Grace ran to his side. ‘It is not true. You are a good man and you have proved it time and again.’
Mandraxas gave a cold laugh at the subtle blow he had struck. But as his amusement drained away, he pointed a threatening finger at Will. ‘You think yourself clever, but the schemes of mortals rarely turn out as planned. And I have nothing but time to take the prize.’ He glanced at Jenny, but turned away quickly so Will could not see his expression. Then he grasped the hilt of the knife in his thigh, and, with a grimace, slowly withdrew it. Tearing off a strip of cloth from the hem of his cloak, he began to bind the wound. Jenny hesitated, glancing at Will, and when he nodded she hurried to help the one who had been her consort for so long. The Fay King watched her as she tenderly tied the cloth round his thigh, but if he felt anything it did not show on his face. When she had finished, Mandraxas muttered something that Will could not hear, and then turned quickly and limped towards the stone steps leading out of the chamber of mirrors.
As if in a trance, Will watched him go, still barely believing that he had plucked some kind of victory from the direst of situations. Once the King moved into the penumbra beyond the circle of candlelight, he turned, beckoning the others to follow him. ‘Come, my friends, we must make haste,’ he said.
Yet barely had he taken a step when a sharp gasp brought him to a halt. He spun round to see Mandraxas staggering back down the steps, one hand clutched at his chest as blood fountained between his fingers. Will gaped in shock. The King half turned, his yearning gaze finding Jenny for one moment, and then he fell to the flagstones, dead. Jenny rushed to him with a cry of despair.
In his mirror, Deortha was smiling.
‘What is this treachery?’ Launceston said, menace curdling his voice.
A figure stepped out of the shadows from the foot of the stairs, holding a blade that dripped gore. It was Strangewayes. The red-headed spy looked across at his companions with a cold face and said, ‘The only treachery here is yours. And now there is an end to it.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
‘Oh, Tobias, what have you done?’ grace cried with a sob, running to where Jenny knelt by Mandraxas’s lifeless body.
Strangewayes stepped over the King and swaggered towards the guttering candles. He pointed his rapier towards Will. ‘You, sirrah, should not have ignored me when there was an opportunity to prevent this outcome,’ he said in an icy voice. ‘Too long have you placed Grace’s life at risk with your reckless behaviour. But no more.’ He beckoned to Grace to join him. ‘Come — I will take you away from here.’
Dismay spreading across her face, the young woman shook her head slowly, taking a step back.
‘Come to me,’ Strangewayes snapped. ‘I am here to make you safe.’
‘No, Tobias, not safe,’ she said in a small voice, ‘for you have doomed us all.’
Stung, Strangewayes glared at Will. ‘She is still under your spell, I see, but soon she will learn.’
‘You know not what you have done,’ Will began, his voice hushed. He shook his head, appalled, then let the words drain away. ‘We thought you dead.’
‘You wished me so.’
‘Never, Tobias-’
‘I have saved Grace. From you.’ The young man’s gaze skittered towards Deortha, and in the look that the two exchanged Will glimpsed the truth. It must have happened when Strangewayes was taken prisoner at the fortress gates. The scheming sorcerer had seen an opportunity to use the pitiful spy in case Will should fail to kill Mandraxas. He cursed himself for a fool. If only he had heeded the click of the door opening into that chamber before Carpenter’s attack.
‘Whatever the conjurer has promised you, it is a lie-’ he began.
‘Quiet,’ Strangewayes roared. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a trembling hand. Will saw only a boy, reeling from events far beyond his ability to deal with them. ‘The King is dead,’ the red-headed spy said to Deortha. ‘I have done all you wished. Now let me take Grace away from here.’
In the strange mirror, they saw the sorcerer steeple his fingers, thin lips twitching. ‘Ah, but the terms of our agreement have been breached.’
Strangewayes gaped. ‘What is this trickery?’
‘Unless you reached another deal with this devil,’ Will said, ‘the agreement was free passage if I killed the King. I did not.’
‘You fool,’ Carpenter roared suddenly, turning his hopelessness into rage. Pushing Launceston to one side, he snatched out his rapier. ‘We were free. And now you. . you. . have doomed your girl as surely as if you wielded the dagger yourself.’
‘No,’ Strangewayes croaked, his face pale with disbelief. ‘I saved her.’ He looked to Grace for support, for her to confirm that what he said was true, but found only dismay and disillusion. He sagged, his rapier loose in his hand. A last drop of the King’s blood fell from the tip, colouring the stone slab.
‘The traitor has been deposed.’ In a triumphant tone, Deortha addressed the other Fay in their ethereal mirrors. ‘Though the passing of a brother is a time of sorrow for the High Family, now we may achieve what we have desired for so long, the return of our true Queen. Let our vengeance rain down on the world of men. Bring fire, and blood. Cleanse this world of the corruption of man, and bring our Queen home.’
One by one the mirrors misted as the Fay of the High Family departed until only Deortha remained. Will felt chilled. Only horrors beyond imagining lay ahead. Realizing what he had done, Strangewayes dropped his rapier with a clatter. He held Grace’s gaze for a moment, perhaps hoping for forgiveness, and when he saw none he turned and ran into the shadows.
‘Tobias, come with us,’ Grace called after him, but Will caught her arm.
‘You cannot save him, and you will only condemn yourself,’ he said, wincing at the hurt he saw in her face. But she stifled her grief and nodded, allowing herself one last glance into the gloom as she went to her quietly sobbing sister where she knelt beside Mandraxas’s body.
From his mirror, Deortha levelled his gaze at Will. The spy saw no triumph there, no contempt, not even superiority, only the icy satisfaction of a long-gestating plan finally come to fruition. Breaking the stare, Will looked from Meg to Launceston and Carpenter and nodded. The silent communication was more than enough and his three colleagues went in search of the door out of the chamber.
Will hurried to the two sisters. ‘Jenny, I am sorry. Truly I am,’ he said, his voice gentle. She looked at him. Her face was unreadable — pale, tear-stained. ‘And for you, Grace. But we must all grieve later.’ He swept his left arm out to direct them to the end of the chamber. Grace ran ahead, but Jenny turned back and pressed her lips close to Will’s ear. ‘I remember. .’ she breathed, and paused. ‘I remember a kiss. Under the great oak on an autumn evening when the leaves were turning gold. Our first kiss.’ And in her eyes he saw the Jenny he knew. She hurried after her sister before he could respond.
Carpenter and Launceston waited either side of a low, arched door. In a tunnel beyond, Meg had found and lit a torch and was beckoning to Grace and Jenny to join her. Will saw unease in the Irish woman’s stare. So close to victory they had been, and now they could all feel the winter chill of impending doom enveloping them, he thought bitterly.
He turned to Carpenter, but before he could speak the other man snapped, ‘No pity. For now, I have my own wits about me.’
‘Good. Then it is like old times, John.’ Will touched his torn cheek before clapping a friendly hand on Carpenter’s shoulder. He flashed a searching glance at Launceston, who gave a curt nod of reassurance. Ahead, the golden glow of Meg’s torch washed across the glistening stone walls, and the three men plunged into the gloom in pursuit.
As they scrambled along the low-ceilinged tunnel, they could hear the dull tolling of the alarm bell reverberating ever more clearly, each throb seeming to match the beat of their hearts. Torchlight flickered across faces struggling to contain hopelessness and dread.