecai held his breath and willed her to say the words he longed to hear.

She did.

“I did,” she said.

“Liar,” came Mordecai's automatic response.

The princess shook her head. “I speak the truth,” she said. Pulling a tiny, exquisitely carved box from her pocket, she opened it to reveal a
twig
. “Eight days ago, I plucked this from the banyan tree that grows by the edge of the pool. As you can see, it is as dewy and fresh as though it had been plucked only moments ago.”

For about three seconds, Mordecai stared at the leafy twig in amazement. Then his handsome face twisted into a scowl.

“You think you can fool me with your little tricks?” he snarled.

“It is no trick,” she said, pushing the box into his hands. “Keep the sprig with you for as long as you like; you shall see that it never wilts.”

“Even if that is true it will prove nothing but that the cockroach taught you a Gypsy trick or two along the way,” spat Mordecai, shaking the box at her. “If you'd truly found the pool, you'd have brought me a vial of the healing waters.
That
would have been proof!”

Nodding as though in agreement, the princess pulled from her pocket a lumpy, folded rag. Laying it in the palm of her hand, she unfolded it to reveal a heap of shattered red glass. “I
did
collect a sample of the healing waters, Your Grace, that I might be able to offer you just such proof,” she said. “Unfortunately, I was thrown from my horse on the journey back to the capital and the jar smashed against a rock when I hit the ground.”

“How convenient,” sneered Mordecai.

“Not really,” she snapped. “For if it had not broken, I'd not be standing here having this conversation with
you
. A conversation that I'll not continue until after I've seen my brother,” she added.

Mordecai stared at her, thinking how
delicious
it was going to be to tame her and wondering if it was possible that she spoke the truth about having found the pool. Though she sounded utterly sincere—and though her story was plausible enough—he must never forget for an instant that she was a lying whore.

Of course, that did not change the plans he had for her any more than a visit with her dear,
dear
brother would.

Such a visit just might be enough to tame her.

Indeed, such a visit just might be enough to
break
her.

And so Mordecai nodded and said, “I think a visit with your brother would be a marvellous idea.”

“You do?” said the princess, clearly caught off guard.

“Oh, yes,” breathed Mordecai as he lurched across the room, flung open the bedchamber door and beckoned her over.

Slowly—and, it seemed to Mordecai, with dragging feet—the princess made her way to the threshold of the king's bedchamber.

As he watched her eyes widen in horror at the sight before her, Mordecai pressed his cold lips against her ear and whispered, “As I said, you were nearly too late.”

FIFTY-EIGHT