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Could the Ogre Marquis and his monster be the very same creature?
A thump sounded behind him. Helga had returned, frowning at them both. “What did I tell you about asking questions? Asking questions is why some people disappear. And you brought Greta into it.”
“It was just a story, Mama. He told me one too,” the girl tried, but Archie couldn’t pretend anymore. Not after what he just heard.
“Your Marquis is a shapeshifting monster. He created the plague. He released it on the other villages using all sorts of beasts. And nothing has been done about it?”
The woman didn’t try to deny it. “Keeps people from poking around. At least it has, these past few years.”
Archie nodded. He had already figured that part out. “But it hasn’t been working so well. People are growing more immune to the plague and know to kill a rat if they see one.”
And in Castletown, they had a cat who could kill a hundred rats in the same day.
A cat who used to be a prince, one who went questing to see if he could stop a plague.
And just like neither Archie nor Leo were all they had appeared to be, the Marquis wasn’t a true Marquis anymore. He was an ogre. A shapeshifter. Someone who wanted far more than he had been given. But it was always a lie, and Archie knew from experience that the only way to maintain a lie was to keep burying it with more stories and even darker atrocities. “That’s why he needed the dogs, but they took longer to breed and were easier to spot and kill when they were released. What will he try next? A whole menagerie at once?”
No answer. It seemed he had the truth of the matter before him.
“And no one has ever tried to stop him?”
“Some have,” the woman said, roaring back to the offensive, “but never in the numbers needed to make a difference. He welcomes it sometimes, going amongst the guards, daring any of them to challenge him, even letting them pick which form he takes before he attacks. And if one of them do . . .” Helga shuddered. “Matthew found your staff in that cart you brought. You’re strong enough that you could be a fighter, but the Marquis could still break your bones in one twitch of his wrist or become a lion to swallow you whole. I’ve seen it.”
Archie nodded. He had been sent to kill a hound and find the information the king needed to displace the ogre. About the only good piece of news here was that in doing one task, he could accomplish the other. But how could he defeat an ogre? If it came down to a direct fight, the whole of the king’s army might be able to do something, but Archie shared his monarch’s reluctance to go that route. He never liked that kind of conflict, and how many people would die in the crossfire? His own brother amongst them.
“We could try something else.” He looked at the food in his hands. “We could poison him.”
The woman didn’t flinch. “I thought about that. But I’ve seen him eat raw and spoiled meat sometimes. What could poison him? And if it didn’t work the first time, and he got suspicious . . . It’s the ones who ask questions and cause trouble that disappear, but it’s not me I worry about. It’s my child.” She looked back at Greta.
“I understand. But you know we can’t go on like this. And now that I’m here, you don’t have to take the blame if something goes wrong.” He didn’t have a child to think of, and he had a greater reward promised to him if he succeeded.
Helga hesitated. “It’s a big risk.”
Archie nodded and pulled out the bread dough that had been left to rise. “Then let’s be sure it works. What can we use? What kind of herbs do you have?”
The words sounded brave and bold enough. And then came the cracks. When the poisoned bread had finally finished baking in the oven, the guard—Matthew—ran back in. “You brought in that cart? You’re some kind of fighter? And did you know you carried in the princess of Umbrae?”
Chapter 29
Catfight
Ainsley was a lot of things. Beautiful. Skilled with both her tongue and a bow. But one thing she couldn’t seem to do was mix in with a crowd of servants. And whatever plan she made to come here unnoticed had quickly unraveled. When Archie followed the guard Matthew into the great hall, still holding a tray of food he didn’t know if he would actually get the chance to deliver as the Marquis’s poisoned dinner, the princess was already there in a peasant’s dress, giving a low curtsy to a man she didn’t seem to recognize as her uncle.
And it was no wonder as Archie hardly recognized him as a man at all. Along with missing half of one ear, the Ogre Marquis was too bloated, his face too deformed. Coarse brown hair sprouted from the most unlikely places. He was also barefoot and only wore a loose robe as it might have been the only kind of clothing that would fit his monstrous form.
He was an ogre.
“Hello,” she tried, rising from her curtsy and speaking to the ogre in a softer tone than usual. No one was holding her—all the guards and servants seemed to want to keep their distance—but they weren’t leaving her any opening to escape either. “Are you the lord of this castle? I’m Annie. Annie Miller. I’m sorry I hid in the cart and didn’t announce myself earlier, but I didn’t want my brothers to see me. I suppose you will be putting me to work as well?”
The ogre didn’t blink as he stared her down from his seat at the table. “Princess Ainsley.”
Archie’s heart plummeted, and Ainsley tried to protest. “No. I’m—”
“Don’t play games with me, lass. Just because you haven’t seen me in my human form in almost five years doesn’t mean I haven’t seen you. You’re the princess, and if you’re here, then the king knows far more than he should. He’ll be coming with his army next, but at least I’ll have you as a bargaining chip.”
Ainsley dropped her hands and raised her chin. “You can’t be my uncle. You’re nothing but a beast. And those monsters you sent killed your own sister.”
The ogre shrugged, already signaling to the men to come and lock the princess up somewhere. “I would have preferred the king, but animals are stupid, even when I take the risk of putting myself at their head.”
