The Plan Commences
The Plan Commences
The Plan Commences
Copyright © 2019 by Kristen Ashley
Cover Art by:
PixelMischief
Interior Design & Formatting by:
Christine Borgford
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Table of Contents
Contents
THE PLAN COMMENCES
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Chapter Eighty
About the Author
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36
The Grieving
Prince True
Guest Suite, Second Floor, East Corridor, Catrame Palace, Fire City
FIRENZE
“We should give her another sleeping draught,” Queen Elpis said fretfully. “The last is clearly not working.”
True did not even attempt to hide the censure in his gaze when he looked from the weeping beauty that was in his arms to the Queen of Firenze standing at the side of the foot of Farah’s bed.
Elpis was as far from them as she could get at the same time staying close.
Her wont these past days when it came to Farah and her now-dead mother, Sofia.
Elpis’s eyes were swollen and bloodshot from her own tears.
Too little.
Too bloody late.
Elpis flinched when she caught his gaze.
“You may leave,” True rumbled.
“But, I—” Elpis started.
“You. May. Leave,” True said lower and slower.
Her head jerked before she lifted her chin and stated, “This is my palace. She is my subject. I am queen and I—”
“For thirteen more hours,” he interrupted her to note. “Then my cousin will be the Queen of Firenze and you will be naught but Relict Queen.”
She gasped in affront.
True did not give a gods-damn.
“You leave, or my men will remove you,” True warned.
“You cannot—”
“Leave, Your Grace, or my men will remove you,” True repeated, and Florian made a move toward the queen.
“They have no authority here,” she snapped.
“I am their prince, which means I will be their king and Farah will be their queen. Ask your son what authority that gives me,” True retorted.
He immediately noted she took his meaning.
Then again, after the attack on the palace that occurred not two hours before had been quashed, Mars—her son, her king—had not allowed Silence, his intended, to climb down from his back where he held her as he battled their assailants.
It was safe, and still Mars kept Silence as close to him as he could without absorbing her, something he could not do, or he would have done that instead.
Yes.
Elpis took his meaning.
Her face softened, and her gaze moved to Farah, who was in his arms, silently crying, her head turned toward True’s body, even if she was not holding him in return. Something that alarmed him and something he wished to address with his betrothed.
It was just that he’d do that when the bloody queen left.
“I am glad she has you,” Elpis whispered.
“It would have been good if she’d had you,” True retorted. “If they’d both had you.”
Pain sharpened her features.
Pain and regret.
But Farah tightened in his arms.
This was upsetting his intended.
Therefore, this had to end.
“Go,” he ordered the queen.
Elpis seemed to crumble before his eyes and True wished he didn’t care about that either.
But he understood regret.
The woman could not know her friend would take hundreds of bites from poisonous emerald oil asps and die in her bed under a pile of them before they could find their way back to a friendship that had been torn apart by treason and murder.
However, now he didn’t have time for Queen Elpis.
He needed to see to his future queen.
Fortunately, Elpis knew the only one who could look after Farah was in her bed holding her.
Thus, she gave up the fight and moved slowly from the chamber.
The door latched shut behind her.
“Leave us,” True ordered Florian, Bram and Alfie, the members of his guard who were in the room. The others, Luther and Wallace, were guarding it elsewhere. One, Luther, in the hall. The other, Wallace, outside, under the window.
“True—” Alfie began.
“Leave,” True said.
Alfie looked to Farah then to True.
“Magic,” he replied quietly.
Indeed.
The asps that had killed Sofia had been very real.
They had also been transported to her bedchamber through magic.
A bedchamber that had been Farah’s before her mother and she had switched in order to place Sofia farther away from Elpis’s room.
True knew all this.
As did Alfie and his other lieutenants.
But he could have fifty swords in that room.
They wouldn’t be able to fight magic.
“I’ll want you in here, guarding her after I leave. But now, we need privacy,” True told his friend.
“I think—”
“Go, Alfie,” True demanded.
Alfie hesitated before he nodded then he jerked his head to Florian and Bram and they walked out of the room.
The instant the latch clicked, True turned his attention to Farah, pulling her deeper into his arms.
Hers remained resting limp at her sides, her body lax, her tears silent, but still tracking down her face.
“Sweets,” he murmured. “Do you wish another sleeping draught?”
He offered it, for her sake, but he didn’t like the idea. They’d already given her a strong one.
“I need to rise, dress,” she told him, her voice dull and remote.
True grew more alarmed at her tone.
And her words.
Pain, he could understand.
Withdrawal was an additional concern.
“That’s the last thing you need, Farah. You need to rest. Sleep,” he refuted.
“I need to be in attendance at the procession.”
“The wedding won’t be for hours, love,” True murmured. “Regardless, it would be understood if you didn’t attend. And Mars might postpone it altogether after—”
Her head tipped back and True saw her eyes were just as remote as her voice.
This was not Farah.
Not his beautiful Farah with her shining topaz eyes that were always keen and alert and emotive.
“The torture procession,” she explained.
True blinked down at her.
“The what?”
“Did they take any assailants alive?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Then Mars will torture them, and all affected will go to the necropolis by the pit in order to watch them walk to their deaths. They will go by procession so the people will know those who attacked our palace, our king, will have no mercy.”
True grew even more alarmed.
“All?” he queried.
“All,” she asserted.
“Even Silence?”
“Especially Silence.”
Gods-damn it.
“She cannot—” True started.
“She must.” Farah made to move. “And I must.”
True tightened his arms. “You’re going nowhere.”
She stilled in his hold. “I must, True.”
“You must if you’re Firenz,” he declared. “But you are no longer Firenz. You are Dellish. And the Princess of Wodell does not attend a procession to watch torture after she lost her mother…or ever. You’ll take another sleeping draught and you’ll rest. And when you wake, I’ll be here, and I’ll help you mourn.”
She turned her head away.
True jostled her. “Farah.”
She looked at him again. “I am Firenz.”
“You are Dellish,” he asserted.
“I am not.”
“You are mine and I am Wodell.”
“I am not yours,” she whispered. “I am not anybody’s. Not any longer. I’m now actually of no one and nowhere. I am not Firenz. I am not Dellish. I am nobody.”
True’s alarm increased exponentially.
“You belong to me, sweets,” he said softly. “And I belong to you.”
“For either of those to be true, you have to wish it to be true, and you do not, Your Grace.”
Your Grace?
She hadn’t called him that since the first day they met, and he asked her not to.
“Farah—”
She turned away from him, pulling out of his arms.
“Bring me the draught. As you wish, I shall sleep.”
She slid down into the bed, settled on the pillow, her back to him, her knees pulled up to her chest.
True placed his hand on her hip and leaned toward her.
He tried again, “Farah—”
“Shall I call a servant for the draught?” she asked her pillow.
True didn’t move or speak. He stayed right where he was, gazing at her profile in the lamplight.
And doing this, he decided she needed time.
She also, as he had noted, needed sleep.
After that, she would need him.
Even if she did not think she did.
And she would have him.
All of him.
He took his hand from her hip, pulled her hair away from her neck and then he tugged the silks up to her shoulder.
Through this, she didn’t even twitch.
He then leaned ever closer and spoke in her ear.
“You grieve and speak through that grief. And I am at your side. You will sleep and you will wake, still in grief, and I’ll be at your side. I’ll see you through your grief, Farah, and I’ll do it at your side. I will see you past your grief, also at your side. I will remember your mother as kind and loving, and I will do it at your side. And then we will carry on with our lives, our marriage, building a family, and through it all, I’ll be at your side. You do belong to me, Farah. My future princess. My future wife. And in return, darling, I belong to you.”
He got ever closer, dipped his voice lower and finished.
“And as yours, I will avenge your mother, my sweetling. The one that caused your hurt will know his own pain. That is my vow to you as my friend, my betrothed, my future princess, my future queen and just mine.”
Through his speech, her body got tighter and tighter.
It stayed that way when he bent low and brushed her temple with his lips.
He pulled an inch away and murmured, “I’ll have a draught brought up.”
Then he exited the bed, moved to the door, opened it and walked through it.
“Get her another sleeping draught,” he ordered Florian after he closed the door. “Go in and sit with her,” he ordered Bram after Florian moved down the hall to the stairs. “But be silent and keep distant. She needs time with her thoughts.”
Bram nodded and entered Farah’s room.
True gave Luther a look and Luther remained where he stood outside Farah’s door as True started toward the stairs with Alfie at his side.
They did this dodging servants who were sweeping up plaster from the quake.
And mopping up blood from the bodies that had been removed.
“Do you know of this procession?” True asked the captain of his guard.
“I didn’t, until Basil came up but moments before you came out and summoned you to Mars’s study.”
“Aramus will not allow Ha-Lah to take part in it,” True guessed. “I wish to ask her to sit with Farah until I can return to her.”
“Ha-Lah is not leaving Aramus,” Alfie replied.
True looked to his man. “He can’t possibly—”
“They had a guard under their window. Catedrais was killed in the attack.”
This stood to reason. The assailants had breached the palace through the windows. And there had been a great number of them.
He thought it had been a miracle that all on their side had survived.
But True had learned a long time ago that miracles didn’t happen.
Especially in battle.
“Bloody hell,” True muttered, turning to walk down the stairs.
“The Mar-el are as us,” Alfie continued. “As brothers. Aramus is not in a good state, losing his man. His wife is remaining close.”
“And Mars?” True asked, now jogging down the stairs, Alfie doing the same.
“I do not know.”
“Silence?” True went on.
“I do not know that either, though Luther shared, as far as he’s heard, she’s not left Mars’s side,” Alfie told him as they made the first-floor landing.
“Has not left his side or he has not let her away from his side?” True inquired.
“The latter,” Alfie answered.
“Bloody hell,” True repeated.
They spoke no more as they made their way to Mars’s study.
Basil and Kyril stood outside it.
But the hall, both the east and west corridors, was laden with Firenz warriors as well as those from Airen, Wodell and the Nadirii.
Basil opened the door for them and True walked through while Alfie remained behind.
Only for True to stop dead.
Silence sat in Mars’s chair behind his desk. She was curled into herself, thighs to her chest, arms around her calves.
And she was still wearing her nightgown, which was stained thoroughly with dried blood. So much so, only streaks of white could be seen through the rust. There was dried blood on her arms. In fact, the only bit of her that had been cleaned was her face.
And her neck, which was mottled an angry purple with bruising.
At the sight, True felt his heart begin to race, his blood heating in his veins.
Mars was behind her, pacing, his angry energy almost a physical thing in the room.
All the others were there. King Aramus and Queen Ha-Lah. Prince Cassius and Princess Elena. Queen Ophelia and Princess Serena. Queen Elpis. King Gallienus. Select members of each guard. And a variety of barons of Firenz clans and chieftains of Firenz tribes.
True’s parents, King Wilmer and Queen Mercy, were also there.
But True was pleased to see his father’s counsellor, Carrington, was not.
Lorenz, the captain of Mars’s Trusted, was standing in front of his king’s desk, reporting.
“Those who were not found dead were found asleep or unconscious, draughts for the former, blows for the latter. The sergeant for this eve realized swiftly half the unit had not reported for duty at the changing of the guard. He sent warriors to discover why, and as you know, died on the palace steps, most likely on his way to Chu to raise the alarm.”
Mars kept pacing as he rapped out, “It’s my understanding the hour for the changing of the guard is modified daily so this exact occurrence would not happen.”
“It is,” Lorenz answered.
“So tonight’s hour was known to the assailants.”
“It was.”
Mars stopped moving abruptly and pinned his captain with dark eyes. “We have a traitor.”
Lorenz’s jaw was tight as he forced out, “We do.”
“Have they been worked?” Mars asked.
“They have.”
“Has the traitor been identified?”
“He has.”
“And?” Mars prompted
Lorenz hesitated but a moment to give his king a meaningful look.
But he did not speak.
Mars clearly read this meaningful look for his face turned to granite.
“He and the rest are being marched to the pits?” Mars queried through clenched teeth.
“They are,” Lorenz assured.
Mars seemed to realize then that True was with them and his gaze sliced his way.
“My sister?” he demanded of True.
“Your sister?” True asked in return.
“Farah,” Mars snarled, and True noticed Silence curling deeper into herself.
His attention returned to the king.
“My princess,” he corrected.
“Semantics,” Mars spat impatiently.
But True suspected he was less patient.
Farah in her state, Sofia gone, the attackers coming in through his cousin’s window, and his earlier thought proven untrue for it was a certain miracle Silence had survived.
Thus, he shared his impatience immediately.
“Absolutely fucking not semantics,” he bit out.
He sensed Silence’s, and everyone’s, attention sharpening on him, but he didn’t break eye contact with the Firenz king.
“I take it this means you’re finally claiming her in a way that matters,” Mars bit back.
“Do not try me, Your Grace,” True warned. “Not with my cousin sitting in a bloodstained nightgown in your chair with her neck black-and-blue and my future wife in her bed so deep in her mourning, she’s disavowed her country…both of them.”
A vein in Mars’s temple pulsed.
It took a moment before Mars declared quietly, “She will heal.”
“She will. Because I will see to it,” True returned. “In other words, Mars, she’s a bloody mess. She’s also not taking part in this procession.”
“As you’ve claimed her, that’s yours to decide,” Mars allowed.
“My cousin isn’t either,” True declared.
The atmosphere of the room became heavy.
He was surprised to hear his mother’s voice come first through the tense silence.
And he heard it when she simply said a warning, “True.”
True ignored her and kept his gaze to the Firenz king.
“As I keep telling you, she is not of your realm.”
“If she wasn’t, she will be within the hour,” Mars returned.
“I do not know what you intend to do. I just know you should not force Silence to witness it,” True retorted.
“That is mine to decide,” Mars rejoined.
“Actually, it should be Silence’s to decide,” Ophelia declared.
True looked to the Nadirii queen.
She had her gaze on Silence.
Therefore, True turned his attention to his cousin.
“Silence?” he called when she seemed to be lost in her study of the top of Mars’s desk.
“Mia piccolina,” Mars murmured, crouching beside her chair.
Silence turned her head to Mars.
“I go with you, my king,” she whispered.
Mars’s face lit with pride and triumph.
“Gods-damn it,” True muttered.
“Can she at least bathe and clothe herself appropriately?” True’s mother asked in a way it sounded more of a demand.
Mars straightened but he did it plucking Silence out of his chair and holding her to his chest but for a moment before he sat where his bride had been, now with her in his lap, still held close to his chest.
Once seated, he looked to Queen Mercy and answered, “No. My people see her covered in the blood of the vanquished, alive and noble in victory.”
“That’s frankly barbaric,” True’s father snapped.
“It’s frankly Firenz,” Mars retorted. “Which Silence will be, officially, this eve. But it is what my people, her people will see, the now. And something I wish to happen, soon, so we can see this matter concluded and I can wed my bride without delay tonight.”
“You can hardly see an attempted coup concluded within hours,” King Wilmer returned.
Mars slid his gaze to Lorenz.
True watched Lorenz tip his head to the side.
Mars returned his attention to True’s father.
“It seems I can.”
“Prisoners have rights,” Wilmer stated.
“Not if those prisoners are traitors,” Mars replied. “Not in Firenze.”
“You surely must hold tribunals,” Wilmer retorted.
“They wear the black, they storm the palace, they march to the pits under the eyes of their people, endure the necropolis, and sink in the tar,” Mars declared. “Do not worry, Wilmer. Their time in the necropolis will be short. They planned fortuitously. I don’t wish to dally in the necropolis. I wish to be wed.”
“So you’re saying you intend to wed my niece just hours after she suffered what she suffered in her chambers and you forcing her to watch you torture some of your citizens, then put them to death?” Wilmer asked in shock.
“I’m not forcing my Silence to do anything,” Mars drawled. “Mia bellezza made her choice and wielded her own dagger rather than running from the fight. She makes her choice now, seeing this matter through to the end, instead of hiding in her chamber. If I did not know differently due to the color of her skin and the stature of her frame, I would think she was Firenz.”
True studied his cousin as she sat silent in the lap of her betrothed.
She did not worry her lip, wring her hands or appear anxious, agitated or disturbed in any way.
She also did not seem relaxed and at her ease.
She simply seemed… dignified.
Or as dignified as a being could be, sitting in an enormous man’s lap.
This sent True’s gaze to the Firenz barons and chieftains.
At what he saw, he almost smiled.
Silence, enduring what she’d endured that night, sitting in a bloodstained nightgown in a barbarous king’s hold, crafty enough to use this moment to advance her station.
That was his cousin.
Nobody’s fool.
Fit to be queen.
Yes, he almost smiled.
True’s thoughts were turned from this when Aramus spoke.
“I will know vengeance, Mars.”
“What is your wish?” Mars asked, his tone no longer swaggering, but conciliatory.
“How many were caught?” Aramus asked.
“Seven,” Lorenz answered.
“My men and I will have three,” Aramus decreed, and Ha-Lah, who was already close to her husband’s side, got closer and took his hand.
Aramus’s fingers wrapped tight around his wife’s. Too tight. True saw it. She winced at the pain.
But she said nothing.
“You shall have your pick,” Mars murmured.
True turned again to Mars. “The snakes were another matter.”
True saw the lick of flame in Mars’s eyes before it extinguished, and he inclined his head.
“Is their aught known about that?” True asked.
“Nandra tried to trace the magic,” Lorenz answered. “She failed. It’s cloaked.”
“Leave us,” Mars ordered abruptly.
His attention was on his barons and chieftains.
True stepped out of the way as the men started to file out, and Mars commanded, “You ride in procession to the pits behind me and your future queen.”
He received nods and chin lifts before the men disappeared behind the door.
“You leave us too,” Mars demanded.
That, True noted, was directed to his mother and father.
“Just us?” Mercy asked.
“You and Gallienus. Yes,” Mars answered.
“Whyever would we alone be left out?” True’s father queried peevishly.
“You are neither soldier nor witch nor directly involved in the vanquishing the Beast,” Mars answered.
“We represent Wodell,” Wilmer returned.
“So does your son, far better than you. Now, I explained why you are to leave my study, when I did not need to. Don’t test my patience further. There are things to do and one of them is not answering to you,” Mars replied.
“I—” Wilmer began.
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