Page 142 of The Turncoat King
He stretched out an arm and admired the feathers that danced up the sleeve.
“It is beautiful.” Ava didn’t mind if she said so herself.
“And not a black stitch in the whole piece.” Herron winked at her. “I wouldn’t buy it until that had been checked.”
“Very wise. I think we need to go to the queen now.”
He frowned down at the jacket on the table, but then nodded. “Yes. This was worth a try, but you aren’t going to sew a working for me, are you?”
“I’m afraid not.”
He shrugged, philosophical, and took the jacket off the table, shrugged into it. “Come then.”
“Do we need the guards?” Ava asked, lifting her bound hands. “You can handle me, surely?”
“I can, but—” He looked through the door, and she saw both guards had returned.
She had spooked them, before she’d realized the knock at the door had been her Grimwaldian trader, delivering her revenge.
“We’re leaving?” one of the guards asked, relieved.
“Yes.” Herron walked from the room, and she rose to her feet and followed him out the house, a guard on either side of her.
They walked along a main street, almost completely empty of people.
“Everyone is at the square,” the one guard said, and Ava heard the nerves in his voice.
He was just realizing the impact of this delay.
“We’ll make an entrance.” Herron sounded pleased. He kept stretching out his arms to admire the shirt cuffs sticking out from the jacket sleeves, or smoothing his fingers over the design.
“Incoming crowd,” a guard warned.
Ava looked up ahead, and couldn’t work out what she was seeing. It looked like . . .
Luc. With his blade at her aunt’s throat as he dragged her down the street.
She could see Oscar walking backwards behind Luc, covering his back as hundreds of people followed behind. She guessed Deni must be somewhere around, too.
“I understand why no one is attacking him on the ground, because he could easily kill the queen, but why isn’t someone climbing a wall and shooting him in the back?” One of the guards wondered quietly to the other.
“I think the queen had already arranged for him to be assassinated in that way.” Herron frowned. “I’m not sure why it hasn’t happened yet.”
“A stray arrow, or a poor shot, and the queen would be hit,” the other guard said. “I wouldn’t take the chance.”
“I don’t like him holding the blade to her throat,” Herron said. He sounded annoyed.
Ava wondered if it was becausehewould prefer to be the one holding the blade to her throat.
The shirt would bring out his hidden self. All his truths. Truths he would be desperate to share.
She had gambled that that version of himself would be far worse than his public face. Would in fact inspire her aunt to finally rid herself of him.
It looked as if the opposite was also true.
They were close enough now for Ava to see the fury and fear in her aunt’s eyes at her situation. And the calm and strength in Luc’s.
He actually did seem to have been shot a few times from the walls as he’d made his way down the street. Two arrows had caught on his cloak, and were hanging like snapped twigs. As she watched, another arrow flew at him, hit him in the back and fell off him.
