Was he considering it?
Ice filled Catherine’s veins. Tzsayn was an honorable man, she was sure of it. But the safety of all the people of Rossarb was at stake. If he could hand over Catherine and Ambrose—two foreigners—to buy the safety of his people, why wouldn’t he? Her father had sold her to Pitoria as a distraction, a means for him to make war. Why should Tzsayn not sell her back to buy peace?
After an eternity, Tzsayn stood.
“If King Aloysius is so sure of taking Rossarb, let him try. Our walls are strong, our soldiers ready. I see this message as a confirmation that he knows his position is weak, not strong. He knows that he could attack Rossarb and fail. After all, he’s well known for failure in war, isn’t he?” Tzsayn’s voice rang out across the stone-flagged floor of the great hall. “I will not hand over my betrothed or her bodyguard to that butcher.”
Lang stiffened. “Prince Tzsayn, we both know your reinforcements have not arrived. We have closed the road from the south. We can take Rossarb whenever we wish, but many men will die, on both sides. That can be avoided for the price of just two lives. Send them to us and no one else will be harmed. You have until midnight to deliver them.”
Lang stepped to one side so the wooden box was in full view.
“As a sign of his intent, King Aloysius sends you a gift.” Lang looked at Ambrose. “He knows that the coward and the whore betrayed Brigant. And he knows who helped them. Traitors and cowards are equally damned.”
He pulled a metal bolt from the top of the box, and the sides fell with a crash to the ground.
“Look away!” Tzsayn snapped to Catherine.
But it was too late.
Within the box stood a large black metal cross on a stand. It was the height of a man. Attached to the horizontal bar were a pair of human hands, one on each end. Mounted on the top was a human head. The cross was constructed so that the opening of the box disturbed the metal contraption, making the head nod and hands sway as if alive.
The face was unrecognizable, beaten and disfigured, the lips sewn together, but the golden hair was unmistakable.
Ambrose staggered forward and dropped to his knees. The room was silent except for a strange keening, groaning sound coming from him.
Catherine had to look away. She wanted to forget what she’d seen. What must they have done to him before he died? Tears spilled out of her eyes. Her father had done this. How could anyone do this?
“Who is it?” Tzsayn asked grimly.
Catherine only just managed to answer.
“Tarquin Norwend. Ambrose’s brother.”
AMBROSE
ROSSARB, PITORIA
MY BROTHER is dead.
Murdered. Tortured. Tongue torn out, lips sewn up, hands cut off. All while he was still alive. And what else besides?
Through his tears, Ambrose saw Lang’s smirking face. He should have killed him that day in Brigane. He lurched to his feet, but Rafyon was holding him back.
“No, Ambrose. That’s what he wants.”
“It’s what I want too!” And he pulled free of Rafyon.
Lang stepped back, fumbling for his sword, but more blue-haired men blocked his path and pushed Ambrose back.
Ambrose tore at the men, but they held him fast.
The room was roaring with noise, but above it all Tzsayn ordered, “Get everyone out of here. And that contraption too.”
Lang pointed at Tarquin’s mutilated body. “It took days for him to die. I had the pleasure of watching.”
Ambrose roared in anger again, but the soldiers’ grip was unbreakable.
Tzsayn was standing now. “Get out, Lang! And think yourself lucky I treat you with more honor than you treated that man.”
Lang and his men retreated to the door.
“You have until midnight,” were Lang’s parting words.
And then they were gone and the doors were slammed shut behind them.
Ambrose watched as they took the metal contraption and the remains of his brother away.
“I swear I will kill them all,” he said to Rafyon. “Aloysius. Boris. Noyes. Lang. All of them.” He tore free of the soldiers holding him. “I will have my revenge.”
“I believe you, Ambrose. But now, please, try to calm yourself.”
But how could he be calm? His brother was dead. Who knew what Aloysius was doing to his father—left alone, two children dead and the last survivor marked as a traitor? He would take his father’s lands, take everything.
Ambrose screamed in fury again and then sank to his knees.
The next voice he heard was calm and quiet. Tzsayn knelt on the floor beside him.
“I’m sorry, Ambrose. For you and for your brother. Let me assure you that I would never send you or Catherine to Aloysius. I’d not send anyone to him; he’s a monster.”
Ambrose didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t think. He sniffed and realized his face was covered in tears.
“Catherine tells me your brother was an honorable man.”
Ambrose looked up at Tzsayn. “He was the best. The best brother, the best son.”
“He helped you steal the orders for the invasion?”
“Yes. With no thought for his own life. He only wanted to help me. And this is his reward.”
“I’m going to summon everyone back in. I need to explain my decision not to surrender. There may be some who consider two Brigantine lives worth giving up. Will you speak too? If you’re able?”
“I’d rather fight than speak.”
“There will be time for that soon enough, but for the moment I need your words.”
As the room filled again with Pitorian soldiers, Ambrose wiped his face and took some breaths to steady himself.
Tzsayn spoke first. “Aloysius has invaded our country, killed and maimed our men, and now demands that we leave Rossarb so he can do with it as he wishes. He insults Princess Catherine, to whom I am betrothed. He insults Sir Ambrose Norwend, who saved the life of my father a few days ago and has risked much and given up much for Pitoria. And, most disgusting of all, Aloysius has tortured and executed Ambrose’s brother, who risked all and gave all to help Pitoria. I’d like Ambrose to tell you about his brother.”
Ambrose took a few steps forward. He looked at the sea of faces and for a moment wasn’t sure he could speak. But then he thought of Tarquin’s smile and he knew what he wanted to say.
“Tarquin Norwend was the most honorable man I’ve ever known and a man I’m proud to call my brother. He was the gentlest, kindest, and most considerate of men. With his help I discovered Aloysius’s plan to invade Pitoria, and with his help I obtained the evidence of the invasion. My brother believed Aloysius was acting dishonorably by planning to attack a peaceful neighbor. But Tarquin was always honorable, and for that he has been tortured and killed.” Ambrose turned to face Tzsayn and said, “And I will avenge my brother.”
For the first time since the box was opened, Ambrose looked at Catherine. She was pale and dignified and holding tightly to Tzsayn’s hand. Perhaps that was as it should be. He no longer knew.
He had no tears in his eyes now. He turned back to the room and continued, “Aloysius insulted me and his own daughter, Princess Catherine. I was a soldier in the Royal Guard, sworn to protect her. I will never break that oath; that is still my duty. But her father, whose natural duty should have been to protect her life with his own, betrayed her and sent her here so that her wedding could be a distraction for his invasion. He is a fiend and never to be trusted. And so now I add to my oath. I will protect Princess Catherine and I will do all I can to fight for Pitoria.”
Tzsayn stood now.
“Some of you may believe we can negotiate with Aloysius. We cannot. His behavior is monstrous. This man, this honorable man, Tarquin Norwend, a Brigantine, gave his life to help us Pitorians. And we Pitorians owe it to him to fight on. Pitoria has been invaded by a maniac. He may frighten us, horrify us, and threaten us, but if we surrender we lose more than our heads. We lose our humanity.”