Many Roads Home (35 page)

“Yes, my lady, it did. You did well.”

“It went on so long…and I thought Yveni was dead. I was all alone. Gil and Sofia…” A little sob escaped her. “I had to be brave. For Olana.”

“You were. It’s over. You’re safe, sweetness.”

She snuggled into his embrace and fell asleep. A wave of fierce protectiveness came over him, even more than he felt for Yveni. Yveni was strong and tall and fit. Serina was only a frightened child who’d suffered without help for so long. He knew what that felt like.

Yveni and the others came back in five minutes or so, with another woman and a young girl in tow. She seemed quite healthy and took after her brother startlingly in looks.

“He’s so tall!” she whispered.

Gil grinned. “He’s our one-man mountain. This way, dear.”

They couldn’t move as fast as before, because of the extra people and Paole’s burden. Serina caused a panic when she woke and, confused, struggled and cried out. Paole clamped his hand over her mouth and stared into her eyes until she settled. Yveni looked at him in approval and a little surprise, but said nothing, just signalled them to move on.

It felt like hours until they reached the door in the castle wall. As soon as they were in the open air, Markov gestured to the officer in charge of the waiting soldiers, and headed right back into the tunnel. Yveni only had time to kiss his youngest sister and whisper to her, and then he came to Paole. “Will you look after Serina until I come back?”

“With my life.”

“I hope that won’t be necessary. She needs Gil and Sofia, especially Sofia.”

“Aye. Good luck.”

Yveni smiled and ducked inside the tunnel.

“Want me to take her?” Gil asked.

“No. Let’s get them to a safe bed, and food and drink.”

Olana kept staring at him. Paole dropped her a wink and she giggled. “I like you.”

“Very good, Your Grace.”

They took horses, Paole still holding Serina in his arms, back to the inn, where a room had been prepared for the two vicontes. Paole carried Serina upstairs to the bedroom, laid her on one of the beds and covered her carefully with a blanket, keeping hold of her hand. Olana and the two maids stood watchfully by. Gil had gone to fetch his wife.

The innkeeper’s wife fussed around them, apparently determined to shoo the men away but Paole would not be moved until Sofia arrived. “Soup, mistress, thin if you please. And tea with honey. The child has starved herself to save her sister and the duchy.”

The woman clucked, her objections gone in an instant. “I have the very thing. I’ll bring it up directly.”

Paole left her to it and concentrated on the girl. Serina’s eyes opened and she panicked a little before she saw him and smiled. “Are we safe?”

“Yes, sweetness. You, your sister, your brother, your friends. Out of the castle, out of danger.” He didn’t mention Yveni was back inside the castle as she didn’t need the stress. “We’re bringing you some soup, and then you can rest again.”

“Just want to sleep now.”

“I know, but a little food will do you good. Now Yveni’s back, you need to be strong again.”

“H-how…did you bring him back?”

“It’s a long story and one he’s itching to tell you. He’s told me so much about you.”

“Me?”

“Oh yes.”

She smiled again, but it pained him to see how it threw the thin planes of her face into relief.

Sofia and Gil arrived as the food did. Olana ran to Sofia and squealed with joy. “Oh, my darling, darling girl,” Sofia said as she embraced the child. “Where’s…gods, is Serina sick? Serina?”

Gil took his wife’s arm and led her over to the bed. “She’ll be fine, but she needs to eat. The good lady behind you has the means. Paole…”

Paole gladly surrendered his place, though Serina followed him with her eyes. “Are you coming back?”

“Absolutely. Let Sofia feed you, and I’ll see you in the morning.” He picked up her hand and kissed it. “Good night, my princess.”

She actually giggled, a weak, tired sound but it lifted his heart. Olana gave him a hug. “Come back soon, Master Giant.”

He bowed. “Yes, my lady. But now I have to go. Gil?”

“Yes. Sofia, girls, stay here, stay safe. I’ll bring Yveni and Paole in a few hours.”

The two of them went downstairs. “Breaks my heart to see her like that,” Gil said, quickly wiping his eye. “She was a great beauty.”

“Will be again, if we can feed her. How long before anything happens?”

“At least an hour.”

“Is Yveni going to ask Konsatin to surrender?”

“No point. If he hasn’t challenged all these soldiers at his very doorstep, a request won’t make him change his mind. He probably thinks we won’t move until morning, so we’ll have the element of surprise. I hope,” Gil added with a wry grin. “I’m not a tactician.”

“You know more than me.” Paole looked back towards the stairs. “This family has guts.”

“Aye, which is why I’d have laid down my life for their father, blessed be his memory. Arkady was brave and true and intelligent, like his children. Konsatin’s not fit to lick their boots.” His lip curled. “Does it make me evil to wish that he loses his life this night?”

“If it does, it makes two of us.” He clapped Gil on the shoulder. “Come on, my friend. We have a vicont to find.”

Had his father ever been in this position? Yveni suspected not. Having Serina and Olana safe was an immense weight off his shoulders, but seven hundred soldiers were prepared to lay down their lives for him, and if he gave the wrong order, every one of them might just have to. Markov thought the chances of victory were high, because they vastly outnumbered the guards in the castle, but Yveni knew enough of history to know there was no such thing as a certainty in battle.

But the time had come to bring the crisis to a head. Markov’s troops were ready inside the tunnels, and the mind controllers had been infiltrated close to the gate guards’ position. All they needed was the signal. Paole and Gil stood at his side, loyal and calm and supportive. Yveni wished they were far from here, but was still incredibly grateful for their presence.

He raised his arm. A discreet ripple ran along the line of soldiers, while he held his breath. Paole put his hand on Yveni’s shoulder, warm, comforting. Perhaps he was weak for allowing it, but he did.

The crack and bang was louder than anything he’d heard in his life, the whoosh of the explosion making him rock back on his heels. A huge shout went up and guns blazed from the ground forces laying cover for those forcing the gates now the locks had been blown. Fire was briefly returned from the walls, but then the guns above fell silent—the mind controllers had confused the guards, and Markov’s men should have overpowered them. Yes, so they had, for that was the Sardelsan standard being waved from the ramparts.

“Time to go,” Yveni said.

The three of them ran for the exit. Farther ahead of them, unseen, Markov’s men should have already entered the residence, seizing control and searching for Konsatin. Yveni and the others were to follow, to assist in searching if the regent evaded them.

Inside the tunnel, the sounds of gunfire and explosions were muted almost to nothing by the heavy walls. Yveni wished he could know how the battle went, but he had to trust that his soldiers could take control of the Enholt troops. He didn’t seek the lives of those men, but he wanted them gone from his castle. It was up to them how much resistance they made.

“Yveni?”

He looked up, disbelieving his ears and eyes. “Konsatin!”

Konsatin, shocked as he was, stood with lamp raised, frozen in midstep. For a moment, Yveni thought he imagined the sight. He couldn’t believe the man looked exactly as he had the last time Yveni had seen him. The same sleek hair, disarmingly handsome features, the studied elegance of his clothes. Only the expression had changed, for instead of the easy smile, Konsatin’s face bore a snarling grimace. The regent stared a little longer, then turned tail and bolted back up the tunnel.

“After him!” Yveni yelled in fury. The bastard wouldn’t escape him that easily. Konsatin owed him a powerful revenge.

Faster and lighter, he could make better speed than either of the men behind him, so he saw Konsatin duck through a panel leading to the library. He had to hope the others would catch up with him, but he dared not lose Konsatin, now he realised the man knew about the tunnels.

When he emerged, he ducked instinctively as a bullet hit the wall near his head. He drew his own pistol, but Konsatin was on the run again, dashing along the polished wooden floors and fleeing through the far library doors. Damn. He’d had over two years to learn the secrets and layout of the residence and had put it to good use. Where were Markov’s men?

Yveni chased Konsatin through the corridors and up to the first floor, where the guest bedrooms stood, and the music gallery. “Konsatin, stop!”

Another shot, and then shouts from below. The soldiers, thank the gods. “He’s up here!” he yelled. “The regent, first floor!”

He couldn’t stop to see if the soldiers had heard him. He pounded along the gallery and flung open the doors to the music room. The window was open, the curtains still moving. He dashed to it, looked out, and a bullet sent a chip of stone from the wall into his cheek, cutting it painfully. He wiped it with his sleeve and tried to see where the man had gone. It was too high to jump down from here. Konsatin had to be in one of the bedrooms. Yveni held his pistol at arm’s length, ducking down and moving along the balcony, trying each window and quickly peering in to spot Konsatin’s lamp.

One of the windows was locked. None of the others had been. He smashed a pane with his elbow and forced his way in. A shot that came far too close confirmed his guess. “Konsatin, you can’t win. Surrender and you can leave the duchy.”

“Never, you little shit.”

A flash of steel was his only warning, and if his reflexes had been the least bit slower, he’d have lost his hand. He threw himself at the wall to escape Konsatin’s lunge and grabbed a vase to hurl at the man, momentarily confusing him. It gave him enough time to dive at the light switch, and while Konsatin blinked, Yveni drew his own sword and aimed his pistol. “Stop now, or I’ll fire!”

Konsatin’s response was to shoot, his bullet scoring a white-hot line across Yveni’s hip. Yveni stumbled with the pain and shock, and Konsatin leapt, swinging his sword down with murderous intent. Yveni blocked, desperation overcoming the pain. He brought his pistol up but Konsatin slammed his sword hand down hard on Yveni’s wrist. The gun fired as it fell, but Yveni used the momentary distraction to punch Konsatin in the guts and kick him in the shins. The man grunted in pain, but still managed to avoid Yveni’s sword thrust, and deliver a blow of his own, bring his fist and sword hilt down so hard on Yveni’s shoulder it numbed his arm. Yveni barely kept hold of his sword but couldn’t lift it.

Konsatin grinned, sensing victory. Yveni lunged for the pistol, realising it was his only hope, but as his fingers curled over it, a sharp, sickening pain shot through him. He fired the gun, the bullet going off harmlessly into the skirting board. As he slumped forward, Konsatin withdrew his sword, increasing the fiery agony tenfold. The regent smashed the side of Yveni’s head with his fist, driving him flat to the ground, then put his booted foot in the small of Yveni’s back.

“Well now, Your Grace. Looks like I win the throne anyway.”

Cheek pressed to the floor, Yveni couldn’t look up at him. His vision whited in and out with the pain. “Serina…never marry,” he mumbled.

“Perhaps not, but there’s always Olana. I do have a contract to marry, you know. But first, I need to dispose of you properly, like I should have to begin with.”

Yveni saw movement in the doorway. “Good luck,” he murmured.

Konsatin frowned. “What?”

“You’ll…need it.”

Konsatin hissed in irritation, then grunted in pain as a hundred and twenty kilograms of muscle slammed into him, threw him hard against the wall and then to the floor. Paole’s massive fists pounded Konsatin’s handsome face into a bloody mess, the sickening thuds travelling along the floorboards to Yveni’s cheek, until Gil moved behind him and told him, “Don’t kill him, Paole. We need him to hang. Yveni, are you…Paole!” Gil’s voice went sharp with alarm. “Leave that bastard to me, Yveni’s hurt!”

Paole dropped Konsatin with a thud, turned and knelt at Yveni’s side. “Hey,” Yveni whispered as Paole quickly checked his wounds.