Unclean

by A. M. Manay

  Robben’s face turned to stone, and Jerr fell to his knees.

  “Oh, no,” Shiloh whispered. “That poor, foolish child.” She felt no victory in the news. “We’ll have Jonn examine him to see what killed him, and ask him to preserve his body. You’ll want to take him home to your mother, poor woman. I am terribly sorry for your grief. I must return to Lord Northgate’s side.”

  Daved walked alongside her. “Have them watched, will you, just in case?” she asked him, holding onto his arm as though he were the only thing keeping her upright.

  He nodded. “You don’t think they . . . ?”

  Shiloh shook her head.

  “You could have died,” Daved said, appalled.

  “I think that if I were the target, he’d have killed me first,” Shiloh replied. “I didn’t have my armor on.”

  “Zenn was not exactly a professional assassin,” Daved countered.

  “Silas was closer to the window,” she allowed. “Maybe when I woke up he lost his nerve.”

  They entered the hospital tent.

  “How is he?” Shiloh demanded, kneeling at Silas’s bedside.

  “Slightly better, but I make no guarantees for his recovery,” Jonn said. “I think the countercurse has done all it’s going to do. When he wakes, we can give him Folgar’s Potion to strengthen his heart, help it keep in rhythm. He may have to take it the rest of his life, depending on how he does.”

  “He’s going to love that.” Shiloh sighed.

  “It beats dying,” Jonn replied. “He is going to need a lot of rest. He’s going to have to be very careful, Your Grace. No more riding into one battle after another with no care for his safety. One well-placed curse, even one that isn’t ordinarily fatal . . . He is going to have to live a quieter life than he is accustomed to.”

  “He’s going to love that, too.”

  Shiloh rested her forehead against Silas’s shoulder. At last overwhelmed by the night’s events, she sobbed silently. Jonn ran his hands through his hair, at a loss for what to do about her anguish. Daved knelt next to her and put his arm around her shoulder.

  “It’s going to be all right, Shiloh,” Daved assured her. “Silas is a strong man, the strongest I’ve ever known. And whatever he can’t do, I’ll help him. So will Mosspeak and your brother, and Jonn and Hana and Penny. He’s alive. The rest we will figure out together.”

  “Yes, we will,” Jonn added. “You are not alone.”

  Shiloh sat up and smiled through her tears, then wiped them away with her sleeve.

  “Thank you, Daved. Thank you, Jonn. I am so grateful for you both. I’m just . . . I’m just going to sit here for a little while. Daved, will you please make sure the day goes smoothly with getting the prisoners of war over the border?”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” He bowed and departed.

  Jonn gave her some space, and she was alone with Silas for the first time since the attack.

  “Don’t you dare die,” she whispered fiercely. “I forbid it.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of disappointing my queen,” Silas whispered back. He briefly managed to open his eyes, but they quickly fluttered closed again.

  “Oh, thank the Gods! You’re back with us!” She called for Jonn, and he appeared with the potion in hand.

  “I suspect you two had more to do with it than they did,” Silas rasped.

  Jonn bent to give him a dose of the medicine. Silas tried to lift his head to take it, but it fell back onto the pillow, and Jonn had to cradle his head in one hand to get the foul-smelling concoction down his throat.

  “Father on a ferry, Jonny, are you trying to finish the job?” Silas complained. “That is disgusting.”

  “Hush, now,” Shiloh scolded him. “You are close to death, and this potion is for your heart.”

  “Close is for curling and clingfire,” he retorted. “What happened?”

  “Someone tried to kill you in our bed,” Shiloh informed him. “If you hadn’t fallen asleep in your armor, they would’ve succeeded.”

  “Who?”

  “Zenn Drake, I think. We found his corpse near the road. Whoever put him up to it killed him before he could tell us about it.”

  “Maiden with a mongrel,” he swore.

  “I know.”

  “His brothers?”

  “No, I don’t think they were involved,” Shiloh assured him. “I pulled them out of their beds as soon as I suspected, and they seemed genuinely shocked that Zenn was missing.”

  “You’ve got to be careful, Shiloh,” Silas pleaded. “You could be next. You have to watch them.”

  “I know that, too. Don’t you be worrying. You rest now. I’m not planning a coronation all by myself. Or a funeral.”

  “Would it be easier on him, do you think, to journey back to the City by sea? I can’t see him spending ten days in the saddle any time soon, and he’s not likely to let me go back without him,” Shiloh whispered to Jonn. She didn’t want Silas overhearing her talking about him as though he were an invalid. He sat in his bed on the other side of the tent, going over some letters. It was hard to believe that five days before he had been so near death.

  Jonn nodded. “That is exactly what I would advise.”

  “Splendid. Daved, can you have it arranged?”

  “Of course,” Lord Redwood replied.

  Shiloh winced, and a wave of dizziness came over her.

  “Your Grace?” Jonn asked. He held out a hand to steady her. Daved took her other arm.

  “Mother of mercy,” she whimpered. “It seems I am to join my husband in your care, Master Jonn.”

  And with that, she collapsed.

  “Let’s see the hexmark,” Silas ordered. With difficulty, he swung his legs over the side of his sickbed and sat himself upright. “Somebody get me a wand.” His heart raced far too fast.

  “That is a terrible idea unless you wish to die today,” Jonn shot back. He fumbled with the ties on Shiloh’s bodice and at last managed to undress her from the waist up. He pulled up her linen to reveal a livid bruise on her stomach along with a deep purple diamond, oozing blood. She had flushed bright red, making her old scars stand out blazing white, the long-healed hexmarks visible through her thin summer linen. There were dozens of them, overlapping, all over her torso and shoulders.

  “My Gods,” Daved whispered, his hand flying to his mouth in horror.

  Silas shot to his feet and took the boy by his collar, his rage giving him momentary strength.

  “The next time you have the privilege of seeing her disrobed, if you let her catch sight of that look on your face, I will gouge your eyes out. Do you hear me?”

  “I’m sorry. I just—I didn’t know,” Daved protested. “How was I to know?”

  It was Silas’s turn to collapse, and the boy he had just threatened needed to help him back into his bed.

  “It’s only Karow’s Hex,” Silas managed to whisper. “Not such a bad one, as they go.”

  “Yes, I know that,” Jonn retorted with annoyance. “I have been a master healer for fifteen years. She’s going to be fine. Now could you please refrain from killing yourself while I tend to Shiloh, you stupid ox?”

  “I am a baron, I’ll have you remember,” Silas shot back, voice fading. “I could have you arrested. I know the queen.”

  “A halfwit baron who should be dead a dozen times over,” Jonn muttered. “Lord Redwood, could you please send for Hana? Maybe she can keep this madman in line.”

  Silas was about to fire off another retort, but unconsciousness claimed him too quickly.

  Daved poked his head into Silas’s tent. “My Lord? You wished to see me?”

  Silas looked up from his papers. He was sitting up, though still in bed, per John's orders. Shiloh remained in the hospital tent, much to his consternation. Jonn had claimed Silas was interfering with her recovery with his incessant talking.

  “Yes, thank you. Come in, come in.”

  Daved perched on a stool next to Silas, eyes apprehensive. Their last i
nteraction had been a bit fraught, after all.

  “I owe you an apology, my Lord Redwood. I'm afraid I let my temper get the better of me,” Silas apologized.

  “It's all right,” Daved absolved him. “I can see why you were upset.”

  Silas studied his face. “You have to understand, Daved . . . She has spent so much of her life being rejected. If Shiloh ever sees that look of horror on your face, she won't see it as a sign of your distress at her suffering. She will see it as proof that when it comes down to brass tacks, you find her repulsive. Ugly. Unclean.”

  Daved nodded and swallowed. “I know. I know! And I don’t. I really don’t. But I also don't know what to do to get over it, or to help her. All those curses . . . I don't know anything about dark magic, beyond the basics.”

  “I know. That's why I'm going to teach you,” Silas proposed.

  “Why would you do that?” Daved asked. “Why would you make it easier for us to be together?”

  Silas’s lip twitched. “Because I love her. And whoever put Zenn up to trying to kill me is going to try again. If you're not up to the task, if you can't stomach learning some vile magic for her, I'll find someone else to teach. But I am not going to leave her without help when they finish the job.”

  Daved studied his hands for a long moment and finally nodded. “Whatever it takes. I'll do whatever it takes.”

  Shiloh had Silas carried from the ship’s cabin so he could witness their arrival through the Gate into the Bay. She held his hand, and they listened to the trumpets sound on either side of the passage.

  “They’ve come out in force to see your triumphal return,” Silas observed from his chair, his legs covered with a light blanket even in the summer sun.

  Shiloh shook her head. “Our triumphal return.”

  Silas snorted a laugh. “I’ll always be the Hatchet. No one cheers for me. You’re their queen. Their ‘Sainted Mother,’ as I hear they are calling you now. I think it’s a promotion from ‘Reverend.’ Fenroh must be jealous.”

  Shiloh clucked her tongue. “Ridiculous.”

  “Useful,” Silas countered. “Those etchings I sent around were suns well spent.”

  “Is that Lord Mosspeak’s boat?” she asked, squinting.

  Silas held up his spyglass. “Aye. Queen Penn is waving from the rail.”

  Shiloh waved back, hoping her friend would see.

  “There’s Kepler over there, and Crestpoint, looking fit as ever at nearly eighty,” Silas reported. “Ha! Lord Blufeld is even waving a pink banner. How sweet.”

  Shiloh laughed. “Has he learned to speak Brynish yet, I wonder?”

  “I suppose we shall find out,” Silas answered. “He’s taken a Brynish wife.”

  “Everyone smiling and celebrating . . . I have a hard time trusting it,” Shiloh admitted.

  “Good. You shouldn’t,” Silas agreed. “Not that you can’t like it. But you can’t trust them any more now than you did before. In fact, you can trust them a good deal less. Before, you had nothing to give them, nothing for them to covet. Now they’ll be trying to curry favor for their own gain.”

  “I know. Hopefully they will learn I have little use for sycophants.” A worried look passed over her face.

  He squeezed her hand. “You’ll be fine. You’re brilliant. And you’ll have me by your side. And if anything happens to me, you know you can trust Daved. I’ll teach him as much as I can before—”

  “For heaven’s sake, will you stop talking like you’re going to drop dead any moment! You’re getting stronger by the day.”

  “I know. But I believe in being prepared for all possible eventualities,” Silas countered.

  “And that is wise,” she admitted. “I just—in spite of my mistrust, I’d like to try to enjoy the day. We have earned a few moments of happiness, haven’t we? We should enjoy the fact that we have no one to kill tomorrow.”

  “Of course, we should,” Silas agreed. “Of course, we should.”

  “I do wish we knew, though, who it was that tried to have you killed,” Shiloh fretted.

  Silas narrowed his eyes. “Oh, I don’t plan to let that go. That, I can assure you.”

  Shiloh processed through the streets of the City, dressed in her mother’s colors of gold and white. She had wanted to wear purple but had been dissuaded. Her one rebellion was the wreath of purple flowers atop her hair, which hung in pink waves down her back, covered by a translucent silk veil. A new golden hook gleamed at the end of her left arm, and her bejeweled slippers tread on flower petals. The air was chilly, as the Winter Solstice was only a week away, but the sunshine was warm on her shoulders.

  Silas had seen to every detail, first from his bed, and then from a wheeled chair Jerr Drake had designed for him. He could still only walk a short distance without a cane, much to his annoyance.

  Shiloh thought back to the last time she had been part of such a procession, from the rear rather than at the front. The day of Loor’s Dedication, she had nearly died protecting the royal family. Now, just a few years later, they were all dead and buried, and she was about to be crowned.

  She knew that someone might attack her this time, but she was prepared. Her wards were strong. She had so many charms sewn into her linen that she doubted a dozen curses at once could do her in, and guards with wands lined the barricades along the road, one of them every ten feet. As they would have to answer to Silas and Hana should anything transpire, Shiloh had every confidence in their vigilance.

  She turned to look over her shoulder and flashed a smile at Penn, who was at the head of the women carrying her train. It was a great comfort to Shiloh to have Penn in charge of her ladies-in-waiting, a job to which she was much more suited than Shiloh would ever be.

  The crowds seemed happy enough, waving pennants of pink in the air and yelling, “Long live the queen!” or, “Sainted Mother!” Shiloh had expected some to call out crueler words. Thus far, however, there had been nothing of the kind, and she was nearly at Cathedral Square. Tales of her battle exploits had spread far and wide, the stories of her power growing more in the telling and gaining her support among the people—support, or, perhaps, fear. She supposed the free wine in all the fountains today didn’t hurt, either.

  Shiloh entered the cathedral, her eyes struggling to adjust to the dimness after the bright sun outside. At last, she made out Silas in his chair near the altar. Kiven stood beside him, along with the archbishop. Shiloh had refused to invite Fenroh to the coronation and had insisted on including Kiven. She wanted at least one priest she could trust to be involved in her anointing.

  As she walked up the aisle, the noise of the crowds outside faded. All around her stood courtiers who had laughed in her face the day she had arrived at Greenhill Palace. Now, they would serve her. Not that she trusted them any more than she had that day, save for a precious few. Gods only knew what scheming they might be up to. She knew that in the hearts of many, she was still a little girl with a purple patch and a bell on her arm, too filthy for polite company.

  Shiloh gazed at the gilded depiction of the Holy Family that covered the entire wall behind the altar.

  Please be with me, she prayed. Please.

  I’m going to need your help.

  Shiloh and Silas will return . . .

  Cast of Characters

  Alissa

  Sister to Rischar. Mother of Shiloh. Called “The Usurper.” Fought the Siblings’ War over her claim to the throne. Killed by Silas Hatch.

  Ashlee Kramer

  Earl of Penfield, Lord of the Flats. Hana’s father.

  Barr

  Shiloh’s half-brother. A shapeshifter. A Feral.

  Benn Vale

  Duke of Speckley, Lord of the Range.

  Bentin

  The Feralfolk’s wandmaker.

  Bluebell of Vreeland

  A sister of Mount Tarwin, gifted with the second sight.

  Boggan Vineborn

  A novice priest. Silas’s half-brother.

  Calen
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  A guard at the Citadel.

  Cazzoh

  A novice priest.

  Charls Rangeborn

  A priest in the Greenhill Palace Temple and at Northgate Castle. Shiloh’s confessor.

  Daved Jennin

  The teenage Lord of the Wood. Shiloh’s friend.

  Edmun Courtborn

  Bastard half-brother to Alissa and Rischar. Twin to Markas. Former headmaster of the Royal Academy. Mentor to both Silas and Shiloh. Deceased.

  Esta

  Rischar’s eldest daughter. The newly crowned Queen of Bryn.

  Fenroh Templeborn

  Son of Patriarch Vinsen. Member of the Elder’s Order. Grand Purifier of the Church Universal.

  Finn Warwick

  Duke of Rockmore, Lord of the Gate. Penn’s uncle. Jonn’s father.

  Frank Fingersborn

  Royal armorer and wandmaker. Bastard son of the Lord of the Fingers.

  Gare

  Steward of Northgate Castle.

  Garrett Barclay

  Duke of Lockland, Lord of the Claw.

  Gendrig Dunlap

  Earl of Crestpoint, Lord Admiral.

  Gil

  A soldier in Silas Hatch’s household guard.

  Gret Mace

  Keegan’s wife. A Feral.

  Hana Kramer Gray

  Daughter of the Lord of the Flats. Widow of Jasin Gray, Lord of the Fist.

  Hareld Drake

  Earl of Blackmine, Lord of the Teeth.

  Hedsin

  A farmer near Northgate Village.

  Henrik

  Feral. Former member of the Elder’s Order. Also known as Brother Senn.

  Hestoh

  A Vestal.

  Hollon

  Westan’s uncle. Regent in Gerne while Westan is in Bryn.

  Jane

  A maid assigned to care for Shiloh. Also works as a spy for Silas Hatch.

  Jann Vernon

  Daughter of Lord Mosspeak. Lives abroad.

  Jasin Gray

  The deceased Duke of Kepler, Lord of the Fist. Husband to Hana.