‘At it again, are we?’ he hissed into his ear.
Gargarin didn’t respond and kept on walking towards the soldiers guarding at the King’s tower.
Froi gripped his arm, forcing him to slow down. ‘You’ll fail!’
‘You want the glory, do you? To go back to whoever sent you and claim the kill was yours.’
‘No,’ Froi said with frustration. Three of the palace soldiers walked by. Froi and Gargarin nodded in their direction and continued without looking back. ‘But I can do something you can’t. If you can convince them to let me through with you, I can do what we both set out to do and get us out of this palace alive.’
‘Getting out of here alive isn’t part of my plan.’
Froi pushed him into a small hidden alcove in the wall, trapping him. ‘Listen to me, Gargarin. I’ve been trained to do this. You haven’t. Take your drawings, build your shitholes, but don’t give up your life for this.’
A hint of a smile appeared on Gargarin’s face. A softness unlike anything Froi had seen in his expression before. ‘Where did you come from?’ he asked, but it seemed a question Gargarin was asking himself and not Froi. ‘Will you do something for me?’
Froi shook his head.
‘I’ll ask you anyway,’ Gargarin said. ‘Give these designs to De Lancey of Paladozza. They also contain a letter of instruction to Tariq, the heir. If there is anarchy in the Citavita, promise me this.’
‘I’m promising you nothing, Gargarin. Tend to your own instructions and leave me to mine.’
Gargarin continued as though Froi hadn’t spoken. ‘Take my brother and Lirah out of the Citavita. Perhaps to Belegonia or Osteria.’
Froi was shaking his head, pushing the plans back into Gargarin’s hands.
‘It’s all I ask of you.’
‘Who are you to ask anything of me?’ Froi asked.
Gargarin was silent for a moment. He went to speak, but an ear-piercing scream echoed through the palace. Then more screams and shouts.
Froi raced out into the courtyard. ‘Quintana!’
Above, between the fourth and fifth tower, Froi could see the Provincari and their people disappearing down the stairs that would take them to where he and Gargarin stood.
Once outside, the Provincari hurried towards them. ‘Gar! Gargarin,’ De Lancey of Paladozza called out.
When they reached Froi and Gargarin, the Provincari were all speaking at the same time.
‘Stop,’ Gargarin shouted. ‘One at a time.’
‘Bestiano’s killed the King,’ the Provincaro of Desantos said.
‘What?’ Gargarin said, disbelief in his voice.
‘Where’s the Princess?’ Froi asked.
They heard more screams from the tower above, then shouts and orders.
‘Where is she?’ Froi demanded, grabbing hold of a man.
‘She arrived to visit her father before us,’ one of the Provincari’s scribes spoke rapidly. ‘She demanded to see him alone, but Bestiano would not allow it. He would not allow any of the Provincari to see him. He claimed the King had changed his mind. But the Princess refused to listen, becoming hysterical, screaming, I need to see my father on my own. Search me now. The Provincari insisted that Bestiano allow her to see the King on her day of weeping. They were frightened by her madness. One of the King’s Guard stepped forward to search her and when he was satisfied, the Princess ran into the chamber with Bestiano in tow and not even moments later we heard her screams. Heard her shout the words, Bestiano has killed my father!’
Gargarin spun around, taking in those crowded around them.
‘Go!’ Gargarin ordered the Provincari. ‘Get out of the palace. If Bestiano has control of the riders, he’ll hold you all as hostages to your provinces. Go now.’
‘What –’
‘Now!’ Gargarin ordered. ‘Take only whatever you have with you and get out of the palace. Arjuro will give you sanction in the godshouse.’ He shoved Froi forward. ‘Take him.’
Froi pulled away, shaking his head. He had to find Quintana.
‘Go!’ Gargarin yelled.
The Provincari hurried away except for De Lancey of Paladozza. Gargarin forced the rolled-up parchment into his hands.
The man shook his head. ‘We leave together, Gar.’
‘Go,’ Gargarin begged. ‘You need to prepare Tariq. Take him under your protection.’
De Lancey hesitated one moment more and then with a backward glance he hurried away.
Froi and Gargarin made it as far as the entrance to the fifth tower where they were met by Dorcas and another guard.
‘You’re to return to your chambers, Sir Gargarin,’ Dorcas said, agitated. Beads of sweat poured down his face.
‘Whose orders, Dorcas?’ Gargarin asked.
‘Bestiano’s, Sir.’
‘What’s going on?’ Gargarin demanded. There was no response and Froi wondered if the guard knew as little as they did.
The moment they reached the chamber, Froi raced out onto the balconette.
‘Quintana!’
He leapt over to her balconette, but he could see her chamber was empty. Froi climbed back to where Gargarin was standing.
They heard a key in the door and raced towards it, but were too late. Froi hammered at the door. ‘Dorcas! Dorcas, find the Princess!’
But there was no response and Froi kicked at the door with frustration.
‘Why kill the King now?’ he asked.
Gargarin shook his head. ‘It makes no sense,’ he said. ‘It makes no sense at all.’
It was the longest of days. The waiting and the pacing and the fear for Quintana tore Froi up inside. Please let her be alive. Sometimes he pounded at the door, bellowing the name of every guard he could remember. Dorcas. Fekra. Fodor. And all the while, Gargarin wrote like a man possessed, quill not leaving paper until late that afternoon when they heard the voices crying out from across the gravina.
‘Gargarin!’
‘Gar!’
Froi ran to the balconette, Gargarin hobbling behind him.
Arjuro, De Lancey and others stood at the godshouse balconette.
‘Bestiano rode out of the palace with the riders,’ De Lancey called out.
Gargarin and Froi exchanged stunned looks.
‘You need to find a way out, Gar. The palace is unguarded and the street lords are beginning to enter. They –’
Suddenly a body flew out of the window above Froi and Gargarin’s. Screams could be heard from inside the chambers surrounding them.
‘Gods,’ Gargarin gasped, searching above and below before Froi saw him look across at his brother. Arjuro’s eyes were wide with horror and then more bodies flew past them, faces contorted, screams eaten by the air below.
‘They’re starting at the top,’ De Lancey shouted, wincing as another body of a soldier bounced off the wall of the godshouse. ‘Get out, Gargarin. Get out.’
‘We are locked in,’ Gargarin shouted back. He spun around, searching for an answer and before Froi could argue, Gargarin grabbed him and shoved him towards the wrought iron of the balconette. ‘You’ve done this climb before. Get to Lirah’s garden and have her let you in. When the street lords reach the prison tower, they’ll release whoever’s in there. Tell them you’re both prisoners of the King.’
Froi nodded. ‘We can both –’
‘No,’ Gargarin said. ‘No time. You know I’ll never be able to climb a step. You do this now. You don’t argue. They won’t kill a prisoner in the King’s tower. I don’t know how much time it will buy you, but it’s better than finding you here.’
‘But you –’
‘They may use me to bargain, but they will kill you in an instant. Go.’
Froi was shaking his head. The plan was bad. The plan meant Gargarin would die and Froi would never be able to find Quintana.
‘The Princess …’
‘ … is in all probability dead,’ Gargarin said flatly. ‘And if she’s not, she will be soon.’