Hannah dismounted and went to the door of the inn. It was stuck. She stood back and examined it. Stuck, not locked. Hannah drove her shoulder into the door, and it burst open with a squeal of protest. She strode inside.
The common room was empty and cold. Dust had settled on everything. It smelled of moldy food, disuse, and a fire long extinguished, the coals damp. A broken clay mug or two lay scattered on the gray stone floor. A mouse darted for safety.
The general’s aide entered and curled his nose. “I’ll get this place cleaned up right away.”
“Don’t bother. I’m going outside.”
“Princess, I must protect you, and I cannot if you go out there. Please.”
She pulled her purse and spilled coins into her palm. There were five small copper coins, half-coppers they were called, no matter which kingdom minted them. A half-copper was considered fair wages for a day’s work.
Hannah barked at the aide, “Stay here.”
She walked into the bright sunshine and found a bench to stand on. The crowd quietly watched her. She pointed, “Anna come here.”
The little girl ran to face her and curtsied. Hannah held up a half-copper. “That room needs cleaning. Will you help?”
Anna snatched the coin and ran inside. Laughing, Hannah pointed to an older woman, lines of age around her eyes telling of life in the sun. She held up the next coin. “Will you help Anna?”
The crowd started showing interest. A man near the front shouted, “I’ll help, copper or no copper.” He pushed his way forward, and Hannah tossed him a coin as he passed by her.
She selected two more, an elderly man missing one arm, and a woman holding an infant. Then she called out, “I think that’s enough to clean one room.”
A chuckle came from the crowd that had grown to a three hundred. Someone shouted, “I can groom your horse.”
Others chimed in with offers she rejected. The townspeople were agreeable to work. She carried several gold coins in her purse, more than what would be required to pay all of them a half-copper if she had a money-changer to accept the gold coin and turn it into hundreds of coppers.
Someone shouted, “Are you really going to end the war?”
“I am not your King, nor your Queen. However, I have come to make an offer that will end it right away if he is willing to accept.”
A different voice called, “What if he doesn’t?”
That was the question Hannah dreaded. If he offered to help or accepted her plan, it would serve both of them, a mutual benefit, so she didn’t see why he wouldn’t accept her offer. They could rule their kingdoms in the future secure in the knowledge that each would help the other in times of trouble.
All she had to do was convince him. He was her blood, part of her family, although she didn’t know exactly where she sat on the family tree. It didn’t matter, because she was the heir to the Wren throne, and that made her equal to King Edward. Superior, if she considered the state of the war between Peermont and Ansel. At least the people of Wren had enough food to eat.
She lifted her chin to address the question. “My job today is to make him agree.”
A woman near her shouted, “How are you going to get him sober?”
Another laughed and called, “Then you have to put clothes back on his women.”
“And silence his advisors,” a man called, to the laughter of all.
Hannah listened and shuddered. They were telling her what she needed to know. King Edward was a drunken, woman chasing, young man, in the midst of other privileged youths. His parents had died when he was ten. By age twelve he ruled. By twenty, his kingdom was falling into ruin. Then the war with Ansel began—no matter which side started it, or why.
She put the pieces together and realized the mission she set for herself wouldn’t be the obvious mutual benefit that King Edward would thank her for. If anything, he already resented it, and probably feared her. She had marched into his capital city and palace with an army at her back. His army.
She held up her hands to silence the growl of discontent rising. “I came here in peace. My cousin in Wren wishes me dead so she can wear the crown. I will not make promises I cannot keep, met I will tell you this. If I am Queen, I will join forces with Peermont to drive out Ansel—or perhaps I will join with Ansel to drive out King Edward. Either way, this kingdom will see better times ahead.”
A cheer went up. People began talking to each other in excited tones. Hannah hadn’t intended to mention defeating the King, it had simply slipped out, but in that instant, the will of the people made itself known. They didn’t like their King.
Another of the general’s aides ran to her and bowed before speaking, “Princess, your presence is requested at the city gates.”
She hoped the King was there to greet her and they could end the war with the public signing of a treaty, perhaps today. She strode confidently, walking as she thought a princess should walk, her head held high, a slight smile on her lips. The crowd cheered and followed.
Brice and the general stood to one side of the gates, at the forefront of the army. She saw nothing to indicate the King was welcoming her, and she didn’t like the expressions they wore.
She snapped, “You wanted me?”
Brice said, “Hannah, I want you to compose yourself and not lose your temper.”
“Do you think I will throw a tantrum because a weak King will not provide me an audience, even if it saves his ass?”
“No. The King has not responded, except to send his envoy to speak for him.”
Hannah balled her fists and placed them on her hips. “Then, let’s get to it.”
“Compose yourself, I told you.” Brice’s face had taken on a pale pallor, and he acted scared. His voice shuddered as he said, “Up there on the rampart above the gates is the King’s envoy.”
She turned. A man stood up there all alone, hands hanging limply at his sides, a wide smile on his face, his cruel eyes amused. It was the Captain’s son from her first voyage, the one removed from his own ship by his father. The one who had hired people to spy on her in Gallium. Her mortal enemy. Jam.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jam. The thought of the name made her nearly throw up. What’s he doing here?
In recognizing Jam, all hopes of a treaty with Peermont evaporated like morning mists near the river in summer. His twisted smile told the story. He was the emissary she was supposed to deal with instead of meeting with the King.
The smile did it. She walked closer, almost stalking him, until she stood so near no one else could hear their words. Her anger grew to a state where she considered casting fire at him until his clothing burst into flames. She considered using the enchantment on the throwing knife and letting it fly at his heart—if he had one.
“Jam,” she spat as if something distasteful had gotten into her mouth.
“Prin. Or should I call you Hannah?”
She forced herself to calm. “You may address me as Princess Hannah.”
“No princess I ever heard of got on her hands and knees and scrubbed the decks of a ship.”
“That is because you have never met another true princess.”
His smile twisted. “But I have a King’s ear. And I am his appointed emissary.”
Tiring of the conversation already, she said as her tone turned to ice, “Look over my shoulder, Jam. I have a thousand of your King’s troops behind me, and the residents of Calverton, as well. I will not negotiate with you, I will meet with King Edward—or his corpse. Today.”