The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [8]
Wroat, Breland
Barrakas 20, 999 YK
Thorn arrived at the Cyran consulate as the final bell was ringing the hour. Footmen were preparing the royal carriage, hitching the team of stallions and polishing the brass. Thorn had become quite familiar with that carriage over the course of the past few weeks, ever since she’d been assigned to Prince Oargev’s security detail. When she’d been sent to the refugee settlement of New Cyre, she’d seen the assignment as punishment. She’d pushed the edge of her orders in her previous mission. For all that she was looking after a prince, he was a prince without a country; his current holdings were temporary gifts. Thorn and the three King’s Shields assigned to Oargev were more an honor guard than anything else—a show of Breland’s continued friendship with the last branch of the Cyran crown. As expected, the journey to Wroat had been entirely without incident. For all that Oargev was a celebrity, her skills were wasted there.
Something was different. There was a second coach in the courtyard, a drab vessel compared to the grand royal coach. Yet the prince’s footmen were preparing it as well, and Thorn could see a magewright inside the cabin inscribing protective glyphs on the floor. Then there was Essyn Cadrel. Dressed in bright silks, Essyn had the look of a bard, and that’s what he’d been in his younger days. Since the Mourning, he’d been Prince Oargev’s confidant. Thorn had quickly discovered that he was also the closest thing the prince had to a spymaster. Oargev was a passionate man, but he’d been raised as a noble and a knight, not a schemer. It was Essyn Cadrel who kept one ear to the ground and one to the window, pulling on the threads scattered across the shadows. If Cadrel was personally inspecting the coach, there was more to it than an idle delivery.
A man in the dress of a mercenary guard caught sight of Thorn and raised a hand. She didn’t recognize the uniform, but she knew his face. “You’re cutting things close,” he said.
Thorn grinned. “I was through the gate when the bell rang, Jovi. Lovely outfit you’ve got there. Did the prince dress you tonight?”
Jovi smiled and touched a finger to one of the spots of rust on the chain shirt he was wearing. “The old man did, if that’s close enough. And I’m guessing he’ll have some ideas for you.” He snorted. “I’ll wager you didn’t expect to be playing dress-up at the whim of a landless boy when you swore your oath to the Shields, eh?”
“True enough,” Thorn said. Of course, she’d sworn a different oath than Jovi.
Both Thorn and Jovi served the King’s Citadel, the elite forces of the Brelish crown. The Citadel was divided into multiple arms: The King’s Swords were the toughest soldiers in the land, called in when brute force was the only answer. The King’s Wands specialized in magic, including investigating mystical crimes, protecting the land from supernatural threats, and bringing arcane power to bear in times of war. The King’s Shields were the bodyguards of the royal line, trained to spot any threat and ready to lay down their lives to protect those placed in their charge, in the case before Thorn, Oargev ir’Wynarn.
Both Jovi and Oargev believed that Thorn served the King’s Shields and that she was there to protect Oargev. In fact, Thorn belonged to the fourth arm of the Citadel: The King’s Dark Lanterns. The Lanterns were the eyes of Breland, and its hidden hands—spies, inquisitives, and when the situation called for it, assassins. Jovi, Delru, and Lanner were there to protect the prince. Shield Thorn had to protect him too. But Lantern Thorn was there to watch, though so far, there’d been little to see.
Perhaps that night would be different. “So what are we dealing with? A decoy operation?”
“It seems the thorn is sharp.” Essyn Cadrel was an old man with lines around his eyes and snow white hair that fell to his shoulders. “Though I admit it’s a tired, old plot. Yes, his highness has an appointment on the island tonight with his noble cousin Boranel. The royal carriage will be taking Parliament Road to the Queen’s Bridge.