The Kingdom of Talador

Chapter Forty-Eight

Rowan of Monalin

Though Rowan definitely wanted to check on Will after all that shite, the knowledge that he was safe and that that was her doing was enough for her for now. Besides, glancing over at him, she could tell that he and her brother both were grieving over their fallen comrade, even if they seemed to be calm. She saw herself more useful overseeing the fucker that caused this mess.

So she followed behind Quinton and Charlin instead, snatching up the assassin's bow from the ground in the process. Neither knight argued with her presence, but she figured that was more because their attention was focused on the assassin and less on her. However that changed when they entered the castle. "You should go to your chambers, Rowan," Quinton suggested.

Ro crossed her arms and scowled at him. "Why?"

"We're taking him...downstairs."

"I know."

Charlin frowned. "That's no place for a lady."

She smirked. "Lucky fer you, I ain't a lady. 'Sides, I'm the one that shot the fooker, an' I've got words t'have with 'im."

The knights shared a glance, and then both shrugged, continuing to drag the assassin down into the dungeons, seemingly not too bothered whether Rowan followed them or not. The dungeons, she soon found, were not pleasant. They were damp, and dark, and vaguely smelled of excrement, but she was a tough lass, and this didn't faze her. Quint and Charlin eventually brought the assassin to what Ro could only assume was a torture chamber.

Fantastic.

However, this was another point at which the knights stepped in to deter Rowan. "Don't get too close," Quinton warned, as he and Charlin stuck the guy up on the wooden restraining device.

She decided to heed this warning, for once, and stood by the door with her arms crossed. She would watch. She would be content watching.

At least, that's what she thought, until what had to be an hour or so went by, and they were getting nowhere.

Rowan sighed and rolled her eyes. "Ye lads don't know shite about how t'interrogate somebody from Mointeach, do ye?"

"How's it different from interrogatin' anybody else?" Charlin retorted.

She let a slow smile creep onto her face as she approached, the assassin's bow still in her hands. "'Cause, you dunno what makes us tick. But I do. An' I know that we Mointeachs...." She stepped into the light and showed the assassin his bow. "....love our bows."

Both knights were watching her now with slight concern. Understandable.

The bow was shifted to one hand, and she held it above a torch. Glaring at the assassin, she barked, "Who sent ya."

"I'll die before I tell ye," the assassin responded. His accent was thick; thicker than hers. She would wager he didn't know the common tongue quite as well. Unfortunately, she didn't know the language of Mointeach as well as common tongue.

"Darlin'," she replied sweetly. "Yer gonna die anyway."

He swallowed, his face going a shade paler.

"Now, y'can tell me who sent ya....Or, I can burn yer bow."

The man laughed. "If 'm dyin', it don't matter does it lass?"

He had a point there, but Rowan knew that she could be on the chopping block herself, an executioner's axe racing for her neck, and she would still plead for her bow. She lowered hand and watched him start getting anxious. "S'gettin' warm," she murmured. "Toasty. Y'sure you'd rather watch yer bow go up in flames than give up whoever sent ye?" When he didn't respond, she suggested something else. "Or I can cut off yer cock 'n choke ye with it."

The knights coughed in surprise and discomfort, and she rolled her eyes.

The assassin chuckled darkly. "Boy, you sure climbed straight outta the hells, didn' ye, lass?"

"Oh aye, s'quite nice this time o' year. Now enough chit-chat—Who. Sent. Ye."

"Go ahead, burn the bow, see if I care."

Rowan scowled at him. If hurting his bow wasn't working, she'd have to try something else. One of the first things a Mointeach is taught about archery is to never end up on the receiving end of your own bow. To find yourself there is such a personal disgrace, it'd crush the toughest of men. Wordlessly, Ro took a few steps back, and slipped an arrow from her pocket, one of the two remaining. She nocked the arrow and pointed it at the assassin, with his own bow.

As predicted, he was quite affronted. "No," he murmured, beginning to struggle in his binds. "No, no. Anything, any other way, but not with me own bow, y'heartless bitch!"

Ro laughed at him. "That gotche talkin' eh?!" she cried. "Who sent ya." The man did look like he was considering telling her, but he waited too long, so she aimed downwards and sunk an arrow into his foot. He cried out swears in Mointeach and struggled further. "Tell me or the next one goes between yer eyes," she growled.

"Trutha!" he shouted. "Fookin' Trutha!"

The bow clattered to the ground.

No. No no. Gods no.

Rowan's shock was quickly replaced by anger, and she drew her sword and pressed the edge firmly to the assassin's throat, her face a breath from his. "What the fook do they want with the prince o' Talador?"

"Princes."

"Excuse me?"

"Both of 'em," he admitted, panting, the light of the torch catching in the layer of sweat on his face. "Somethin' about heirs. I dunno. I didn' ask," he hissed.

Ro spat in his face, before stepping back again. She sheathed her sword, and then glanced at either of the knights, before nodding at the bow. "Kill 'im with it." Then she turned heel and left the room, left the dungeons, and was about to leave the castle, when she caught sight of Elizabeth, her handmaiden, scampering towards her. Rowan was in no mood to be waited on right now. "What Elizabeth?"

"M–my Lady," the girl murmured, dipping her head politely. She looked shaken, and Rowan felt bad for snapping at her. "There's...someone outside the city gates to see you."

....Ro didn't trust that. Not after the revelation she'd just heard. "Did they say who they were?" she asked cautiously.

The handmaiden nodded slowly. "Um. She said her name is Jøra? I think? Jøra Freja of House Honor-Shield, I think?"

Rowan arched a brow. That was a whole lot of foreign language right there. "Ohhhkaaay....Diiid she say why she wanted me?"

Elizabeth nodded again. "She said that your father sent her. But...I'm not sure if we can trust her, m'lady...." The girl rubbed her arm, and Ro could see that she was pale and unsettled. As far as Rowan knew, her handmaiden hadn't been at the tournament, and had been aware of the plan, at least vaguely.

Ro reached out and touched the girl's shoulders, rubbing them gently. "Hey. What's got y'so shook up? Is it the tourney? Because Will's okay, lass, y'can relax."

The handmaiden shook her head. "No, it's not that, m'lady. Well it is, but, I'm afraid I've had another fright as well. You see....This Freja, she....She arrived on a dragon."

"An' y'said me father sent 'er?"

"Mm-hm."

"Take me t'Freja right now, Lizzy."