The Stolen Court by Megan Derr

Author:Megan Derr
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: bisexual, soldier, bodyguard, royalty, impostor, asexual
Publisher: Megan Derr

Tourmaline

It took him another five days to reach Tourmaline because of the stupid snow. He really, truly, and seriously was never going out in it again. He was staying inside, and Moons help anyone who tried to make him do otherwise.

When Tourmaline finally came into sight, he could have cried. This high up, the weather and terrain did the protecting, and the guards were minimal, to keep down the food and supplies that had to be hauled all the way up here.

Getting Kestel out would be easier in some ways, harder in others. They'd also still need to get him a horse and supplies, as Bertin hadn't been confident in his ability to deal with two horses on top of the mountain and his wounds.

He was still in the borrowed uniform, including the medallion, so hopefully the trick that had worked once would work twice, at least enough to get him into the fortress. From there, it would have to be guns blazing. It had already taken him two days longer than necessary to get this far; he didn't have time or tools for finesse.

Fortress Tourmaline was little more than a glorified shack partially cut into the mountain and built out with the excess stone turned up in the mining process, rough-hewn and hastily slapped together on the few days of the year where snow wasn't a problem. It was sturdy, but ugly. Serviceable but only barely.

Poor Kestel, he must fucking hate it in here: a prison without even the meagre comforts of a gilded cage, counting down the days until he died.

Bertin laughed. Who was he kidding? Kestel was probably annoyed as hell, but he was also smart, cunning, and above all, patient. Like Vellem, the only thing holding him back was likely the ability to secure supplies.

He pushed onward, slowly but steadily approaching the sad excuse for a gate that fronted the fortress. It wasn't a portcullis like the one at Bakkar, simply large doors to be pushed or pulled open as necessary, with a smaller door cut into one of them for easier individual access.

Though he hated to take his horse where he might not be able to get her back, Bertin couldn't leave her out here in the cold indefinitely either, sturdy though she might be. So he dismounted and held to the reins, walking carefully across the treacherous ground.

When he reached the door, he pounded hard on it, over and over until someone finally opened the slot near the top. "What in the sun's balls are you doing here?"

"Urgent message from Bakkar regarding their prisoner."

"What's the passcode?"

"People were shooting at us, do you think anyone remembered to stop shooting back long enough to give me a fucking passcode? Your mom's cunt, that's the passcode."

The guard inside rolled his eyes and slammed the window shut.

Bertin rolled his eyes, because insulting someone's mother shouldn't work, but it did. Every single fucking time, it worked.

The door opened a moment later, creaking and squealing the whole time, making Bertin wince.

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