Daughters of Ruin by K. D. Castner

Author:K. D. Castner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry Books

“Get behind me,” said Rhea as they approached a pair of guards at the petitioner’s arch. They had fled down a long set of stairs that ran parallel to the massive grand entryway used for nobles and ceremonial processions. The stone-wrought stairs were for utilitarian use. When locals from Walltown arrived at court to plea for the king’s favor, or families of criminals came to beg clemency, they used the petitioner’s arch. Rhea and Endrit used it now, as they knew the garrison soldiers would pour into the grand staircase.

The guards at the door were king’s dragoons, not castle guard.

“What’re they doing here?” said Endrit as they approached. The hall was undecorated stone wide enough only for three men abreast. It was intended to make one feel like a mouse, skittering into the veins of a giant stone colossus.

On closer inspection, Rhea recognized them.

“It’s Joram and Lackwood. Just get behind me. They’re not supposed to be here,” whispered Rhea. Endrit stopped. She shouldered her way past him, putting her hand on Suki’s limp form as if she were a sack of potatoes.

The two soldiers must have been promoted to king’s guard recently. Up until then, they’d barely ranked as castle guardsmen. Joram had lost his nose more than a decade ago—in the War of Unification. Lackwood had lost both ears.

The wounds were no longer fresh and pink, and their faces no longer seemed to miss them. They had hardened and wrinkled into somewhat grotesque, mildly comical appearances. Her father wouldn’t have had them in the king’s guard for their looks alone. They were grunts.

“Stop,” barked Joram when they drew within a spear’s length. “Turn around and go back.”

Do they recognize me? If so, they made no bow to royal courtesy.

Rhea looked down. She was still wearing half a dozen royal seals—on her signet ring, in the embroidery of her dress, and on her house jewels. Even if she was tussled and splattered, they should have known.

“Turn around and go back,” said Joram, looking completely unfit in his crimson dragoon gear.

“Yes, we heard you,” said Rhea. The oddness of it still confused her. The dragoons were a small cadre of king’s guard. Is my father nearby? Is he hurt?

“If you heard him, then do what he says.” Lackwood stepped forward with his spear tilted. It was the wrong weapon for such tight quarters. Rhea corrected her thinking. A spear was only the wrong weapon if they were guarding against enemies coming from outside. It was the perfect weapon to hold extended in a narrow hallway, to keep people protected—or trapped—inside.

“We ain’t saying it again. Turn back now, Princess, and go to your chambers,” said Joram. His noseless face puckered when he sneered.

“Then you know who I am?”

“’Course,” said Joram. “Been wiping after you since you was weaning.”

“What are you doing, Joram? Is this some kind of jest?”

Are they seizing this opportunity for some kind of petty revenge?

Rhea had never been challenged. Both dragoons would be dead by morning if she chose. The men leveled their spears at Rhea and stepped forward.

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