The trading ship sat high in the water, her cargo unloaded, sails furled, her flag hanging limp at the stern.
They pulled up alongside and a rope dropped down. They were expected, after all. Securing the punt, they climbed up and boarded.
‘About time you got here, Duchess,’ said Kurt Parry. He was lounging against the main mast, his eyes half closed.
‘We’re busy people, Kurt,’ Daniel told his brother and a moment later the two of them embraced. ‘Did you have any trouble?’
‘No trouble, don’t worry. I’m good. Business is… well, not good, to be honest, but not much is at home. How’s the Lord of Thorns?’
‘He’s safe,’ Grace said. ‘And you risk too much coming here yourself.’
Kurt laughed, because that was Kurt. ‘Concern, Duchess?’
She wasn’t fooled. ‘Always.’
He grew solemn then. Just for a moment. Then he sighed and shook his head. ‘It’s getting tighter. The mageborn we got out are gone now. Larks on the wind. Even taken off their collars so they can pass for anyone. They’re safe. And what’s left in Rathlynn? Aurelie is trying to round up anyone she can. Leeches especially, and Ateliers. There’s talk of torture, naturally. But without Mother Miranda or that crazy woman in the Temple, she can’t get to their magic. We get them out when we can. Some won’t leave. They want to fight back too. Can’t blame them. You know what they’re calling us? The people of Rathlynn? Thorns.’
Grace laughed. She couldn’t help herself. What would Bastien say to that? She reached out, held Kurt’s shoulder for a moment. ‘It’s good to see you. But you’re needed at home.’
‘Got to keep tabs on my little brother somehow, don’t I? Anyway, just a flying visit. We’ll sail back tonight, be there before nightfall tomorrow. They won’t even miss us. They never do.’
‘And your delivery?’
He knocked on the door to the cabins. His smug grin got even smugger. ‘We’re ready for you, Lady.’
The woman who stepped out was in her middle years, but had no sign of age about her. Rather she was honed and refined like steel. Her eyes were the same grey as her hair and she stepped out onto the deck with the grace of a dancer. Behind her was a tall, slim man, dressed in black and dark grey. It wasn’t a uniform, but he wore it like one. Hazel eyes studied Grace from a delicate, aristocratic face. He wore a chain around his neck. She had to drag her attention away from him and back to the woman.
‘Lady Kellen,’ Grace said solemnly, careful with her words, because it paid to be careful around Lara Kellen.
Bastien and Grace had been expecting her. She had been Marshal Simona Milne’s second in command. She was Commander Craine’s widow. Grace still missed the commander of the Academy, the woman who had taught her everything she knew. Craine had told them with her dying breath that Lara would find them. And now here she was.
Lara Kellen had been a diplomat for the Larelwynns, a spy, and, in all probability, an assassin. And now, she worked for Bastien.
‘Captain Marchant,’ she said. ‘This is Jehane Alvaran, my second.’ Her second what? Grace shared a glance with Ellyn, who didn’t look any more certain of this than she did. When Grace didn’t reply, Lara swept by her, heading for the ship’s rail. ‘Shall we?’
Lara settled herself in the punt without complaint and Alvaran sat behind her, watching her back, no doubt. If she thought their transport was unsafe or beneath her, she didn’t give any indication. Perhaps, Grace thought, she didn’t care. Transport was transport. She could have travelled in worse ways. Grace had no idea what Lara Kellen had done in service of the crown; she didn’t want to know any details. The woman was an enigma and probably best left that way.
And as for her second? He didn’t speak. Just watched them, all the time. His close attention made her skin shiver, and she was sure she could feel magic drifting from him, as tantalising as a half-remembered scent. The delicate silver chain he wore could be a form of a collar. But no one had mentioned a mageborn would be accompanying Lara Kellen.
Especially one who didn’t say a word. And wouldn’t stop watching her.
The moment they reached the narrow waterway of Divi Io, they merged with the other traffic, inconspicuous and unseen. Carnaefal raged on. There were fireworks in the sky, explosions of light overhead, reflected in the dark water beneath. Music came from buildings and from the plazas and every so often a heaving boat full of drunken partygoers would lurch by them.
They made it back towards the mansion on the water almost without incident. Almost.
Ellyn had just steered them down into the quieter section of canal, away from the parties and the celebrations, when the attack came.
Grace saw Lara glance up, towards the rooftops, and moments later, something hit the bottom of the punt, crashing through it and throwing them all into the canal.
Dark water closed over Grace’s head, freezing cold, stealing her breath and her strength with the shock of its embrace.
She sank like a stone.
Chapter 2
Water… she hated water.
A surge of panic shook through her, making her heart thunder in her ears. She couldn’t drown. Not again. Not like this. It had happened in her childhood, and in the Academy, too many times. Water hated her.
She struck out for the surface, breaking it at the same time as Daniel and Ellyn. Lara surfaced a moment later.
‘Up above!’ Ellyn yelled. ‘Look out.’
The arrows followed, slicing through the water around them. Grace managed to grab a board from the shattered punt, using it as a shield.
The low arched bridge was only a few yards away. Grace swam there in seconds, shivering. The water sucked the strength out of her, the fire in her smothered and drained. Ellyn appeared, fishlike in the water. Divinities, Grace envied her. Small steps led up onto the bank, cut into the stone of the canalside. They pulled each other to safety.
For a moment. Just a moment.
‘To your left,’ Lara shouted and Grace jerked around, drawing her sword, just in time to deflect an attacking figure as it launched from the nearest alleyway. She lashed out with her own blade and felt a sword rise to meet her. They clashed, and she let his blows drive her back at first as she assessed him. It took only a moment. He was quotidian, not magical. Valenti too, a cut-throat perhaps but good with a sword. Too good. She planted her feet and came at him hard.
There were more. Ten or twelve. They came from the narrow alleys and dropped from the rooftops. They surrounded the Rathlynnese, trying to cut them off from each other.
‘Grace! Down!’ Daniel called and she ducked, trusting him. A crossbow bolt passed over her head and punched its way through another attacker. He learned fast, Daniel Parry, and he had a mean streak that should never be underestimated. Another bolt slammed its way into a third assailant.
‘They knew we were coming,’ Grace said. ‘They knew—’ More of them appeared, far too many.
A hard body slammed into her, knocking her to the ground, and a knife pressed to her throat, its curved edge like an embrace around her neck. She fell still, frozen as she looked on a face she barely knew. Handsome, determined. Sharp eyes on either side of that aquiline nose and a mouth like a sword slash. Alvaran. Lara’s man, Jehane Alvaran.
Shadows came up like a wall around them, dissolving the world into some dark and terrible realm of nightmares. Grace sucked in a breath and her head ached as Jehane’s magic unwound. It rolled over the attackers in a wave, a tsunami of darkness, licking up the walls behind them and falling again. There were screams, sobs, running feet. In seconds they were gone. All of them.
‘Don’t move,’ Jehane whispered, soft and quiet, like a sigh. He flicked aside the collar of her shirt with the edge of the knife, revealing the chain on which hung the gleaming coin, the royal warrant. If he tried to grab it, he’d be dead. The warrant protected itself and she’d seen it kill those who tried to take it. Even with the power of a goddess, Bastien’s sister Celeste hadn’t wanted to
touch it. But Jehane didn’t reach for it. He was smarter than that. ‘I’m here to help. Ease up or this will end badly.’
‘For both of us,’ she replied, her own knife digging into his side not quite hard enough to break the skin, but there all the same.
‘Then it will end.’ A bitter smile infected his voice. ‘I’m on your side.’
‘Yeah? Then why the knife?’
He glanced down towards her blade and grinned. ‘I thought you might react badly to my shadows. I was right.’ His blade drew back, followed by the weight of his body. Grace could breathe again. ‘I’m here to help, Captain Marchant.’
‘Really.’ She picked herself up and faced him. He didn’t seem in any way apologetic. ‘And why do we need your help?’
‘You seem to get yourself in a lot of trouble.’
Bastard. It wasn’t just a smile in his voice, but a smirk. ‘Bastien won’t be amused.’
‘The Lord of Thorns is hard to please, I believe. Just remember. You owe me your life now. One day I’ll collect.’
He went back to Lara, and nodded to her. She didn’t look impressed with either of them. Had it been some kind of test? Grace didn’t like the interest in the warrant.
Daniel was at her side in seconds. ‘Are you okay?’ He didn’t look at her for more than a moment. He was searching the dark quay and surrounding alleyways with his frantic gaze. But their assailants were gone.
‘I’m fine, Danny. Really.’
‘I hate this place. It’s made for ambushes.’ The fact he had grown up in the rabbit warren that was Eastferry in Rathlynn didn’t count, clearly. He didn’t put up the reloaded crossbow. And Ellyn…
‘Danny,’ Grace asked in sudden alarm. ‘Where’s Ellyn?’
There was no sign of her. Ellyn was gone, as if she had never been there.
‘What do you mean, they took Ellyn?’ Bastien asked in disbelief. ‘Why on earth would they want Ellyn?’
He wasn’t just confused. There was a kind of anger simmering in him that Grace had rarely seen before, usually only when she was under threat. He’d come out of his diplomatic meeting to greet Lara, not to face news like this.
As the Valenti representatives filed out behind him, he fell silent, waiting. Grace felt their curious stares. And more. Knowing smirks.
Bastien didn’t spare them so much as a glance and Grace tried to keep her gaze distant, focusing on the wall behind them while at the same time taking in faces, dress, weaponry…
Daniel wasn’t handling it much better. Mainly he was turning the blame on himself. He stood like a statue in the courtyard until the main door to the mansion closed behind the visitors.
‘Someone explain to me exactly what happened,’ Bastien snarled once the Valentis were gone.
‘I should have been watching her,’ Daniel muttered. He started to pace back and forth, hands on his weapons as if they’d somehow help now. He couldn’t stop. He needed to get out again, she knew that. Grace felt the same way. Get out of this place and find Ellyn.
Lara said nothing, watching in silence, taking in the dynamics. An old hand at this, clearly. Grace would have to watch her. Even if she was meant to be on their side – Bastien’s side, at least. She would, by courtly tradition, wait until Bastien acknowledged her, which he didn’t seem in any mood to do. Jehane stood against the wall, silent and watchful as ever. If Grace hadn’t heard him speak she might have thought he couldn’t.
‘I’ll find her, Grace,’ Daniel said. ‘I’ll go and get the word out. Someone must know something.’ They’d looked. They had searched the whole area for clues, for anything that might show where Ellyn had been taken. But it was useless. She was simply gone.
‘Enough, Daniel,’ Bastien said. ‘It’s not your fault. This may be beyond your network.’ It wasn’t a cruel tone. If anything there was an understanding, a comfort. Grace knew when he was trying to be kind, even if he was impatient. ‘There are other ways, aren’t there, Lady Kellan? Or should I call you the marshal now?’
Lara peeled off her gloves and then undid the clasp at her throat to remove her cloak. It was all done with practised ease, a diligence and grace which made it seem nonchalant. But it wasn’t. There was a minute trembling of one hand, the deliberately even breath.
‘Lara is fine, your royal highness. I’ve never set much store by titles. They can vanish so easily.’
‘So can those around me, it seems. De Bruyn is part of my household. More than that. She’s my friend. I want her back. Are you, or are you not a spymaster?’
Lara froze for a moment and a smile flickered across her lips.
‘I was… relieved of that duty.’
‘Fired, you mean.’
‘I left before there could be actual fire… or whatever way the queen might have chosen to deal with me. Aurelie didn’t trust my loyalties. Luckily I wasn’t close enough to protest about it or I’d have ended up on a spike like my superiors.’
Grace frowned at the brutality of her words. Simona Milne had been the marshal, Bastien’s guardian and the king’s right hand. His housekeeper Lyssa was dead too, and any servants thought to have been loyal to him. All my friends, Bastien had said as he stared at the bodies in the distance. Who else had Aurelie murdered in her purge?
Grace sighed. ‘Danny, take Misha and start looking for Ellyn. People talk to him and he’s made friends already. But be careful. I’ll be with you shortly.’ He nodded, grateful to be given something to do. Moments later he was gone and she stood there with the Lord of Thorns and his new marshal, feeling hopelessly out of her depth and desperately trying to hide it.
‘How was your meeting?’ Lara asked Bastien.
‘The usual. Promises. Most of them empty. A few rather ridiculous suggestions. Join me.’ He gestured to the room he had just come from. Happy to leave them to it, Grace started to follow Daniel. ‘You too, Grace.’
‘But I—’
‘If you will.’ It wasn’t actually a request. She knew that. The tone said it all. It was the Lord of Thorns again, not her lover. It was the voice of a prince, a king.
Lara gave him an arch look as she followed him inside. ‘And are these suggestions from the Dowager Queen directly? If so, I doubt they’re ridiculous. I know her of old.’
‘This isn’t a chance for you to catch up with old friends,’ Bastien snapped.
‘Oh she isn’t. A friend, I mean. Although, she is old. Desperately so. And more cunning than you could imagine. Jehane, guard the door.’
Grace felt a ripple of magic again and cast a suspicious glance at Jehane. Bastien’s gaze followed.
‘A Shade?’ he said.
‘Yes, my lord.’ Jehane bowed deeply. ‘It is my honour to—’
‘No. Not here. I’m not… I’m not that person any more.’
A flicker of confusion passed over the Shade’s face. ‘Your majesty?’
‘No.’ Bastien turned away, the movement brutal and final. He closed the door in Jehane’s face.
In the meeting room, papers were strewn across the table. Family trees, lists of names, and a series of documents which appeared to be akin to contracts. Grace didn’t like the look of them. Lawyers were far from her favourite people. Lara dragged her fingertips over the pages, parting them and glancing at them. Then she fixed her piercing gaze on Grace. ‘Now, can I see it?’
Grace frowned, confused. ‘See what?’
‘The warrant.’
The silence that fell over the room was complete. Bastien was the first to move. He stepped closer to Grace, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He’d given her the warrant. He had yielded up godly power to be with her and handed over the one thing that could bring it back, the one thing that could control him, to her.
The warrant looked like a gold coin. When fitted into the torc Bastien wore around his neck, it became once more the crown of the being he had once been, the Hollow King. Lucien Larelwynn had been the first bearer of the warrant, and he had made the pact with the Hollow King to end t
he Magewar. His descendants had then proceeded to wipe Bastien’s memories every time he came close to discovering the truth.
That had been Bastien’s existence, his past stolen from him whenever it suited his captors, wiped out as if it had never been. It was strange to think of him as hundreds of years old, unchanging, his memories not his own. He wasn’t a god or a king, not to Grace. He was just the man she loved.
But now the former king, Marius, Bastien’s beloved cousin, was dead, the last of the line of Larelwynn. Marius’s wife Aurelie had taken the throne he had meant for Bastien to inherit, breaking the curse and the spell holding him.
‘You don’t have to,’ Bastien murmured as he kissed Grace’s neck. Lara didn’t look away. Nor did she look impressed. Perhaps she didn’t think Grace had any business with the rightful heir to the throne of Larelwynn. She was nobody, an orphan mageborn without anyone to speak for her. Grace’s hand shook and she curled it into a fist. Bastien’s fingers closed over it, warm and gentle. She closed her eyes and leaned against him. At least she had this. Him, his support.
‘It’s okay,’ she said quietly and reached up to pull the chain from beneath her shirt. ‘Here. It’s just a coin, an old coin. So old you can’t even see any markings on it any more.’
The buttery yellow metal was heavy, too. Heavier than any other coin she had ever handled. It dangled from the chain and Lara’s eyes latched onto it, fixed and knowing.
‘Ah,’ she said. ‘So… it is true. I almost didn’t believe it. My wife told me he’d done it and I said no. Not to Grace Marchant. We had such plans for you, Craine and I. But here we are. I’m sorry, pet. I really am.’
‘Sorry?’
But Lara turned away, all her focus on Bastien again. ‘You didn’t tell her what the Valenti want?’
Bastien scowled. Oh he definitely knew, whatever it was Lara was alluding to. ‘It isn’t happening.’
‘What isn’t?’ Grace asked.
‘They want him to marry one of their princesses. To be a member of the Valenti royal family. To reclaim his throne.’
Nightborn: Totally addictive fantasy fiction (The Hollow King Book 2) Page 2