Page 33 of Of Might and Mettle

The other guards drew their swords but stood frozen. They would not fight in full, not when Gabriel could shoot the gun and alert real help.

God, help us, Antonio prayed silently.

He lifted the lance for another blow to the steward—or whoever got the closest. As one guard stepped forward, a sudden yelp stopped them all. Peluche growled, snapping at the guard who’d stepped on his tail.

“Stupid dog,” said the guard, looking as if he would aim for a kick, but another guard shoved him.

“Leave the dog out of this,” he snapped.

And their focus was broken. Antonio swung the lance, pushing back the other two guards. Gabriel shoved a third guard and broke out of the circle. He disappeared into the royal wing and hopefully directly to the king himself—or anyone who might listen. Peluche disappeared into the courtyard.

Two guards raced after Gabriel, leaving Antonio with the steward and one more guard. Antonio readied the lance, but froze when he came face to face with the barrel of the steward’s revolver.

“Drop it, Capitán.” He shook out his other hand, the one Antonio had struck.

Gritting his teeth, Antonio let the lance go. It clattered to the ground with a sickening finality. “The king trusts you,” Antonio said, “and this is how you repay him?”

The steward’s eyes narrowed. “I assure you, Capitán, I am well compensated for my position. Bind him.” He nodded to the guard. Then he looked back at Antonio. “An old friend wants to talk to you.”

Chapter eighteen

The Wooden Soldier

Antonio woke, blinking his eyes and feeling like he’d gone diving in sand for all the grit that clung to his eyelids and his skin. His head pounded, which was not helped by the sunlight beating down on him, and from the heat radiating off his face, he knew he had to be sunburned.

Seagulls squawked somewhere nearby. Footsteps pounded all around, and the world swayed beneath him as he raised his head and forced his eyelids open. Blinding sun beat down, and all he saw was the blue expanse of the sky and the sea of the harbor.

He was on a ship, bound to its mast. Panic struck him so hard he couldn’t breathe.

The ship was moored in the harbor, but far enough out that Antonio could forget about swimming, even if the coral reefs and the surge of water helped him reach the docks.

Crew members walked the deck, but one face caught his eye, and his stomach lurched despite the calm waters. Red hair gleamed like fire in the sunlight.

Sir Thomas. Like a ghost from the past, he looked unchanged. The same gold-toothed sneer, overbearing frame, and pristine purple-and-gold uniform, only this time he was dressed in metal-plated armor.

“Ah,” he said, “you’re awake. Glad to see they didn’t kill you. You and I have some unfinished business yet.” He strode closer. The sun reflected off the buckle of his shoes, flashing in Antonio’s eyes, and Antonio forced his gaze up to meet his captor’s.

“What are you planning?” he spat, glaring at the man. “Are you going to kill a port of innocents this time too?” His mind flashed with the faces of some of the merchants he’d seen before the fateful day, and how their absence had been felt in the aftermath.

How many people walked on those docks now? Thousands gathered in the streets of the city in celebration of the princess’s birthday. Could Lorelle’s family be among those at risk?

Sir Thomas shrugged. “Casualties will be kept to a minimum this time,” he said. “It wasn’t me who blew up the port, anyhow. That fault lies solely on your shoulders, Captain.”

Antonio flinched as if Thomas had struck him. The guilt that plagued him cinched around his throat like a noose. But he swallowed it down. He could deal with it later, when he’d discovered the truth and made up for his failure before.

“How did you get the steward on your side?” Antonio said. He needed to gather information. His eyes darted to the island. He might not be able to swim, but maybe he could leave a note somehow. While they were still in the harbor, with witnesses, he still had hope.

Sir Thomas smiled. “It’s not as simple as you think, Captain. This side and that side”—he waved a hand—“the steward wants the best for the colony, and so do I.”

“Good thing Monte Rico isn’t a colony anymore.”

Thomas laughed. He shrugged off his silvery armor, handing pieces to waiting crew members.

Antonio glared. “There are other ways to negotiate aside from murder and treason.”

“Negotiations ended when Monte Rico sent the declaration ten years ago,” Sir Thomas said. He unclasped his sword. “The Emperor was a lot more patient with you than I would have been. The taxes were not enough to show you how you rely on the Empire, but now, I will make it clear tonight when I dethrone your king and queen.”

“The people won’t stand for it,” said Antonio.