by Emma Miles
She opened the door to her tower room cautiously, only to find it empty, however her breath caught when she saw a vase of flowers standing on the old, dusty chest. She walked over and touched the edges of the petals gently with the backs of her fingers. She realised the cup and flask had been changed. When she uncorked it and took a small sip, she found this one was peppermint with just a hint of fennel. She sat in the chair and waited, picking up an old, withered apple and taking little bites. It was rather dry and grainy but the baby seemed happy with it.
It was only about half an hour later that she jumped as a soft knock sounded at the door. She tensed, straightening her spine and holding her breath.
The door creaked open and she turned to see Inari tentatively looking in.
‘Come in, boy,’ she said.
He stepped in and closed the door. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, your majesty, I came to see if you needed a fresh candle yet.’
‘Not yet,’ she replied, looking out of the window and raising her chin. She tried to ignore the fact her heart was racing. ‘Are you responsible for the changes in this room?’
There was a moment before he replied. ‘Yes, your majesty. I wanted you to be comfortable.’
‘I see. It could do with a clean, but I like the spiders.’
‘Not many people appreciate the beauty of spiders, your majesty.’
She narrowed her eyes, wondering what he meant by that. ‘I preferred the chamomile tea.’
‘Of course, your majesty. I’d heard peppermint was good for pregnancy.’
‘What would you know about pregnancy?’
‘I’ve been asking for advice, so I can best know how to be of assistance to you.’
She turned to look at him, he cast his eyes to the ground quickly in a deferential manner. ‘My pregnancy is none of your business.’
‘Yes, your majesty.’
She shifted in her chair.
‘Is your chair not comfortable, your majesty?’ he asked in concern.
‘It’s adequate,’ she replied. ‘It must have been heavy to bring up all those stairs?’
He shrugged. ‘It was no more than my duty.’
She rolled her shoulders against the ache there.
‘I could …’ He looked away, his face colouring a little.
‘What?’ she demanded. ‘Speak!’
‘Would you like me to rub your shoulders and back?’
Her mouth fell open a little at his impertinence and heat rose to her cheeks. ‘Not many would be bold enough to suggest touching the Queen!’
‘My intent is only to be of help, your majesty, not to offend.’
She held her breath, looking out of the window toward the lake. ‘Very well. You may try.’
He walked slowly up behind her and her pulse quickened, it was an effort to breathe slowly. His fingers settled so lightly on her shoulders that she barely felt them at first, then he seemed to gain confidence and they dug in deeply into her tense muscles. She let out an involuntary groan of pleasure and bit her bottom lip in embarrassment. Looking up she caught his reflection in the window; he was looking right at her.
He really did have the loveliest green eyes.
Chapter Twelve
Jorrun; Covenet of Chem
Jorrun drew in a deep breath before unlocking and opening the door. The room was empty, only one lamp lit, the flame dancing a little despite being behind glass. The house smelt damp, almost sandy. He listened for a moment before making his way quietly up the stairs. The cold draft under the door worried him, it wouldn’t have surprised him if Kesta had left out a window. When he saw her on the bed his muscles relaxed. He sighed when he saw she wasn’t using the blankets, the chill air was lifting the hairs on his arms.
He made his way back down and into the narrow lane, checking no one was around before heading to his ship. He took the blankets off the bed and picked up both Kesta’s and his own travel bag. He started at the sound of two cats fighting somewhere in the docks. Trying not to hurry, he made his way back, not wanting to appear anxious or vulnerable should anyone be watching. He dropped the bags by the fireplace and went to lock the door before going back up the stairs. Kesta hadn’t moved. He carefully covered her in a blanket, the fact she didn’t stir made him suspect she was awake.
He rubbed at his beard with the back of his hand, tempted to speak. He clenched his jaw instead and made his way back downstairs.
Osun and Cassien had both been subdued as they’d left the safe house. Osun frowning and pulling at the button on his jacket, Cassien glancing wide-eyed from one of them to the other. Jorrun wondered how much the young man had heard and understood. He’d tried to draw Osun out in conversation, concerned that, having had his attempts at friendship so violently rebuffed, Osun would resort to being surly and even spiteful again.
It had taken Osun a measure of courage to confess his feelings regarding Milaiya to him on their journey to Elden while Kesta recovered. Jorrun had kept his own emotions to himself, letting his brother speak. The truth was that to say he was disappointed in Osun was an understatement. Had Osun abused Milaiya in Elden, had it been anyone but his brother, Jorrun would have reacted in the same way as Kesta.
He sat down at the table, rubbing at his temples with two fingers as a headache began to nag there. He didn’t want to have to take sides between Kesta and Osun, his heart and conscience wouldn’t hesitate to choose her, but for the sake of every other woman in Chem they needed Osun. They needed his knowledge, his contacts, and they needed him to take the role of Overlord if he were ever to escape this cursed land for good. And he couldn’t bear to hate his brother even though he hated what he’d done. His nostrils flared and he felt heat rise to the skin of his cheeks, he forced his hands to lie flat on the smooth wood of the table.
‘Jorrun?’
He opened his eyes to see Azrael wriggling through the hole he’d melted in the glass of the lantern.
‘Won’t you ssleep?’
‘I can’t sleep, bug.’
‘I hate it when you and Kessta fight.’
‘I don’t like it much, either.’ He sat back, regarding the fire-spirit, and sighed. ‘It will be all right, Azrael. So, what did you discover?’
Azrael told him everything he’d told Kesta.
‘I don’t feel anything.’ He frowned. ‘But then I don’t have yours or Kesta’s ability. Could it just be the undercurrent of fear in the land because there is so much uncertainty?’
Azrael changed his shape to form two shoulders which he enlarged in the imitation of a shrug. Jorrun couldn’t help but laugh.
‘Well, tell me if anything changes, crazy bug.’
‘I will, stubborn human!’
***
Jorrun paused in his reading, hearing the creak of the door upstairs, and immediately his heart pulsed faster. She came down the stairs as quietly as a hunting cat and he pretended to be concentrating on the words in front of him.
‘Good morning,’ Kesta placed a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. Jorrun let out the air he’d been holding in his lungs. ‘Thank you for the blanket. Did you not sleep?’
She stalked over to the chair opposite him, leaning back and folding her arms.
She was still angry.
‘I’ve been too on edge to sleep. I think it’s just being back in Che—’
‘Look, Jorrun.’ She unfolded her arms and leaned towards him. ‘I’ll never be able to forgive Osun, but I understand that we need him. And that he is your brother. He took me off guard asking about Milaiya but I’ll try harder.’
‘I’m angry with him too, Kesta, but if you condemn him you have to condemn nearly every grown man in Chem.’
She swallowed, her face reddening a little and her fingers twitching into fists. She held his gaze. ‘Is it really that bad here?’
‘It is.’
They stood up at the same time and he pulled her into a hug. The tension in his heart eased.
‘Of course, you realise I do condemn all
Chemmen,’ she said, her breath warm against his neck.
He laughed. ‘Good. So do I. Kesta.’ He stepped back to look down at her, anxiety was like a claw climbing up the inside of his ribs. ‘I should warn you of what we are likely to find when we enter the palace.’
Her brows drew together and her green eyes, emerald and spring-leaf, gazed up at him unblinking. ‘Do I need to sit?’
He nodded. ‘Azrael, come out and listen too.’
The fire-spirit made them both jump by appearing not from the lamp, but from out of the chimney.
Jorrun sat down and Kesta followed suit slowly. He kept hold of the ends of her fingers.
‘When a coven is taken over, the new members of the coven first make sure they eliminate any potential enemies and remove anyone who might seek revenge for their fathers.’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘They slaughter any male child over the age of three.’
Kesta drew her hand away, her olive skin turning ashen.
‘They then …’ He closed his eyes, his words catching in his throat. He couldn’t say it. He felt sick even thinking about it.
Kesta moved to kneel before him, placing one hand on his knee and reaching up to touch his cheek with the other. ‘It’s okay, don’t tell me.’
He was so glad she wasn’t using her knowing, he didn’t want her to have to feel what he was feeling.
He opened his mouth and forced himself to look down at her. ‘The women in the palace will have been through probably the worst time in their lives. When we arrive and take the Seat, they will expect the same from us. Kes, they’ll need you and your knowing.’
She nodded, blinking rapidly.
‘What of me?’ Azrael demanded, chasing his tail in a loop.
Jorrun smiled, although his nose and throat itched and pressure built behind his eyes. ‘You, bug, can be incredibly comforting when you want to be. You shall guard the ladies for me.’
Kesta grabbed for the table as the room seemed to shudder, Jorrun had drawn power to his fingertips before he realised what it was. Something he hadn’t felt since he was a young boy. The candle toppled from the mantlepiece and Kesta scrambled to her feet. Azrael made himself large, pulling faces frantically at every corner of the room. The room stilled. Kesta turned to speak, but it came again, the table and chairs rattled against the floor, dust fell from the stone walls. Kesta drew her dagger and turned to look at him, she froze on seeing his expression, her fear turning into annoyance.
‘Why are you laughing at me?’ she demanded.
He tried hard not to grin, but his face muscles just wouldn’t obey. The room juddered to stillness. ‘I’ve never seen anyone try to fight an earthquake before!’
‘An earthquake?’ she growled and sheathed her dagger.
‘Chem is volcanic.’ His chest still tingled with the need to laugh, but he didn’t dare. Instead he turned to Azrael who was still contorting his shape. ‘Calm down, bug. Earthquakes are relatively common and we …’ He stopped. It had been a long time since he’d ever thought of Chem as something he considered ‘we.’ ‘In Chem they still have an occasional volcano erupt. The quakes are unsettling but most of the time nothing to fear. There hasn’t been a bad one in many years.’
‘I’ll give you something to fear.’ She made to stamp on his foot, but he withdrew it in time.
‘I’m sorry.’ He managed to straighten his face, his jaw ached.
She shook her head at him then strode forward to kiss him. ‘I love it when you laugh.’
‘I am here, you know.’ Azrael protested.
‘Sorry, Azrael.’ Kesta squeezed Jorrun’s arm and stepped back. ‘So how did it go last night? Did you find what you’d hoped at the palace?’
He turned to look toward the door. It hadn’t been easy returning to his old prison, his childhood hell. He might have been young at the time, but the night of his escape was still burned into his soul. His mother had gone walking in the flame, but she never awoke, falling dead against the carpet. His first thought, even at his age, had been, she is free. Azrael had emerged from the fire, Osun placing himself between Jorrun and the fire-spirit with nothing more than a broom to defend them, but the spirit had told them to follow him, that he was sent by Naderra.
They’d followed the fire-spirit along the corridors, Jorrun holding onto Osun’s hand so tightly he must have hurt him. He still remembered how the corridors had fractured into rainbows in his vision. They’d fled the palace out into the streets of Navere, Azrael telling them they had to get far away. Jorrun had stopped and turned toward the south, smelling the sea. Without a word he’d summoned the last of his strength to run to the docks, choosing a small boat and climbing within. Azrael had gone crazy then, cursing and darting about, but Jorrun had stood firm. They were leaving Chem, they were going south. Osun had stared at him for some time, his posture changing, his back straightening before he’d bowed and said, ‘Yes, master.’ They hadn’t given Azrael any choice, fire-spirit or no, only to go with them or burn the boat out from under them. Azrael had relented on the condition they grab him a lamp and oil.
They’d untied, pushing away from the dock and allowing the north wind and the sea to take them where it willed. Osun hadn’t teased Jorrun as his nose and eyes had run, only cleaned his face silently, as though he were a much younger child and not one who had seen ...
‘Jorrun?’ Kesta asked gently.
He shook himself. ‘I’m sorry. Yes. It looked as though the way we escaped will be the best route in. Azra, will you check it for us later?’
‘Of course!’ He buzzed.
***
Osun arrived about an hour after sunrise. Young Cassien was carrying a basket laden with food as well as a kettle and a bucket of water. Jorrun couldn’t help but watch Kesta’s reaction. She glanced only briefly at Osun, but darted forward at once to help Cassien.
‘Jagna is just running an errand for me and will be along shortly. We brought breakfast,’ Osun announced.
‘That was kind of you,’ Kesta replied without looking at him.
Jorrun relaxed a little, it was a start.
Kesta lit the fire and Azrael came back out from up the chimney, Cassien didn’t seem to know who to follow the most with his wide-eyed stare, Kesta or the fire-spirit. Osun and Kesta silently helped Cassien lay things out on the table, Jorrun realised he was standing there staring and filled the kettle to set it on the fire.
He took in a deep breath. ‘I want to take the palace tonight.’
They all turned to stare at him.
‘Tonight?’ Osun placed a bowl of nuts slowly on the table. ‘Do you not want to wait and see what help the Rowen Order can offer?’
He shook his head. ‘Kesta, Azrael, and I can take the palace. Brother, are you ready to take charge of the Seat?’
Cassien’s mouth fell open and he dropped the cup he was holding.
Osun visibly paled. He nodded once. ‘I was hoping to set a few other things in place first. I don’t know anything about running a palace, let alone a city.’
‘Jorrun and I both have experience of running a Hold.’ Kesta looked up at Jorrun rather than Osun. ‘So, we can help.’
‘Can we wait and see what the Order have to offer, before you decide for sure?’
‘All right.’ Jorrun looked down at his hands, his stomach muscles tightening. He needed it done, his demons faced and over with. But Osun was right, they shouldn’t rush it. He realised Kesta was watching him, even without her knowing she could tell when something was wrong. He placed a hand briefly against her back as he moved past to take the kettle off the fire.
‘Master,’ Cassien spoke quietly to Osun, his voice tentative. Jorrun didn’t look up, taking the kettle to the table. ‘What’s happening?’
Osun folded his arms over his chest. ‘You don’t need to get involved, boy. I’ll see you get a safe job.’
‘I never said that.’ Cassien raised his voice. ‘Look, I’m not stupid, I’ve pieced it together, but I don’t know why or who you are. Y
ou freed me to fight for you, I’m happy to do it. And I know I’m just a servant, but it would be helpful if I knew what I was in for.’
‘Tell him, Osun.’ Jorrun looked up at his brother.
Osun sighed. ‘If you’re determined to stick your nose in, then all right. Since you’re useless at being a servant, you might as well be one of us. Jorrun and I are the sons of Dryn Dunham. We have come to take his Seat, but intend to give freedom to and protect the women of the Palace. That’s as much as you need to know for now.’
‘I knew it!’ Cassien clenched his fists, his eyes alight. ‘I knew you were a good man!’
Osun flushed, both he and Jorrun glanced at Kesta to see her reaction.
Her shoulders rose as she took in a deep breath. Lifting her head she turned to Cassien. ‘Shouldn’t you be taking that collar off?’
His grey eyes widened, and he reached up for the clasp on the copper collar.
‘Come on, let’s eat.’ Kesta pulled out a chair. ‘We don’t know when we’ll get another chance.’
Cassien didn’t hesitate to take advantage of his new-found status. He sat opposite Kesta at the table, trying not to be rude and look at her eyes too much. Jorrun smiled to himself, he couldn’t blame the boy, he’d struggled not to be transfixed by her when he’d first seen her.
‘Um, I’ve heard tales about the Fulmers.’ Cassien pushed at his food.
Jorrun looked around the table, there was no meat at all, so Osun was still trying despite Kesta’s outburst.
‘If the tales you heard are anything like the book on Fulmer magic I read in Elden, then they’ll be wildly inaccurate.’ Kesta grinned. ‘First of all, I’m not a witch.’
Cassien leaned forward across the table. ‘But you have magic?’
She nodded. ‘I’m not as strong as Jorrun, nor indeed, my mother, the Icante, but yes I do.’
‘And women really rule the islands?’
‘They really do.’
‘An—’
‘Cassien, let the lady eat,’ Osun interrupted.
Jorrun looked at his brother. Even in Elden, Osun had been unable to form any attachments to people. As far as he could recall Osun hadn’t shed a tear when his own mother had been killed by Karinna, instead developing a cold anger that had burned for years. Jorrun’s mother’s death had been different, Osun had sobbed quietly, somehow still keeping his dignity. Osun’s half-hidden concern for Milaiya had been a breakthrough, his attempts at friendship with Kesta gave Jorrun hope. But this; something in Cassien had allowed his brother to care in a way he hadn’t with anyone except … except himself. Jorrun looked harder at Cassien. His naivety, his courage, his refusal to be shaped by Chem. The boy was just like him. Osun had found himself a new little brother.