The Path Now Turned (The Three Realms Book 2)

by Colleen Connally

  “While I’m gone, do not doubt me. Realize you are not the only one who has to appease all around them. My grandfather and I have differing views and are in the midst of clashing over such. I have responsibilities and obligations that have to be honored, whether my heart is within them or not.

  “This know true: I love you, Kela. You are in my thoughts always. My conscience plagues me greatly leaving you. You asked not for much and I couldn’t...” He paused, staring into her eyes. He reached around his neck and took off the necklace he wore. It was gold and engraved.

  “I have nothing more of value than this. It is all I have of my mother.” He placed it gently over her head. “I know of no other way to show you of what you mean to me. It is yours. Wear it close to your heart. Know that I love you above no other. I want you by my side always, in battle and in my bed.”

  Lesson Uncovered

  The sky hung low, dark and threatening, the eventuality of the change of the season. Snow loomed on the horizon, earlier than Kela had ever known the cold weather to return to the Forbidden Forest.

  She held to Cono’s promise.

  Three long weeks passed before Kela saw two Sordarin warriors emerge in the darkening clouds. One led a fleogan.

  Cono had kept his word! He had sent provisions for the winter.

  Her manner lightened upon recognizing the couriers. Johannes had come, accompanied by Larko.

  The Sordarins landed in unison with the fleogan. The supplies had been divided into two separate parcels and tied to the fleogan’s back. Johannes took one parcel off as Larko took the other.

  “Larko, can you see to the fleogan’s welfare?”

  Johannes waited until Larko disappeared over the hill toward the watering hole. “I have been worried about you since you were sent back.”

  “It will not be for much longer.”

  “It will be well if the king recalls you. There is much I need to convey to you that is disconcerting.”

  “Disconcerting? What is wrong?”

  “To begin, Cono had asked Turstan to see to your provisions,” Johannes said. “Turstan had seen to your needs through Twiten. A few days ago, Turstan reached out to me. He told me he had reason to suspect the supplies had not been sent since he found what had been set had not been moved.”

  “What do you believe happened?”

  “I do not know,” Johannes said, strain evident in his tone. “There has been many things that have been strange since Prince Falco’s wedding…the Arachnidan attack.”

  “But you are here now.”

  “I will not lie to you. I have wondered why King Edulf sent you back here…and Cono to the Payelaga Desert.”

  She smiled. Dear Johannes, he is a true friend. “Cono has settled the matter with King Edulf. I will be called forth when Cono returns from the desert.”

  “When would that would be?” Johannes asked. “A cold winds blows. Winter is coming. You are needed…”

  His words faded. For a moment, Kela had no notion why. Then, she saw his eyes staring at her hand. He had caught sight of her wrist.

  His face betrayed his shock.

  Kela twisted her hand away from his view. “Is something the matter?”

  He eyed her with hesitation. “We are friends. Are we not, Kela?”

  Unsure of the words he was about to utter, she nodded.

  “In all, I wonder about you, Kela. I have seen your power. I have held to the secret that it is you who is the Euchoun and will always. Yet, I cannot help but question why you are here like this.”

  He reached for her arm and gently turned it. He ran his hand over the lines. “This I say because I care. I understand, truly I do, but if you are to leave here…” He swallowed hard, as if to find the words not to hurt her. “You need to cover your mark. I’m certain Cono will…but if he doesn’t before you leave, it will not bode well upon you for others to see…”

  Blood rushed to her face. She lost her voice. Her hand began to quiver. Lowering her gaze, she only nodded.

  “Don’t, Kela.” He pressed his lips together. “I say this only because others tend not to tell you things that they believe you don’t want to hear.” His head glanced around to ensure they were alone. “It makes me angry. Why, Kela? Why are you here? Why are you not within the castle walls?”

  She withdrew her hand, gripping it tightly. “I’ve been told there are reasons for everything. It isn’t for me to question.”

  Johannes shook his head. “Kela, all needs to be questioned, for all should have answers.” He reached back for her arm. “Here, let me help you with this.”

  “No.” She jerked back a little too harshly. “It is mine to deal with.”

  “I mean no harm to you, Kela. Truly,” he responded. “I want only to help you.”

  Her temper eased. “It is fine, Johannes. I have dealt with all within my life. I will deal with this…” Her voice fell. Looking back up at her friend, she whispered, “What am I dealing with?”

  * * * *

  In Kela’s life, Johannes would forever be remembered as her dearest friend, closer perhaps than her siblings. He understood her and had never asked anything from her.

  She, too, understood the pain within him to utter his next words.

  “The mark appears upon a female when they…” Johannes lowered his gaze. “Mate, Kela. When one is given in marriage, the mark is a sign of fidelity, love, commitment to each other for the world around to see. This mark connects you intimately to Cono. Outwardly branding you if one sees. Cono has three choices to make. He could marry you.”

  Listening while her heart ached, she stood silent.

  “He also could set you up as his paramour. It is a step below a wife and is frowned greatly upon by the church, but is accepted. Men in the position of having an appeasement marriage…” He paused, knowing Kela understood not what that meant. “A marriage to satisfy one’s position in life. A marriage built not on love, but on the advantages one obtains due to the marriage. It is common for these men to have a paramour, more than one depending on the man.”

  Kela nodded, as if she understood his words. “And the third?”

  Johannes said nothing for a long moment.

  She pressed, “The third?”

  His eyes lowered, and then rose up to hers. “If the sign is seen upon an unwed female and no male to account for her either in marriage or paramour, the male has turned his back on her. Kela, if discovered, the law states soundly that the woman be flogged and renounced.”

  His words resonated within her. She wished she felt remorse or desired penance for her actions. She had none.

  She steadfastly refused to believe Cono wittingly would allow her to endure the humiliation his mark would leave. She held to Cono’s promise that he would make all right in the sight of the Great One and their world.

  “There is no need to fear, Johannes. Cono would never desert me.”

  Johannes took Kela’s hand and gently turned it. “I will help you cover the mark. You should do so even here. You do not know when the king will recall you and you can’t appear as you are. There are ways. You are not the first, Kela, nor the last, this has happened to.”

  Watching while Johannes took his knife out from his strap, she stood motionless. Untying the strap, he cut a strip out of the leather. He formed two leather bracelets and tied them to her wrist. In the provisions, as Johannes had suspected, Cono had placed tiny stone bracelets.

  “These will do nicely. Wear them over the leather binds on both hands.” Johannes concentrated upon his task of hiding her mark. “Yours may be apparent to all if uncovered, but it is easy to cover.”

  “Cono will take care of this, Johannes,” she assured him, though her voice quivered with welling emotions. “We will marry. It is his wish. It was only...”

  Johannes gave her a small smile. “I have no question of his feelings. I have seen the way he looks upon you. His actions say more than words. I comprehend his deep feelings for you, but it is not him who worries me
. Kela...it is the king himself. Cono would have never...”

  He hesitated.

  She frowned. “Say what you mean, Johannes. I have no one else to turn to in this. I know not what I face.”

  “It is only the king’s actions which frustrate me,” Johannes finally admitted. “You have demonstrated time and time again your skill. What reward have you? Since the Soaring, the king has seemed...odd. Why has he sent Cono to the far ends of the Payelaga Desert for a scouting mission when I would assume that your presence would be of more importance?

  “If it was that important, why would not Prince Falco have been deployed? It was only with the greatest of difficulty that I was able to deliver your supplies. Where is Twiten? Where is your sister?”

  Kela held no answer for Johannes. He left with Larko, with worry in his eyes.

  Worry she could not alleviate, for it was within her also.

  At night, Johannes’s words haunted Kela.

  The daylight did little to alleviate her concerns.

  She clung to Cono’s promises, but as time passed, her worries altered to a deep instinct to survive. There was no word or sight of another.

  The supplies that Cono had sent to them dwindled. Her worry magnified on the health of Guilda.

  She began to believe she was forgotten.

  SILAS

  Unlikely Allies

  At the celebration in honor of King Edulf’s reign of forty-two years, Silas partook of the feast prepared in the Great Hall. Tables had been filled with food: an assortment of meats, including roast, veal, and salted pork; salads of greens; beans; onions and beets; and fresh bread.

  Casks of ale, mead, and wine had been served. Of which, Silas had drank heavily.

  The king sat at the head of the long table, overseeing the grand festivities. His golden crown glittered against the deep golden velvet of his cloak.

  To the king’s left, Falco laughed heartily. He had finished his heart-felt toast to his grandfather. The Lord High Steward, Sergius Lothar, slapped Falco’s shoulder. For the last few years, Lord Joyce Moryn had served loyally as the Earl Marshal, who joined in the revelry.

  High Arch Priest Cassius sat next to Silas’s father, Prince Fenwick. The priest wore a dramatic dalmatic, ornate red fabric adorned with a woven hawk, flame, and chalice embroidered design. His cincture was heavily ornamented with precious jewels. Yet, one’s eyes fell upon the brilliant ruby ring he wore on his left hand.

  Cassius had held position within the Great Temple for most of his forty-two reigning years. He rose to his position of power ten years ago with the favor of King Edulf.

  Silas watched his father interact with the old priest. He should have been a priest himself. His father had always held to the following of the Great One. His ambition never held toward the crown.

  That dream had been his mother’s.

  A dream crushed by Falco’s appearance.

  He looked down the table to Lady Dogmar beside Queen Beatrix. His mother was not one to ignore. She dressed for effect. Her coppery hair was arranged high with a deep-red headdress. Her gown matched, deep red, with her bodice cut down on the swell of her breasts.

  Most of the court had knowledge of Lady Dogmar’s long list of lovers, including Lord Pigoc. Revolting, in Silas’s eyes, the way a heavy, stout man with salted-brown hair indulged his mother. Moreover, Pigoc had claimed the seat to her right.

  His father chose to look the other way. In truth, Prince Fenwick had no interest in his wife, nor any other woman. His father disgusted Silas.

  The man had not been a father to him. The most he had done was donate his seed for Silas’s existence. Nothing more.

  King Edulf had overseen his upbringing. It was to his grandfather Silas gave his loyalty and admiration.

  Silas filled his goblet with mead. In one sip, he downed the entire contents, relieving a growing frustration.

  His eyes fell upon his sister, Belasquita.

  She smiled at him.

  Well, she should.

  She had what she wanted.

  A crown.

  Silas remembered Belasquita as a small child: sweet, caring, and painfully shy. He paid little attention to his sister until he had noticed a dramatic change in her after his first tour of Scarladin.

  At nine, she had become confident, taunting, and daring. While she grew older, she had become more womanly, ever more beautiful, and ever more manipulating.

  Belasquita had learned the art of manipulation well. She had almost caused a civil war.

  Never in his life had Silas seen his grandfather concede to a demand. He had never considered the king would have done so with his mother and sister’s ultimatum.

  A woman telling King Edulf what to do! Never! Yet, it had happened.

  What’s more, King Edulf had not seemed to care. The king seemed more interested in tournaments and feasts.

  There had been a change in his grandfather since the Battle of Payelaga Desert.

  Basking in victory, the king had been exhilarated, with cause. The kingdom had the most powerful Euchoun, bonded with their bravest warrior.

  There lay the problem.

  The Euchoun.

  Her power spoke to the danger Scarladin faced. Yet, King Edulf had exiled her to the Forbidden Forest and her warrior to the Payelaga Desert.

  Yet since victory, turmoil swirled.

  Prince Pieter steadfastly refused to marry Belasquita, calling instead for the original agreement to be held to. He called into question King Edulf’s honor, threatening the Meitfe Oath.

  The Brixtone prince was in his rights to call into question Scarladin’s actions. If he did so, it would result in the king’s death.

  Lady Dogmar demanded a crown for Belasquita. She cried that the loss of status at the appearance of Falco should be repaid. She reasoned that the only solution became Falco’s union with Belasquita.

  His cousin had been attached at birth to a Witheleghean in the House of Felstead. King Edulf had not considered it a serious attachment, but he had never been one to give one of his grandchildren on a whim.

  Only weeks before, there had been talks with Ulric House, head of the Acciptritutes clan. His eldest daughter, Millicent, was of age to become attached. It had been a union King Edulf would have given favor to keep the clans of Scarladin content.

  King Edulf had always insisted his granddaughters’ attachments provide strategic advantages for Scarladin. It was the reason that the king wanted Belasquita for Brixtone. If Prince Pieter broke the agreement, even in ignorance, the Meitfe Oath would have been nullified.

  Instead, Millicent had become Silas’s wife because of the discord that his mother had caused. Belasquita had become Falco’s bride. In turn, Prince Pieter had become increasingly impatient.

  The man had refused to leave Yucca, demanding Kela’s appearance.

  That had not happened.

  It worried Silas.

  The musicians began to play. He looked over at his bride. Millicent quickly lowered her gaze with her hands in her lap.

  He would not bother her this day.

  The night they wed, he had done his duty. The frightened girl had been submissive and laid silently during the intimacy. It had been a necessity to consummate the marriage.

  Otherwise, he would have waited until she had grown older.

  Young, Millicent was fourteen and looked younger. He was a grown man with no desire to have a child bride. Yet, like his wife, he had not been given a choice.

  Even in the dark, Millicent had turned from him to undress and winced on his touch. She weighed on his nerves as she cried uncontrollably afterward.

  He gave her no comforting words. Instead, he left her to her misery. He himself had found other amusements.

  Marrying for convenience was a barbaric practice. His marriage would not have been anything but a political alliance.

  The poor girl had not laid eyes on him before the ceremony. Though, she had been fortunate that the custom of bedding was no longer observed. />
  His bashful bride would not have survived the men ripping off her clothing and carrying her into the bed she would share with her husband.

  Falco led his bride to the dance floor. Unlike Silas’s marriage, Falco seemed content…no, enthralled. The heir apparent could not take his eyes off Belasquita

  Dancing so beautifully, Silas’s sister looked exquisite. The gown she wore was a deep-violet samite and cloth-of-gold, which lined the violet along the long dagged sleeves and the bodice that was cut low down between her breasts. A cloth-of-gold belt hung around her waist.

  It was a woman’s gown.

  All eyes were upon Belasquita as she switched dance partners. It mattered little who she danced with. She laughed and flirted daringly, charming each as if she had all the world at her command.

  “She is lovely.”

  The words hung in the air. Glancing over his shoulder, Silas watched the prince of Brixtone walk up to the dais.

  “Prince Pieter.” Silas acknowledged the man with icy courtesy. “I did not expect to see you tonight. I would have thought you would have returned to Brixtone.”

  Pieter had not dressed in his unusual fashion. Instead, he wore a white drop yoke shirt under his hunter-green doublet with a ring belt. Over his shoulder, he had swung back his fencing cape.

  “I believe I made my position perfectly clear.” Pieter leaned down for Silas’s ears only. “It is pertinent that we talk.”

  Feeling at a disadvantage, Silas rose from his seat. His mouth twisted into a sneer. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “I doubt that is true.” Pieter’s attention turned to Silas’s new wife. He smiled a silken smile. “My lady.”

  Silas saw Millicent close to tears. He stepped toward the foreigner. “What is your game?”

  “As I told you, there is a matter of importance to be discussed,” Pieter said firmly. “Unless you want me to announce it to all.”

  Swallowing the rage swelling within him, Silas had no desire to have the prince cause a spectacle. Prince Pieter held power in his hands against King Edulf.

  “I will be back shortly.” Silas addressed his wife. He saw a wave of relief pass across her face. He looked over at his grandfather. King Edulf gave the exchange between Silas and the Brixtone prince no notice.