Prince and the Throne (Fedosian Wars #2)

8. Wolf of the Red Den

eight

Wolf of the Red Den

Aleksei had broken his shield arm in the exact pattern of the injury he’d sustained from the queen, couldn’t make a fist with his sword hand, and had trouble putting weight on his left leg. His knee bothered him, he said.

In the conjoining room to the prince’s bedchamber, Sofia helped him wash the blood off. He had no cut on him, and every injury he suffered was from the brute force of the castleguard’s hits, though he’d clearly blocked them all. His darksteel shield leaning against the wall was battered to hell but the Apraksin blade which he returned to Dominik with thanks didn’t have a nick. The house of true fire, they’d always claimed the flames of their forges burned hot enough to purge all impurity from steel.

Aleksei sat on a wooden stool groaning while Sofia brewed a tonic to alleviate the pain. Splinting the broken arm, changing from his blood drenched sentinel attire to a white cotton shirt and trousers, and all the other moving about had worsened the pain.

There was music downstairs from the duke’s feast but every moment of it was a lie. Aleksei’s scouts had already reported the duke sent riders out heading north, where he had another garrison less than fifty miles away. This would turn to shit by the morning and the tension strung the air like a band being pulled and pulled till it snapped.

The prince was in the grand hall attending the duke’s feast because the sentinels had reported the drawbridge had been pulled up and if they asked to leave, the fighting would start now. The duke was wary of the sentinels, calling his other garrison to make certain of his victory, but time was depleting.

Ignat and Dominik were with Aleksei, but the others were dispersed throughout the den, and a handful were with the prince.

“What are we doing, Captain?” Ignat paced.

Dominik was by the door, his arms folded. “If we mean to get out of here, it must be now, Captain.”

“Go where? We’re still at war,” Aleksei gritted through his broken bones. “We can’t have the Duke of Sarostia be an enemy of the throne. It’s our stronghold.”

“What are we doing?” Ignat asked again.

“Replacing the duke,” Aleksei hissed. “I need to go speak with Commander Volg.”

“He won’t talk to you,” Sofia said. “It’ll be too obvious. Let me go downstairs. Doma, please fetch my dress, and Aleksei, you drink this.” The tonic was done, and she held out the cup to him. “It won’t make you tired, but it will dull the pain… When is the garrison expected to arrive?”

“It’s an infantry.” Frowning, Aleksei drank the medicine. “They take time to move, so tomorrow evening.”

“That’s good. We have some time,” Sofia said. “Aleksei, I don’t trust Eugene. Please control Niko till then. I’ll go see about Volg, and if that isn’t promising, we’re escaping through the undercroft to Krakova where you have more men. This isn’t where you make a stand if you can’t get the commander’s support.”

“Lady Guard speaks sense,” Ignat said.

“I can’t leave the den with Rodion alive,” Aleksei said. “Because the next time we meet, it will be fifty thousand against four hundred. That’s all the sentinels I have after adding the entirety of Krakova, four hundred. The duke must die, or Niko will lose his house, and us, our heads.”

“All right, I have to go.” Sofia turned. Dominik had arrived with her dress, and it was the exact one she’d thought of, too. “Ignat, you will take care of him?” she asked about Aleksei. The captain couldn’t lift his sword in the condition he was in.

“With my life, as always,” was the sentinel’s answer.

In the grand hall where they had been accusing Niko of murder earlier, commanders and their wives drank wine and danced, soldiers carrying trays of food around instead of servants. Not a ballroom, the place still looked odd to Sofia, reminding her of the church nave it had once been. Instead of the orchestra, they had the army’s marching band, drums and trumpet heavy, and the noise was too loud for the hall built for acoustics.

The duke stood in a circle with his men, Volg among them, and the conversation appeared casual though Sofia suspected they were planning tomorrow’s events.

The Chartorisky, including the duchess, sat together. Daniil bowed to Sofia when he saw her but Sofia didn’t pretend. They were far past pleasantries.

The duke’s children were together, Niko sat surrounded by his sentinels, and people whispered in groups despite the obnoxiously loud music.

“Lady Sofia.” Dragan approached her when she was taking a glass from the wine table. “Care to dance?” He gave her his arm.

“Sounds to be more of a marching tune than dancing music,” she said. “But the company is good, I suppose.” She downed the wine and took Dragan’s offered arm.

She let him lead and they danced around the hall somewhere between graceful and not.

“I’m glad to see you here still.” Dragan smiled. Because of his height, Sofia had to tip her head back to see his face. “I hope our earlier scuffle didn’t frighten you. It’s a Shield way of settling our differences.”

“My condolences to your family. Lady Teo was very young,” she said. “How is the duchess holding up?”

“Tragic accident, I’m sure. Mother will get over it.”

“Couldn’t fathom,” Sofia said. “When is the funeral? Guards burn the pyre, is it the same here?”

“Same,” Dragan said. “We’ve sent for the parson. The church is some miles north of here. I reckon we’ll burn the pyre for her tomorrow.”

“I shall pray for her.”

“Thank you, Lady Guard.”

They passed by the duke’s entourage, and Volg shot her a look over his shoulder.

“May I be honest with you, Sofia?” Dragan asked.

“You can, but it’s not recommended, Lord Dragan. I’m a Guard.”

He chuckled. “My father is old fashioned. He doesn’t care for the Guards…”

Then the large lord talked about how peace and cooperation among the houses was the way forward, such and such, going as far as to suggest a ‘union’ between Fedir and Sofia would end the conflict, while Sofia eyed Volg every time Dragan spun her.

She finally escaped him but then got trapped speaking to someone’s wife. Then the prince asked for a dance, which she couldn’t refuse, and the next time she looked, Volg had disappeared. This wasn’t going well. She asked Eugene if he’d seen where the commander went but the sentinel didn’t know which one was Volg.

A commander, not Volg, came to speak with Sofia about Aleksei’s valor during the duel, kissed her hand, and left a note in her palm as he turned to speak with a young lady about her necklace.

Sofia waited a breath, went to the wine table to fetch a glass, and unfolded the palmed scrap of paper as she fixed her skirt. The note was one word: library.

She knew where it was. After waiting another breath, she went to Shura and whispered in his ear, “Can you make sure I’m not followed?”

“Goodnight, my lady.” The sentinel bowed.

Sofia headed out of the hall and was climbing the stone steps when she realized she was being followed and turned. It was Dominik and he mouthed, “Captain’s orders.”

The library was in the other wing, quite a walk, and she grew glad for Dominik’s company as the light turned scarce with all the candles either burned out or unlit.

The abandoned Guard library where she’d found the skin book smelled of dust and old paper, and a soldier in a red tunic closed the curtain dividing the sections and stayed on the other side as Sofia and Dominik stepped through.

Commander Volg stood by a stone globe, turning it, and lifted his pale blue eyes to Sofia. A single lantern was lit on the table, and he wasn’t alone. His men moved as shadows among the shelves.

“Lady Guard, how may I help you?” He retrieved his hand from the sphere and clasped it behind his back.

“You called me,” she said. Dominik stayed with his back to the wall, his keen gaze shifting, following things Sofia couldn’t see.

“Let’s not play games. We don’t have the time. What do you want?” Volg asked.

“Rodion sent riders north,” Sofia said.

“To fetch the parson for his daughter’s funeral,” Volg said.

“I thought we didn’t have the time,” Sofia said.

Volg knocked his tongue, then smiled. “Let’s be brief. I’m not going to risk my men for the prince. The boy is weak. No amount of silver in my pouch or fancy title in front of my name, nothing short of an eternal salvation for my soul will make me change my mind.”

“What do you want, then?” she asked.

“Nothing at this time.” He smirked. He walked past her, making her wonder if the meeting had been a waste of time, but as he was leaving, he said, “If the duke was to have a tragic accident, let’s say, and no son of his was left to dispute the prince’s claim to the house, then I might have a want or two.”

“Well, the head falling off the shoulder is quite a common ailment for a Shield,” Sofia said. “Will you honor your word and guarantee a safe passage for the prince should such an unfortunate thing happen?”

“Guard asking for honor,” he said with his back to her. “Guard honor is a liar’s paradox. I knew the archmage personally. For a house of saints, your family has no grace. What I do, I do for my country. Take that however you wish.” He opened the curtains and stepped through. “Rest well, Lady Guard.”

“Goodnight, Commander.”

Sofia looked to Dominik after Volg left and his gears were turning as well. “Long night,” he said, and that was about to be true.