***

Royce’s head turned abruptly.

“What—” Hadrian began, but stopped when Royce held up a hand.

Getting to his feet in one fluid motion, Royce paused mid-stride on a single foot, listening. He waited a moment and then moved swiftly to the cell door, which admitted the light. He lay down and placed his ear to the crack at the bottom.

“What is it?” Hadrian asked.

“Fighting,” he replied at last.

“Fighting? Who?”

“I can’t hear the color of their uniforms.” Royce smirked. “Soldiers though. I hear swords on armor.”

They all looked at the door. Soon, Hadrian heard it, too. Very faint at first, like the rustle of leaves in autumn, but then he picked out the sounds of steel on steel and the unmistakable cry of men in pain. Within the prison, new sounds rose—the main entrance opened, shouts rang out, and footsteps echoed down the hall.

Royce picked up the sword he had brought and held it out toward Hadrian.

He shook his head. “Give it to Breckton. I doubt I can even hold it.”

Royce nodded, handed the weapon to the knight, and raced down the hall with Alverstone drawn.

Breckton left Amilia’s side and moved to stand in front of them all. Hadrian knew whoever was coming would have to kill the knight to get by.

Hard heels and soles echoed off the stone. A man cried out in terror.

“By Mar!” he heard Royce say. “What are you doing here?”

“Where is she?” responded a young man’s voice. Hadrian recognized him but could not understand how he could possibly be there.

Torch light filled the hall, growing brighter as footsteps hurried near. The group appeared first as dark silhouettes, everyone wincing at the brilliance. Hadrian raised an arm to shield his eyes.

“Alric? Mauvin?” Hadrian asked, stunned, then quickly added, “Breckton, STOP! Don’t fight!”

The King of Melengar and his best friend were leading a party of men into the dungeon. Renwick, Ibis Thinly, and several others Hadrian did not know, crowded the stone corridor. When Alric Essendon saw the prisoners, he wavered and a sickened expression crossed his face.

“You two—go back,” Alric barked orders to his retinue. “Fetch stretchers.” He raced to his sister’s side. “Arista! Good Maribor, what have they done to you?” Over his shoulder he shouted, “Bring water! Bring bandages and more light!”

“You’re not looking too good, my friend,” Mauvin Pickering said, kneeling beside Hadrian. Mauvin was dressed in shimmering mail, his blood-spattered tabard bearing the crest of the Essendon falcon.

“They have indeed treated you poorly, sir,” Renwick agreed, looking distraught. He was also dressed in bloodstained mail, and his face and hair were thick with sweat.

“I don’t understand,” Royce said. “Last we heard, Drondil Fields was under siege and about to fall.”

“It was,” Mauvin replied. “Then the damndest thing happened. The flag of truce went up from the vanguard of the Northern Imperial Army. A rider advanced and asked permission to speak at the gates. He explained that new orders had arrived along with a personal message to King Alric. If that wasn’t strange enough, the personal guard of Empress Modina had delivered them.” He nodded toward a palace guard who was providing water to Amilia. “His name is Gerald. Anyway, the message said that Regents Ethelred and Saldur were traitors, and they were keeping the empress a prisoner in her own palace. It also said the war against Melengar was their personal quest for power, and that their commander, Sir Breckton, was either dead by treachery or falsely imprisoned and awaiting execution.”

Hadrian started to speak, but Mauvin stopped him. “Wait…wait…it gets better. The orders commanded the acting leader of the Northern Army to cease all aggression against Melengar, extend the empress’s sincerest apologies to King Alric, and return to Aquesta with all haste. The messenger went on to explain that Arista was scheduled for execution on Wintertide, and Empress Modina requested Alric to send whatever assistance he could spare.”

“What did Alric say?” Hadrian asked Mauvin, as the king was consumed with aiding his sister.

“Are you kidding? He figured it was a ploy. Some trick to get us to come out. We all thought so. Then Alric yells down, more as a joke than anything, ‘To prove you are telling the truth, lay down your weapons!’ We laughed real hard until the commander, a guy named Sir Tibin—who’s a decent enough fellow once you get to know him—did just that. We all stood on the parapet watching in disbelief as the Imperialists made this huge pile of spears, swords, and shields.

“That convinced Alric. He told them that not only would he send help, but he would personally lead the detachment. We rode day and night and expected to have a rough time breeching the city walls, but when we arrived the gates were open. The people were rioting in the empress’s name and shouting for Ethelred and Saldur’s heads. We stormed the palace and found only token resistance—just some foot soldiers and a few seret.”

“Your sword has blood on it,” Hadrian noted, pointing to Mauvin’s blade.

“Yeah, funny that. I was determined never to draw it again, but when the fighting started, it just kind of came out by itself.”

“What about Modina?” Amilia asked. “Is she…is she…”

Gerald’s face was grave.

“What?” Amilia begged.

“There was an unfortunate incident in her bedroom this morning,” the guard said.

Tears rose in Amilia’s eyes. “Did she…”

“She killed Regent Ethelred.”

“She what?”

“She stabbed him with a piece of broken glass from her mirror. She escaped an attempt on her life and ran to the courtyard. She rallied the soldiers who were loyal to her. When we arrived, she was ordering her men about like a seasoned general. Her troops managed to open the palace gates for us. Along with the Melengarians and the Northern Army, we suppressed the remaining seret and the palace guards loyal to the regents.”

“Where is she now?” Amilia asked.

“She’s on her throne, accepting vows of allegiance from the monarchs, nobles, and knights—everyone that had come for the wedding.”

Men with stretchers appeared in the hall. Amilia turned to Sir Breckton. With tears in her eyes, she let out an awkward laugh and said, “You were right. She did save us.”