The Heart of Betrayal

by Mary E. Pearson

  Every time he said “Hmm” and shook his head, one of the dressmakers would drop her pins. But his comments weren’t harsh or angry—he actually seemed preoccupied with something else. It was a side to him I hadn’t seen. We were all grateful when Ulrix called him away to attend to a matter, but he promised to return soon. They worked quickly while he was gone to finish the long snug sleeves—this time I at least had two—but my shoulder was still carefully left bare to show off the kavah.

  “What do you know of the claw and vine?” I asked.

  The women all fell silent. “Only what our mothers told us,” Effiera finally said quietly. “We were told to watch for it, that it was the promise of a new day for Venda—the claw, quick and fierce; the vine, slow and steady; both equally strong.”

  “What about the Song of Venda?”

  “Which one?” Ursula asked.

  They said there were hundreds of songs of Venda, just as Kaden had told me. The written songs were all long destroyed, but that didn’t keep her words from living on in memory and story, though there were few now who remembered them. At least they knew of the claw and vine, and the clans I’d met on the fens and uplands knew of the name Jezelia too. An anticipation ran through them. Pieces of Venda’s songs were alive, in the air, and rooted in some deep part of their understanding. They knew.

  All the written songs destroyed. Except for the one I possessed. And someone had tried to destroy that one too.

  The door opened, and they all startled, expecting to see the Komizar, but it was Calantha.

  “The Komizar’s been delayed. It may be a while. He wishes the dressmakers to wait in the next chamber until he’s ready for them again.” The women wasted no time in following the instructions and scurried off with armfuls of fabric into the next room.

  “What about me?” I asked. “Am I supposed to wait, stuck in a dress full of pins until he decides to come back?”

  “Yes.”

  I grumbled a seething breath.

  Calantha smiled. “So much hostility. Isn’t an uncomfortable wait worth it for your beloved?”

  I looked at her, tired of her sarcasm, and formed a biting reply, but it suddenly stalled on my lips as I stared at her. She was always trying to hate me. My own words circled back to me. I think you’re dabbling with a bit of power. A power she was afraid to exert. She was like a wildcat circling a hole, trying to find a way to get the bait without falling into the trap.

  She turned to go abruptly, as if she knew I had glimpsed her secret.

  “Wait,” I said, jumping down from the block. I grabbed her wrist, and she stared at my hand as if my touch burned her. I realized that, other than a stiff poke to my back, I had never seen her touch anyone.

  “Why did you help the Komizar kill your own father?” I asked.

  As pale as Calantha already was, she blanched. “That’s not for you to ask.”

  “I want to understand, and I know you want to tell me.”

  She yanked her wrist loose. “It’s an ugly story, Princess. Too ugly for your delicate ears.”

  “Is it because you love him?”

  “The Komizar?” A small laugh escaped her lips. She shook her head, and I could almost see something large and numbing jar loose inside her.

  “Please,” I said. “I know you’ve both helped and hindered me. You’re battling something. I won’t betray you, Calantha. I promise.”

  The air was taut. I held my breath, afraid the slightest move would push her away from me again.

  “Yes, I love him,” she admitted, “but not in the way you’re thinking.” She walked across the room and stared out the window for a long time, then finally turned and told me. Her voice was detached, vacant, as if she spoke of someone else. She was the child of Carmedes, a member of the Rahtan. Her mother had been a cook in the Sanctum who died when she was small. When she was twelve, Carmedes seized power and became the 698th Komizar of Venda. He was a suspicious man with a heavy hand and short temper, but she managed to mostly avoid him. “I was fifteen when I fell in love with a boy from the Meurasi clan. He told me clan stories of other times and other places that made me forget my own miserable life. We were careful to keep our relationship a secret and managed that feat for almost a year.” Her chest rose in several slow breaths before she went on. “But one day, my father caught us in the servants’ stable together. He had no reason to be angered. He cared little about me, but he flew into a rage.”

  She sat on one of the dressmaking stools and told me that back then our current Komizar was the Assassin. He was a young man of eighteen, and he had found them both bleeding into the straw. The boy was dead, and she was half dead. The Assassin scooped her up and called for a healer. “The bruises faded, the bones mended, the torn patches of hair grew back, but some things were gone for good. The boy and—”

  “Your eye.”

  “My father came to see me once during the weeks that I lay bedridden. He looked down at me and said if I ever did anything like that again, he would take out my other eye and my teeth as well. He wanted no more bastards running through the Sanctum. When I could walk again, I went to the Assassin, opened his palm, placed the key to my father’s private meeting chamber in it, and pledged my loyalty. Forever. The next morning my father was dead.”

  She stood, pulling back her shoulders, looking drained.

  “So if you see me both prod and thwart, Princess, it’s because some days I see the man the Komizar has become, and some days I remember the man he was.”

  She turned and walked toward the door, but I called after her just as she opened it.

  “Forever is a long time,” I said. “When will you remember who you are, Calantha?”

  She paused briefly without responding, then closed the door behind her.

  * * *

  I had been waiting so long I hardly noticed the door easing open. It was the Komizar. His gaze landed on the dress first, then rose to my face. He closed the door and took another long look.

  “It’s about time,” I said.

  He ignored my remark, taking his time as he approached. His eyes skimmed over me, touching me in ways that made my cheeks grow hot.

  “I think I chose well,” he said. “The red suits you.”

  I tried my best to make light of it. “Why, Komizar, are you actually trying to be kind?”

  “I can be kind, Lia, if you’ll let me be.” He took a step closer, his eyes molten.

  “Shall I call the dressmakers back in?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” he said, strolling closer.

  “It’s not easy to move in a dress held together with pins.”

  “I don’t want you to move.” He stopped in front of me and ran a gentle finger down my sleeve. His chest rose in a deep controlled breath. “You’ve come a long way since the burlap dress you wore on your arrival.”

  “That wasn’t a dress. It was a sack.”

  He smiled. “So it was.” He reached up and pulled a pin from the dress. The fabric at the shoulder fell loose. “Is that better?”

  I bristled. “Save your charming seductions for our wedding night.”

  “I was being charming? Shall I take out another pin?”

  I took a step back, which I was loath to do, for fear it would encourage him. I tried to change the subject and noticed he had changed into riding clothes. “Isn’t there something you should be doing right now? Somewhere you need to be?”

  “No.”

  He stepped forward, reaching for another pin, but I hit his hand away. “Are you trying to seduce me or force yourself on me? Since we’ve agreed to be honest with each other, I’d like to know up front so I can decide how to proceed.”

  He grabbed my arms, and I winced at the prick of pins in my flesh. He pulled me close and pressed his lips to my ear. “Why do you shower the Assassin with your affections and not your betrothed?”

  “Because Kaden has not demanded my affections. He has earned them.”

  “Have I not been kind to you, Jezelia?�
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  “You were kind once,” I whispered against his cheek. “I know you were. And you had a name. Reginaus.”

  He pulled away as if I’d thrown cold water on him.

  “A real name,” I continued, feeling a rare advantage. “A name given to you by your mother.”

  He stepped toward the hearth, his ardor vanished. “I have no mother,” he snapped.

  It was evident I had opened one of the few veins of warm blood in his body.

  “It would be easy enough for me to believe that was true,” I said. “It seems more likely that you were spawned by a demon and an available knothole. Except that I spoke to the woman who held you as your mother grunted you onto this earth. She said your mother named you with her last breath.”

  “There’s nothing special about that, Princess. I’m not the first Vendan whose mother died in childbirth.”

  “But it’s a name. Something she gave to you. Why do you refuse to be called by the last word that left your mother’s lips?”

  “Because it was a name that meant nothing!” he lashed out. “It gave me nothing! I was only another filthy brat on the streets. I was nothing until I became the Assassin. That name meant something. There was only one name better. Komizar. Why settle for Reginaus, as common as dirt and just as useful, when there’s a name that only one can bear?”

  “Is that why you killed the last Komizar? Only for a name? Or to avenge Calantha’s cruel beating?”

  His fury waned, and he peered at me cautiously. “She told you?”

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not like Calantha. She never speaks of that day.” He threw another log onto the fire and stared into the flames. “I was only eighteen. Too young to become the next Komizar. I hadn’t built enough alliances yet. But I hungered for it. Every day. I imagined. Komizar.” He turned and sat down on the raised hearth. “And then Calantha happened. Most of the Council was quite fond of her. She was a pretty little flower then, but they didn’t dare go near her for fear of the Komizar. She was ruined by the beating, scarred inside and out, but many of the Council favored me after that for saving her life. When Calantha pledged her loyalty to me, many of the Council did too. The ones who didn’t I eliminated. I had learned then that alliances are not just offered, they have to be carefully devised.” He stood and walked closer to me. “To answer your question, one purpose simply served another. Avenging her beating also brought me a name that I desired.”

  He gave the dress a cold perusal. “Tell the dressmakers that one will do,” he said, offering his final approval. “And, Princess, just so you know, if you bring up the name Reginaus again, I’ll have to pay a visit to the midwife with the loose tongue. Do you understand?”

  I dipped my head in a single nod. “I know of no one by that name.”

  He smiled and left.

  And I spoke the truth. It was clear that the boy named Reginaus was long dead.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  “I’ll be moving you to a room near my quarters tomorrow. Servants will come to gather your things. This will make it more convenient once the wedding is behind us.”

  Convenient. My skin prickled. I knew what convenient meant.

  It was strange that I should find comfort in Kaden’s quarters, but I did. I knew Kaden was at least trustworthy in certain things—even when he was stinking drunk. His quarters also had a secret passage. I doubted my new chamber would.

  We left our horses with the guards on the outer edge of a thicket of trees, and the Komizar guided me through the woods. The trees were thin-trunked and close together, but I could see where a path had been worn through them. This was an oft-visited destination. He called it his own personal shortcut. After only a few minutes of walking, the line of trees stopped and we emerged on a bluff that overlooked a vast valley. I stared, not quite sure of what I was seeing.

  “It’s magnificent, isn’t it?”

  I looked at him, his face glowing. This was where his passion lay. His gaze floated over the valley. It was a city, but nothing like the one we had just left.

  It was a city of soldiers. Thousands. He didn’t notice that I hadn’t answered him or even spoken, but he began systematically pointing out the regions of his city in listlike fashion.

  There were the breeding grounds.

  The smelteries.

  The forges.

  The armories.

  The barracks.

  The fletcher shops.

  The cooperages.

  The granaries.

  The testing fields.

  He went on and on.

  Everything was plural.

  The city stretched to the horizon.

  I didn’t need to ask what it was for. Armies served only two purposes—to defend or attack. They weren’t here to defend anything. Nobody wanted into Venda. I tried to see just what was going on at the testing grounds, but it was too far away. I squinted and sighed. “All I see from here is a sprawling city. Can we get a closer look?”

  He happily led me down a twisting trail to the valley floor. I heard the riotous ping of iron being hammered on anvils. Many anvils. The hum of the city surrounded me, a hum of singlemindedness and purpose. He walked me among the soldiers, and I saw their faces, boy and girl alike, many as young as Eben.

  He walked briskly so I couldn’t stop to talk to any of them, but he made sure they knew who and what I was—a sign that the gods favored Venda. Their young faces turned in curiosity as we passed.

  “There are so many,” I said stupidly, more to myself than the Komizar.

  The immensity of it was staggering.

  The patrols were being slaughtered. They were hiding something. Something important.

  This. An army twice as large as any one kingdom’s.

  He brought me to a level knoll that looked out over another stretch of valley. Trenches and ramparts surrounded it. I watched soldiers wheel large devices to the middle of the field, but the contraptions gave no hint of their purpose until they began using them. Arrows flew at dizzying rates, a blur in the air as a soldier turned a crank. A wall of arrows were all being shot by one man. It was like nothing I had ever seen.

  After that came another testing field. And another. These weapons had a sophistication that didn’t match the spare, crude life of the Vendans.

  He pulled me along in his zeal, and it was the last field that froze me with terror. “What are they?” I asked. I stared at golden striped horses twice the girth of other horses and at least twenty hands high, their black eyes wild and their nostrils breathing fierce steam into the cool air.

  “Brezalots,” he answered. “They have nasty dispositions and aren’t good for riding, but they run straight and true when prodded. Their hide is thick. Nothing will stop them. Almost nothing.”

  He hailed a soldier for a demonstration. The soldier strapped a small pack to the horse’s back, and then struck his hindquarters with a sharp prod. Blood spurted from his rump, but the horse ran straight and true, just as the Komizar said he would, and even though soldiers along the side of the field pelted him with arrows, they didn’t penetrate his thick hide, and he didn’t stop. He headed straight across the field, directly between hillocks of hay, and then there was a deafening noise and a blinding fireball. Burning hay rained down. Splinters of wood along with pieces of the horse thudded to the ground. It was like a pot of oil had exploded in a fire but with a thousand times more power. I blinked, too shocked to move.

  “They’re unstoppable. One horse can take down a whole squad of men. It’s amazing what the right combination of ingredients can do. We call them our Death Steeds.”

  Ice crept down my spine. “How did you learn the right combination of ingredients?” I asked.

  “It was right beneath our noses all along.”

  He didn’t need to say more. The purveyors of knowledge. That was why they skulked in the caverns and catacombs. They were unlocking the secrets of the Ancients and giving the Komizar the recipe for Morrighan’s destruction
. What had he promised them in return for their services? Their own piece of Morrighan? Whatever the prize, great or small, it could never be worth the lives that would be lost.

  * * *

  We moved on to more fields, but now I hardly saw them, trying to imagine how any army could stand up to what I’d already seen. Finally we stood at the base of five towering granaries with walls of polished steel that were blinding in the sun. These were enormous stores of food on the edge of a city in want. “Why?” I asked.

  “Great armies march on their stomachs. Men and horses must be fed. There’s almost enough here to march a hundred thousand soldiers.”

  “March where?” I asked, hoping that by some grace of the gods, I could be wrong.

  “Where do you think, Princess?” he asked. “Soon Vendans will no longer be at the mercy of Morrighan.”

  “Half of these soldiers are children.”

  “Young, but not children. Only the Morrighese have the luxury of pampering fresh-cheeked babies. Here they’re muscle and sweat like everyone else, doing their part to help feed a future for us all.”

  “But the loss. You’ll still lose people,” I said. “Especially the young ones.”

  “Probably half of them. But the one thing Venda doesn’t lack is people. When they die, they’ll be glad for the cause, and there are always more to replace them.”

  I stood there, stunned, taking in the enormity of his plans. I had guessed they were planning something. An attack on an outpost. Something. But not this.

  I searched for something to say, but I knew my plea was futile before it ever left my tongue. Still, the words spilled out, weak and already vanquished. “I might be able to plead with my father and the other kingdoms. I’ve seen how Venda struggles. I could convince them. There’s fertile land in the Cam Lanteux. I know I could find a way to make them let you settle it. There’s good land to farm. Enough for all of you to—”

  “You, plead with anyone? You’re a hated enemy of two kingdoms now, and even if you could convince them, I have far greater aspirations than to be dragged by a yoke and harness. What is a Komizar without a kingdom to rule? Or many kingdoms? No, you’ll plead for nothing.”