The king shouldn’t, Hune thought. He shouldn’t risk himself, no matter his experience with the Crimson League. No matter his skill with a sword, which was formidable. Still, the decision was his father’s, and Hune made no comment upon it. He simply appended the king’s statement.
“As will I,” said the prince. “As will I. You wouldn’t judge me for, wouldn’t prevent me acting the same way as you? With the same motives?”
Hune’s father never shied from directness, but the prince had rarely heard him speak on private occasions with his regal tone. The one that dripped an expectation to be obeyed with every syllable. “As long as I live, I’m not only the man who gave you life, I’m your king, and if I tell you to return to the Palace to aid your brothers, you will do so. Valkin needs you alive. This kingdom needs you….”
“This kingdom needs you breathing far more than it does me. Don’t you dare deny that. Valkin needs your guidance, your example, more than any help I could give him. Yes, you could order me to Valkin’s side, and I’d obey. Yes, you are my king, and always will be. But force me to leave this place while you remain, and you’re not the man I’ve always thought you were.”
That last blow hit home. The king clenched a fist, and his eyes hardened as he searched for a way to refute his son’s statement. He had nothing: at least, he said nothing.
“Valkin could use my help, but he doesn’t require it. He has Neslan, and Neslan’s more than capable. Vane and August need me at Oakdowns. August protected my brothers and me; she sheltered us the entire time her sister held us captive, and Vane, he rescued us. I finally find myself in a position to pay that debt. My brothers would be doing the same if they could. Their duties are the only thing keeping them at the Palace, and you know it. Their hearts are here, and in a way, I represent us all. Would you truly send me home?”
The king, albeit with a visible reluctance, shook his head. “I should never have left word with Valkin of what brought me to Oakdowns this morning.”
“He had to know, Father. There’s no point regretting what had to be done and can’t be changed. You of all people should know that, with the things you’ve lived through.”
Rexson told his son, “I want you nowhere near this place.”
“That makes two of us.” Hune quailed to remember Lottie’s scarlet eyes, the way they had glowed as she overpowered Gratton as easily as she could have the princess with her scant eleven years. Sweet, talkative Melinda, always eager to explore new rooms in the Palace, new corners of the gardens…. Hune tried not to think he might not see her again. He’d made sure to take leave of her, with a kiss on the cheek and a pat on her soft blonde head. He’d directed her to listen to her nurse, to do whatever Neslan or Valkin might ask of her. She had no concept of the danger threatening the kingdom.
“Father, we both heard in that parlor what Vane’s facing. Even saw a part of it. I won’t desert him to confront that without me, not unless I must.”
Rexson placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I know you too well to suspect you ever could. It hasn’t been easy for you, living in your brothers’ shadows. You do know you mean no less to me than they? That I’m no less proud to call you my son?”
Hune nodded, surprised beyond belief. The king had never told him that before. Rexson proved the sentiments in his dealings with the prince, to the point that Hune had never doubted them, but to hear them given voice….
“I was ignored and overlooked at your age, in favor of my brother. He’d be honored to know you bear his name. The frustrations I grew up with, the same ones you must wrestle: you tackle them with a grace and forbearance that was never mine. I admire that about you, and with no small share of envy. Your mother,” the king said, “she never understood your devotion to your hounds. Your horse. She once tried to limit your time with them. I wouldn’t let her. You never let your animals interfere with your duties, and I understood how you needed that escape, how you longed for something in life to control as you would. I was the same with my music. My piano. Luckily for all of us, your hobby’s proven more practical. You were right to bring those dogs with you.” The king paused. “As long as you’re prepared to lose some of them, if not all.”
Hune’s voice cracked as it issued forth. “Better them than a soldier. Better Adage or Chancy than Vane, or that Rexy woman. If those hounds lose their lives, it won’t be for nothing, and death will take them in the midst of the hunt. They’d prefer to go that way, I’d think.”
Rexson’s voice was curt. “As long as their master follows them not.”
“I’ve no intention of it,” Hune assured his father. Just the thought of being killed made a finger twitch. Slashed across the side, left to bleed out by someone with those damned red pupils; disemboweled by a spell; his neck snapped with magic…. He hoped for that last, if die he must, but doubted he would find himself so lucky.
His fear must have shown on his face, for the king advised, “Keep busy. Don’t let your mind wander. That was always most effective for me, in the old days. Didn’t you tell Vane you’d see his servants removed without a fuss?”
Hune gulped, and asked the king, “Does that mean you won’t order me back to Valkin?”
“You have my word, I won’t. You’d best get moving, if you hope to keep your word to Oakdowns’s master.”
* * *
To Kansten’s surprise, Hune found her that morning. He explained the coming attack and enlisted her aid in creating an evacuation schedule. Vane’s household was not as large as it could have been, but with servants for the kitchens, the stables, and the gardens, the butlers and maids, and the children’s governess, they had to remove some thirty individuals from the building as quietly as possible. Thanks to Kora, they knew Linstrom had set no one to watch the manor, but they still hoped not to alarm Podrar with a mass exodus from Vane’s estate.
They decided to stagger the exits, in various small groups. Kansten worked without complaint, though she felt insulted no one else had revealed the danger that threatened Oakdowns. She had spent that morning with her mother, who used her chain the whole time and gave Kansten no updates about why she had sent for Vane so urgently before dawn.
The sorceress had left Linstrom and turned invisible when Hune came to the door. She’d eventually revealed herself, and Kansten’s heart had pounded until Hune left her mother, moving Kansten to a parlor much smaller than the one where the portrait of Vane’s parents used to hang. The girl worried Kora might sense something between the prince and her, something that had no right to exist. Well, exist it did, and Kansten could do nothing about that, not now. Not after the parting kiss of the day before.
When Hune included Kansten in the last group set to leave Vane’s property, along with two stable hands and some of the kitchen staff, the aspiring architect clenched her jaw. Never, never in her life had she so longed for magic. Without it, she would have to flee Oakdowns. The only way she could protect those she loved was to remove herself from the battle. She mustn’t allow them to fear for poor, broken Kansten.
The thought shattered her heart. She almost scowled, to prevent herself feeling the full pain of her realization, but dared not, not before Hune. She sighed instead. At least Hune would be leaving with her.
“You have a coin or a ring, no? With my crest on it? Something that gave you access to my father at the Palace yesterday?”
Kansten nodded, and Hune said, “Go back to the Palace, then. Gain admittance, and go to Neslan. Valkin’s too busy, but Neslan will see you to a room, or, er, have a servant do that. My brothers know what’s happening here, so there’s no need to explain.”
Kansten’s cheeks turned red. “You’re staying, aren’t you? You’re fighting.”
“I’m trained to use multiple weapons. And my dogs….”
“How can you stay? You know who you are. Your father….”
“I know I’m my father’s son. That’s precisely the reason I’ve got to fight.”
This hurt was too much. All fear for H
une aside, he was as magicless as she. He had no right to defend Oakdowns, none, when they were sending her away like a helpless baby. She must have concealed her insult poorly, because after a brief pause Hune made excuses.
“I’m an excellent archer. And a decent swordsman. Those dogs I’ve trained will protect more people than me, Kansten. I brought my entire pack here, and they’re with your brothers as we speak. I’m hoping one of the hounds will take to them, will defend them when the time comes. I can’t promise anything, but….”
Kansten threw her arms around Hune’s shoulders, hugged him tight in her gratitude. Tears of thanks as well as bitterness stung her eyes. She should be protecting Walt and Wilhem, not a dog. Those hounds, though, they would prove useful. She was glad her brothers had them.
Hune stroked her long, unbound hair, which was the perfect thing for him to do. His touch said her magic might be broken, but she as a person was not. He made no attempt to loosen her hold on him. After some indeterminate time she stopped crying and let him go, squeezing his hand, then dropping it in a rush as the door opened.
Vane came in. If he noticed the drop of hands or Kansten’s red and puffy eyes, he had the grace not to mention anything, but Kansten doubted he held the slightest suspicions of a budding romance. He looked as distracted and heartbroken as she felt.
Hune told the duke, “I’ve got a schedule worked out. For your household. They’ll be gone well before dark.”
Vane replied, “I’ll see August off in an hour or so. Before then, Kansten, can I ask a favor of you?”
And here it was: stay with the duchess, a woman older than Kansten who had no need of Kansten’s companionship. Help her with the children so well behaved they could probably have watched themselves. Keep out of trouble while everyone else does something useful, can you manage that like a good little girl?
“Of course, Vane.”
“I’m about to take Francie to Teena’s. There’s no other place for her. The Palace is teeming with servants, and Francie must be believed dead.” Kansten nodded. “Teena’s here with her now, and they both need to leave. My aunt’s not as young as she was, and she could use some help caring for Francie, especially if the transport’s as hard on them as I anticipate. Would you go with them?”
That was not what Kansten expected him to ask. This was something worthwhile, something needed. No trace of bitterness was in her voice, or her heart, as she responded, “I’d be honored to care for Francie. But Vane, will we be safe, with your aunt? She’s your aunt, after all. If Linstrom would attack you here….”
Kansten’s freckled face heated, but Vane took no offense at her question. He knew her concern was legitimate, and so, she hoped, did the prince. She dared not look at Hune with Vane present. Oakdowns’s master said, “I did have to reveal my history a few years back. I saw Teena resettled when that happened, and she goes by a different name now. Lives in Crescenton. No one can associate her with me.”
Such subterfuge, all for Teena’s protection, because Herezoth’s sorcerer-duke had grown up in her care. Because some monster like Linstrom, or some prejudiced fool lacking magic but just as dangerous, could threaten her. The thought nearly set Kansten to crying again, but she managed a dry face. She had no tears left as Vane hurried her to Francie’s room, where Teena was waiting.
Kansten knew Teena well. She had grown up with Kora’s mother, Kansten’s Grams, and the two still were friends. Teena moved lightly on her feet, almost as though floating despite her age and full frame, when she rushed to give Kansten a motherly hug. The scent of her rose perfume was strong.
Francie slept, and Vane refused to wake her before he transported the conscious women to Teena’s house, a cottage near the Podra River. Kansten brought a bowl of a sticky, sweet-smelling salve with her for Francie’s injuries. Then Vane went back for Francie.
The duke had seen his aunt provided for. Kansten supposed he’d placed her in the Crescenton region of Podrar because its duke, Hayden Grissner, had fought beside the king in the Crimson League and would be as sure a guardian to Teena as the woman’s nephew. Her home was small—Teena would have preferred that—but luxuriously furnished. The settee and chairs looked newly upholstered, their cushions stuffed near to burst for Teena’s comfort. A number of small, oaken tables held porcelain vases. Kansten could see a levee from the parlor window.
Vane soon returned holding Francie in his arms. Her braided blonde hair hung over his elbow; he had wrapped her in the sheet from her bed and now laid her on the settee, which was plusher than most mattresses.
The slumber to take Francie must have been enchanted, because she never stirred. Vane woke her with a spell, and her eyes fluttered open. When she raised a shaky hand to her head, he knelt beside her. After explaining where she was, and why, and apologizing for moving her yet again, he took his leave of everyone. Teena excused herself to go to the nearest well, for water to keep Francie’s forehead cool. That left Kansten alone with the councilor, who asked, her voice scratchy, “You’re Zacry Porteg’s niece?”
Kansten responded as she pulled curtains shut, in an attempt to keep the summer heat at bay. “He speaks so highly of you, Miss Rafe. My name’s Kansten, by the way. I’m so sorry you….”
“Vane says I’ll be fine, in time. I imagine he’s right, with Teena looking after me.” Francie smiled. “That blessing of a woman. I’ve always known her.”
“You knew Vane as a kid, didn’t you?”
“And you knew him in Traigland,” said Francie. Kansten reached the last set of windows, one set to peer into an alley. She glimpsed a dirty, floppy-eared puppy sleeping in the house’s shadow. Poor thing…. Kansten hardly heard her charge’s question.
“What brings you to Herezoth, in the midst of all of this?”
Kansten mentioned her apprenticeship. Francie seemed impressed to hear Cline Dagner, of all people, would be the girl’s teacher. She told her nurse, with a kindness in her voice her face couldn’t show, “I do believe I’m jealous. I’ve had some worthy achievements with the council, but I’ll never be able to say the most famous architect of the age saw fit to train me. I taught myself what I know. Read a lot when I was younger.”
Kansten smiled. “Me too. Raided my uncle’s library on a regular basis.”
“Zacry said he’d help me make a life in Traigland. I think I’ll try that.”
This moment was wrong, in every way. Francie Rafe wasn’t supposed to be lying with a blue and battered face when Kansten met her. She certainly wasn’t to discuss leaving Herezoth for dainty, dull Traigland. Kansten spoke token words of encouragement.
“I hear Traigland’s very green,” Francie said. “If you go inland, you find some low mountains not unlike the terrain near Fontferry. I’d like that. I’ve been in the city too long.”
“Podrar’s not so bad,” said Kansten. “Not what I’ve seen of it, at least. The Palace is beautiful. I can’t imagine working there like you did. Do you know the princes at all?”
Kansten dared not mention Hune by his lonesome. Francie told her, “I’ve worked with all three, at some time or other. The king’s raised them well. They’re competent and assertive, and if the elder two are a bit condescending, it’s nothing to blame them for. You know of the Carphead Academy, my council’s school?” Kansten nodded.
“Neslan reworked the curriculum last year. Made some vast improvements. Only took credit because the royal family must be seen supporting the project. He’s serious, but that’s hardly a fault for a man in his situation. He’s a solid head on his shoulders, Kansten. So does the crown prince.
“Hune Phinnean, he personally chose ponies for the school stables. His only condition was that the students, in arranged groups, would help care for the animals to learn the value of working together. Vane brings Hune twice a year to Carphead, so he can give the youngest students riding lessons. They adore him. He’s got a way with the people, does Hune. You’d hardly know he was born royal, to talk with him: not by his attitude, at least.”
>
Kansten sighed. Why did Hune have to be so… so bloody normal? Have an interest as common as caring for animals? Why couldn’t he be a wine connoisseur, or frequent the opera house? A substantial part of Kansten wished she’d found Hune an insufferable cad, but then she remembered the touch of his hand against her head, his offer of one of his hounds to protect her brothers, and that killed her desire at its height.
The councilor snuggled down into the settee: trying to find a position that least bothered her bruises, she said. The feat accomplished, she told Kansten, “I’m only just realizing I’ll never work with them again, the princes. Or their father. It’s sad to think, but what else can I do? I can’t go back to the life I had, and that council was my life.”
Francie shut her eyes, rubbed her forehead. Kansten knew she would listen, that she was only in some pain, so she told the battered woman, hoping to distract her, “You have my family. My uncle. What will you do in Traigland?”
“I don’t know yet. The king would give me a diplomatic post, but I can’t face him after this. Once I walk away from the council….” Francie shook her head. “Ten years of pouring my soul out for this kingdom, and they came to worse than nothing.”
Kansten stared at Francie, open-mouthed. “How can you say that? That school’s not nothing. It….”
“It could have happened without me. With someone else in my place. All I did was bring this upon myself, and for no reason. In all my life I was happiest in Fontferry, and I’d return there, if I weren’t so well known. Herezoth must think me dead, so I’m left with Traigland. I can’t say I’m excited at the prospect, but I’ll manage. People there, they’re friendly enough from what I hear.”
“Very much so,” Kansten assured her. “If it’s tranquility you want, you’ll find it there.” She hoped her tone was supportive. Francie needed a caretaker after what she’d been through, not a needy admirer begging her to show strength, repair her broken will, and carry on in Podrar.
Kansten felt so weak that she sought the nearest armchair; she worried her knees might buckle before she reached it. Wanting to weep, she told Francie, “I’m sorry I’ve made you talk so much. Rest in quiet ‘til Teena’s back with some water, or some tea.”
The King's Sons (The Herezoth Trilogy) Page 29