Threat Page 16

  When she was close enough to see Rikward’s meal was a pitta bread with a fish-smelling innard, Rikward’s interest in his food waned as he thoroughly inspected Aldora. “You need Quinn?” he asked. Aldora gave him a blank look. “The royal doctor?”

  “Yes, please, and the royals.” Rikward stood up, gently taking the reins from Aldora and securing Cael to a small metal loop painted white against the building’s brickwork, barely noticeable. “Come on in... Mind my breakfast.”

  Aldora followed Rikward down the corridor and waited patiently as he unlocked the bronze doors at the end, before he knocked twice and opened the left side of the door. “Go on through.”

  “Thanks, Rik.” Aldora stepped into the palace throne room as Rikward closed the door behind her. The two human thrones were empty, but the third one, which looked like a cat bed on a pedestal to the right and set apart from the others, had a cat peeking back at her. “Pedi.”

  The Prince of the Cats’ green eyes took in Aldora’s appearance and she waited, watching his little pink nose sniffing in her direction before he yawned, exposing his sharp white teeth. He stood up and stretched. His black bushy tail lifted into the air before he plonked himself onto the ground on all four white paws. “Aldora. You smell of blood and sweat. Has Thane hurt you?” he asked.

  “No, Pedi. Is Louise or Lady Lemuela awake?”

  Pedibastet curled around her legs, his tail wrapping around the outer side of each leg as he purred. He stilled just in front of her. “Yes. Why are you here?”

  “I heard Cray was taken and Raneth’s gone to find him. I want to help,” explained Aldora.

  The cat stilled, not even the tip of his tail twitching. “After being looked over by the doctor here?” Aldora nodded. “It’s true. Cray was taken right under Raneth’s nose,” added Pedibastet, leading Aldora past the two human thrones and into the corridor behind them. “You’d be the perfect partner for Raneth. You’re proven to be a winning team.” He paused beside the first door in the corridor. “You should know, they’re in the kitchen but they’re not alone. Royal Official Captain Rhiannon Danae and a tribune from the First Legion are there.” He flicked the end of his tail before leading her towards the kitchen doorway. “They claim to be helping, yet they’re indoors. They haven’t even gone looking for my human yet.”

  Aldora didn’t know what to say. Giften’s cats were often protective of their chosen humans, and knowing that Pedibastet had picked Cray as a kitten meant that his irritation was understandable. He was worried for Cray.

  She stepped into the kitchen; Lady Lemuela sat at the island counter in the centre of the kitchen, a cold cup of something yellow at her fingertips. She was watching another woman, one Aldora didn’t know but recognised from the two scars that ran from her left jaw joint to almost the centre of her head, tracking a double-line through her light brown hair. Her muscles were overdone, big enough to rival Drigoe’s. Her brown eyes were fixated onto Aldora, creeping up and down Aldora’s body. “And why are you here?” she asked.

  “I heard about Cray and Raneth. I’d like to help.”

  Lady Lemuela glanced at her mother, who stood near the sink, a matching cup in her hands. A man stood at her side, his weight resting against a counter. “You told her, Pedi?” asked Queen Louise.

  “I didn’t realise it was a secret,” stated the cat. “Besides,” He flicked his tail, “I only confirmed.” He headed back towards the door. “I’m going to get Quinn. She needs him to patch her up.” The Prince of the Cats strolled out of the room, yowling for Quinton.

  Louise dumped the remains of her tea into the sink, before gently placing the cup beside it. She looked at the royal official captain. “Raneth thinks Aldora is one of the most capable people he’s met in the field for a long time that isn’t trained.”

  “So?” snapped Danae. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s a first generation royal official. I’m from a long line of—”

  “Oh do shut up,” snapped Lemuela. She stood up and approached Aldora, gently lifting Aldora’s arm to get a better look at the blood stains at her side. “Raneth’s a Bayre and he has racked up more field hours than you have, Rhee.”

  Rhiannon Danae huffed and rolled her eyes.

  “He’s a Bayre,” repeated Lemuela. “They’ve been bred for this sort of thing. Your mother was a shoemaker.” Lemuela wrapped Aldora’s arm around her shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a wonderful Dagger Bearer to tend to.” She smiled at Aldora as she led her out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. “I hate that woman,” she whispered, taking the steps one at a time, waiting patiently as Aldora hissed and winced her way up each one. “Raneth snuck out and formed. He’s got a bad side too. He’ll probably form to get closer to Cray again, but I don’t know how he’s going to get close enough without getting himself killed.”

  “The sorceress?” asked Aldora as they stepped onto the first floor landing. They headed to the first door available to them and entered the royal ward. Lemuela helped ease Aldora to a bed near the door, and then smiled at another royal official reading on a bed further back.

  “Basically, yes.” Lemuela motioned for Aldora to stay seated as she went into the only other door. She popped out a moment later with Royal Doctor Quinton, who went straight to his basin to wash and prep his hands. Prince Pedibastet also appeared from the side room, leaping to sit on the end of Aldora’s bed, saying nothing. Lemuela petted the Prince of the Cats before she continued, “Now his father’s back hunting—”

  “I get Rhiannon takes some getting used to,” said a man at the doorway to the ward. It was the same one that had been in the kitchen. “But that doesn’t mean she isn’t wrong about the Dagger Bearer, if you’ll excuse me, Miss Leoma. Lady Lemuela, she isn’t exactly trained for this.”

  “But I’m willing,” said Aldora, reluctantly taking her top off at Quinn’s request. She lifted her arm with a wince, letting Quinn get a better look before he went to a cupboard to get cleaning supplies and something to get a better look inside the wound. “Who are you?”

  “Tribune Jovian of the First Legion.”

  “He’s a nosy sod,” added Lemuela.

  Jovian smiled. “I can be. Lady Lemuela, the Dagger Bearer hasn’t even done compulsory training with the First.”

  “Dagger Bearers don’t have to. Look it up.”

  Flinching as Quinn started to work on her wound, Aldora watched as the tribune promised he would. Aldora hadn’t met a tribune before, but knew it took a while to get into the army’s paper-pushing position. It also required training as a lawyer, as like royal officials, they served law enforcement during peacetime. Which begs the question, thought Aldora. Why is he here? He looked to be in his early to mid-forties and had short black hair that was swept back. His mouth was circled by a thin goatee but his eyes made Aldora suck in a breath. Whilst he had very dark skin, his eyes were the lightest shade of grey she had ever seen, making them more than a little striking. “I can use my gift to help,” said Aldora. “I’ve gotten better at using it. I can almost always use it when I think of it now. It’s not completely unreliable.”

  Lemuela smiled. “See, Tribune Jovian? Now, go and do me a favour, will you? Go and find Alagar. He’ll be picking herbs at the back of the palace in the gardens. Ask him to prepare Aldora a bag of royal official rations and to scrounge up a waterproof blanket from somewhere. He always knows where dad’s spare supplies are for the royal officials.”

  The army official and lawyer looked at Aldora, then Quinton, then Lady Lemuela before bowing his head to all three. “As you wish.” He left the room.

  Lemuela smiled at Aldora. “Now, here’s what you need to know.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Raneth

  Knowing he could have another MIR attack was giving the Bayre palpitations, or maybe it was the bloodhex. He wasn’t sure anymore. He reformed outside Verito Town’s western gates, feeling his body weakening as he returned to his human-form. I can do this. The blood
hex at least had helped him pick up Reinette’s and Cray’s trail, but now Raneth slowed as he strode into the town. Why have they come here? Do they plan to get a ship and sail north? Verito was only really known for one thing — being a town on Giften’s northern shore that had come to exist due to the large port at its centre. It wasn’t unheard of for criminals to make their way towards it, in the hopes of bribing or smuggling themselves onto a ship, but with Cray in tow, that would be more difficult than normal.

  Raneth eased through the streets, tripping a few times on the uneven cobblestones that seemed to have been laid by a drunkard. Nutler and Son’s first. Maybe Reinette plans to swap the horses and use the port as a way to distract any other royal officials sent in my place. If she’s run the horses too hard, the horses won’t be able to take them anywhere else for a while either, he decided, before politely asking a man where it was. He listened carefully to the instructions, trying not to let the rabbit he’d caught as his griffin-self come tumbling back out of his mouth. With a fresh bag of royal official rations on his back, Raneth had hoped eating as his griffin-self would at least stop his stomach churning, but it hadn’t, which had to mean it was the bloodhex and his MIR, not hunger. He’s somewhere in town. Out of habit, Raneth stepped around some loose colourful paper and dodged piles of coloured rice scattered across the cobblestones, but his stomach clenched as he dodged a food wrapper. Oh no. He rested a hand against the nearest wall as the rabbit spewed from his mouth, splattering against the ground as his stomach repeatedly clenched. He stayed still once he was done, waiting to see if there would be anything more to upchuck, but when he didn’t restart, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and continued towards the stables.

  The stables looked exactly the same as those in Tricolq, with the only thing different being the men and women inside. Raneth strolled up to the stablemaster, who sniffed at the air, paling the closer Raneth got. “You look and smell sick,” he stated.

  “I’m looking for someone,” said Raneth, undeterred by the man’s lack of manners. “A woman with a black tattoo on her cheek. She would have had horses from Tricolq or Keepaldell with her.”

  “Nope. No horses from those stables have come in.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” growled Raneth. He felt a pang of guilt rumble his stomach, or maybe there was something left in his stomach that was thinking of leaving, but the stablemaster looked nervous; his eyes kept twitching, checking the windows, the doors and the stable hands. Anyone and anything but Raneth. As Raneth claimed the visitor’s seat in front of his desk, the stablemaster picked up a wad of paper on his desk and tapped one side of the pile against his table’s surface. He turned the stack of paper and tapped it again, lining up the sheets. Raneth rose a fisted hand to his mouth and swallowed, closing his eyes briefly. “A woman—”

  “I heard you the first time. No. Nobody like that came here and no horses from Tricolq or Keepaldell. Not for a few days now.”

  “It’s understandable if you’re scared,” said Raneth, lowering his hand and opening his eyes. “They threatened your counterpart in Tricolq too.”

  “I said no, as in, no, I haven’t seen the woman. Now get out before you throw up and we have to clean it up! I can’t afford for my team to get sick. Get out.”

  Charming. Raneth glowered at the man as he stood up. He turned and headed outside, finding the late morning sun pushing against his shoulders, heating them under his royal official jacket. It was going to be another hot day. Stupid weather. He toyed with the Bayre Talisman at his neck, shaped like a dragon in an S-shape. His griffin-self had felt cooler in the day’s oncoming heatwave, but then he’d been flying. He looked up at the sky, the bright blue stabbing his eyes so hard he clenched them shut and looked away. I’ve just got to use the bloodhex like when I use the Bayre talismans to find my dad, he reminded himself. He pressed a hand to his gut. Some sleep first, he promised himself. It’ll make me feel better. Reluctant but understanding his body’s need for a few hours to recuperate from flying towards Cray, Raneth followed the signs for the nearest inn.

  He blinked up at the innstaff at the side of the bed he’d crashed onto face-first. “Really? I’ve slept for five days?” he asked. He vaguely remembered getting up multiple times to stumble to the toilet to empty his bladder and get a glass of water, but he’d never slept that long before. Never.

  “Yes, sir. That’s why my boss sent me to check on you… In case… In case you were dead.”

  Raneth scrubbed a hand down his face, feeling his black bristles prickle at his palm.

  “You still look awful, sir.”

  “Thanks,” murmured Raneth. “I’ll head out soon.” He stood up, feeling how full his bladder was before his stomach knotted again. There’s nothing in you. Settle down. Raneth swallowed as a mouthful of bitter saliva burst into his mouth. “S’cuse me.” He darted to the en suite bathroom and water gushed from his mouth, clattering into the toilet.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a doctor?”

  Raneth wiped his mouth on his sleeve, coughed and then looked over at the innstaff. He probably wasn’t that much older than him. “First job?” he asked.

  The innstaff nodded.

  “Royal officials get sick a lot. We know when we need a doctor.” But my illness isn’t curable. At least not by a regular doctor. Grateful Cray probably knew the cure, Raneth stood up. “I’ll go and check myself out in a moment. Let me clean up first.” The innstaff nodded and headed out of the room, giving Raneth the privacy he needed to relieve his bladder and shower.

  It was nearly noon by the time he headed outside. Raneth squinted from the sun for the first few steps, dodging civilians as he walked around the town, occasionally leaning against shaded brick walls to rest. A sharp pain erupted at the back of his head and Raneth clenched his eyes shut, a hand rushing to press against it even though he knew it wouldn’t help. The bitter taste of heated metal cramped his mouth. No. Back off MIR. Cray was close. He forced his eyes open and pushed his body away from his latest wall, letting the taste get worse in his mouth. The pain in the back of his head was fading, but his stomach clenched so hard that the Bayre paused, resting a hand against it. Where are you, Cray? He rubbed his stomach, spotting a worried looking older woman watching him, a handbag bursting with food tins tucked under one arm. She pressed her lips together, pausing as their eyes met, before she opted to move on, leaving the royal official to it. Thank you, he thought genuinely. The last thing he wanted was a caring citizen keeping him stuck in place when the worse he felt, the nearer Cray was. He followed the taste in his mouth, but paused as he neared the mouth of an alleyway. The taste and the unease of his stomach were both lessening. He turned away from the alleyway, following the street to the right instead, before he lurched to the nearest patch of grass lining the road he was on and threw up. It was just water. His head pounded so Raneth eased away from his vomit and sunk to the ground in front of somebody’s front garden. He rummaged in his royal official bag for a bottle of water and sipped it, grateful the cool water took the burning sensation from his mouth. He pressed a hand under his nose and it came away bloody. Don’t panic. Slipping his hand back into the bag, Raneth yanked free a handkerchief Alagar had told him he’d put into the new bag. He held it under his nose. Maybe this was a dumb idea.

  To distract himself from the nose bleed, the Bayre looked down the road, spotting a woman with the same Common Classed gift as him cooling her partner down with some white mist. Raneth’s right eye started twitching before his head jerked to the side without his permission. He’s closer. If he didn’t spot where Cray was and back off a little, his MIR would take over, and goodness knew how the general population would react. MIR was becoming more common, but he didn’t want to lose complete control over his body as people poked and prodded him in utter confusion, unaware of how to help. There. An eight-people carriage was just shy of a small stonebridge to Raneth’s right, that curled over the road he was on. Reinette was standing by the horses, which had feed bags on
their noses. A man Raneth didn’t recognise stood to the side, a pile of feed bags suggesting he sold the bags there and had nothing knowingly to do with Cray’s kidnapping. Raneth pushed himself into a stand and headed towards the alleyway he’d chosen against earlier, the uncontrolled muscle spasms calming, giving him full control over his body again. Poking his head out of the other side, he spotted a road that led to the bridge, so Raneth followed it but slowed with each step he took until he threw up. He waited for a moment then continued.

  “Raneth, wait!”

  The royal official slowly turned around, grateful his stomach didn’t even have water left in it to puke up. Aldora? He frowned as she charged towards him on a horse, a silver bracelet that looked suspiciously like a messenger’s relay bouncing up and down on her wrist. He braced himself against the nearest wall, making sure he was as small a target as possible, but she drew the horse to a calm stop by his side. Waiting as Aldora dismounted, Raneth looked the horse over. It seemed vaguely familiar. “One of Cray’s messenger horses?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Aldora sounded breathless as she clung onto the pommel of the saddle, her feet finally touching the cobblestones. “Fastest horse I’ve ever ridden. Good stamina too.” She rubbed the horse’s shoulder, smiling. “Five days hard ride to get here, with breaks.” She pulled off the messenger relay bracelet and shoved it into a bag on her back. She lifted her gaze, her brown eyes inspecting him before she grimaced. “You look awful.”

  “Feel it too.” He touched his gut as his stomach revolted against him again and he turned from Aldora, dry-retching this time. “MIR. MIR—”

  “Lady Lemuela brought me up to speed. I know about the bloodhex and that Giften sodding cow with the tattoo.”