Froi of the Exiles

above his head and held out a hand, drawing her to him, his body veiling hers from whatever it was that made her face flush red. Then he lifted her to him, felt her legs clasp around his waist as he knelt on the bed, laying her down. Gently he placed his hands on her knees and drew them apart, pressing his lips against her inner thigh.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, trying to raise herself.

‘Firstly, I thought I’d show you what a pity it would be if they cut off my wicked tongue.’

When Froi woke in the early hours of the morning, she was watching him. He raised himself, pressing a kiss to her mouth.

‘Happy Birthday,’ he said.

‘It’s the day of weeping,’ she corrected. She slipped out of bed and placed her cotton shift over her body. She seemed in a hurry.

‘My father’s agreed to see me,’ she said quietly. ‘Before he sees the Provincari.’

‘It’s too early,’ he said, not quite meeting her eye, knowing that by the time she saw her father, he would be dead at Froi’s hand.

She continued to put on her clothes without a word.

‘You need to get a dress from Aunt Mawfa,’ he said, needing to buy time. ‘You can’t go to see your father in that.’

Quintana looked down at her dress and then back to him, nodding. Then she was gone and Froi realised with an immense sadness that he would never see the Princess of Charyn again.

When he reached the cellar it was crowded with servants, chatting with urgency. Dorcas and another soldier were overseeing the activity.

‘What are you doing here, Olivier?’ Dorcas asked.

‘You’ve been demoted, I see, Dorcas.’

‘A proper lesson for losing the vessel,’ Dorcas responded.

‘She’s a girl, Dorcas. Not a vessel.’

Froi knew he’d have to wait. Quintana and the Provincari would see the King and then in the confusion of the Provincari’s exit from the palace, he’d take his chance.

Returning to the chamber he shared with Gargarin, Froi saw the rolled-up plans. They were tied neatly by a ribbon with the words De Lancey of Paladozza attached and all Froi could think was that the idiot Gargarin was off to see the King without his plans. Until he remembered that Gargarin wasn’t an idiot. Froi gripped the mattress, felt for the dagger, but it wasn’t there. He bit back his fury. An ice-cold finger of dread ran up his spine. He grabbed the drawings and ran down the tower stairs into the outer ward, dodging servants and soldiers. He saw Gargarin heading towards the fourth tower, pushing past those who stood in his way. Froi bolted towards him.

‘At it again, are we?’ he hissed into his ear.

Gargarin didn’t respond and kept on walking towards the soldiers guarding at the King’s tower.

Froi gripped his arm, forcing him to slow down. ‘You’ll fail!’

‘You want the glory, do you? To go back to whoever sent you and claim the kill was yours.’

‘No,’ Froi said with frustration. Three of the palace soldiers walked by. Froi and Gargarin nodded in their direction and continued without looking back. ‘But I can do something you can’t. If you can convince them to let me through with you, I can do what we both set out to do and get us out of this palace alive.’

‘Getting out of here alive isn’t part of my plan.’

Froi pushed him into a small hidden alcove in the wall, trapping him. ‘Listen to me, Gargarin. I’ve been trained to do this. You haven’t. Take your drawings, build your shitholes, but don’t give up your life for this.’

A hint of a smile appeared on Gargarin’s face. A softness unlike anything Froi had seen in his expression before. ‘Where did you come from?’ he asked, but it seemed a question Gargarin was asking himself and not Froi. ‘Will you do something for me?’

Froi shook his head.

‘I’ll ask you anyway,’ Gargarin said. ‘Give these designs to De Lancey of Paladozza. They also contain a letter of instruction to Tariq, the heir. If there is anarchy in the Citavita, promise me this.’

‘I’m promising you nothing, Gargarin. Tend to your own instructions and leave me to mine.’

Gargarin continued as though Froi hadn’t spoken. ‘Take my brother and Lirah out of the Citavita. Perhaps to Belegonia or Osteria.’

Froi was shaking his head, pushing the plans back into Gargarin’s hands.

‘It’s all I ask of you.’

‘Who are you to ask anything of me?’ Froi asked.

Gargarin was silent for a moment. He went to speak, but an ear-piercing scream echoed through the palace. Then more screams and shouts.

Froi raced out into the courtyard. ‘Quintana!’

Above, between the fourth and fifth tower, Froi could see the Provincari and their people disappearing down the stairs that would take them to where he and Gargarin stood.

Once outside, the Provincari hurried towards them. ‘Gar! Gargarin,’ De Lancey of Paladozza called out.

When they reached Froi and Gargarin, the Provincari were all speaking at the same time.

‘Stop,’ Gargarin shouted. ‘One at a time.’

‘Bestiano’s killed the King,’ the Provincaro of Desantos said.

‘What?’ Gargarin said, disbelief in his voice.

‘Where’s the Princess?’ Froi asked.

They heard more screams from the tower above, then shouts and orders.

‘Where is she?’ Froi demanded, grabbing hold of a man.

‘She arrived to visit her father before us,’ one of the Provincari’s scribes spoke rapidly. ‘She demanded to see him alone, but Bestiano would not allow it. He would not allow any of the Provincari to see him. He claimed the King had changed his mind. But the Princess refused to listen, becoming hysterical, screaming, I need to see my father on my own. Search me now. The Provincari insisted that Bestiano allow her to see the King on her day of weeping. They were frightened by her madness. One of the King’s Guard stepped forward to search her and when he was satisfied, the Princess ran into the chamber with Bestiano in tow and not even moments later we heard her screams. Heard her shout the words, Bestiano has killed my father!’

Gargarin spun around, taking in those crowded around them.

‘Go!’ Gargarin ordered the Provincari. ‘Get out of the palace. If Bestiano has control of the riders, he’ll hold you all as hostages to your provinces. Go now.’

‘What –’

‘Now!’ Gargarin ordered. ‘Take only whatever you have with you and get out of the palace. Arjuro will give you sanction in the godshouse.’ He shoved Froi forward. ‘Take him.’

Froi pulled away, shaking his head. He had to find Quintana.

‘Go!’ Gargarin yelled.

The Provincari hurried away except for De Lancey of Paladozza. Gargarin forced the rolled-up parchment into his hands.

The man shook his head. ‘We leave together, Gar.’

‘Go,’ Gargarin begged. ‘You need to prepare Tariq. Take him under your protection.’

De Lancey hesitated one moment more and then with a backward glance he hurried away.

Froi and Gargarin made it as far as the entrance to the fifth tower where they were met by Dorcas and another guard.

‘You’re to return to your chambers, Sir Gargarin,’ Dorcas said, agitated. Beads of sweat poured down his face.

‘Whose orders, Dorcas?’ Gargarin asked.

‘Bestiano’s, Sir.’

‘What’s going on?’ Gargarin demanded. There was no response and Froi wondered if the guard knew as little as they did.

The moment they reached the chamber, Froi raced out onto the balconette.

‘Quintana!’

He leapt over to her balconette, but he could see her chamber was empty. Froi climbed back to where