Chapters (76)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- PROLOGUE
- PART I
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- PART II
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- PART III
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- INTERLUDE
- PART IV
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- INTERLUDE
- PART V
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART VI
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- INTERLUDE
- PART VII
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- PART VIII
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
“Agreed.” Waleran retrieved a small parchment from his bags and placed it on the floor beside him, weighing it down with a cup. He stood and descended the stairs, pausing only when his head alone was still visible. “The name is Waleran de Beaumont. My second son.”
Then his head vanished and the sound of his footsteps drifted away, leaving only Myla’s retching into the wind.
“Clever fellow, that. Do you think he outplayed me?” John asked, but the girl was long gone from conversation. “His son. He never would have given that name if I hadn’t pushed him. I don’t care one shit who sits as Nottingham’s sheriff. He has no idea how small his world is, and how large mine is.”
John wished Myla was able to recognize how profound he was being. “Brave fellow, then. He sold his dignity in favor of his family. I’m sure there’s a lesson there we should all be learning if we weren’t so fucking sick right now.”
AFTER WALERAN LEFT, JOHN passed out and eventually awoke again, naked, freezing in the early night air with nothing to protect him. Myla was gone, and John chanced an eyeball over the edge to look for her body. Only colorless grass below. She might have rolled off a different edge, but he decided against caring.
He descended, entirely nude, into the barrel of Tickhill Castle. He brushed against Gay Wally, who had fallen asleep but pretended he had not. Only thirteen or fourteen, the lad had a knack for memorizing everything he heard. He also had a knack for leaning forward when he spoke and blinking too much. He’d been assigned to John to catch him up on every name, affiliation, and history of the lands he now owned. His real name was Walter de Gray, but John had decided such a name should only belong to an ancient advisor and not a milksop like this one. Gay Wally was a better name.
The boy sprang to keep up. “I need food,” John said, and Gay Wally made a few different faces in reaction, none of which brought any food. Wally was good at information, but not at fetching.
In the lower levels he found servants of the more useful variety, who had water warmed and brought to his chambers. After washing himself and redressing, his head was clear enough to consider the drunken promises he’d made atop the tower. He threw a wet cloth at Gay Wally.
“Tell me about Waleran de Beaumont. And take me to wherever it is the Baron de Busli eats.”