shut in shock as Harold turned to him and demanded, “You have a strongbox belonging to Thelonius?”
Broderick shook his head. “No.”
“And where did you get that ring you’re wearing?”
“Um. Well, that was from another strongbox.”
Edyon knew he would die no matter what, but still, he allowed himself a very small smile.
MARCH
CALIA, CALIDOR
CURTIS, THE leader of the Hawk Brigade, came to Harold to beg for Broderick. He also came to blame others, including Thomas, a Bull, who was dragged before Harold and had his jerkin ripped open to reveal a very nice shirt with a gold trim at the neck, and three necklaces with pendants of diamonds and pearls.
“One of Thelonius’s best shirts,” March said. “And several of his less valuable necklaces.”
“You see?” Curtis said. “It’s not just Broderick.”
This was the truth, but even so, March felt bad about accusing a Bull, one of Rashford’s boys, and indeed one of his own for a time. Still, March could see that Edyon was trying to sow dissent in the boys’ brigades, and he wanted to add to it. His own plan was to be seen as ultraloyal to Harold, and confirming the theft would do no harm to his own position. Thomas would undoubtedly get a severe beating, but he’d survive.
“But I thought . . . I thought I could have the shirt, and I sold some food in exchange for the pendants,” Thomas pleaded.
“Everything here is mine! It’s mine to gift, not yours to take or barter.” Harold looked furious. “Whoever stole it should be reported. You are not here to trade like a stall holder. Have him punished, Bull leader.”
Rashford stepped forward. “Yes, Your Highness.” And he began to lead Thomas away.
“Wait a moment,” Harold said. “I want to see his punishment. I want us all to see his punishment. Take his hand off, Bull leader.”
Rashford stood gaping at Harold. “His hand? Please, Your Highness. He’s one of my boys and a good soldier. He won’t do it again.”
“No, he won’t do it again. Nor will any of them. He’s one of yours, and you’re one of mine, Rashford. And I’ll have you cut in two if you fail to obey my order.”
Rashford looked dismayed. Thomas made a dash for the door, but Sam and another of the Gold Brigade brought him back.
“Do it now, Bull leader,” Harold ordered. “Take his hand off. And let this be a lesson to all the boys. You do not steal from me. The boy is not fit to serve in the boys’ brigades, but he clearly has a future as a merchant. However, his future is with one hand, or else he has no future at all, and neither do you.”
“But I didn’t know,” Thomas pleaded. “I won’t do it again.” He struggled against the boys who were holding him.
Rashford drew his sword. “Hold his hand out.”
Thomas screamed, and Rashford turned and slashed down, cutting Thomas’s left hand off at the wrist. Thomas’s screams stopped abruptly. Rashford gave him an inhalation from his own smoke and bent close, talking to him.
March turned away. Even if he hadn’t said anything, Thomas would have probably lost a hand, but it didn’t feel good to be part of it. He went to leave the room, but Sam blocked his path. “Got a problem, March? Don’t you approve of justice being done?”
March replied in Abask, cursing Harold and Sam and the lack of justice.
“What’s that you said?”
March managed to bring himself under control and replied, “I said that of course the prince can administer justice however he likes. But Thomas was a Bull, and so were you, for a time.”
“So your loyalties are to the Bulls, not to the Gold Brigade? Not to Harold?”
“I didn’t say that, and you know it, Sam.” March pushed past Sam and walked down the long corridor, away from the hall.
The castle was a mess, stinking of blood and bodies, swarming with flies. Harold had ordered it cleaned up, but the boys weren’t as enthusiastic about cleaning as they were about killing. March needed to think. He needed to plan. He had to get rid of Harold and somehow save Edyon too. His mind could hardly focus, though, as he kept seeing Thomas’s hand lying on the floor. He went back to his room and shortly after, Rashford joined him, shutting the door and then punching it with his fist.
“How’s it going, Bull leader?” March asked.
Rashford didn’t reply, but leaned his forehead against the door.