The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [179]
“Atté!” One of the boys shrieked, Anne wasn’t sure which one, and in the space after his cry she heard a peculiar noise, almost like rain though the leaves, but with a peculiar whirring to it. Jarné—who was riding ahead—clutched at his heart and jerked weirdly, then fell off his horse. Everything came into focus then, as she understood that arrows where riving the air around them.
“Go!” Artoré shouted, and slapped at Tarry’s tail. The horse started forward violently. Pulse racing, Anne lay close to the stallion’s mane and gave him his head. A couple of arrows hissed by her, so close she could feel the wind, and she wondered what it would feel like when one hit her.
As it turned out, it felt like a hard sort of thump—she thought she’d hit a branch or something. But when she looked down, she saw a long feathered shaft in her thigh. Just as she was wondering why it didn’t hurt, it began to, and her head went light.
Tarry screamed, and she guessed he’d been hit, too, though she couldn’t see where.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Anne gasped. She wasn’t sure who she was talking to. Everyone, she guessed.
Tarry kept running, and after a few long moments Anne realized the arrows had stopped. She looked back and didn’t see anyone at all.
“Artoré!” she shouted. Her leg was throbbing now, and she felt feverish and weak.
When she turned back around she saw a horseman, coming from the other direction.
CHAPTER TEN
OVERTURES
MURIELE WOKE TO SOFT humming. Sleepily, she opened her eyes and looked for the source.
“Ah,” a male voice said. “Good morning to you, Queen Mother.”
She went rigid when she saw that it was Robert, seated lazily in her armchair. Alis Berrye was in his lap.
“Get out of my room,” Muriele commanded.
“Well, it’s not actually your room, you know,” Robert countered. “It belongs to the Crown, and that belongs to me at the moment.”
Muriele didn’t answer, because there wasn’t anything to say. She couldn’t call for the guards, because they wouldn’t come. She looked around, searching for something—anything—to use as a weapon, but there wasn’t anything.
Berrye giggled.
“Come now, dear,” Robert said to the girl. “Off we go. I’ve some things to discuss with your lady here.”
“Oh, can’t I stay?” Berrye pouted.
“This will be grown-up talk,” Robert said. “Go into your room and shut the door.”
“Well—I will. But she’s been very rude to me. I think you should punish her.” With that, she got up and vanished into her quarters. Robert stayed where he was, stroking his mustache.
“That was quite a surprise the other day,” he said. “I commend you—I didn’t think you had the resources to even know I was coming.”
“Did you kill my daughters?” Muriele demanded. “I’ve no doubt about William.”
“Well, I can’t be two places at once, can I?” Robert challenged reasonably.
“No. But you can arrange for others to do your evil work. I imagine you wanted to kill William with your own hand.”
He laughed. “You know me so well, Muriele. Yes, so I did want that satisfaction, and you know? It was harder than I thought it would be. William was—well, he was right brave there at the end. A credit to our name. Of course, if he hadn’t been such an utter buffoon, it would never have happened. Even you have to admit, my dear, that he wasn’t much of a king.”
“He was a better king than you will ever be, and a far better man, you septic dement.”
He sighed. “As to your daughters, I didn’t order that, though I knew it would happen. William killed them, really, when he legitimized them to take the throne.”
“The praifec was behind it?”
Robert wagged a finger. “Ah, no, that would