Bloodguard

chapter 40

Maeve

My hands continue to shake as I ride through town.

Dead. Leith’s entire family is dead.

Good stars, how am I going to tell him?

The painful thud in my chest grows more pronounced as I remember that Leith is right now trying to secure a crew to bring his family home.

He risked his life traveling to Tunder. He’s risked his life in the arena countless times. Everything he’s done is for his family.

My stomach clenches. My heart aches .

“Great phoenix.” I breathe in and out, blinking back tears. I bring Knight to a stop in front of a fountain and wipe my face on my cloak. This is an area of town with quaint little shops where one can buy fabric or candles, herbs or books. I dismount, and Toso peeks out from his bag. I tie the reins over a post. “Stay here with Knight, will you?” I ask him.

He nods, his large eyes fraught with sadness.

“Princess!” Ula hurries out before I make it to the front stoop of her shop. She’s a stunning troll, her silver skin sparkling and her carrot-orange hair spilling past her apron. Her bookshop is a safe bet for where to find Father and Neela spending the afternoon. “It’s so good to see you. Thank you for helping Obert.”

Her husband is one of the miners I treated following a cave-in. “How is he?” I ask.

“Oh, the slippery devil can’t keep his hands to himself.” She bats the air. “In other words, good as new.” She pauses when she looks at me. “Princess, have you been crying?”

I try to smile and fail miserably. “I just need to speak to my father.” I glance past her shoulder. “Is he here?”

“Not anymore, dear,” Ula says. “He went on to New Arrow a bit ago.”

“Right.”

“Are you listening, dear?” Ula asks.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” I meet her eyes. “I need to speak to Father.”

Ula nods and points. “Just cut through the alleyway there. One block from the end, make a right, then go straight until you reach the new inn. That’s what he’s working on today.”

“Thank you.” I pull my hood back over my puffy, crying eyes.

I don’t have to walk long before the steady beat of hammers and the back-and-forth sliding of saws echo down the alleyway. My duties at the castle and in service of my community have kept me busy, and I haven’t stopped in to see how New Arrow is coming along in a few weeks, but my, have they made progress.

Several elven and ogren women call from a rooftop, demanding more shingles.

“Come on with ye, Ostie!” an elf says. “We need to finish before the rain comes.”

A giant with auburn curls down to his butt replies something in clicks and hisses and throws a large stack of tied shingles at them, not to them.

The elf, who has a tattoo on her face and piercings all along her eyebrows, catches it and places it between the two other women and scowls. “Ostie, there was no need to comment on my mother like that. I toldye ye can help us on the next roof that can better support ye weight.”

Oh, and Ostie is not happy about it. More clicks and hisses precede a very angry fist and one irate finger.

“Come on, Ostie, ye know I didn’t mean it that way!”

Just last week, they were working on the other block. At this rate, they’ll be onto the next in a few days.

My feet have never failed me, and they don’t fail me now. I jump out of the way, barely missing getting soaked when a troll empties a large bin of water and lye soap out from a third-floor window.

“Sorry, lad,” he tells me, his beard soaked with sweat. “Didn’t see you there.”

I wave to those who smile as I rush by. They’re not welcoming me as a princess. They’re welcoming me as another of their own. Many women stroll along in simple cotton dresses in dark shades of red, green, and gray, their baskets stuffed with fresh vegetables and their faces absolutely beaming as they speak in their native languages.

A troll laughs with his wife as he turns a goat on a spit. Across from them, just a few yards from me, an elderly giantess sweeps her front stoop.

This is the Arrow I always wanted for my people. It may have been Papa’s dream, but Father turned it into a reality. I never imagined the wonders a group made up of so many people from different walks of life and languages could create.

In another block, I’m at the inn. “I was told my father Jakeb is here?” I say to the human painting the exterior of the brick structure.

He smiles. “Down the hall, last room.”

My hand slips over the handle more than once when I reach the door, my palms sweaty and shaking. With more effort than it should reasonably take, I push it open.

In a barren room, with a paintbrush in hand, wearing an old pair of overalls and his graying hair tied in a high bun, stands the great Lord Jakeb of Iamond, husband to Andres the once future king.

Royal by marriage.

Former High Guard of Arrow.

Philanthropist.

And a man with a broken heart.

In large, bold letters, Andres is emblazoned across the wall. Father must have written Papa’s name with the blue paint he’s using. As I watch, he paints over Papa’s name with quick brushstrokes. “Sorry,” he says. “I was just thinking of him.”

There’s no masking his sorrow.

My father’s eyes widen. “You’re upset.”

He sets aside the paint and hastily wipes his hands on a rag.

I’m shaking by the time he reaches me. I think I might be in shock.

“Maeve!”

“It has to stop,” I whisper.

“What?”

“All of it. The games. The lies. The deception.”

My father looks fearful for me, like maybe I’m not in control of myself.

“We must get Papa out.” None of this would have happened, none of it , if Papa had been on the throne.

Father strokes a few strands of hair away from my face. “Maeve, stop,” he pleads. “You must stop.”

“I can’t!” I shout at no one and nothing in particular. “I can’t stop. Not when Papa is innocent! Not when he—”

My voice trails off when Father holds up a hand, eyes brimming with tears. “Andres is not innocent, Maeve.”

I jerk away from him, furious. But as I start to turn, Father clasps his hand over mine. “The night of the fire, he tried to save you, but he left Avianna there to die. Intentionally.”

I whirl on him. “If he wanted Grandmother dead, he must have had a damn good reason.”

Father shakes his head slowly. “None of that matters. He could have had the best intentions or the worst. Regardless, Andres must atone for her death.”

My voice trembles with grief. “If that’s true, why didn’t you ever tell me? Why did you let me believe—”

“I did tell you, Maeve, that same day you woke. Everyone has told you, even Vitor. You choose not to listen.”

My thoughts and memories tumble like leaves in the wind. I don’t remember Father ever flat-out saying Papa was responsible for Grandmother’s death. I look at the window, where a wren has decided to weave her nest. Have I been so set on defending and protecting Papa that I’ve ignored everything else? I shake my head. No. That can’t be right. None of this can be right.

“You’ve been crying,” Father says quietly. “Did something else happen?”

Stars. What’s wrong with me?

“Maeve, what happened to you?” Father asks carefully.

I can’t think about… I press my palms to my temples. No, this is too much. Everything is too much right now. Father kneels beside me when I slump to the floor.

“Maeve?” He grasps my shoulder gently. “Tell me what happened to you.”

In the streets, the music and laughter continue to grow in contrast to the gloom surrounding this man who wants his lover back, the one who only barely speaks. The one who…who isn’t innocent?

My mind is too bogged down to think clearly. This thing with Papa—I can’t fix it now. And unless I become queen, I won’t be able to make it right.

“I need to talk to you about Leith,” I manage.

I tell him everything that happened in that aviary, every gut-wrenching word. When I remove my cloak and reveal my bloodstained clothing, Father’s eyes grow as wide as saucers. By the time I finish, all I want to do is curl into a ball and weep.

“You mustn’t let him know,” Father says as if it’s the only logical choice. “Nor must you tell another soul. This is a travesty for every last gladiator.”

“Father, he has to know,” I insist. “They all do.”

Father leans closer to me where we remain on the floor. “No, Maeve. Not if you want Leith to win.”

It’s something I wish he didn’t say. “I can’t keep something like this from him,” I bite out.

“You can if it means his life.”

He might as well have thrown cold water on me with how chilled his words make me feel.

“Do you hear me, Maeve?” He looks back to the wall where he wrote Papa’s name, now nothing but a smeared patch, blue paint dripping down the wall like tears. “A man, even a man as strong as Leith, does not come back from losing someone he loves.”