Captive's Return Page 9

  “That’s not true!” said Scarlett quickly. “There are plenty of people who want me dead, too. Giles has been manipulating the situation to try to get the blame to fall on you instead of me.” She scowled at the thought, but Jonan gave a strange little laugh.

  “Well that’s something, at least. Maybe I do owe him one after all.” He met her eyes again, his expression anguished and unfamiliar. “I heard all about the banquet last night. And even seeing you in that dress…” He reached through the bars and touched her bare shoulder. The gesture was tentative, but even so it sent a tingle through her.

  “It brings it all back so vividly, I hardly feel like you’re mine anymore,” Jonan went on. “Back then I thought nothing of your title and position. More than that, I despised it. But now I see what Cal and Elnora’s lives are like…ours are so different. I didn’t fully understand what you were throwing away for my sake. Maybe it would have been better for you if Giles had succeeded with his plan. Tell me truthfully, Scar. If Giles could fully clear you from blame, if I went back to Kyona and you stayed here, would you be happier than you are back in the forest?”

  “Jo!” said Scarlett, aghast. “How can you even ask me that? I thought I told you not to let them get into your head! What on earth did those soldiers do to you?”

  Jo shrugged. “I don’t care about the beating, Scarlett, I really don’t. But the way they talked…anyone would think you’d married an animal instead of someone from a different kingdom.”

  Scarlett’s heart seemed to squeeze at the thought of Jonan being treated in such a way. But she wouldn’t have expected him to be ruffled by it. “And why do you care what they say or think?” she demanded.

  “I didn’t at first,” said Jo. “I laughed it off. But then you didn’t come. I was so afraid for you, I thought you were locked up somewhere yourself, or worse. But then I heard all about the banquet, and…”

  He trailed off, and Scarlett felt an agonized pang as she remembered the banquet, how she had greeted the king, been escorted to the meal by an eligible young nobleman, received the compliments of her persevering admirers, all with the appearance of contentment. Meanwhile Jonan had been beaten and taunted, locked in a dank prison cell. She felt suddenly sick at the thought. She had been polite instead of honest, falling back into her old habit of playing a part, and Jonan had paid the price. She had never imagined he would be so shaken by her absence.

  “I’m so sorry, Jo,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She swallowed, and her voice grew stronger. “Surely you don’t really need me to tell you how I feel. You know I don’t care about any of this nonsense. You know I’m happy with you.”

  Before Jonan could respond, they were both distracted by the sound of approaching footsteps. The royal guard who manned the prison came into view, looking stressed.

  “You need to leave. No one cleared a visit to the prisoner, and you’ve been in here for far too long.”

  Scarlett stiffened. “We’re in the middle of a conversation. I don’t care if I have permission to be here or not.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” said the guard dismissively. “But I’m answerable for this dungeon, and I do care. If I’m any judge of the mood out there, someone’s going to lose their head, and I don’t care for it to be me, understand? So get out.”

  Scarlett glared back at him, ready to make a scene, but Jonan stepped in. “He’s right, Scarlett. The situation is already explosive, and we don’t want to provoke anyone.”

  This entirely un-Jonan-like attitude alarmed Scarlett as much as his words had done a minute before. She started to protest, but he shook his head.

  “Go, Scarlett. I’ll be all right here for now.”

  She stared at him unhappily for a moment, while the guard hovered impatiently. There was no point lingering to talk to Jo if he didn’t want to be talked to.

  “Fine,” she said, her tone communicating that she was giving in under protest.

  There were so many things she wanted to say, but the guard’s presence prevented any private conversation. With a final hard look at her husband, who still wore a defeated expression that looked out of place on his face, she swept out of the dungeon.

  He might be defeated, but she wasn’t. It was time to find out exactly who was behind this nightmare, and bring them down for good.

  Chapter Ten

  Scarlett marched straight to her room, determined to make one change before she did anything else. She rummaged through her trunk, throwing garments around heedlessly until she found what she was looking for. There.

  A few minutes later, she surveyed herself in the looking glass and smiled grimly. If the Kyonan court dress had raised eyebrows, the close fitting green tunic and brown leggings that were customary in the Forest of Rune were going to be a scandal.

  She started down the corridor, not sure where she was going, but in no doubt as to who she was looking for. If she wanted to get to the root of the problem, there was only one person to confront.

  But she had barely gone five steps when she heard her name, and turned to see her aunt hurrying toward her.

  “There you are, Scarlett! Are you all right? Where have you been since—” The flow of words ceased abruptly as Aunt Mariska took in Scarlett’s change of outfit. The middle-aged princess had too much decorum to comment, but the same couldn’t be said for her companion.

  “Wow, Scar!” said the youngest of Scarlett’s cousins, as he looked her up and down. “Is that what girls wear in Kyona?”

  “Hey Roland,” said Scarlett, not quite suppressing a grin. He had been only fourteen when she had left a year ago. But the way her cousin’s eyes widened at the form-hugging attire told her that he had begun to appreciate girls differently since then. “Some of them do. The ones in the forest, where I live.”

  “Maybe I should go for a visit, too,” said Roland, and her grin broadened.

  “Roland,” said Aunt Mariska, repressively. She turned to Scarlett. “Are you going to the audience chamber?”

  “No, I—wait, why?” Scarlett asked, frowning. “What’s happening?”

  “Some of the court are up in arms about what happened this morning. They’re petitioning the king to have Jonan executed.”

  Scarlett groaned. It wasn’t exactly unexpected, but they certainly didn’t waste any time. “I’m not going to let that happen, Aunt Mariska,” she said grimly. “I know you don’t like Jonan, but—”

  “I don’t dislike him,” said Aunt Mariska quickly. “I simply don’t know him. But I’m glad he makes you happy, and I don’t want him to be executed.”

  “Thank you,” said Scarlett quietly, ready to take small victories. “Who’s leading the call for his execution?”

  “One guess,” snorted Roland, and Scarlett grimaced.

  “Lord Grentan, I imagine.” Neither one of them denied it. “And my brother?”

  “Scanlon?” asked Roland, frowning. “No, I don’t think he was even there when we left to come and find you.”

  Scarlett paused for a moment, torn. She wanted to hunt Scanlon down without delay, but it seemed she had little choice. If the king was currently holding court on the issue of Jonan’s fate, she needed to be there. Without further discussion, she took off toward the king’s audience chamber, her aunt and cousin following behind her.

  Her mind raced as quickly as her feet as she sped through the familiar halls. King Siloam was indolent, it was true, and easily persuaded by stronger wills. But surely he wouldn’t order Jonan executed so hastily. Prince Rupert usually hovered nearby, ensuring that his brother didn’t commit himself to any disastrous course. She would just need to persuade both Uncle Rupert and the king that executing Jonan would be an enormous mistake. The soldiers might not care that he was an emissary of the Kyonan king, but Prince Rupert certainly would.

  However, it seemed that she was too late to sway the tide. As she approached the audience chamber, a stream of people began to exit, talking excitedly among themselves. She ignored the wa
y most of them stared at her outlandish attire, pushing through the throng to enter the chamber and demand an explanation. But the king had apparently already left, and there was no sign of Uncle Rupert.

  “What happened?” she asked a nearby page. “What was the decision?” But the boy just stared at her as if she was a visitation before scampering off to join the exiting crowd. She followed him back out into the corridor and caught a glimpse of Lord Grentan walking away with one of his cronies. He looked more self-satisfied than ever, and her heart sank.

  “Scar, what did you find out?” Roland appeared unexpectedly at her elbow. “What did they decide? Are they going to, you know, slice off his—”

  “I don’t know,” Scarlett interrupted her cousin in a curt voice, not needing him to finish his sentence any more than she needed the accompanying dramatic hand gesture to understand his meaning. “No one’s left in there, and I didn’t hear the outcome.”

  “Are you still looking for Scanlon?” Roland asked.

  “Yes,” said Scarlett quickly. “Did you see him?”

  “Over there.” Roland jerked his head back over his shoulder, indicating her brother. “Talking to the general in that opening.”

  Scarlett frowned as she followed his gaze to see Scanlon and the general conversing in a nearby doorway. Roland’s choice of words triggered something in her mind. What had Scanlon said to the general last night, as she was walking away? That he would have his opening. His opening to do what—start a war with Kyona? If so, why didn’t Scanlon want Jonan executed? Surely that was an easy road toward war.

  “Thanks Roland,” she said, striding through the crowd. The various knots of people were moving away from the audience chamber, so the area was all but deserted by the time Scarlett reached her brother. As the bustle subsided, her quick ears caught Scanlon’s words before he was aware of her presence.

  “Can’t you control your own soldiers, curse you? Their little flogging exercise this morning has forced the issue much too soon.”

  The general’s words were clipped and angry. “Watch yourself, My Lord. You may have come up with this plan, but as you’ve made very clear, I don’t answer to you.” He grunted. “I’ll admit they were out of line. I underestimated how hated this Kyonan brat is.”

  “If the king goes through with this execution, it will ruin everything,” Scanlon snapped. “This is exactly the show of strength we’re trying to avoid.”

  The general didn’t answer, his eyes sliding past Scanlon and narrowing as they settled on Scarlett. His companion turned quickly, following his gaze. To Scarlett’s surprise, her brother looked pleased to see her, at least until he noticed her attire.

  “Scarlett, have you no shame? You may as well walk about the castle naked!”

  Scarlett scoffed. The clothes, although fitted to her shape, covered much more of her than any Balenan dress she had ever owned. There was something humorous about the fact that the dresses of Nohl would be considered just as outrageously improper in Kyona as her Kyonan attire was here. But this was hardly the moment for such reflections.

  “I didn’t come looking for you to talk about fashion, Scanlon,” she said.

  “Were you looking for me?” he asked, surprised. “How gratifying. I’m sure you’ll be equally flattered to know that I was about to come looking for you.” The inevitable sneer in his voice made the revelation anything but flattering, but Scarlett held her peace. “As it happens, you are exactly who we need. It seems we must form an alliance, my dear sister. Temporary, of course.”

  Alliance? Scarlett stared at him, several things clicking into place in her mind. The fact that Scanlon seemed to constantly be talking with the general, the reaction of the soldiers when Scanlon was mentioned that morning, the unusual insult used by both her brother and the soldier in the courtyard, almost as if they had been discussing Jonan together.

  “You’re working with the soldiers,” she said slowly. “What are you up to, Scanlon, to form such an alliance? What interest do you have in common with the military?”

  Scanlon’s mocking smile faltered for the briefest moment, but his words were as smooth as ever. “What does it matter to you, my dear Scarlett? Much more to the point is the interest you and I now have in common. Are you aware that your husband—” his tone made the word into an insult— “has just been sentenced to be executed this very day?”

  Scarlett sucked in a breath, her thoughts instantly distracted from her attempt to figure Scanlon out. “Today?” she gasped. “They’re planning to execute him today?”

  “So the king has just decreed,” confirmed Scanlon lazily. He looked at her with interest. “I must say, you were conspicuously absent during the audience on the matter. Did the enterprising Lord Grentan manage to keep you away like he did our Uncle Rupert? Or can it be that your allegiance to your Kyonans is wavering?”

  Scarlett ignored the bait, trying to grasp a nebulous thought sparked by Scanlon’s talk of allegiance.

  “Assuming you do still want to rescue your ill-bred husband, we have a common purpose, because I don’t at all want to see him executed.”

  Scarlett frowned, her mistrust growing. “And since when are you so concerned for Jonan’s welfare?” she asked. Her gaze passed to the general, who had taken no part in the conversation, and was still staring in disgust at her clothes. “What do either of you gain by saving his life?” She paused, remembering what she had overheard Scanlon saying just a minute before, that the execution would ruin everything. “Or is that the wrong question?” she said slowly. “Should I instead be asking what you would lose by him being executed? How would that make you lose your opening?”

  Scanlon just smirked, but the general finally pulled his attention to her face, looking wary. She must be on the right track.

  “Why do you want to avoid a show of strength?” Scarlett continued, her eyes flicking between them. “Why have you been riling everyone up if you don’t want to provoke drastic action?” Their faces gave nothing away, but her thoughts flew suddenly to the now-dead soldier in the courtyard that morning, defying Giles’s authority, and it all fell into place in her mind. “It’s your allegiance that has changed,” she said quickly. “And you’re trying to bring the populace with you. You’re riling people up to think that the crown owes them an execution, then counting on Giles’s intervention to make sure the crown fails to deliver. They’re so worked up, they might just be persuaded to think they need a change in leadership.”

  The general’s expression was more guarded than ever, but Scanlon seemed unconcerned by her shrewdness. “But sadly, Giles’s intervention seems not to have been sufficient. Which is where you come in, sister.”

  “As if I would ever help you!” Scarlett protested. “What are you thinking, anyway, Scanlon? Do you think if you can depose the royals, the people will turn to you as king? It’s absurd!”

  “Me?” laughed Scanlon. “I don’t want to be king. As you have so beautifully illustrated with your unsuspected capacity to manipulate our dear departed father, much more can be achieved when standing just behind the one in power. Besides, who said anything about a king? As our current monarch has demonstrated,” Scanlon’s handsome features twisted in a sneer, “blue blood does not guarantee leadership ability. Perhaps it’s time to move forward.”

  Scarlett’s jaw dropped open as she stared between Scanlon and the general. “A military coup? You want to do away with the monarchy?”

  “What are you doing?” muttered the general to Scanlon, but the younger man just shrugged.

  “What, do you think she won’t play her part if she knows our ultimate objective? I think she’ll still do all she can to keep her precious little Kyonan alive. As to the rest—don’t worry, no one will take her seriously. With one obvious exception, she’s the most hated and least trusted person in this city.”

  Scarlett glared at him. “I want no part of your schemes, Scanlon.”

  He smiled maliciously back. “Well, I’ll admit that my plans will be
disrupted by your husband’s execution. So if you want to do me a mischief, by all means, sit back and do nothing to prevent it. I believe it’s scheduled to occur within the hour.”

  Scarlett ground her teeth. Her brother had her right where he wanted her, and he knew it. He didn’t have to make himself prominent by advocating for Jonan to be spared—he knew he could count on her to do whatever it took to prevent the crown from taking the violent action that would satisfy its bloodthirsty subjects. And little as she wanted to further his plans, what choice did she have? She would just have to focus on extricating Jonan, then deal with whatever was coming after.

  She had no more time to waste on her infuriating brother. If it was true that the execution was scheduled to happen within the hour, every minute had become precious.

  Chapter Eleven

  Scarlett turned away from the two men and took off running, heading for the royal wing, determined to make someone listen to her, whatever Scanlon thought.

  She came to a halt in front of what she knew to be a small but lavishly furnished receiving room. The presence of half a dozen royal guards outside the door told her that King Siloam was within. The door was open, but one of the guards stepped forward to intercept her progress, eyes narrowed.

  “Halt. What is your business in this part of the castle?”

  “I need to see the king,” said Scarlett hastily.

  The guards laughed unpleasantly. “I don’t think so.”

  “But I have information he must know,” Scarlett protested, knowing how weak the explanation sounded. She didn’t think that the treachery of the military had extended to the royal guard, but without knowing for certain she didn’t want to risk being more explicit.

  “His Majesty is otherwise occupied,” said one of the guards dismissively. And Scarlett could hear that this was true, at least. The door was open, and although from her angle she couldn’t actually see the men within, she had no difficulty recognizing the voices issuing from it. She hovered, arguing half-heartedly with the guards while her sharp ears picked up the conversation in the room.