"The hour for uninvited callers is long past." Pedro narrowed his eyes and squared his shoulders. "You are remiss in your etiquette, cousin."
Gabriel exchanged a glance with the other soldier, a stocky middle-aged man, no doubt his second in command, and removed a missive from his red coat. His royal uniform was pressed, and he had shaved and combed recently, not the appearance of a man riding non-stop to find him this far north. Gabriel had been close, with time to partner with Ulrich and later place the blame on him. But was he capable of it? Not the cousin Pedro had grown up with. A shy youth afraid of battles, preferring paintbrushes to a bayonet, a disappointment to his military father. But Gabriel had changed, and a man could do any wrong for the right price.
Gabriel cleared his throat. "This is your arrest order, Pedro. If you accompany me without resisting, I can guarantee—"
"The only guarantee if you take me is a promotion for you. Don't be a hypocrite. This is me, not some half-wit from Lisbon."
The moment they had him, his life would be forfeited. The plebe would go wild, cheering whoever eliminated a king slayer.
"Still, I have my orders."
"And I'm impressed. First, Fontes accused me point blank, my own uncle, and now you arrive here to arrest me. Our family sure knows how to throw a welcome," Pedro said, unable to hide his bitterness.
"Father didn't mean to. The reporter distorted his words—"
"Spare me his excuses." Pedro gritted his teeth. At the worst moment of his life, when Pedro had needed his uncle's guidance, he had received contempt. If Fontes had failed to be at Pedro's side after Mozambique, why expect any faith from him now?
Pedro forced a leash around his temper. No point in reviving family grievances.
"Since you mentioned my accusation, who did you say was the prime witness?"
Gabriel inflated his chest. "The guard's lieutenant who accompanied His Majesty north."
Ulrich had a long payroll then, including this Dom Luis's bodyguard. "Does he still have access to the king?"
"I don't know why this changes anything—"
"Does he?"
"No. He asked for medical leave and returned to his home in Aveiro."
How convenient for him. He would retire with a heavy purse after selling Pedro out. Pedro stilled. If he caught hold of this crooked guard, he could find Ulrich and put an end to this treachery. Heart speeding, Pedro advanced another step. "His name?"
"I'm done answering your questions, Pedro." Gabriel's gaze strayed to the window. "I want to return before nightfall. We've lost too much time already."
"If I were you, I would increase Dom Luis's guard." Pedro cleaned an imaginary speck from his velvet coat. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a tower to defend."
"Must you do this the hard way? Father would be disappointed in you."
Pedro tensed, fisting his hands. "Do you think I care?"
Gabriel exhaled and sought Pedro's gaze. "He changed after Mozambique…"
A weight descended over Pedro's shoulder. Nothing had been the same after Mozambique. "Ulrich is in Portugal."
Gabriel flinched, his eyes widening in shock. "Why is he here?"
Pedro pointed his chin at the stranger Gabriel had brought. "Tu lui fais confiance?"
"I trust him with my life."
Pedro nodded. "I will retell the events. Just this once. The day the king was shot, I was at Salgueiro. Ulrich invaded the quinta, and killed the servants. I never had dealings with that scum. At least this you can vouch for me."
A glint of sweat appeared on Gabriel's upper lip, and he adjusted his coat, his movements jerky. "I don’t know, Pedro. Your story seems too convenient, and there are witnesses—"
"It's getting late." Pedro pointed at the exit. "I don't want you stumbling on a wolf on your return trip."
"Wait." Gabriel lifted his palms. "What about the girl?"
