by Max Irons
Iven took a sip from his cup and cocked his head to one side. “Who’re you sending a message to?”
“Arlana,” Galeron said. “She ought to hear about this.”
Lonni gave a dignified sniff.
The servant returned with parchment, quill, ink bottle, and a solid, smooth plank of wood. Galeron set his tea cup on a side table and accepted the utensils. How to tell her? A chance existed, perhaps a greater one now, that the letter might be seized. He couldn’t put anything in it out of the ordinary. Galeron scratched out his words in his own, shaky hand, insinuating that Iven wanted to speak with Arlana over…he paused.
“Iven, are there tariffs on anything you ship to Broton?” asked Galeron.
Iven snorted. “Why do you care about trade policies?”
“Need a good reason for you and Arlana to chat,” he said. “Someone else might read the message.”
“There’s a tariff on most Rayan potatoes,” Iven said. “Is that good enough?”
It would do. “If anyone asks, you want it removed.”
“Sure,” Iven said. “Just hope I can remember that.”
Galeron finished his letter, blew the ink dry, and folded it up.
“Get that to the Broton princess as quick as you can,” Iven said.
“It shall be done, my lord,” the servant replied.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Galeron finished his tea and then trudged up to the second floor. His legs, more sheaves straw than flesh, wobbled beneath him. He leaned on the banister. Stairs would be the death of him. Reaching the top, he paused as soft footsteps sounded behind him. Lonni padded up, soot and stone smearing her face.
“How long can you keep going like this?” she asked.
Galeron leaned against the railing and frowned. “What do you mean?”
More importantly, what choice was there?
“I keep expecting you to drop at any moment,” Lonni said. She gestured a hand up and down. “Look at yourself. When was the last time you had a proper night of sleep?”
Galeron frowned. “I don’t really count the Bonnie Fair, so we’ll say over a week and a half.” He glanced down the hall toward his room. Why was she asking about this now? “Isn’t that what I’m about to go do?”
“How would I know?” she asked. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you truly sit still.”
He shrugged. “We have a day left before the king’s ultimatum runs out.”
“You just said we couldn’t prove anything.”
“Not quite.” Galeron rubbed at his eyes, which had the consistency of sandstone. “We can’t prove Kolvein had anything to do with the murders. Half our problem is proving Carys wasn’t killed by Fletcher. Her body does that. A seed of doubt in either King Balen or Queen Tulia may put off war.”
“Do you really believe that?” asked Lonni.
“I don’t know how much of the king is still there,” Galeron said. “I also don’t know how much influence Queen Tulia has over him. It could be a waste of time, but it’s the only thing we can do.”
“Why can’t we just kill Kolvein?” asked Lonni. “If he’s manipulating the king, wouldn’t that solve the problem?”
Galeron sighed. Atreus had been that easy. Kolvein was a different kettle of fish. “It wouldn’t have the right effect. If we just ran a blade through his heart, it wouldn’t dispel the hatred towards Broton. King Balen might go to war anyway. Besides, he’s a mage. It wouldn’t be that easy.”
“I haven’t seen him use any sort of magic,” she said.
“He stopped me from beating him when we first met at the ball,” Galeron mumbled.
Iven climbed the stairs behind them, yawning widely. “Jump in a bed, you two. We’re all tired.” He muttered under his breath, “And I’m going to burn the next document I see.”
Lonni glowered at him. “You’re disgusting, Iven Porter.”
“I live to please, firebrand,” Iven said, slouching off to the lord’s quarters.
Lonni’s gaze ought to have burned holes in the back of Iven’s cloak. Galeron shuffled off to his room, but she caught his arm.
“Yes?” he asked after she’d frozen in place.
Lonni’s brows knit together, and she bit her lip. “Despite the…regardless of why we’re here, and why we…” She stopped, took a breath, and tried again. “Even though you were working, I still enjoyed going to the ball tonight.”
Galeron swallowed. Was she going to insist they discuss what had happened earlier? “Lonni, I…” His mind switched directions mid-sentence. Danger or not, he was too tired to lie to her. “I’m glad you went with me.”
She gave him a small smile. “Sleep well, Galeron.”
He bid her good night and hobbled down the hall. A bone-deep ache emanated from his upper back, making breathing a challenge. Galeron pushed his door open, unbuckling his sword belt, and dropped it, blade and all, to the ground. He kicked the door shut and collapsed face-first onto the bed. The down mattress gave under his weight, but it felt nice. He didn’t close his eyelids. They dropped like chunks of stone as sleep overtook him.
A door shut, and Galeron’s eyes flew open. The world outside was still dark, and not even a hint of sunlight peeked through the window.
So why could he see?
Galeron rolled over onto his back and coughed with the pain. He sat up, spluttering, and saw a lantern floating in midair.
No, that wasn’t right. A hand held the lantern. He frowned. That hand was attached to an arm, and…
“Arlana,” Galeron groaned.
Arlana set the lantern down on Galeron’s side table. His vision slowly adapted, and she finally came into view. He blinked several times. Arlana stood before his bed in a long red cloak.
“You wanted to see me,” she said, her voice tinged with huskiness and tickling his ears.
Galeron swallowed hard. His breath seemed to catch in his chest with every inhale. He brushed furiously at mental cobwebs, trying to drag his mind kicking and screaming out of drowsiness.
“I’m glad you got my message,” he said.
She took a few steps closer. “What was so urgent about potato tariffs?”
His eyelids kept dropping, and he shook his head. “I know…I know how Carys died.”
Arlana sat on the side of his bed. “What happened?”
Galeron sat up and shifted to the other end of the mattress.
“She…” He swallowed again. Arlana was toying with the clasp of her cloak. His gut twisted, but his heart pounded in his chest. “Valeros. Someone poisoned her with valeros.”
“An interesting theory, Galeron,” she said. “How do you know?”
“We went to the crypt…studied Carys’s body,’ Galeron said. “Her hands had gone green.”
“Ah, so Fletcher was not as careless as we suspected,” Arlana said. “It sounds like you’ve been busy since we danced, but that’s not all, is it?”
“No,” Galeron said. “Buried in Carys’s cheek, I found a vial of mousebane.”
Arlana’s eyes glittered, but she said nothing.
“What do you know about that?” he asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Mmm, Galeron, Galeron,” she whispered. “You’ve hunted down the truth without even knowing. You never asked about Fletcher’s true goal in Keenan Caffar, did you?”
Galeron frowned. “No. Should I?”
Her smile deepened. “The poison. It was meant for Kolvein Mord.”
What? “Why did you send Fletcher to…” His voice trailed away.
It just didn’t make any sense. If someone needed killing, you sent a shadestalker. If you needed information, you sent an informer. Why had Arlana cornered Fletcher into a job he wasn’t trained for? The answer was there, probably in front of his face, but his thoughts congealed in a sleepy sludge.
“Oh, I think you know why,” Arlana said. She stood and ran a finger through her loose hair. “My dear brother fears a Rayan assault, and Kolvein is making Balen his puppe
t, playing to Soren’s nightmares. If I tried to convince Soren his fear was…misplaced, he would say it was a mage plot to distract him.”
Galeron nodded. Arlana was probably right. The attempt on his own life stood as a good example of Soren’s degradation. “What happened, then?”
Arlana sighed, and Galeron bored a hole into the bed post with his gaze. “He got himself into position, but he bought his ingredients from an apothecary with loose lips.”
“I think I met him,” Galeron said.
“Naturally.”
“Poisoning Kolvein won’t solve Balen’s madness,” said Galeron. “He still rules.”
“A king is only as powerful as his nobles allow,” said Arlana. “It’s possible they can be convinced of Broton’s innocence, especially if I show them Carys’s body.” She smiled. “A job well done, my informer. I expected nothing less.”
Galeron rubbed at his forehead. The beginnings of a headache pulsed in his skull. “What are we going to do next?”
“I suppose there is the matter of your payment,” she said. “I could give you a sack full of coin, if you so desired. Or…”
Arlana undid the cloak’s clasp and let it fall behind her. A very short, red satin dress hugged her figure in all the right ways. She’d left the top half unlaced, and the flickering lantern light gave her smooth skin a honeyed look. She crossed her bare legs and watched him with a sultry smirk on her lips.
“It took you one day to discover what no one else could,” Arlana said. “Perhaps I think you’ve exceeded my expectations.”
Galeron blinked and stifled a yawn. What was she…Oh.
“After all, we were once promised to each other,” she said.
“That…I rejected your father’s offer,” Galeron said.
She smiled and scooted closer, smelling of cloven perfume. “What if I liked his offer?”
“What if you did?”
Arlana was playing with him. She loved to tease before getting back down to—
It happened before Galeron could register. Her full lips pressed against his, and his heart raced so fast it roared in his ears, or maybe that was the blood rushing to his head. She pulled away just as suddenly, leaving a honeyed taste in Galeron’s mouth and his head buzzing.
She blinked, as if surprised at her own actions. “That was…” Arlana’s voice trailed away. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
A lightheaded sensation hit Galeron. His mind swam lazily through a sleepy fog, trying to form coherent thoughts.
“It was…good,” he managed to spit out.
“Mmm, I thought so, too.”
Arlana entwined her arms around him, kissing him again. An abyssal ache opened up in his chest as she pulled him closer, breasts firm against him. Anything resembling real thought dribbled out his ears, though a very faint portion of his mind wondered why she was doing this now. Should he be allowing it? His mind couldn’t come up with a reason not to. It felt so good, and Arlana started it. Didn’t he deserve to be rewarded for all his hard work, for the blood and pain of scratching out a meager living?
Deep heat simmered behind his eyes, and he returned the kiss. Arlana guided one of his hands down the silky flesh of her thigh. His other hand tangled itself in luscious hair that smelled of rose water.
“Galeron Triste.”
His name hadn’t been shouted, but it rang our clear and cold from the doorway. Despite his body screaming for more, Galeron ripped his mouth away from Arlana’s, and he turned to look. There, carrying her own lantern, stood Lonni, stock-still in her riding dress.
“I’d been knocking,” she said. There was no emotion to her words. “I guess you couldn’t hear me. Now I see why.”
“Go to bed, you silly girl,” Arlana snapped. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“It never has,” Lonni said. She regarded Galeron for a moment, and though nothing broke the mask on her face, her eyes scorched his heart with magefire. “I understand my place quite well.”
Lonni turned on her heel and walked away, head held high. Ice coated Galeron’s stomach, and burning bile filled the back of his throat. Should he go after her? She was reckless, and fueled by this incident, Lonni might do something rash.
“Mmm, that was unfortunate,” Arlana drawled. Her fingers traced random patterns on Galeron’s back. “Pay her no mind. What use is a jealous little twig?”
Galeron shuddered. Some baser part of his heart growled at him to return to Arlana’s warm embrace, to lose his pain in her hot kisses. So easy. She was right there. She wanted him, and he couldn’t deny that he wanted her, too. Lonni would recover from her heartbreak. It would keep her from harm, wouldn’t it?
He tried to make his hands move but found he was frozen in place. He, Galeron, had pulled Lonni into this. It had been him, had it not, who’d returned to informing for her sake. He brought her into a strange land, taken her from her family. He’d sworn to Rand that he would protect her.
“Galeron,” Arlana whispered his name in his ear. “Weren’t we discussing your payment?”
The abyssal ache ripped open further, and it throbbed in the deepest portions of his being. He deserved it. He needed it.
But he’d made a promise, sworn an oath.
Galeron Triste set his jaw, sealed his desires in a cast of iron, and walked out of his bedroom.
#
Galeron walked down the corridor and knocked on Lonni’s door, but he found the room empty. Where could she have gone? He heard soft footsteps rustle down the main staircase. He rushed out of the hall and to the second floor of the atrium. Lonni, wrapped in her traveling cloak, jerked open the manor’s doors and vanished into the night.
He bounded down the stairs after her.
“Lonni!” Galeron sprinted onto the main walk of the Porter house, catching up just as she reached the road.
Lonni stopped but did not turn around. “Go back inside.”
He stopped. “Lonni, I—”
“Go back inside,” she said, the ice sheet over her words creaking.
“What if I don’t want to?” he asked.
He just needed to keep her from doing anything rash, but there was no easy way to settle this. She would hate him either way. He should have stayed with Arlana. Galeron scowled. That was the baser part of him, and he beat it down savagely with a mental club.
“Then I’d get your head checked,” Lonni said. “What man would walk away from that?”
Galeron waved his hand to one side. “That’s not important. Where are you off to?”
“Why do you care?” she snapped. “Your interests clearly lie elsewhere.”
“I swore an oath to your father,” he said. “I’m supposed to keep you safe.”
Lonni whipped around, tearing her hood from her head. “I can take care of myself, Galeron Triste. I do not need someone watching my every move. Is that all you care about, your duty? Oh, no, I suppose not. Perhaps if I paraded about half-naked you’d care about me, too.” She slammed a foot down and stepped close, putting them nose to nose. “What is wrong with you? What, blast everything, is wrong with you?”
Galeron blinked. The outburst wasn’t unexpected, but he’d never heard her this angry before.
Her voice rose as she continued. “I expect that sort of thing from Iven, but I thought you had more honor. You should be ashamed of yourself. If this is the kind of man you are, then it’s no wonder Melia left you.”
Galeron jerked back. She knew what Kolvein had done to her. Did she think she understood what he’d sacrificed for that fickle woman? His muscles tightened, and his voice shook with rage. “You have no idea what I did for her, what I did to come home. I lost good men, Lonni Tomkin. Better men than I died so I could survive. You’re just a naive little girl who can’t be bothered to think of anyone but herself.”
The blow was sudden and fierce. Her fist collided with his cheekbone, sending him sprawling to the cobblestone with a sickening crack. Spots danced in his vision, and Lonni stood over him, tears
running down her face.
“Don’t ever say that,” she whispered. “Don’t ever say that to me.”
Lonni strode down the walk and out of sight. Galeron sat up and watched her fade from view. Served her right. How could she say that Melia’s betrayal was his fault? His fingers curled into fists, knuckles crackling and popping. Wherever she was off to, he didn’t care. Served her right if she wandered down some dark alley.
Galeron stalked back into the Porter house to find Iven, dressed in a long nightshirt and floppy sleeping cap, staring at him.
“What in the name of Vaughan was that all about?” he asked.
“The idiocy of women,” growled Galeron.
Iven shook his head. “You’re referring to my sisters and all their etiquette. You and Lonni are something completely different. Spill, Deathstalker.”
Galeron snarled. “Don’t call me that.”
Iven’s eyes narrowed. “Then don’t lie to my face. We’re friends. I save you when you’re in trouble, and you do the same for me.”
“This isn’t something you can shoot with an arrow,” Galeron said.
Iven sighed. “Tell me about it. I’d love a problem I could put one through.”
He moved toward the stairs. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Iven blocked his way. “Too bad. I do.”
Galeron’s lips split in a snarl.
“Really?” Iven asked. “Are you going to attack an unarmed man in his night cap?”
He held his rage in check, but only just. “Why are you wearing that thing anyway?”
Iven rolled his eyes. “Would you believe there’s proper bedwear for a lord? There is, but that’s not the point.” He crossed his arms. “Talk to me.”
It didn’t look like he’d be moving anytime soon, and Iven managed to pull off a fierce look in his night garb.
“Arlana got your message,” he spat out.
“Sounds like a good thing,” Iven said.
“Suppose so,” Galeron grunted. “Might actually be done with the job.”
Iven frowned. “Come again?”
“Arlana plans to get Queen Tulia to look at Carys’s body,” he said. “Should at least cast some doubt on the current story.”