An hour later, Drake got his steamed crabs and pastries, hot and fresh. He ate hearty. He was going to need all his energy for his dramatic escape today. Especially after he rose from the table where he was eating in private, focused on the door, and stepped to it.
In a shower of spectral purple butterflies.
He could no longer regenerate. That was the bad news. He could, however, instantly teleport a good distance simply by focusing on where he wanted to go and taking a step. That was the good news, and the trick that might just keep his enemies from winning today.
Lydia’s fierce loyalty and keen mind had come through for him once again.
Drake spent the next hour alternating between fluttersteps and shuffling slowly around with his eyes on his feet. It did seem that this time, so long as he kept his eyes focused on his own feet, he did not flutterstep. He also managed to get better at stepping back and forth across the room, though each teleport still dizzied him and made him slightly nauseous.
Still, he wasn’t about to let himself be executed.
A firm knock sounded on his door. The guards had come to take him to the courtyard. What if he just refused to open the door? Could they even get in here?
The sound of the locks unlocking themselves once more answered his question. They must have someone with a rarity capable of unlocking locks from the other side of the door. The door swung open before seven capital guards all walked inside.
Four carried crossbows, all pointed at him. Two carried swords. The last carried heavy manacles, but he was not the man who had given Drake so much shit earlier today.
Instead, the guards were led by Inquisitor Grayson. The man who’d spoken to him after the kromians appeared in the cabal. Drake knew this man might listen to him.
“You escorted me to meet the Judge two days ago,” Drake said. “She asked specifically to see me because she wanted my help. The Judge also told me, in that meeting, that she knew I had nothing to do with the sea gate. You remember bringing me to see her, don’t you?”
Grayson shrugged. “I am going to shackle you now, Lord Gloomwood.”
“Dammit, Grayson, I just told you the Judge said I wasn’t responsible for the sea gate. She’s been tricked! There’s a thrall out there who can change what people remember!”
“You can speak words you don’t believe,” Grayson said calmly. “No nonsense you spew today will change your fate. However, I have no intention of offering you anything but the courtesy and respect afforded a manor lord... but only if you cooperate with us.”
If he didn’t cooperate, the Judge would raze his manor, and this time, he couldn’t just shift into a dire rat and eat everyone in the room. Plus, he already had a plan to escape. He couldn’t risk getting his knees broken. That would make it a lot more difficult to flutterstep.
Drake extended his wrists. “I did not plant the sea gate in the chamber. I did not send those guards away. I’m in here because the Judge offered to place me in protective custody so she could bait our true enemies into trying to kill me. Lord Frostlight was my protector.”
Grayson scoffed. “A manor lord outside your alliance agreed to cooperate with and protect you?” He snapped the heavy metal manacles on Drake’s wrists, linked by a thick chain. “If you intend to plead your case with nonsense, you should come up with better nonsense.”
“Ask Lord Frostlight’s blood thrall! The one that can create a bubble of awareness that tells them when someone’s nearby! That person will remember.”
“Lord Frostlight refused to name a successor before her execution.” Grayson pulled another pair of shackles off his belt. “Therefore, her former thralls have left for Frostlight Manor, where they will remain until the cabal chooses a successor.”
“Then ask Lord Skybreak! She knows about the plot as well!”
“Lord Skybreak has now been twice censured, first for the crime of illegally trading weapons and again for the crime of challenging the noble court,” Grayson said. “She is a good woman, and your words have done great harm to her. That I cannot forgive.”
“Dammit, Grayson, you’re being played!”
The man eyed him calmly. “Do I need to have my men pin you to the floor while I attach the leg shackles, or will you allow me to do it without a fuss?”
He scowled. “I said I wouldn’t resist, but I’m not dying in shackles.”
“We will remove your shackles before you take the stage,” the man said. “That much, we can offer. Your dignity. We will also have ten crossbows pointed at you at all times.”
Drake pointed. “Fine. Get it over with.”
This was too perfect. While Samuel would inherit Gloomwood Manor, Lords Proudglade, Mistvale, and Redbow would now have a majority when it came to choosing the new manor lords. They’d choose the new Lord Frostlight and then the new Lord Blackmane. Only Sky would stand against them... since they still had Lord Ashwind in their pocket.
Moreover, now that the allied lords had shown that they could defeat Lord Gloomwood, Lord Frostlight, and soon Lord Skybreak in short order, Lord Brightwater would have no choice but to side with them if she wanted to keep her own manor safe. That would give them five votes, which would be enough to install any Lord Frostlight and Blackmane they wished.
His enemies really were going to finally tilt the table. They would have control of seven manors, isolating Gloomwood and Skybreak and ensuring they could destroy both anytime they wished. He’d had no idea just how many plots they’d put into motion.
The enemy manor lords had planned for years for the scheme that came together today. They had used a dozen dirty tricks it would have been impossible to anticipate. Even so, there was one problem they could never have anticipated... Lydia and Samuel’s desperate and brilliant plan to help their manor lord escape.
No thrall would launch such a risky and desperate plan to save some asshole who enslaved them with blood magic. No sane thrall, anyway. Not without being explicitly ordered to do so, which Drake couldn’t do from here.
His people were awesome. If he got out of this alive, he was going to throw the biggest fucking party Gloomwood Manor had ever seen. For everyone. After all the bullshit they’d been through the past few months, and the years before that, his people had earned it.
The death march to the courtyard felt like it took forever, likely because it did. Drake kept his eyes focused on his feet. He practically slipped into a meditative trance as he walked the hallways of the Temple of the Eidolons surrounded by alert armed capital guards.
When a door finally opened to the outside, Drake squinted as the bright morning light flooded the hallway. He’d been inside so long it took his eyes awhile to adjust. Even so, as he was shuffled outside, he verified he was where he expected.
The courtyard for his execution was just as Lydia had described it. It was smaller than the big rectangular courtyard back in the middle of Gloomwood Manor, perhaps as big as a large school auditorium, and had a ground of cobblestone. Stone walls towered over them at all sides. They stood three stories tall, and multiple archers stood on those walls in clear sight.
There was a raised rectangular wooden stage at the end of the courtyard, and on it stood a man with a huge steel axe wearing a dark hood: an executioner. So they didn’t have guillotines here, at least not yet. They did old school beheadings.
In addition to the dozens of capital guards standing around him now, there were at least another two dozen guards around the edges of the courtyard. They clustered by every available door and also stood guard over the wooden seats arranged for those witnessing his execution.
He recognized the enemy manor lords—Proudglade, Mistvale, Redbow—all watching him with confident and spiteful eyes. Each had a second with him, and Proudglade had even brought Westin with him as his second. Interesting choice.
Drake saw Lord Brightwater as well, staring at the stage instead of him. And, of course, Lord Skybreak was in the courtyard as well. She smiled at him as he entered the courtyard.
She seemed unconcerned to see him shackled and on the verge of being executed. That suggested his people had spoken to her, too, and told her how he was going to escape today. Her confidence, in him, buoyed his own. Lady Skybreak was here as her second.
Drake still had Sky and her entire manor on his side as well, in addition to his own people. Every last one of them must know, just like he did, that he hadn’t committed the crimes of which he was accused. So unlike Lord Frostlight, who’d had no one, he had all sorts of allies.
It turned out being a manor lord who wasn’t a total asshole had advantages after all.
The Judge sat high up in a chair overlooking the courtyard as well. Her box was on a platform attached to the second floor of one of the three-story tall walls, looking down on everyone. As he approached the box, Drake glanced up at her.
“Hey, Judge!”
“Quiet!” the guard ordered.
“Our enemies can change what people remember with their rarity!” Drake called. “They changed your memories to make you think I committed a crime, so before—”
A guard slammed his club into Drake’s stomach so hard he doubled over coughing. He dropped to one knee, glared up at the guard, and then rose again. He ignored the burning in his stomach. It would take far more than one hit to keep him down.
He spit on the ground. “What happened to respecting a manor lord?”
The guard glared back. “Disrespect this court again and we’ll tear your tongue out.”
Having his tongue torn out would be annoying. He wasn’t sure it would grow back, not unless he had a regenerating rarity at the time. No more delicious meat.
Drake had said what he needed to say. As he glanced at the gathered manor lords for their reaction to his words, he was unsurprised to see he hadn’t gotten much from his last gambit before his escape. Lord Proudglade was still scowling. Lord Mistvale was still solemn. Lord Redbow was still grinning like a lonely prick with an unmarked white van full of candy.
But Westin... Westin?... was staring at him wide-eyed. He looked terrified. A moment later the expression vanished beneath fake calm, and Westin casually looked away as the guards marched him forward. Yet Drake had no doubt as to what he’d just witnessed.
Westin Proudglade had reacted to his shout. Westin knew something about this rarity that allowed someone to change what others remembered. Drake immediately decided he wasn’t about to leave this courtyard alone.
He couldn’t take Lydia with him. While he could carry her out of here, he wouldn’t put it past the guards to have her obedience fetish kill her if she left the courtyard. But Westin knew something about this rarity, and taking him would also give Drake leverage.
Gods. He wasn’t just going to escape. Today, Lord Gloomwood was also going to abduct Lord Westin Proudglade.
Again.
The guards marched him past the other manor lords and then to a step of wooden steps. A guard knelt there and removed his shackles. Otherwise, he couldn’t climb the steep steps. That was one problem handled. He’d solve the ten guards pointing crossbows at him from the ground all the archers pointing bows at him from above in a moment.
A guard thumped up the steps and motioned for him to follow. “Up, now.”
Drake walked up the steps. His heart was pounding as hard as it had been just before he’d turned into a dire rat and torn apart his captors, but it was good to feel more adrenaline than fear. He was afraid... who wouldn’t be?... but he wouldn’t let that stop him.
Once he stood on the stage, Drake turned to stare out over the gathered audience. Given he had yet to escape, Sky now looked a bit concerned. Lydia was watching him with clenched lips. Westin wasn’t looking at him at all.
“Lord Gloomwood!” the Judge boomed from above. “You have been judged guilty by the noble court of attempting to deceive the noble court! There can be no tithe, and you will pay for your crime with your life! Now, for the sake of your manor, meet your end with dignity.”
The guard behind him grabbed his arm. “To the block, prisoner.”
Drake glanced at him. “How about you go fuck yourself instead?”
Before the man could reply or strike him in anger, Drake looked back to the gathered manor lords... and took a step.
He smashed directly into Lord Proudglade. The two of them went over together as the man’s chair tipped backward, and Drake punched the shocked man several times in the face before he scrambled up. He then slammed his shoulder into Westin and flutterstepped again.
Westin slammed into the far wall of the courtyard hard enough to knock the breath out of him, at which point Drake spun with the man braced in one arm. Archers above had already pointed their bows at him, but they couldn’t shoot him without hitting Westin.
“Lord Gloomwood!” the Judge roared.
As shocked observers scattered in all directions, Lord Proudglade rose to his feet. A ball of literal lighting appeared in the man’s hands. His glare was terrifying.
“Release my son!” Proudglade roared.
“Hey Westin?” Drake said. “Don’t throw up.”
He looked up to the far wall, focused on where he wished to be, and stepped.
An instant later he nearly fell off the far edge of the three-story wall, and Westin, who was still too out of breath to struggle, actually did throw up. Drake barely noticed the wide-eyed gazes of the shocked archers on the wall beside him as he scanned the area below.
He immediately spotted a single small house with a banner on it bearing a wolf. The flag Lydia had told him Samuel would place upon its roof. Drake focused on the house as he stepped off the wall with Westin still clenched tightly in his arms.
He flutterstepped into the roof of the house hard enough that he immediately lost his balance. Westin gasped as he tumbled away. They both slid down along with a pile of broken tiles and slammed hard into the earth. That knocked the wind out of Drake as well.
A hooded man stepped from a nearby door and gasped. “You brought him?”
“He knows about changing people’s minds!” Drake wheezed.
Samuel pulled Drake up, then glanced back into the house. “Get Westin!”
A muscular hooded woman who just had to be Emily rushed out, punched Westin hard enough to make him bend in two, then picked him up and rushed back into the house. Drake heard guards shouting nearby, but unlike him, they couldn’t step over a three-story wall.
As he stumbled into the house, Drake managed a chuckle. “Well done, old man.”
Anna stood inside, anxious and blinking. “Will you come with me, lord?”
“Not yet,” Drake said. “Emily! Sit Westin’s ass down.”
Emily slammed Westin onto his ass hard enough he threw up again, then grimaced as she pushed him against the wall. She also raised her hand. Her spectral battle axe appeared.
“Don’t soul chop him,” Drake said. “We need him alive.”
“It is time for you to leave,” Samuel said warningly.
“I told you, Westin knows something about the rarity that’s been fucking with everything. It changes what people remember.”
Samuel reached into his robe and pulled out a black disc. “Then use this on him.”
Of course the old man had brought an obedience fetish. Samuel always came prepared. As Drake grabbed the disc, Westin managed to get enough breath back to speak.
“Clint, don’t—”
“Shut it, asshole. Emily, rip his shirt open.”
She did that, forcefully, and then Drake slammed the obedience fetish onto Westin’s chest in the exact same spot it had sat the day they first met. The sound of searing flesh sounded as Westin screamed.
Emily peeked out a window covered in boards. “Guards are coming, lord!”
Drake glared at Westin. “Westin, stand up and don’t say a fucking word.”
Westin stood, blinking. He might even be crying now. Too bad.
“Go now, lord,” Samuel said. “The others await you at the recall spot.”
Drake glanced at him. “We’re all going.”
“No,” Samuel said. “Anna can only teleport three people. Four will kill her.”
“I’m so sorry, lord!” Anna cried. “Order Samuel to let me teleport you all!”
Drake wasn’t about to do that. “You and Emily better escape, then.”
“I already have a plan for that. But if you don’t go now, we will fail.”
“Will you come with me?” Anna asked again, more desperately this time.
Drake glared at Westin. “Westin, say yes.”
“Yes,” Westin said quietly.
Drake looked to Anna. “Yes.” He looked to Emily. “Don’t die, murdermaid.”
She grinned wide. “Not while I’m having this much fun!”
He looked to Samuel. “Don’t let her soul chop anyone unless you have to. Once we prove my innocence, we’d still be guilty of murdering capital guards.”
Anna stepped through an open doorway leading deeper into the empty house. “Lord!”
“I’m going.” Drake looked to Westin. “Westin, walk through that door. After you get to the other side, stand until I tell you to move again.”
Westin, visibly miserable, walked to the door and stepped through. He vanished.
The door of the old abandoned house splintered as a mace hit it. Samuel dropped to the floor and pulled open what Drake saw was a trap door. “Go, lord!”
“See you soon.” Drake jogged for the open doorway.
The house vanished to be replaced with the interior of his armored carriage. He stumbled over Westin, who he had ordered to stand right where he arrived. Anna crouched on one couch inside. Drake pushed off Westin and pulled back to the curtain to see that they were already on the noble road outside Korhaurbauten. His thralls had planned for everything.
The carriage door swung open. Valentia stepped inside to check on Anna, took a look at Westin, and then glanced his way. “We did not know you were bringing a guest.”
“Target of opportunity,” Drake said. “Are we safe here?”
“Safety is relative, however, no one followed us out of the city. Sachi made sure.”
“We’re not leaving without Lydia and the others.”
“Of course not,” Valentia said. “What do you wish me to do with your captive?”
“For now, nothing.” Drake glanced at Westin. “We’re going to have a little talk.”
An hour later, Drake got his steamed crabs and pastries, hot and fresh. He ate hearty. He was going to need all his energy for his dramatic escape today. Especially after he rose from the table where he was eating in private, focused on the door, and stepped to it.
In a shower of spectral purple butterflies.
He could no longer regenerate. That was the bad news. He could, however, instantly teleport a good distance simply by focusing on where he wanted to go and taking a step. That was the good news, and the trick that might just keep his enemies from winning today.
Lydia’s fierce loyalty and keen mind had come through for him once again.
Drake spent the next hour alternating between fluttersteps and shuffling slowly around with his eyes on his feet. It did seem that this time, so long as he kept his eyes focused on his own feet, he did not flutterstep. He also managed to get better at stepping back and forth across the room, though each teleport still dizzied him and made him slightly nauseous.
Still, he wasn’t about to let himself be executed.
A firm knock sounded on his door. The guards had come to take him to the courtyard. What if he just refused to open the door? Could they even get in here?
The sound of the locks unlocking themselves once more answered his question. They must have someone with a rarity capable of unlocking locks from the other side of the door. The door swung open before seven capital guards all walked inside.
Four carried crossbows, all pointed at him. Two carried swords. The last carried heavy manacles, but he was not the man who had given Drake so much shit earlier today.
Instead, the guards were led by Inquisitor Grayson. The man who’d spoken to him after the kromians appeared in the cabal. Drake knew this man might listen to him.
“You escorted me to meet the Judge two days ago,” Drake said. “She asked specifically to see me because she wanted my help. The Judge also told me, in that meeting, that she knew I had nothing to do with the sea gate. You remember bringing me to see her, don’t you?”
Grayson shrugged. “I am going to shackle you now, Lord Gloomwood.”
“Dammit, Grayson, I just told you the Judge said I wasn’t responsible for the sea gate. She’s been tricked! There’s a thrall out there who can change what people remember!”
“You can speak words you don’t believe,” Grayson said calmly. “No nonsense you spew today will change your fate. However, I have no intention of offering you anything but the courtesy and respect afforded a manor lord... but only if you cooperate with us.”
If he didn’t cooperate, the Judge would raze his manor, and this time, he couldn’t just shift into a dire rat and eat everyone in the room. Plus, he already had a plan to escape. He couldn’t risk getting his knees broken. That would make it a lot more difficult to flutterstep.
Drake extended his wrists. “I did not plant the sea gate in the chamber. I did not send those guards away. I’m in here because the Judge offered to place me in protective custody so she could bait our true enemies into trying to kill me. Lord Frostlight was my protector.”
Grayson scoffed. “A manor lord outside your alliance agreed to cooperate with and protect you?” He snapped the heavy metal manacles on Drake’s wrists, linked by a thick chain. “If you intend to plead your case with nonsense, you should come up with better nonsense.”
“Ask Lord Frostlight’s blood thrall! The one that can create a bubble of awareness that tells them when someone’s nearby! That person will remember.”
“Lord Frostlight refused to name a successor before her execution.” Grayson pulled another pair of shackles off his belt. “Therefore, her former thralls have left for Frostlight Manor, where they will remain until the cabal chooses a successor.”
“Then ask Lord Skybreak! She knows about the plot as well!”
“Lord Skybreak has now been twice censured, first for the crime of illegally trading weapons and again for the crime of challenging the noble court,” Grayson said. “She is a good woman, and your words have done great harm to her. That I cannot forgive.”
“Dammit, Grayson, you’re being played!”
The man eyed him calmly. “Do I need to have my men pin you to the floor while I attach the leg shackles, or will you allow me to do it without a fuss?”
He scowled. “I said I wouldn’t resist, but I’m not dying in shackles.”
“We will remove your shackles before you take the stage,” the man said. “That much, we can offer. Your dignity. We will also have ten crossbows pointed at you at all times.”
Drake pointed. “Fine. Get it over with.”
This was too perfect. While Samuel would inherit Gloomwood Manor, Lords Proudglade, Mistvale, and Redbow would now have a majority when it came to choosing the new manor lords. They’d choose the new Lord Frostlight and then the new Lord Blackmane. Only Sky would stand against them... since they still had Lord Ashwind in their pocket.
Moreover, now that the allied lords had shown that they could defeat Lord Gloomwood, Lord Frostlight, and soon Lord Skybreak in short order, Lord Brightwater would have no choice but to side with them if she wanted to keep her own manor safe. That would give them five votes, which would be enough to install any Lord Frostlight and Blackmane they wished.
His enemies really were going to finally tilt the table. They would have control of seven manors, isolating Gloomwood and Skybreak and ensuring they could destroy both anytime they wished. He’d had no idea just how many plots they’d put into motion.
The enemy manor lords had planned for years for the scheme that came together today. They had used a dozen dirty tricks it would have been impossible to anticipate. Even so, there was one problem they could never have anticipated... Lydia and Samuel’s desperate and brilliant plan to help their manor lord escape.
No thrall would launch such a risky and desperate plan to save some asshole who enslaved them with blood magic. No sane thrall, anyway. Not without being explicitly ordered to do so, which Drake couldn’t do from here.
His people were awesome. If he got out of this alive, he was going to throw the biggest fucking party Gloomwood Manor had ever seen. For everyone. After all the bullshit they’d been through the past few months, and the years before that, his people had earned it.
The death march to the courtyard felt like it took forever, likely because it did. Drake kept his eyes focused on his feet. He practically slipped into a meditative trance as he walked the hallways of the Temple of the Eidolons surrounded by alert armed capital guards.
When a door finally opened to the outside, Drake squinted as the bright morning light flooded the hallway. He’d been inside so long it took his eyes awhile to adjust. Even so, as he was shuffled outside, he verified he was where he expected.
The courtyard for his execution was just as Lydia had described it. It was smaller than the big rectangular courtyard back in the middle of Gloomwood Manor, perhaps as big as a large school auditorium, and had a ground of cobblestone. Stone walls towered over them at all sides. They stood three stories tall, and multiple archers stood on those walls in clear sight.
There was a raised rectangular wooden stage at the end of the courtyard, and on it stood a man with a huge steel axe wearing a dark hood: an executioner. So they didn’t have guillotines here, at least not yet. They did old school beheadings.
In addition to the dozens of capital guards standing around him now, there were at least another two dozen guards around the edges of the courtyard. They clustered by every available door and also stood guard over the wooden seats arranged for those witnessing his execution.
He recognized the enemy manor lords—Proudglade, Mistvale, Redbow—all watching him with confident and spiteful eyes. Each had a second with him, and Proudglade had even brought Westin with him as his second. Interesting choice.
Drake saw Lord Brightwater as well, staring at the stage instead of him. And, of course, Lord Skybreak was in the courtyard as well. She smiled at him as he entered the courtyard.
She seemed unconcerned to see him shackled and on the verge of being executed. That suggested his people had spoken to her, too, and told her how he was going to escape today. Her confidence, in him, buoyed his own. Lady Skybreak was here as her second.
Drake still had Sky and her entire manor on his side as well, in addition to his own people. Every last one of them must know, just like he did, that he hadn’t committed the crimes of which he was accused. So unlike Lord Frostlight, who’d had no one, he had all sorts of allies.
It turned out being a manor lord who wasn’t a total asshole had advantages after all.
The Judge sat high up in a chair overlooking the courtyard as well. Her box was on a platform attached to the second floor of one of the three-story tall walls, looking down on everyone. As he approached the box, Drake glanced up at her.
“Hey, Judge!”
“Quiet!” the guard ordered.
“Our enemies can change what people remember with their rarity!” Drake called. “They changed your memories to make you think I committed a crime, so before—”
A guard slammed his club into Drake’s stomach so hard he doubled over coughing. He dropped to one knee, glared up at the guard, and then rose again. He ignored the burning in his stomach. It would take far more than one hit to keep him down.
He spit on the ground. “What happened to respecting a manor lord?”
The guard glared back. “Disrespect this court again and we’ll tear your tongue out.”
Having his tongue torn out would be annoying. He wasn’t sure it would grow back, not unless he had a regenerating rarity at the time. No more delicious meat.
Drake had said what he needed to say. As he glanced at the gathered manor lords for their reaction to his words, he was unsurprised to see he hadn’t gotten much from his last gambit before his escape. Lord Proudglade was still scowling. Lord Mistvale was still solemn. Lord Redbow was still grinning like a lonely prick with an unmarked white van full of candy.
But Westin... Westin?... was staring at him wide-eyed. He looked terrified. A moment later the expression vanished beneath fake calm, and Westin casually looked away as the guards marched him forward. Yet Drake had no doubt as to what he’d just witnessed.
Westin Proudglade had reacted to his shout. Westin knew something about this rarity that allowed someone to change what others remembered. Drake immediately decided he wasn’t about to leave this courtyard alone.
He couldn’t take Lydia with him. While he could carry her out of here, he wouldn’t put it past the guards to have her obedience fetish kill her if she left the courtyard. But Westin knew something about this rarity, and taking him would also give Drake leverage.
Gods. He wasn’t just going to escape. Today, Lord Gloomwood was also going to abduct Lord Westin Proudglade.
Again.
The guards marched him past the other manor lords and then to a step of wooden steps. A guard knelt there and removed his shackles. Otherwise, he couldn’t climb the steep steps. That was one problem handled. He’d solve the ten guards pointing crossbows at him from the ground all the archers pointing bows at him from above in a moment.
A guard thumped up the steps and motioned for him to follow. “Up, now.”
Drake walked up the steps. His heart was pounding as hard as it had been just before he’d turned into a dire rat and torn apart his captors, but it was good to feel more adrenaline than fear. He was afraid... who wouldn’t be?... but he wouldn’t let that stop him.
Once he stood on the stage, Drake turned to stare out over the gathered audience. Given he had yet to escape, Sky now looked a bit concerned. Lydia was watching him with clenched lips. Westin wasn’t looking at him at all.
“Lord Gloomwood!” the Judge boomed from above. “You have been judged guilty by the noble court of attempting to deceive the noble court! There can be no tithe, and you will pay for your crime with your life! Now, for the sake of your manor, meet your end with dignity.”
The guard behind him grabbed his arm. “To the block, prisoner.”
Drake glanced at him. “How about you go fuck yourself instead?”
Before the man could reply or strike him in anger, Drake looked back to the gathered manor lords... and took a step.
He smashed directly into Lord Proudglade. The two of them went over together as the man’s chair tipped backward, and Drake punched the shocked man several times in the face before he scrambled up. He then slammed his shoulder into Westin and flutterstepped again.
Westin slammed into the far wall of the courtyard hard enough to knock the breath out of him, at which point Drake spun with the man braced in one arm. Archers above had already pointed their bows at him, but they couldn’t shoot him without hitting Westin.
“Lord Gloomwood!” the Judge roared.
As shocked observers scattered in all directions, Lord Proudglade rose to his feet. A ball of literal lighting appeared in the man’s hands. His glare was terrifying.
“Release my son!” Proudglade roared.
“Hey Westin?” Drake said. “Don’t throw up.”
He looked up to the far wall, focused on where he wished to be, and stepped.
An instant later he nearly fell off the far edge of the three-story wall, and Westin, who was still too out of breath to struggle, actually did throw up. Drake barely noticed the wide-eyed gazes of the shocked archers on the wall beside him as he scanned the area below.
He immediately spotted a single small house with a banner on it bearing a wolf. The flag Lydia had told him Samuel would place upon its roof. Drake focused on the house as he stepped off the wall with Westin still clenched tightly in his arms.
He flutterstepped into the roof of the house hard enough that he immediately lost his balance. Westin gasped as he tumbled away. They both slid down along with a pile of broken tiles and slammed hard into the earth. That knocked the wind out of Drake as well.
A hooded man stepped from a nearby door and gasped. “You brought him?”
“He knows about changing people’s minds!” Drake wheezed.
Samuel pulled Drake up, then glanced back into the house. “Get Westin!”
A muscular hooded woman who just had to be Emily rushed out, punched Westin hard enough to make him bend in two, then picked him up and rushed back into the house. Drake heard guards shouting nearby, but unlike him, they couldn’t step over a three-story wall.
As he stumbled into the house, Drake managed a chuckle. “Well done, old man.”
Anna stood inside, anxious and blinking. “Will you come with me, lord?”
“Not yet,” Drake said. “Emily! Sit Westin’s ass down.”
Emily slammed Westin onto his ass hard enough he threw up again, then grimaced as she pushed him against the wall. She also raised her hand. Her spectral battle axe appeared.
“Don’t soul chop him,” Drake said. “We need him alive.”
“It is time for you to leave,” Samuel said warningly.
“I told you, Westin knows something about the rarity that’s been fucking with everything. It changes what people remember.”
Samuel reached into his robe and pulled out a black disc. “Then use this on him.”
Of course the old man had brought an obedience fetish. Samuel always came prepared. As Drake grabbed the disc, Westin managed to get enough breath back to speak.
“Clint, don’t—”
“Shut it, asshole. Emily, rip his shirt open.”
She did that, forcefully, and then Drake slammed the obedience fetish onto Westin’s chest in the exact same spot it had sat the day they first met. The sound of searing flesh sounded as Westin screamed.
Emily peeked out a window covered in boards. “Guards are coming, lord!”
Drake glared at Westin. “Westin, stand up and don’t say a fucking word.”
Westin stood, blinking. He might even be crying now. Too bad.
“Go now, lord,” Samuel said. “The others await you at the recall spot.”
Drake glanced at him. “We’re all going.”
“No,” Samuel said. “Anna can only teleport three people. Four will kill her.”
“I’m so sorry, lord!” Anna cried. “Order Samuel to let me teleport you all!”
Drake wasn’t about to do that. “You and Emily better escape, then.”
“I already have a plan for that. But if you don’t go now, we will fail.”
“Will you come with me?” Anna asked again, more desperately this time.
Drake glared at Westin. “Westin, say yes.”
“Yes,” Westin said quietly.
Drake looked to Anna. “Yes.” He looked to Emily. “Don’t die, murdermaid.”
She grinned wide. “Not while I’m having this much fun!”
He looked to Samuel. “Don’t let her soul chop anyone unless you have to. Once we prove my innocence, we’d still be guilty of murdering capital guards.”
Anna stepped through an open doorway leading deeper into the empty house. “Lord!”
“I’m going.” Drake looked to Westin. “Westin, walk through that door. After you get to the other side, stand until I tell you to move again.”
Westin, visibly miserable, walked to the door and stepped through. He vanished.
The door of the old abandoned house splintered as a mace hit it. Samuel dropped to the floor and pulled open what Drake saw was a trap door. “Go, lord!”
“See you soon.” Drake jogged for the open doorway.
The house vanished to be replaced with the interior of his armored carriage. He stumbled over Westin, who he had ordered to stand right where he arrived. Anna crouched on one couch inside. Drake pushed off Westin and pulled back to the curtain to see that they were already on the noble road outside Korhaurbauten. His thralls had planned for everything.
The carriage door swung open. Valentia stepped inside to check on Anna, took a look at Westin, and then glanced his way. “We did not know you were bringing a guest.”
“Target of opportunity,” Drake said. “Are we safe here?”
“Safety is relative, however, no one followed us out of the city. Sachi made sure.”
“We’re not leaving without Lydia and the others.”
“Of course not,” Valentia said. “What do you wish me to do with your captive?”
“For now, nothing.” Drake glanced at Westin. “We’re going to have a little talk.”
