The duke swung his elbow around and caught the poisoner in the teeth, tearing his lip. Then he tackled the man to the floor and buffeted him on the face.
The dagger came stabbing at his side, right beneath the armor. The chain hauberk stopped it from piercing, but he felt the pain of the jab in his ribs. Alensson grabbed the man’s wrist and forced it down to the floor through sheer strength. The poisoner spat in his eyes, bloody spittle, and Alensson butted his forehead down on the man’s nose, breaking it. That finally stunned the poisoner, who groaned and went limp beneath the blinding pain.
The duke pried the dagger from his fingers and then brought the blade up to his throat. “Who sent you?”
The poisoner coughed and gargled something unintelligible.
“Answer me!” Alensson roared, pressing the flat of the blade to the man’s throat.
“Lord Bannion,” the poisoner said with a cough. “She was supposed to die at the wall!”
Lord Bannion was the king’s chamberlain.
Alensson was temporarily stunned: He knew who the order had truly came from. Was Chatriyon going mad already? Then he increased the pressure enough to nick the man’s neck with the blade. “Oops. I slipped,” he growled.
The poisoner’s face began to twitch in horror. Then the convulsions started to rack his body.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Abandoned
The Duke of Westmarch’s army arrived at Pree two days later, descending on the city like black storm clouds that promised to bring the lash of lightning. The rest of Chatriyon’s army had already melted away, but Alensson waited outside the sanctuary of St. Denys, a small burg on the outskirts of Pree, astride his horse, holding the reins of Genette’s steed, waiting for her to finish inside. She had demanded that he never speak of the miracle of her squire’s recovery.
“Shouldn’t we be on our way, my lord?” grumbled one of his captains, eyeing the road nervously for signs of outriders from Deford’s army. He stroked his graying red beard anxiously and glanced back at the sanctuary.
“Patience, Jeremy,” Alensson said, although it was a virtue he was struggling to find within himself. “She’ll be out soon.”
“I don’t have time for patience,” the soldier griped. The city of Pree was ominously silent, like a child waiting fearfully for the rebuke of an angry parent. The city had withheld the short-lived siege, but the many outlying towns, like St. Denys, would suffer the wrath for helping Chatriyon wage war. Alensson ground his teeth together, wishing with all his heart that the situation had been different. He had hoped they would already be in Pree by the time Deford arrived. How glorious it would have felt to repel him from the city. Unfortunately, it was not the Fountain’s will for his revenge to be satisfied.
“There she is,” Jeremy said with relief. “We cannot leave here soon enough.”
Alensson watched in surprise as Genette left the sanctuary wearing one of the royal tunics he had provided for her. She had gone in wearing armor, but it was missing.
Jeremy gave Alensson a puzzled look.
The duke watched her limp, seeing how her leg still pained her despite the scabbard she once again wore at her side. The Maid marched up to him, and there was an almost sour look of determination on her face as she took the reins.
“You left your armor?” he asked her softly.
Genette put her good leg up in the stirrup and winced as she mounted. “My work here was unfinished,” she told him. “So I left my armor in the fountain.”
That earned another baffled look from Jeremy, but Alensson nudged his mount closer to hers. “You put it in the water? To hide it?”
She gazed at him, eyes narrowing slightly, and then nodded. “The Fountain bade me to do this. It will be needed . . . later.”
“Will we take back the city of Pree then?”
She looked at him seriously. “Chatriyon will regain his palace, Gentle Duke.”
“We should be going,” Jeremy murmured impatiently. “Deford’s army is hardly more than a stone’s throw from us. Someone will warn him we’re still here.”
The Maid looked at the captain and snorted. “We are not in any real danger.”
She turned and looked back at the sanctuary, staring at the bubbling fountain set inside the doors. The sexton bowed his head to her from the doorway. Genette’s strength was returning slowly this time, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was because she was heartsick.
“Why did you send Brendin away?” Alensson asked her. “After the scabbard healed him? You will need a squire, Genette, even if you don’t have your armor.”
She gave him an enigmatic look. “Where I am going, I will not need one. Let’s rejoin the army.”