“Your friends aren’t coming,” Alric heard Royce’s voice. “They’re already dead.”

The two guards wielding swords looked at each other then raced down the road in the direction of The Silver Pitcher Inn. The last remaining soldier holding Alric, looked around wildly. As Royce and Hadrian took a stride toward him, he cursed abruptly, let go of the prince, and bolted into the trees. Before Hadrian could close the gap between them, the man screamed. A moment later, Myron exited from the trees, dragging a bloodied sword behind him. He was pale, and a sickened look covered his face. When he reached the rest of the party, he dropped the sword, fell to his knees, and began to sob.

Alric could not stop shaking, as he wiped the tears and dirt from his face. Hadrian and Royce came over and helped him to his feet. He stood on wobbly legs and looked at those around him.

“They were going to kill me,” he said. “They were going to kill me!” he screamed.

He abruptly pushed Royce and Hadrian away and, drawing his father’s sword, drove it deep into the torso of the dead Trumbul. He staggered and stood there gasping, staring at the dead body before him, his father’s sword swaying back and forth, the tip buried in the baron’s back.

Soon men approached from both directions of the road. Many were from The Silver Pitcher Inn, and carried crude weapons. Some of them were wet with blood, but none appeared injured. Two of them led the horses that Royce, Hadrian, and Alric had been using since the Wicend Ford. There was also a thin figure in tattered rags wearing a shapeless hat. He bore only a heavy stick.

“Not a single one got past us,” Hall declared as he approached the small group. “One tried to duck us, but the half-breed found him. I can see now why you asked him to come. Bastard can see better than an owl in the dark.”

“As promised, you can keep the horses and everything on them,” Hadrian said. “But make sure you bury these bodies tonight or you might find trouble in the morning.”

“Is that really the prince?” one of the men asked, staring at Alric.

“Actually,” Hadrian said, “I think you are looking at the new King of Melengar.”

There was a quiet murmur of interest, and a few went through the bother of bowing, although Alric did not notice. He had retrieved his sword and was now searching Trumbul’s body.

The men gathered in the road to look over the captured animals, weapons, and gear. Hall took charge of the division of loot and began to divvy it up as best he could.

“Give the half-elf one of the horses,” Royce told him.

“What?” The innkeeper asked stunned. “You want us to give him a horse? Are you sure? I mean most of these men don’t have a good horse.”

Drake quickly cut in, “Listen, we all fought equally tonight. He can have a share like everyone, but that miserable filth ain’t walking off with no horse.”

“Don’t kill him, Royce,” Hadrian said hurriedly.

The prince looked up to see Drake backing up as Royce took a step toward him. The thief’s face was eerily calm, but his eyes smoldered.

“What does the king say?” Drake asked quickly. “I mean—he is the king and all, right? Technically, ’em is his horses right? His soldiers was a ridin’ ’em. We should ask him to decide…okay?”

There was a pause while Alric stood up and faced the crowd. The prince felt sick. His legs were weak, his arms hurt, and he was bleeding from scrapes on his forehead, chin, and cheek. He was covered in dirt. He came within seconds of death and the fear from it was still with him. He noticed Hadrian move away to where Myron was. The monk was still crying off to his right, and Alric knew he was a hair away from joining him, but he was the king. He clenched his teeth and looked at them. A score of dirty, blood-splattered faces looked back. He stood there unable to think clearly. His mind was still on Trumbul. He was still furious and humiliated. Alric glanced at Royce and Hadrian and then looked back to the crowd.

“Do whatever these two men tell you to do,” he said slowly, clearly, and coldly. “They are my Royal Protectors. Any man who willfully disobeys will be executed.” There was quiet in the wake of his voice. In the stillness, Alric pulled himself onto his horse. “Let’s go.”

Hadrian and Royce exchanged looks of surprise and then helped Myron up. The monk was silent now and walked in a daze. He no longer looked around; instead, he focused on his blood-covered hands. Hadrian pulled Myron up behind him.

As they started down the road, Royce stopped his horse near Hall and Drake and quietly told them both, “See to it the half-elf gets a horse and keeps it, or when I return, I will hold everyone in this hamlet accountable—and for once—it will be legal.”

The four rode along in silence for some time. Finally, Alric hissed. “It was my own uncle.” Despite his efforts, his eyes began to water.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Hadrian mentioned. “The archduke stands next in line for the throne after you and Arista. But being family, I figured he’d be just as big a target as you, only he’s not a blood uncle is he? His last name is Braga not Essendon.”

“He married my mother’s sister.”

“Is she alive?”

“No, she died years ago, something to do with a fire.” Alric slammed his fist on the saddle’s pummel. “He taught me the blade! He showed me how to ride! He is my uncle! And he’s trying to kill me!”

Nothing was said for awhile, and then Hadrian finally asked, “Where are we going?”

Alric shook his head as if coming out of a dream. “What? Oh, to Drondil Fields, Count Pickering’s castle. He is…was…one of my father’s most trusted nobles, a staunch Royalist, and the most powerful leader in the kingdom. If he is still loyal, I will raise my army there and march on Medford within the week. And Maribor help the man, or uncle, who tries to stop me!”

“Is this what you wanted to see?” the archduke asked Arista, picking up the dagger. He held it out so she could read the name “Percy Braga” clearly spelled out on the blade in her father’s blood. “It looks like you have indeed learned a thing or two from Esrahaddon. This however, proves nothing. I certainly didn’t stab your father with it. I wasn’t even near the chapel when he was killed.”

“But you did it. You ordered it. You might not have driven the dagger into his body, but you were the one who killed my father!” Arista wiped the tears from her eyes. “He trusted you. We all trusted you. You were part of our family!”

“There are some things more important than family, my dear—secrets, terrible secrets which must remain hidden at all costs. As hard as it may be for you to believe, I do care for you, your brother and your—”

“Don’t you dare say it!” she shouted at him. “You murdered my father!”

“It was necessary. If you only knew. If you could understand what is truly at stake.”

“Esrahaddon told me everything.”

“Esrahaddon told you what he wanted you to know. Do you think that old wizard is your friend? He used you, just as he’s trying to use us, just as he has always used people. He’s the reason your father had to die, and he’s the reason Alric will die as well.”

“And me?”

“Three unusual deaths look a little too suspicious. One murder is fine, and Alric’s disappearance is actually a great help. I suspect he will meet death in some quiet remote area far from here. But if you were to be found murdered, well, that may prove to be difficult to explain. You, however, my dear, have made my job much easier than you might imagine. It will be easy for me to convince others you hired those two thieves to kill your father and your brother. You see, I already planted the seeds that something was amiss. The night your father was killed, I had Wylin and a squad of men at the ready. Having failed the double-murder, you sought to correct matters by freeing the killers. We have several witnesses who can attest to the arrangements you made that evening. You would have been smarter to send a handmaid and then poison her. Alric will be found dead, and you will be found guilty of the murders. I planned on holding your trial after Alric’s body was found, but now…” he looked at the dagger and his name glistening on the shining metal blade, “now I will have to accelerate my timetable.