Ayrion looked eastward. “I say we give it till the end of the week. Then, no matter what, we move on Belvin.”
Chapter 51 | Amarysia
AMARYSIA BACKED AGAINST the wall. She took a deep breath before peeking around the corner. She knew that Dakaran had been looking for her earlier, and she tried to avoid him as best she could, but it wasn’t always possible.
Being a lady-in-waiting to the Queen Mother had afforded her a certain amount of privilege when it came to moving about the palace, but ever since the deaths of King Rhydan and Ayrion, she had tried to keep that movement to a minimum. Most days she spent locked away in her chambers when she wasn’t in direct service to the queen.
Ever since the Battle of Belbridge, Amarysia had become Ellise’s confidante, if not surrogate daughter. It was a great comfort to know there was someone in the palace who could understand what she was going through, someone to lean on besides her brother and his floundering tribe of street rats.
In her hand, she held the piece of rolled parchment she’d received from one of the stable hands earlier that day. Ayrion had always said that if she needed to send messages outside the palace, Loren was the man to do it.
She stepped out from where she was hiding beside a low-hanging tapestry. Quietly, she made her way down the empty corridor toward the third-level stairwell that led directly to the main kitchens below. She hoped Loren was still waiting. Once inside the kitchen, she slipped behind some stacked barrels and grabbed one of the baskets off a nearby shelf. With her back to the wall, she moved along the outer wall, exiting through the servants’ entrance and out to one of the lower courtyards on the east side of the palace grounds.
The sun was low on the horizon, and its rich colors cast long shadows at her back as she crossed the courtyard for the stables ahead. She kept her hood raised and her head lowered so as not to be seen by some of the white-uniformed guards she passed. A few stopped long enough to stare, forcing her to pick up her pace. These new Black Watch soldiers were a far cry from the kind of men Ayrion had trained.
Thankfully, other than a few lustful glares, no one bothered approaching. With her large wicker basket in hand, they probably assumed she was just another of the palace maids bringing some supper to one of the officers.
She breathed a little easier when she saw Loren standing just outside the west entrance. He was tall for his age and lanky, which worked well for maintaining eye contact with the horses. The young stableman waved when he saw her.
“I didn’t think you were going to make it, miss,” Loren said.
“To be honest, I wasn’t all that sure myself.” She handed him the basket. “I would have come earlier, but the queen needed me to help her prepare for another one of Dakaran’s banquets this evening.”
Loren shook his head. “Say no more. I have a mare all saddled and ready. How long do you expect to be gone?”
“I’m not sure,” she said as she pulled on her gloves. She hadn’t really thought that far ahead. “I need to be back in time for the banquet, I suppose.”
Dakaran was holding a large feast that evening for those willing to genuflect to anything he said. He had been rather insistent that she attend. Amarysia couldn’t think of anything she’d less rather do, but when the king demanded your presence, you showed up. Besides, she didn’t like leaving the queen to attend on her own.
She followed Loren into the stables, where he had her horse waiting. He held the reins as she stepped up onto the mounting block and swung her leg up over the saddle. “Was the message hand-delivered?” she asked.
“Yes, missus. I was told to make sure that you received it unopened.”
“Rest assured, the letter reached my hands unopened,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I knew Moira would make sure you got it all right.” His eyes twinkled when he said her name.
Amarysia hadn’t realized Loren had a relationship with the short, rosy-cheeked scullery girl. She was going to have to remember that in case she ever needed messages delivered in the future. She leaned forward and rubbed the mare’s strong neck. “I’ll try to have her back as soon as I can.”
“Don’t you worry none, missus. I’ll be here when you do.”
She gave the reins a slight pop, and the horse broke into a stable trot as they headed for the front gates and her awaiting rendezvous.
It took nearly a quarter of an hour to reach her destination. She’d turned down the wrong street the first time and had to backtrack. But soon enough, she was guiding her horse up the small carriage drive on the right side of the house. Only a single light was on, from what she could see, leaving her wondering if she had come at the wrong time or possibly even the wrong day. Leave it up to her to have read the message incorrectly.
She slid out of the saddle and pulled the parchment out from her cloak to reread it. No. It said the meeting was today.
Leaving her horse tied to what was no doubt the carriage house, she took the stone path around to the front porch. She took a moment to straighten her windblown hair back over her shoulders before brushing some of the wrinkles from the front of her dress. Satisfied that she didn’t look a complete wreck, she knocked on the door.
A few moments later, it opened.
“Good evening, my dear, we were getting a bit worried you weren’t going to make it.” Commander Tolin towered over her, a warm smile on his face. From the light of the lantern he carried, she could see the grey in his hair was beginning to overpower the rest. His face looked tired but strong. He ushered her in before she had a chance to offer any reason for her late arrival, then stepped out onto the porch and scanned the grounds.
She had no idea why the former commander would want to see her. They had never been close. She had only met him once or twice with Ayrion. From those brief encounters, she thought Tolin a decent sort of man—firm but honest. Most importantly, Ayrion had believed in him.
Amarysia took a moment to glance around the room as the commander shut the door behind her. The walls were lined with crates and barrels and stacks of picture frames and furniture that looked like it had been moved from other rooms in the house.
“Don’t mind the mess. You never realize how much stuff you have, or don’t need, until you attempt to move.”
“You’re leaving?”
Tolin sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t afford the place any longer with my loss of position, and I have a feeling that things might not go too well for me or my family here in Aramoor in the foreseeable future.”
Amarysia didn’t know what to say. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long. The queen needed my help more than usual today.”
“No bother. We’ve been enjoying the company.”
“We?” She hadn’t expected to be meeting with someone else.
“Yes, I have someone here who has been looking forward to seeing you again.”
“Oh?” Unfortunately, the commander didn’t say who it was; he simply led the way toward the back of the house. She hurried down the hall behind him, anxious to find out who was waiting.
“I hear the palace is quite busy tonight with another of Dakaran’s lavish banquets.” The words came out in a sneer.
“Indeed. He holds them more often than not these days.”
Tolin nodded and opened a door on the left beside a stairwell that went to the second floor. Stepping back, he ushered her inside.
There was a warm fire in the hearth with a couple of seats gathered in front. Two men were seated there already. One stood rather quickly at their entrance.
“Amarysia!”
Amarysia froze. It couldn’t be. He was dead.
“My, my,” Barthol said with a satisfied grin. “You look as though you’ve seen a spirit.”
“Haven’t I?” She barely managed to take a single step when he swept across the room and lifted her off her feet with a tight squeeze. “You certainly hug like Barthol,” she said, gasping for air.
The big man lowered her back to her feet.
The o
ther man stood beside his chair, drink in hand. He didn’t seem to want to interrupt Barthol’s welcome. He was shorter than the other two but stout. His face was hard to forget with his long ducktail beard and eye patch.
“Amarysia, I’m not sure if you’ve been introduced to Overcaptain Asa yet,” Tolin said. “He’s been my right arm since . . .”
“Since you was old enough to stop wetting the bed.” Asa snorted.
Tolin grunted. “Asa, this is Amarysia. She is a lady-in-waiting to the Queen Mother.”
“Aye,” Asa grunted. “I do believe I’ve seen you about the palace. Very happy to make your acquaintance.” He offered her a nod and a deep smile, which she promptly returned.
“Thank you, Overcaptain. Ayrion spoke very highly of you, as well as the commander.”
“Much obliged, ma’am.”
She turned and looked at Barthol, still having a difficult time believing it was him. “What of Kensey and Arina? Do they know . . .”
“Yes, of course,” Barthol said. “They were my first concern.”
Amarysia released a small sigh of relief. She knew what his wife and daughter must have gone through: the same suffering she had experienced learning of Ayrion’s . . . Then it hit her. If Barthol was still alive, then— “Is . . . Is Ayrion still . . .”
Barthol lowered his eyes and shook his head.
“Are you sure? They said you were dead as well. Maybe there’s a chance—”
“I’m afraid not,” he said, not leaving any room for doubt.
She could see it in his eyes. Ayrion was dead. But to have been given hope—even as short-lived as it was—and watch it dashed to pieces . . . she felt as though a mountain had been dropped on her chest. Tears blurred her vision, and she turned to look at the fire, not wanting them to see her cry.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?” Tolin asked.
She wiped her eyes. “I don’t know if I ever will be again.”
“Please,” he said, motioning to one of the empty seats.
She joined the others around the fire.
“Ayrion’s death is part of the reason why we asked you here this evening,” Tolin said as he poured a glass of wine for her.
She took a sip. It warmed the back of her throat but not as strongly as the emotions she was struggling to hold inside. She could feel the tears beginning to re-form and fought to hold them off. Leaning back in her chair, she let the warmth of the fire soothe her frayed nerves. “Why did you want to see me?” she asked. “And what does it have to do with Ayrion’s death?”
The commander cleared his throat. “Like you, I was under the impression that our good captain here had been slain during the battle. So, when he showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night, my reaction wasn’t much different than yours. And when he began to tell me of the circumstances surrounding his fictitious departure, I knew we were in a lot of trouble.”
Amarysia thumbed the stem of her glass. “I don’t understand. What circumstances?”
Tolin leaned forward in his seat. “The High King and Guardian Protector were not killed by hor’hounds. They were murdered by Dakaran.”
Amarysia was struck speechless. Even if she had known what to say, she felt sure it would have caught in her throat. Murdered? She knew Dakaran was an arrogant pig, and a louse to boot, but she was having a hard time believing that he would outright murder his own father in cold blood.
“How?” she asked. “Dakaran’s a decent swordsman, but I doubt he could have taken a veteran like his father, let alone Ayrion. Didn’t anyone see it? Weren’t there any witnesses?”
The commander crossed his legs. “I’ll let Barthol be the one to tell it, seeing as how he was the one who was there.”
Barthol described what had happened as best he could, starting from them killing off the rest of the hor’hounds, to Ayrion saving his life after kicking him over the side of a cliff, to waking up and finding everyone dead.
Tolin waved his glass at Barthol. “Dakaran told us that everyone had been killed by the hor’hounds and that they had respectfully laid what remained of Ayrion and Barthol’s bodies to rest.”
Barthol turned to Amarysia. “As you said, Dakaran could not have bettered his father even on his best day, and the notion of him even holding a candle to Ayrion would be absurd. No, the only way this was accomplished was with the help of the Tower’s guards.”
“Aye,” Asa said, swallowing what remained in his glass in one swift gulp. “The same flaming whoresons as what’s taken over everything around here.” He looked as though he was about to spit, but after glancing around, he seemed to think better of it and swallowed. “The prince, or king, or whatever you want to call him, has done crawled in bed with the White Tower.”
Barthol stared into his glass. “Maybe getting out while we still can isn’t such a bad thing after all.” He looked over at Tolin.
“You’re planning on leaving Aramoor?” she asked, hoping that wasn’t the case. Barthol and Tolin were about the only allies she had left besides Ellise.
Barthol didn’t respond one way or the other.
Tolin laid his glass aside. “We thought you should know the truth about Ayrion’s death. More importantly, we need the queen to know what happened to her husband. We were hoping you would be able to relay this information to her for us. She could be in danger. Dakaran has what he wants, his father’s throne. And if he was willing to murder him for it, I doubt there’s much he wouldn’t do to keep it.”
“The people still love and respect Ellise,” Barthol said.
“Aye,” Asa cut in, “and that loyalty might be enough for Dakaran to consider having someone slip something in her evening tea.”
Tolin leaned forward, eyes serious. “Would you be willing to let the queen know what is going on?”
Amarysia nodded. “I also need to let the clans know that they won’t be receiving any help from the throne concerning the kidnappings in the Warrens. Ayrion was the one overseeing it, and now that he . . .” She couldn’t finish. “Well, they will need to be told.”
“I had forgotten about them,” Tolin said, the lines around his eyes tightening. “I was there when Ayrion asked the king for his help with the disappearances.” He took a deep breath. “If you could set up a meeting with their chieftain, I’d be willing to take part.”
Asa coughed, patting his chest as he leaned forward in his seat. “You? Meet with the clans?” He drew his dagger and pointed it at Tolin. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”
Tolin smiled. “I never thought to hear those words uttered from my lips either, but I’m not about to have this young woman face the clans alone. Besides, times are changing, and the lines between right and wrong are beginning to blur.”
Amarysia smiled. “Thank you, Commander. I’ll try to set something up as soon as possible, and I will send word through Loren when I do. But for now, I better be getting back before I’m missed. Dakaran was adamant about me attending his party this evening. And I don’t want the queen going alone.”
“Be careful with that one, young missy,” Asa said. “He’s a snake waiting to strike. Don’t be in his line of sight when he does.”
Chapter 52 | Amarysia
AMARYSIA HURRIED TO the gallery on the second floor, which was Dakaran’s favored location for entertaining guests. On this particular evening, it appeared “guests” meant the entire Elondrian Senate, which seemed strange, since Dakaran had never shown the slightest interest in pandering to the ruling class before.
His lavish feasts had become quite the talk amongst the upper class. No expense spared. The leftovers from just one such dinner could have fed half their army. She never remembered his father hosting with such extravagance, but then again, Rhydan had been a man with at least a modicum of common sense.
Amarysia slowed as she rounded the final corner. White-clad sentries stood to either side of the gilded doors, seemingly oblivious to the sounds of merriment inside. She took a mo
ment to compose herself. The skirt of her burgundy gown was rumpled, a consequence of her meeting with Commander Tolin. She’d barely had time to change clothes, let alone properly press and iron them. She reminded herself that she didn’t have anyone to impress. In fact, quite the opposite.
She preferred to dress as simply as possible so as not to encourage attention. These new guards had neither the respect for women nor their station that the lancers trained under Commander Tolin had.
The guards opened the doors, leering as she passed. She pretended not to notice.
The banquet hall was as large as one of the outside courtyards—twice as long as it was wide. Heavily decorated tables lined the outer perimeter, leaving a wide, open area in the middle for the evening’s entertainment. Glass-paned windows stretched up the walls on either side, allowing pale moonlight to mingle with the amber glow from the enormous chandeliers overhead.
It seemed every seat was filled. Apparently, no one dared turn down an invitation from the king, especially one that promised such frivolities as this. The guests were decked in their finest silks and laces, colorful as peacocks as they busied themselves in idle conversation while devouring the exorbitant amount of food on their plates.
The Queen Mother, who was seated next to Dakaran at the head table, smiled when she saw Amarysia and immediately motioned her over. The queen’s smile looked more like relief than pleasure, leaving Amarysia to feel even more guilty about what she was required to do. How was she ever going to tell the queen what she had heard? How do you tell a mother that her son murdered his father?
Dakaran saw her as well; she did her best not to shudder at his smile. Like the others, he seemed dressed to the extreme with a gold shirt and azure cape with a white fur mantle. His crown sat high on his head as if he wanted to make sure everyone noticed.
Maybe staying in the palace wasn’t the best idea. She could take Kira’s advice and leave Aramoor. Grab her brother and never look back.
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