When the divisionists didn't bother to push a bowl of gruel and a cup of water into his makeshift cell, Cam took the meaning of the sign immediately. No use feeding someone who was going to die.
It had taken Cam most of a candlemark to wrestle Siarl's body onto the bales of wool that packed most of their prison room. Now, he waited, watching as the pale rays of winter sun moved across the floor of his cell through the gaps between the boards. Outside, he heard Leather John and Ruggs. "The men aren't happy about this," Leather John said. "You've let the king trap us here like rats. So much for your 'glorious' rebellion if we all die."
"Your men have less spine than a gaggle of milk maids. My men understand that we've drawn the king into a trap. You heard what the runner said-we're in place to make the valley expensive for Donelan."
"Unless your friend Curane wins his war, that does nothing to free Isencroft. The traitor princess is still married to the king of Margolan. Whether she's here or in Margolan makes no difference. What matters is that the crown of Isencroft remains in Isencroft," Leather John argued.
"I received a message Crevan sent by pigeon just yesterday. By now, he's eliminated both the princess and the heir. Donelan will have no choice except to declare war on Margolan and nullify the union pact." "And if Donelan dies in battle?"
Cam could hear the cold humor in Ruggs's voice. "Then Isencroft is ours to remake. We seize the crown and place a king we control on the throne." "Who, you?" Derision was clear in Leather John's voice.
Ruggs snorted. "I prefer to work from behind the throne. Let some other patch wear the
motley and be the target."
"Then who?" Leather John demanded.
"Alvior of Brunnfen comes to mind," Ruggs replied. "After his father fell through the ice last winter-an unfortunate accident-Alvior has been most supportive of our cause. He's got royal
blood-distant, but confirmed. He's the one who maneuvered Crevan into Donelan's sights as a spy. Meanwhile, he's been quietly arming our side. He's had a grudge against Donelan ever since the king gave protection to the twins his father banished. Good reason, too. They both helped put Martris Drayke on Margolan's throne."
Cam felt as if he'd been gut-punched. His head reeled. Alvior of Brunnfen, his oldest brother. And although he hadn't seen any of his family in the eleven years since he and Carina were exiled, he'd never expected Alvior to side against the king. His chest tightened. Ruggs's words suggested that Alvior had something to do with their father's death. And while Cam had long ago renounced the father who sent him away, the depths of Alvior's treachery made his face flush with shame and anger.
Unbidden, memories rushed back. Cam and Carina had been barely fourteen years old when their father Asmarr had discovered Carina's healing magic. In the harsh lands of Isencroft's northern reaches, their father had presided over Brunnfen with an iron hand. A distant cousin to the royal family, Asmarr had no patience for the niceties of court. He was as hard as the climate of his lands and as relentless as the cold Northern Sea. For Asmarr, healing only had a place on the battlefield, something to be done for warriors by a warrior- priest. To do more "weakened the herd," as he said.
Shamed by the birth of twins, Asmarr had submitted to the pleadings of his wife to keep Cam and Carina despite the ill omen. But when Carina's magic manifested, neither the cries of his wife nor the begging of their youngest brother, Renn, would change his mind. Cam and Carina had been banished.
Ruggs's statement shook Cam. Asmarr was a hard man, but he was never disloyal to the king. Alvior, on the other hand, Cam thought with disgust, had ever only served his own interests. It had been Alvior who discovered the healing Carina practiced in secret and betrayed her to their father. Cam still remembered Alvior standing with Asmarr as the gates of Brunnfen closed behind him and Carina. Alvior had been as expressionless as his father, his eyes utterly lacking in compassion.
"Won't your patron take exception to us hanging his brother over the wall like a deer from the hunt?"
Ruggs's laugh was cold. "Mind? I expect he'll reward us. He's been looking for a way to finish what his father started. They're a superstitious lot up north. Swears that Brunnfen's poor
harvests have been because his father let the twins live." Cam could hear the malice in Ruggs's voice. "The woman is out of our reach. She's gone to Dark Haven, under the protection of its brigand lord. But if I give Alvior a chance for the crown and his brother's head, it's certain to fix a place for me at his right hand." "And the rest of us?" "Loyalty is always rewarded."
Cam swallowed hard. If Ruggs was correct, then Crevan had already attempted-or succeeded-in killing Kiara and the child she carried. Ruggs seemed confident that Curane had the means to destroy the Margolan army, and Tris along with it. He recalled all too well what Margolan had looked like under Jared's iron hand, and had no illusions that it would be any better when Curane put Jared's bastard son on the throne. All that we fought for, for naught.
Grief hardened his resolve for the job he had to do this night. There was only one bright spot. The woman's out of our reach, Ruggs had said of Carina. Cam was grateful that Carina was far away in Dark Haven. Jonmarc will keep her safe, Cam thought. That gave him a sense of peace. Maybe I can reclaim some honor for our family, to temper what Alvior has done.
He could see by the position of the sun that the day was far spent. With his good hand, Cam withdrew the flint and steel Rhistiart had given him from his pocket. He dragged himself closer to the bales of dry wool. Long ago, he had seen a fuller's mill go up in flames when stray sparks from a lantern lit the dust and dung fumes. It had exploded with a boom that shattered the glass in the windows of houses. With any luck, Cam hoped to recreate that spectacle.
He made a bed of kindling-dry wool near the pile of bales and wedged the flint under his good knee as he struck at it with the steel until sparks lit the dirty fluff. Cam repeated the effort down the length of the bales, painfully dragging himself along until he reached the outer wall. He looked back with satisfaction as the bales quickly caught fire. Before the smoke had grown thick enough to alert Ruggs and the others, the filthy wool caught like dry wood, until the flames roared toward the ceiling, engulfing Siarl's body in a proper pyre. Ruggs opened the door with a curse, and the flames rushed toward the fresh air, forcing Ruggs and the others back. Cam flattened himself against the furthest corner, against the cold outer wall and waited to die.
All at once, the air around him seemed to glisten like fire. The dusty air exploded with a bang, blowing a hole through the rickety old wall. Deafened from the blast and burned from the fiery bits that rained down on him, Cam crawled with all his might toward the hole as a second explosion lifted the floor beneath him. The gases from the dung pits erupted, and the force threw Cam through the air. He was burning and freezing at the same time. The old mill was a conflagration, sending a pillar of fire high into the frigid night air. Cam laughed through his pain. He landed hard in the deep white snow and surrendered himself to darkness.