Royal Exile. Fiona McIntosh

echoed his thoughts. ‘He doesn’t know anything,’ he said.

      ‘They took fright at the sound of your men closing in on the palace and ran off. I tried to follow but I’m an old man by comparison, sire. I couldn’t keep up.’

      ‘They?’

      ‘Pardon, sire?’

      Loethar’s expression darkened. ‘You said they — who were the others?’

      ‘Just one other. Gavriel De Vis.’

      ‘Are you telling me they ran back into the palace?’

      Freath shrugged lightly. ‘They headed in, but, sire, we have many entrances and doors that lead to other courtyards. They could be anywhere. Though they won’t have had time to get far.’

      ‘Have you a suggestion of where they may go?’

      ‘I have plenty. But I need a show of good faith, sire.’

      ‘I see. Something in writing? A mix of our bloods perhaps, palm to palm?’

      ‘This man knows nothing that I, given a room with a pair of heated pincers, couldn’t find out for you,’ Stracker threw at Loethar. Gavriel gave a humourless smile at finding himself momentarily on side with the barbarian’s lackey.

      Freath smiled tightly. ‘No need for torture or indeed any loss of blood. My request is very simple and easy for you to provide. When you have finished with her, I want the queen.’

      ‘What?’ Loethar roared. His surprise turned into a tumult of laughter. ‘Iselda?’

      Freath kept his face impassive. ‘She is beautiful. Why not?’

      Loethar studied the aide carefully. ‘No, Freath, this doesn’t fit. You’re not that displeasing physically, I’ll grant you, but I see no passion burning in these eyes of yours — other than for your own safe skin. I don’t suspect there is a romantic or even sexual urge in your body. You are lying.’

      Freath remained unfazed, his voice calm. ‘You are jumping to conclusions, sire. I said nothing about romance or desire. I simply want her.’

      ‘What for?’

      ‘Purely for self-satisfaction. I have served queen Iselda since she came to the palace, sire, and King Brennus even longer. They were the usual arrogant inbreds that seem to take the throne…’ Leo gasped and Gavriel had to put a hand over the boy’s mouth — a hand that was trembling with anger. ‘… services were always taken for granted. Although it’s too late to tell Brennus, now it’s time for me to share with her all my rage. I come from a distinguished line, sire. I deserved better.’

      ‘This is about not being thanked?’ Loethar asked, incredulous.

      Freath blinked slowly. ‘Perhaps put petulantly you could describe it that way, sire. I see it as retribution. I am not a man to be toyed with. I deserved better than I got in my years of service. I kept hoping I would be rewarded for my attentiveness, my loyalty, and, above all, my discretion. But each year passed without so much as a glance of appreciation my way.’

      ‘You’re a servant, for Lo’s sake!’ Stracker chimed in. ‘What do you want, a manor in the country?’

      ‘Why not?’ Freath demanded, scowling at the man. ‘The legate was a servant too but De Vis was not only paid handsomely, he was rewarded with horses, land, servants of his own, wealth far more than he’d ever need. And his family line is no finer than mine. He was simply a soldier. I am a man of language, of letters … truly, sire, I was the more versatile if you compare me to De Vis. Yet he dies a hero — a wealthy one. If you slew me now, sire, I would die penniless. Pathetic isn’t it?’

      ‘Can you kill a man, Freath?’

      ‘If I had to, yes,’ the aide bristled. ‘Killing doesn’t give you superiority, sire, surely?’

      ‘And have you ever killed anyone, Freath?’

      ‘No, sire.’

      ‘It sounds a lot easier than the doing of it, trust me…not that I suffer the squeamishness of most.’

      Freath ignored Loethar’s explanation. ‘If you don’t need her for any other purpose, sire, I would have her.’

      ‘To humiliate her?’

      ‘To do whatever I please with her. She will become my slave, follow my orders, answer my desires … however dry they may appear to others.’

      ‘And so for the queen, two Vested and my word, you will help me hunt down Leonel?’

      ‘Yes, sire. And there are so many more ways in which I can help you … be assured of that. At no further cost to you than what I’ve already asked for.’

      ‘You intrigue me, Freath.’

      ‘So we’re agreed. Iselda is a show of goodwill on your part.’

      ‘Bugger her senseless for all I care, Freath, although I will be wanting her for tonight myself.’

      ‘Of course you do, sire,’ Freath said, as though they were discussing the shared use of a horse or plough. ‘In fact I won’t lay a finger upon her until you have. Is that fair?’

      Loethar nodded. ‘It is.’ He looked at Stracker. ‘How many have we rounded up?’

      ‘In total, about thirty-four who seem genuine in their talents.’

      ‘Have them brought here. I’ll leave you to pick out the best — and show them to Freath. He can choose from your selection. Order it now.’ Stracker nodded and left the chamber. Loethar looked at the royal aide again, then grinned. ‘I need men with your agile mind, Freath. I’m sure I should just slit your throat here and now but there’s something about you that tells me I should stay my hand a little longer.’

      ‘That’s convenient for me, sire.’

      His words amused Loethar further. ‘For both of us, I hope. Stracker can be …’ He searched for the right word.

      ‘Spontaneous?’ Freath offered.

      Now Loethar smiled genuinely. ‘Precisely. And on occasion I need someone who can act upon more considered information, someone who thinks through a situation.’

      ‘Less of a blunt instrument. I understand. But that doesn’t necessarily make me feel safe.’

      Loethar’s smile broadened. Gavriel realised that Freath’s cunning made him a perfect match and someone who had, over the last few moments, changed from aide’s executioner to new employer. The barbarian called in some of his henchmen.

      ‘This man has access to Queen Iselda. Him alone.’ He had obviously changed his mind about wanting Iselda for the first night. He turned back to the aide. ‘You amuse me, Freath. I like your mind, if not you.’ Freath inclined his head, obviously deciding to take the barbarian’s words as a compliment. ‘As long as you continue to amuse me and keep me informed of everything around this palace and the realm — as I assume you have a well connected spy network — you are safe from my blade.’

      ‘In that case, sire, we shall take each other on his word. So, for the young prince, let me suggest you try the secret corridor.’

      Gavriel felt Leo’s mouth open in terror behind his hand.

      ‘Show them!’ Loethar ordered Freath, pointing at his men.

       7

      Clovis sat silent and rigid, his fists clenched in his lap, the stone wall hard against his back. His life had been what many might describe as perfect. He was not a rich man — not yet, anyway — but he had been happier than many of the wealthy men he was required to offer his services to. Nor was he poor, not by a long shot. Work was regular and it didn’t require him to ruin his