The Rightful Queen--A Novel by Isabelle Steiger

Author:Isabelle Steiger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

* * *

THE COMMOTION IN the great hall was so widespread it drew even Almasy’s curiosity, though she hung back while Gravis moved to question the men at the head of the column. “Gregg, give me a report! What’s the meaning of this?”

Gregg gave his usual obliging nod. “Thieves, Captain. Down in the city. Guardswoman Bridger rounded them up.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Gravis said. “Thievery is a minor crime; they’re to be housed in a cell until tomorrow’s judgment. Bridger knows this. What is she doing?”

Gregg shrugged. “There was blood spilled in the streets, Captain. The blood of her ladyship’s guards, as well as civilians. Guardsman Bridger thought she would want to be told immediately.”

Gravis caught his breath. “Do you know how many were attacked? Was anyone killed?”

“There have been five reported deaths so far, Captain, and Guardsman Halley was seriously wounded. Guardswoman Bridger is helping him to—”

“Dent? Is he here? How was he wounded?” Gravis was already wading through the crowd; if Dent was with Bridger, he could just look for her head inevitably poking above everyone else’s.

Sure enough, he spotted her, and made his way to Dent’s side; he had what looked like a bedsheet wrapped around his arm. “Dent, are you all right? Gregg says you apprehended some thieves.”

“I’m fine,” Dent said, for what was surely the dozenth time, “and it’s Bridger who apprehended them, while I flopped about bleeding.” He kept struggling with the sheet, and winced as his tugging aggravated the still-unseen wound. “Bridger, we have to make sure her ladyship—”

“Is that them?” Gravis asked, as two men came into view behind them, hands bound behind their backs. They were both young and dark-haired, though one’s was much longer than the other’s. The long-haired one looked calm, almost resigned, but the other was palpably nervous, eyes darting every which way.

“They’re talented swordsmen,” Bridger said, nodding toward the long-haired one. “That one especially. Strange, though.”

“Why do you say that?”

“They seemed prepared to kill Guardsman Halley, but not me,” Bridger said. “Those they attacked at the scene of their initial crime were all slain, but the rest received superficial wounds, designed to restrict movement rather than to kill.” She glanced back at Dent. “Guardsman Halley, her ladyship is here. What would you have me do?”

Gravis looked up, and saw that it was true; Lady Margraine had entered the hall, calmly surveying the commotion. “Bridger, where are you? I’m told you have the heart of this tale.”

Bridger hesitated a moment, still looking to Dent, but she must have realized there wasn’t time to confer with him. She stepped forward, her stature easily drawing eyes. “Jill Bridger, from down in the city, your ladyship. Your pardons for disturbing your rest.”

“Yes, I know who you are, and I don’t care about my rest,” the marquise said. “Just give me the point.”

“Perhaps Guardsman Halley might assist me in the beginning of it,” Bridger said, “but I am the one who ordered these two men brought before you.” She indicated the culprits with a wave of her hand.

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