The Deceit of Tongues (In the Eye of the Dragon Book 2)

by N M Zoltack

  Rosalynne gasped. “When? Who?”

  “Several days ago.” Thorley looked almost sick to his stomach. “I apologize—”

  “Who did it?” Rosalynne demanded.

  “A servant by the name of Ulric Cooper.”

  Rosalynne started. The name was familiar to her. Vivian had said that name to Noll on more than one occasion, but Rosalynne never had learned the context of those conversations. Around that time, Vivian had been most displeased with Noll. Rosalynne clearly remembered that, but she never had asked either of them for details. Why hadn’t she? Now, it was too late to ever hear Noll’s side of the tale. Vivian’s would surely be slanted toward her side. The truth would have been closer to the middle of either of their stories.

  “Do you think he did it?” Rosalynne asked.

  Thorley blinked. “Honestly, I have no notion as to the validity of their claim. I do not precisely understand why they think him to blame for it. Apparently, the servant had gone missing around the time of the prince’s death and only just arrived back in the castle.”

  “That is perplexing,” the queen murmured. “Suspicious to be sure, but if they have no confession and have merely… Have they imprisoned him or…”

  “Yes, he is in the dungeon.”

  Rosalynne nodded. Her mind was churning. She would go and see this Ulric but not until tonight when she would have less chance of being spotted.

  “Thank you so much for your service,” Rosalynne said warmly. If she were merely a princess, she would have embraced him. As queen, doing so felt wrong, so she merely smiled at him and hoped he understood how much she appreciated him.

  The guard bowed, low and deep.

  “You must go,” she urged. “We cannot allow Sabine to become suspicious.”

  “As My Queen commands.” Thorley bowed again and departed.

  Tabes barked at Rosalynne, and she picked him up once more. As regal as a queen could be while petting a dog in her arms, she swept out of the room in search of Sabine. She would exchange words with the other queen and sooner rather than later. Sabine may be the ruler, but she had overstepped her boundaries by not speaking to Rosalynne about this matter. So had Aldus. Her anger was simmering, and she nearly stomped despite her slippers. She had known the advisor was counseling them both, so she had no one to blame but herself for even marginally trusting him.

  Rosalynne rushed to the third floor, where Sabine’s queen quarters were. Down the hall, making her way toward her, perhaps going to the same destination was Greta. The queen altered her approach to stalk the other queen’s mother.

  “Rosalynne,” Greta said without a hint of warmth and no smile at all.

  “Queen Rosalynne,” Rosalynne spit out.

  Greta smiled patently. “Do you have need of me?”

  Yes, for you to leave the castle and never return.

  “I have no need for you,” Rosalynne said. “I wish to speak with your daughter.”

  “I am not my daughter’s keeper.” Greta lifted her nose into the air. “She seems to be ruling rather well, don’t you think?”

  “Well enough,” Rosalynne said evenly enough. She did her best not to glance at Eldric, who stood slightly behind the queen’s mother as did Rosalynne’s own guards behind her.

  “I see you have a new guard as well,” Greta said.

  Rosalynne nodded. “With so much death lately, I would not want to risk you falling out a window next.”

  “I have no fear of heights,” Greta said.

  “No? You think you can fly as witches were purported to do?”

  Supposedly, when dragons had ruled over the humans, the dragons had given a select few women and males magic. They became warlocks and witches. The most powerful of them became legends and were known and still might live on as the four Fates.

  But even those with magic, whom the dragons had deemed worthy, had been susceptible to vanity and greed and consumed with the desire for more power. The witches especially earned a terrible reputation and were known to be cruel, vindictive, and brutal. In short, exactly like Greta.

  “I am not witch,” Greta said calmly.

  “That is only one person’s opinion,” Rosalynne responded, “and that person is a tad bit biased, don’t you think?”

  Greta opened her mouth, but soft footsteps approached, so faint that Rosalynne almost did not hear them.

  Sabine joined them and eyed the two women. “How are we all this day?” she asked.

  “Well enough,” her mother replied.

  “I will do better once this long day draws to a close,” Rosalynne said, thinking of her upcoming talk with the imprisoned servant.

  “Cannot handle your duties?” Sabine asked with a wicked smile.

  “I am doing more than I needed to when my father was ruler, yet you are the one supposed to be taking up his mantle.” Rosalynne shrugged. “Be that as it may, I am not tired, merely wishing to see the sun set. It makes a most beautiful scene, doesn’t it? Noll used to love to watch the sunrise and set.”

  “A shame he will see no more,” Sabine said, her smile faltering.

  Greta, however, seemed indifferent. “Only a fool prefers the setting sun to its rising.”

  “A sun setting on a wonderful day is most moving,” Rosalynne said.

  “A setting sun suggests that one’s time is ending,” Greta claimed.

  “And your sun will set soon,” Rosalynne commented.

  “Is that a—”

  “Merely pointing out your age,” Rosalynne said smoothly.

  “Your sun may not rise as many times as you will like,” Sabine said to Rosalynne.

  The younger queen’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. Was that a threat? Or merely a slight to refute Rosalynne’s own at Sabine’s mother?

  “A day will come when the sun sets on us all,” Rosalynne said slowly. “Until that time, I intended to do all I can for Tenoch Proper.”

  “All you can?” Greta clucked with her tongue. “Already you have failed the land.” Before Rosalynne could dare press for details, Sabine’s mother continued, “You are not the queen Tenoch Proper needs. Will you put your vanity aside and give Tenoch Proper the queen she needs?”

  Greta nodded toward her daughter.

  Rosalynne gritted her teeth. Thus far, Sabine truly had not done anything to jeopardize Tenoch Proper. In fact, Rosalynne had herself by not inviting the Vincanans and other islanders to the tournament. Already, Sabine had taken action to remedy that, faster than Rosalynne had intended and with an added bonus of the week-long festivities. Of course, Rosalynne knew that a week’s worth of celebrations would stretch their resources far too thin for the upcoming winter. Did Sabine realize that? Did she even care?

  “Tenoch has one royal family and that name is Rivera, not Grantham,” Rosalynne said smoothly to Greta and then turned to address Sabine. “Thank you for keeping my throne warm, but the throne remains mine.”

  On her toes, Rosalynne whipped around and stalked away. The underlying deceit and viper nature of the women and their tongues stung. Rosalynne no longer was so confident that two guards would be enough to keep her safe from them. Perhaps she should add more to her side. An entire queen’s guard perhaps.

  Rosalynne was not certain if either had a hand in Noll’s death or in Vivian’s disappearance, but she would not be surprised if the two would not conspire together to end Rosalynne in an attempt to seize even more power.

  Power is one thing. Love another. Guilt has its power too. One will rule them, and I suspect another will be what drives me.

  27

  Rase Ainsley

  Desperation wasn’t a feeling that Rase liked. Not at all. But one month had passed, and the bits of seeds that he had managed to scavenge and not steal hadn’t amounted to anything. The small greenery he had coaxed to grow had been eaten by hares or some other small woodland creature. He had tried to build a fence out of rocks, but the animals just climbed over it. Next, he had tried to whittle wood into posts, but they weren’t une
ven, and he didn’t matter how much he had staked into the ground, the posts wouldn’t remain upright.

  It wasn’t as if the Ainsleys had a lot of land to grow crops anyhow. Rase knew before he had even started the project that there wouldn’t be anyway that he could grow enough of anything to feed them all.

  The more Rase toiled, the more he understood his pa’s despondency. Pa continued to bring home food. Rase refused to eat any of it. Yes, that meant he could only eat when he found berries or nuts or could track down an animal. He was getting better at the hunting, but each day, he had to travel farther and farther away to even find tracks. The day he killed a spotted deer was one of the best days of his life.

  But he had eaten the last of the deer a fortnight ago, and his stomach was getting tight again. Leanne didn’t understand why Rase wouldn’t eat the food Pa brought home, so he just passed it off as his wanting her to eat more.

  “You have to find yourself a husband,” he told her.

  Leanne grimaced and ran a hand through her hair. Just before Pa had started his thievery spree, his sister’s hair had started to thin some. One time, Rase had woken before her, and he had spied a clump of her hair beside her. He had grabbed it and thrown it outside and hoped she hadn’t noticed that she was losing her hair.

  Her hair was starting to grow in better these days, and her clothes were fitting her a little differently than they had before, tighter but not because she was too plump by any means.

  “A husband,” Leanne scoffed. “No one will want to marry me.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have no dowry, nothing to offer anyone. Come on, Rase. You know our lives will never be anything more than this.”

  Rase hesitated. Leanne hardly left their house anymore. She used to go off to see her friend Maxene all the time, but Maxene had put an end to that considering she had been spirited away to a manor of an earl of all people.

  “Why don’t you go to the market?” he finally suggested.

  “I have no coins to buy anything, nothing to barter. What would be the point?”

  “To go and have fun. To see people, meet a boy…”

  Leanne laughed, but the sound was more sorrowful than happy. “I truly don’t see any reason to go and meet men.”

  “Why not? Didn’t Ma just say last night that you have hips meant for child?”

  Leanne slapped his shoulder. “You do not know what you are talking about!”

  Rase shrugged. “Maybe not but it can’t hurt any.”

  Leanne glanced away and then shook her head. “Not today,” she said softly, letting her hair fall forward to cover her face.

  Rase sighed but didn’t push harder. He didn’t think she would have seen their pa at the marketplace or else he never would have suggested it. There weren’t many other places to suggest she go to. It wasn’t as if they could march up to the castle and be allowed entrance.

  “I’m sorry,” Rase said.

  Leanne glanced up at him, her hair only partially shifting away from her face. “Why?”

  “Because you deserve more,” he said simply.

  Leanne rolled her eyes. “You do realize that no one wants us around?”

  “I do.”

  “You don’t count.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m all that matters.”

  Her laugh a little more genuine, Leanne shoved Rase away. He grinned and ducked out of the house.

  This time, he wasn’t aiming to hunt or gather. Instead, he made the long trek to Snells’ manor. He had no notion as to whether or not the lord and his son were there, but Rase was willing to risk it.

  To his happiness, Maxene was alone outside, tending to a flower bush. She bent over to sniff a fully bloomed pink flower as he approached.

  “Maxene,” he said.

  She jerked, her one hand filling to her head, the other to her belly. “Rase,” she hissed in a low but mean whisper. “What are you doing sneaking about?”

  “You think Radcliff is a great guy, right?” Rase asked without apologizing. He hadn’t meant to startle her, but he also didn’t know how much time he would have to talk to her, and he was so very desperate, a feeling he was quickly growing to hate.

  “He’s Lord Radcliff to you,” Maxene sniffed, lifting her nose into the air.

  “Will you help us?” Rase asked. “Will he? My pa needs a job. Or I do. Both of us. We are so very badly in need of—”

  “Radcliff can’t help everyone and anyone who comes to his door,” Maxene said sharply. “Besides, why don’t you go and ask your lord? Radcliff isn’t even the ruler of where… you live.”

  Rase bristled at her tone. “What are you implying?” he demanded.

  Maxene sighed and rubbed her belly. Rase glowered at her. She seemed to have gained some weight since he had last seen her. She was probably eating like a queen. Why hadn’t the physician cleared her yet? Rase knew head injuries could be serious. He tended to stay away from taverns after what had happened at the Jolly Snapdragon, but sometimes, he would come by drunks who had obviously just left some. He would tend to follow them unnoticed. Often, they would tell ridiculous stories. One had mentioned a knight in a tournament who had been struck in the head. He had appeared to be fine, but he hadn’t woken up the next morning. Head injuries could be serious matters, but could one really last this long?

  And was it because of her head injury or another reason that Maxene seemed so very different. The old Maxene would have helped them without even having to be asked first.

  Rase stared hard at Maxene. Her hair was longer than he had ever seen it, and the strands had a shine he hadn’t ever noticed before. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was breathing heavily, causing her breasts to swell in her too-tight gown. The skirt fell away from her belly, but he could still see that she had gained weight.

  “I don’t want food or coins,” Rase tried one last time. “I just want—”

  “I want you gone,” Maxene said. She turned away and marched straight for the front door as if she belonged in the manor.

  Rase waited until the door shut behind her to leave. He should have known better than to come here, and the trek to the manor had eaten up too many hours. He wouldn’t have much luck hunting anything today. With a sigh, Rase headed back for home. If he didn’t find some food soon, he just might have to cave one of these days and eat some stolen grub. He wouldn’t have much of a choice in the matter, much as it pained him.

  28

  Sir Edmund Hill

  The slurp of mud grated Edmund’s ears. Two days now, they had been wandering the swamp. They had not slept. The black trees did not appear strong enough to support their weight, and even the banks were drenched with water and slick with mud. There was nowhere for them to rest, not that they were willing to shut their eyes here for long.

  As they had ventured fairly deep into the swamp, they saw more creatures from innocent ones like frogs, toads, and even alligators swimming by and ignoring them to more treacherous ones like snakes, venomous reptiles, and even a black bear.

  Along the way, Tatum had located a few more herbs to collect, but their food stores were beginning to run low. Edmund wasn’t certain they should eat any of the fish swimming here, and no birds flew overhead. Most of the vegetation was inedible, which made Edmund question just how the animals here survived.

  They cleared a bend in the swamp to the west, and Tatum halted. Edmund nearly plowed into her back, and he gaped at the sight of the massive creature that drank from the swamp water.

  With a wrinkly trunk, thick legs, and billowing ears, the elephant stood a great deal taller than Edmund even with its head slightly lowered.

  “I’ve never seen an elephant up close before,” he murmured to Tatum. “Do you think we might be able to ride it? I heard—”

  “Elephants you can ride, maybe,” she said, her gaze never wavering from the creature, “but that is no elephant.”

  He opened his mouth to argue when he heard a distinct rattling sound. Sure
enough, the creature lifted its tail, swaying it from side to side. Part elephant, part serpent, the creature was actually a grootslang.

  They were said to be vicious, cunning, cruel, and intelligent. The only items that might tempt them away from stomping a foe to death were gemstones, especially diamonds.

  Not that Edmund had any gemstones, diamonds or otherwise.

  The grootslang hadn’t noticed them, and they retreated back the way they had come.

  “Should we try another path?” Edmund asked. “Thus far, we have kept westward as much as possible.”

  Tatum nodded, as she could not deny the truth. Thus far, he had kept them away from the lights that had ensnared her.

  “The easiest way to retrace our steps,” she said. “Let us wait a few minutes and see what the grootslang does.”

  They ate to pass the time. The grootslang drank and departed, but then two more came to drink. Once the massive creatures lumbered away, they started forward from behind a curtain of hanging moss when a piercing wail shattered the relative silence.

  Edmund stiffened, his hand reaching for his weapon.

  Tatum touched his shoulder and shook his head.

  “Someone else is here and needs help,” he hissed. “As a knight, I am duty-bound to—”

  “No one is duty-bound to save a swamp woman.”

  “But how can you be certain that cry belongs to a swamp woman?” he demanded.

  The wail rose up again, loud, long, and most certainly inhuman.

  Tatum just gave him a look.

  With a grimace, Edmund nodded. Just like the perilous lights, the cries of the swamp woman had led many a soul to their deaths. After wandering the swamps for hours or even days, the poor man would come face to face with her, never to be seen or heard from again.

  The swamp woman continued to wail, and each one tug at Edmund’s heart. Tatum had to hold his hand and guide him along so that his body wouldn’t take control over his mind.