Chapter 30

Mirella shuffled into the kitchen, staring at the floor. Frederick needed to remind her to hold her head high. If she went about acting ashamed, the other servants might suspect something. He could not have that, or he would be forced to send her away.

Even now, Ercilia was eyeing the girl.

Frederick strode across the floor. “Did you lose something, Mirella?”

“Sire?” She lifted her head, questioning with her eyes.

“You gaze at the floor as if searching.” He smiled and chuckled. “It is best to keep your eyes up, otherwise you might stumble into something.”

He glanced at Ercilia, whose own eyes now focused downward on the bread she kneaded.

“Yes, Highness.” Mirella pointed behind her. “There is a man at our door. He asked to speak with you.”

“Who is he?”

“I do not know. I have never seen him before. N-Not that I look at the men who come here.”

Her foible in front of Ercilia would not go unpunished.

“Such a silly child,” Frederick said, laughing. “Go to the man and tell him I will be there momentarily.”

She dipped her head and backed from the room. No wonder. Had Ercilia not been present, Frederick would have soundly smacked the girl’s behind in a manner that was anything but playful. Mirella knew she had blundered. Though young, she was not ignorant. He had punished her failings before.

Once the girl left, Frederick wandered close to Ercilia. “Have you something you wish to say?”

“No, Highness.” She kept her attention on the dough, beating it with her fist a bit harder than necessary.

“When I am king, I shall move into my uncle’s castle. He has many cooks. If you want to retain your position, I suggest you keep your lips sealed in my regard.” He lifted a knife from the chopping block, then plunged it into the wood, close to the mound of dough.

Ercilia gasped, but kept kneading. “I know nothing but serving you, Highness.”

“Yes. You and your boys would not do well cast out like stray dogs. As you are aware, dogs that run amok and disturb me, do not live to fetch scraps.” He clapped his hands together a single time and chuckled when she once again startled. “You should get more rest, Ercilia. You seem a little on edge.” He poked a finger into the dough, then patted her fat face.

Her lips twitched into a crooked, forced smile. “Shall I cook more for your guest?”

“Until I am certain he is a guest, no. I will send Mirella to tell you otherwise if I find it necessary.”

“Yes, sire.” She bowed her head, then dusted more flour over the dough.

Ercilia might soon have to be overcome in a misfortunate accident. She had seen and heard too much over the past months, and Frederick could not risk being betrayed. Threats only went so far. He had to be certain she would not speak, but he would ponder how to carry it out later. After he discovered who was at his door.

Before going to the main entry, Frederick went to his bedchamber. He secured a knife to a strap on his boot, then attached his sheathed sword in place on his hip. He could never be too careful.

With confidence and caution, he approached the stranger.

The rugged-looking man dressed scarcely better than a commoner and reeked of horse dung.

Upon seeing Frederick, he bowed low. “Good day, Highness,” he mumbled and stood erect.

“We shall see. Who are you, and what brings you here?”

The vile man smirked. “My name is Roderick. I serve King Roland as a stable hand.”

“That explains your offensive smell.” Frederick rubbed his fingers over his nose, eyeing him even closer. “A man with your fortitude should be working as a guard, not shoveling dung.”

“I was a sentry for King Boden of Padrida, but I was brought here to serve your king.” Roderick’s grin broadened. “I attend whoever I am forced to, but I have only one true master.”

“So, you are a Crenian.” Frederick grunted. “I should have known. You all reek.”

Roderick’s smug expression practically melted off his face, turning into something more spiteful. “I came to offer what I know you want, and yet you insult me. You should be falling at my feet in gratitude.”

The man intrigued him. “Let me guess. Your one true master is God, and you have come to offer your deepest sympathy over the passing of my wife and child. Have I determined your purpose?”

“I thought you were more intelligent.” Roderick shook his head. “Ever since I arrived in Basilia, my eyes have been on you. I see and hear everything that goes on in this blasted kingdom.”

In two quick strides, Frederick had the man in his grasp and pinned him against the wall. Oddly, Roderick did not struggle.

Frederick put his face close to his. “Tell me why I should not run you through with my sword?”

“We hate the same man.”

Frederick narrowed his eyes, contemplating his long list of enemies. “Of whom do you speak?”

“Sebastian. The man who gave me this scar.” He turned his face, exposing a large mark on his cheek. “Release me and I swear, we will both be satisfied.”

Frederick did as he asked. Any man who despised Sebastian was likely an ally. “I will listen.”

Roderick craned his neck and peered around the entryway. “Are we alone?”

“Yes. I have few servants and no guards. As of late, I admit, I need to rectify that. Are you seeking a change of service?”

The devilish chuckle that emerged from the man, piqued Frederick’s interest. With the moon reaching its fullest tonight, Frederick had been praying to hear something from his uncle in regard to his decision to abdicate. Roderick’s unexpected arrival disrupted everything, but Frederick would not question God’s timing.

Roderick’s laughter died into a sigh. “I seek to serve you, but not as a guard. As I said, I serve but one master, and attend whoever suits me. My master and I want to crush Sebastian, and what better way than to stab him in the heart?”

“You will kill him?”

“Not exactly.”

“Damn.” Frederick let his shoulders drop and took several steps away from Roderick. His stench warranted it.

“Trust me,” Roderick said. “Death is too quick for Sebastian. A heart is better pierced by painfully taking away those he loves.”

“Go on . . .” His words sent chills across Frederick’s skin. He folded his arms over his chest and breathed slowly. Waiting . . .

“Tonight is the knighting ceremony at the holy temple. Jonah, who as you know is Sebastian’s friend and mentor, is to be dubbed. Since Sebastian’s departure, Jonah has followed King Roland like a shadow, but with tonight’s full moon, Jonah will be at the temple preparing for the rite. His mind will not be on protecting the king, it will be set on his own personal gain.”

The more Roderick spoke, Frederick’s heart beat faster. This could very well lead to something incredibly promising.

“Every evening before supper,” the man went on, “King Roland comes to the stable and fawns over his prize stallion. He speaks not even one word to me, and I am the one who covers myself in filth for the king’s daily pleasure. He will disregard me for the last time. When he moves to brush the animal’s coat, I will open his neck wide with my blade and stain the ground with his blood.”

Frederick could scarcely breathe. “You speak treason. How can you be sure I will not have you hung for uttering such words?”

“My act will place you exactly where you want to be, and it will further fuel the hatred your people have toward Crenians.”

“Of which you yourself claim to be. So, you will betray yourself as such?”

“No.” He bent down and reached for his boot.

Frederick unsheathed his sword. “Mind yourself, Crenian!”

Roderick held both hands in the air. “I merely want to show you the weapon I will use to carry out my plan.”

“Do it slowly.” Frederick pointed his sword at Roderick’s chest, ready to plunge it deep in the event things went awry.

Once again, Roderick reached down and unfastened a knife from his bootstrap. He stood leisurely with it, then set it across both of his open palms. “This is a Crenian blade. If you look closely you will see markings depicting it as such. It has been honed to such sharpness, it will cut through Roland’s skin as easily as slicing through a slab of butter.”

“So . . .” Frederick secured his weapon in its sheath and moved closer to the dagger. “I assume you will leave this behind as a bold statement from the Crenians? And of course, when I am crowned king, I will have to take action against them?”

“Of course.” Roderick returned the weapon to its place on his boot. “A king—that is—a high king must rule with a heavy hand.”

This all seemed too easy. “And what of you, Roderick of Padrida? What do you want from this? Gold? Position? Protection? After all, if you are discovered, which is highly likely, your head will roll.”

The man did not even blink at his bold remark. Instead, he cocked his head and grinned. “Did you know I had been watching you all these months?”

“No. I was unaware of you, until I smelled you in my dwelling just moments before our introductions.”

“I may be a large man . . .” Roderick splayed his arms wide. “But I have stealth. A talent I learned tracking game. I will not be found out.”

“Fine. So you do not need protection, but what do you want from this? And who is your master?”

Roderick shook his head back and forth, while shaking a finger in the air. “My master will remain nameless. As for what I want, along with the joy in seeing Sebastian break, I require funds. I will make myself scarce in Issa, putting together the final pieces of our plan. As you know, Issa can be quite expensive, depending on what a man chooses to partake of.”

“How would I know?”

Roderick jabbed his stiff finger into Frederick’s chest. “I told you, I have been watching. You fancy young girls.”

The remark slapped Frederick hard. His heart raced out of control. “I should kill you now.”

“Do, and all I have to offer dies with me. Allow me to carry out this plan, and no one will learn of your transgressions. I vow it. My master and I want to see you on the high throne. We recognize your fine qualities.”

Frederick weighed his options. He had no guarantee his uncle would step aside anytime soon. Roland’s death would assure it. And once Frederick ascended to the high throne, not only could he rule as he pleased, the people would insist he take a bride.

Angeline.

Merely thinking of her aroused him.

“Well?” Roderick let out a long breath. “Do I die tonight, or does your king?”

Frederick leered at him. “Cross me, and I will see to it you die painfully.”

“I have no reason to cross you. All my grievances are with Sebastian.”

“Tell me why you hate him.”

Roderick’s face contorted and his eyes darkened over. “He took something from my master, and thus seized everything from me. I have been reduced to shoveling manure, when I should be the lead guard protecting my king and reveling in wine and women.”

Frederick laughed, easing himself and his heart. “So, you will take the gold I give you and satisfy your lusts in the brothels of Issa?”

“Yes. In return, I give you the world. In my eyes, you are receiving far more. Your wealth will soon be endless.”

“Wait here.” Frederick calmly walked away, then hastened to his bedchamber, all the while wondering if he had made a terrible error believing anything the man had to say. Then again, what did he have to lose?

He paused at the window and peered into the heavens. If this was God’s answer to his prayers, it had come at a cost. Frederick hated parting with any of his gold, but it seemed even God had a price.

Frederick knelt on the floor and withdrew a locked chest from behind the bed. He glanced over his shoulder to make certain he was still alone, then carefully loosened a small brick from the wall, behind which, the key lay. The abundant coins inside the chest had been gathered over the years. Some had even come from his uncle’s chambers, taken when no one was looking. Frederick believed them to be rightfully his, so in that regard, they had not been stolen.

He filled one of Marni’s satchels with enough gold to buy Roderick his pleasures for at least a full year, depending on how many women the man required at one time. Eventually, Frederick would have Roderick found and killed before he could blackmail him into giving him more.

When he returned to Roderick, Mirella stood at the man’s side. Roderick bent over and whispered in her ear.

“Mirella!” Frederick fumed.

Her head snapped upright. “Forgive me, sire! I came to see if you and your guest required my service.”

“If you are needed,” Frederick hissed, “I will call for you. Trouble our guest no more!” He pointed at the hallway, and she scampered off.

Roderick laughed. “A poor way to treat your youthful lover, is it not?”

Yes, this man most certainly had to die.

“You speak too loosely.” Frederick extended the bag of gold. “If I deem it necessary, I shall order your tongue removed.”

“You will do no such thing. When you witness how perfectly I carry out a plan, you may want to employ me again. Remove my tongue, and I will not be so accommodating.” He opened the bag and peered inside. “This will do.” He stuffed it into his trousers. “Going forward, I highly suggest you mind yourself and your tendencies. The walls have eyes, and you never know who might be watching.”

A troubling thought, to say the least. Frederick assumed he had been careful, but Roderick had proved him inept. “Go before I change my mind and end you.”

Roderick sighed, carefree. “Are there any last words you would like uttered to the king?”

“Yes.” Frederick licked his lips. “Tell him his nephew sends his regards.”

Roderick bowed low, then left.

“Mirella!”

Frederick stormed down the hallway, choosing not to wait for her. He sought her out and drug her by her hair to his bedchamber. After proficiently beating her, he used her for his own pleasure.

She would not cross him again.